Welcome to Heydays’ blog which hopefully will take us on adventures as we expand our sailing horizons. We will try to share the highs and lows and hope that friends will share some of them with us.
If you want to read some of the stories from our first year (before the genesis of this blog) we’ll write stuff as it occurs to us in the FIRST YEAR WITH HEYDAYS pages…
Pre-departure planning the previous evening presented a bit of a navigational debate. The Admiralty Tidal Atlas and our two trusted apps, Navionics and Savvy Navvy, appeared to have attended entirely different courses on hydrography. The apps suggested a relaxed, “leave whenever you fancy” approach, while the Admiralty, in its authoritative manner, was insisting on considerably stronger tidal streams and a correspondingly later departure.
A night’s sleep resolved nothing, but the forecast offered a helpful nudge… headwinds were due to arrive late afternoon, which concentrated the mind. Departure was set for around noon, a decision that felt decisive.
Easedale came to life in the morning sunshine as we attended to brunch, and set about preparing ourselves and Heydays (The Old Girl), for what promised to be an “exciting” trip in F3 to 5 conditions.
Passing through the narrow entrance, we noted with that we were the last vessel to depart, leaving behind a now-deserted anchorage….
Years of sailing Heydays have taught us that she respoinds reall well to conservative sail management. A reef or two in the main, a few rolls in the genoa, and she is transformed. Speed is maintained, whilst comfort, controllability, and the boat’s general wellbeing improve considerably. This approach was validated repeatedly throughout the morning, as the surrounding hills and mountains generated the occasional sharp squall.
With approximately a knot of tide in opposition, Heydays was still getting a respectable 5 knots over the ground, a performance we attribute with considerable satisfaction to her Coppercoated bottom, which continues to prove its worth.
The scenery was extraordinary. Ben Nevis and the Cairngorms loomed over the horizon with a magnificence which was quite inspiring.
Running downwind with a building sea demanded a lot of concentration at the helm. Occasionally, and with exhilaration,Heydays approached 10 knots, surfing down the faces of waves as we charged up the Firth of Lorne. Crinan and Oban slipped astern, and we looked forward to a late lunch in the relative civility of the Sound of Mull as we passed Blacks Memorial Tower and later, the imposing Dewart Castle…
These waters are altogether much busier than the quieter passages around Jura and Islay. CalMac ferries, coasters, and workboats went purposefully about their business in all directions.
The gusts strengthened as the afternoon progressed, but with the tide now generously in our favour, Heydays was eating up the remaining miles to Tobermory with considerable enthusiasm.
A passing CalMac ferry acquired a Coastguard helicopter, which shadowed it for the better part of half an hour. Clearly a training exercise, the aircraft hovered mere feet above the ferry’s stern, producing a spectacular downdraft.
Tobermory materialised around the headland right on cue, and with gusts still making their presence felt, we dropped the sails and aimed hopefully for a walk-ashore pontoon berth rather than the more athletic alternative of a mooring buoy. Luck was with us and we secured what appeared to be the final available berth. With Heydays safely tucked in and a rain shower providing the atmosphere, gin and tonics were poured, and a brilliant passage was complete.
Postscript: The Admiralty Tidal Atlas, it transpired, had a rather firmer grasp on reality than our apps. Some institutions, it seems, have earned their authority…
Final thought…for those of you kind enoughh to actually read these ramblings, I write most days if there is signal and would love to hear from you if you wish to comment or indeed subscribe.
The tide goes our way from lunchtime, so a lazy lie-in works out a treat, followed by a leisurely breakfast.
A final run ashore for a few essentials….tonic, lemons, chocolate, and then we get Heydays ready for the run up the Jura coast to Easedale.
The wind is dead astern, and we pick our way through the rocky islets, and out into the long open fiord-like Sound of Jura, that separates Mull of Kintyre from Jura and Islay.
The wind is lighter than the forecast, but we want to get to Easedale before dark, so we use the motor as well, to keep our speed over the ground to around 5kts, and for a while we even manage to use the cruising chute…until a shift makes it unhelpful again…
Jura passes by, and we get to see how rugged and sparsely populated it is. There is a lone house at the northern tip, and The Paps make a stunning backdrop…
We count off the buoys marking the various obstacles, and lunch is served with a smile…
We’ve heard all sorts of tales of the whirlpools up here, but with the right conditions it is just odd rather than bothering. As we pass the entrance to Corryvrekan, between Jura itself and a rather forbidding lump called Scaba, we can see these odd patches of calm, surrounded by bubbling waves all around (the camera doesn’tdo it justice though)…steering requires a bit of concentration…
The Sound of Luing seems to have just as many of these strange phenomena as the strong currents and deformed sea bed make the water bubble and churn.
The light on Fladda, must have been a very lonely spot in days gone by…
Our attention is drawn to the approach to Easedale, or more specifically the sound between Easedale Island and Seil, also an island but now with a road bridge to the mainland. The entrance is not at all obvious until we are almost on it…and it is very narrow…
…and then we’re through…
There are some mooring buoys free, for which we are grateful, as a nearby yacht is trying to anchor, but pulling up whole farms of kelp. A quick run ashore to the Seil side and a drink in the heaving Oyster Bar, with Heydays snug on the mooring.
The volunteer who collects mooring fees and generally runs between the islands, is very enthusiastic and we are almost convinced to stay another day. There is some longer range strong winds forecast, so we decide to plug on tomorrow to Tobermory. If we do get blown off the water for a couple of days, Mull has plenty of sightseeing…even if we go to Iona on a bus!
The wind has shifted, and there is a little chop across the bay, and the boat just rocks gently on the mooring in the early morning sun.
The only snag with picking up buoys or anchoring, is that getting ashore can be a bit damp in a small rubber dinghy.
We get togged up and set off across to the little jetty, where we get un-togged, and ready for a day mooching.
Having visited the little community shop, the decent thing to do is to actually go for a walk before being drawn back to the distillery…
The day is glorious and the views across to the mainland are stunning…
It all starts out really well, but then the track peters out…
It’s a good job our navigation at sea seems to be better than on land…
…but it’s all worth it for the views, and Heydays swinging gently out in the bay…
“…we are where, precisely?”
…and then whisky beckons…
The whisky is very different from those on Islay…not peaty for a start, and all of it is used for Jura bottles, unlike Caol Isla for example, where 70% of their output goes to Johnnie Walker.
We have our first Cullen skink of the trip in the hotel, and then head off around the bay to the cemetery with its Campbell mausoleum.
There is a small and very old church, with an upstairs room full of old photos of Jura life. Its a fascinating insight into what was quite a harsh existence, especially for ordinary crofters and fishermen. No wonder that many just upped and left.
The population is stable at the moment at around 250, and there are some incentives for people to re-establish the old croft. Walking back to the boat, past stunning beaches, we wonder about the contradictions of island life…right up to the end of the 20th century, there is no doubt that, despite the beauty and the abundance of space, places like Jura were still quite isolated, with few incentives for young people or families to stay.
But even in towns and cities in 20’s Britain, so many self isolate behind their screens and technology. Could technology and remote working be the eventual saviour of places like this?
Just one final thought though…for us grandparents, the remoteness from the physical presence of our grandchildren would probably be too much, unless they move here as well…
We’re island hopping for the next few days/weeks, and plan to tow the tender behind to make going ashore from anchorages easier. That’s if we can get the anchor to hold…we’ve heard that there is a huge amount of kelp growing round here, which points to clean healthy, nutrient rich water, but is not good for most anchors.
Some last minute shopping and brilliant showers in the little harbour office, and Heydays is ready for the hop round to Jura. We nudge out into a crisp day, with a fresh north westerly, and waste no time in getting the sails up and the motor off. Picking our way through a very rocky coast with lots of submerged rocks is slightly nerve wracking, but we’ve got brilliant visibility …and instruments!
We leave the distilleries behind and Heydays is storming along on a broad reach.
Today’s sail really is the stuff of dreams. Wrapped up warm, a fresh breeze, and the off-shore wind (which means a smoothish sea) ….stunning. Hot soup goes down a treat, and the threatened showers stay away.
These are the moments which keep us coming back to the boat, despite the frustrations of owning an older one, with its seemingly never ending niggles which need a fix (and cash).
Craighouse on Jura is a sheltered bay with a hotel, small community, small jetty….and the distillery. The approach requires threading between rocky reefs, which must have been the stuff of nightmares pre-GPS.
As the bay opens out, we’re happy to see several visitor’s moorings….saves having to grapple with kelp. We make up a small quartet of boats, and it seems that this is still very early in the season for Scottish sailors.
As the sun goes down over The Paps of Jura and the distillery, we settle into some gin in the last of the warmth in the cockpit, before heading below for a warm cabin and one of John’s single pot bean stews.
We had intended to sail to Jura today, but as of 10am, the wind is howling through the rigging, it is bitterly cold and it will be dead on the nose all the way. There is, consequently, very little need for discussion, and despite no buses on a Sunday, we decide to stay another day.
We get on with a few adjustments and minor repairs…after a Sunday lie-in, and then as the rain eases, we think about a walk to Laphroaig…just for a wee dram of course.
On the way out, a fishing boat arrives and begins to unload velvet crabs and lobsters. This is way too much for Yee Tak, who has previous form around fishermen. A short conversation later, and she is walking away with 5 velvet crabs for free and a £10 lobster. Dinner tonight sorted.
With the crabs and lobster safely stowed on board, we trundle off to Laphroaig, which is a pleasant 30 minute stroll from the boat.
This turns out to be in a beautiful setting by a rocky inlet, and with the wind now calm, and the sun out, we sit outside with another couple of flights of fine scotch. We could have gone sailing today after all, but…..
The walk back is burdened by a couple more bottles! Everything is calm across the harbour, but a small coaster is still busy off-loading agggregates. Island life has a pattern entirely governed by tides and the arrivals of the ferries and cargo vessels…
Dinner on board (after cooking the lobster and crabs) is long and drawn out….
A long debate last night about bus times (none at all on Sunday), and optimal routes between distilleries. We settle on a morning bus to Bowmore, with about two hours there to ‘look around’.
Wandering to the bus stop, which is all of 50m from the boat, we are already cheered by a road sign…
…this is our kind of town…
The bus to Bowmore takes us over the hills and the peat bogs, which give Islay malts their distinctive smokey flavour.
The small town is at the end of Loch Indall and is really protected from most of the grim weather which blows through here several days a month. It doesn’t feel as touristy as Port Ellen, despite the distillery being right in the centre…
The day kicks off before lunch with a welcome dram and then we chose a couple more to try, before buying our favourite and heading off for some lunch and the next bus. The waitress apologises for the lack of lobster as it is low tide and the boat can’t get in yet. She says it will be on the menu tonight….about 3 hours after landing, just 50m away!
There is a fascinating round church, but more importantly, the bus to Ardbeg beckons…
In Ardbeg we have a flight of 5 to try and even Yee Tak finds the flavours interesting…mostly.
It is only a short 15 minute walk from there to Lagavulin, and another flight….and another favourite for the boat.
We finished in time for the last bus back to Port Ellen. Pretty much a perfect day…
We finished off the Irish part of this voyage yesterday (for now) with dinner and a few drinks on board…but only after a dozen oysters and a rather nice Viognier in the bar/restaurant next to the pontoons.
…and they even laid on some traditional music for us.
…
The morning has definitely brought a change in the weather, but conditions look good for the trip across to Islay.
We need to get back into the the usual routine of life on the water. All the boring but necessary stuff…water still on the outside, engine checks, drinking water top-up, ropes in the right places, weather, tides…and then finally we slip the lines in Ireland for the last time and head off down river.
The Bann is very fast flowing and we scoot past the reeds and dunes before the engine even has time to warm up. With the wind astern as well, there is no turning back now even if we wanted to, and we head out between the breakwaters at the mouth and across the bar. We had heard many gloomy tales from assorted old blokes in the yard, about the size of breakers over the bar..”I’ve seen ’em come right out of the water…” etc. And it is certainly bumpy, but with a bit of salty stuff over the forecast deck, it feels like we’re really on our way.
The remnants of the roughish sea from yesterday are still hanging around, but with full main and genoa, Heydays is shaking them off easily in a nice beam reach into a SE F4.
Good things come to an end though, and the variable wind promised in the forecast starts to make its presence felt. It lightens considerably and backs to an extent that the genoa is more of a hindrance. The purist here will take a dim view, but we lug the engine around with us, so may as well use it. We find we can maintain our course motor-sailing with just the main sail, and so we plug on in this style for the next 2 or 3 hours as Ireland finally disappears and Islay takes on a more definite outline.
The winds veers and picks up, and soon we’re back under full sail and flying along (for us) at a steady 7kts.
No dolphins today, but the gannets with their distinctive black wing tips, are out in force, skimming effortlessly over the lumpy sea, and then soaring above the mast.
We pass under the cliffs and begin our approach carefully inshore along a very rocky coast as the Calmac ferry pushes out towards the mainland.
Port Ellen has a small but busy harbour, with the Calmac car ferry twice a day, and some occasional cargo coasters dropping by. The small marina however is almost deserted and we have our pick of berths.
We trundle off into the village to suss out drink, food, buses, distilleries etc and plan the next day sightseeing/sampling…
There is a very smart restaurant/bar with smart prices, no real beer….and not even any peanuts or crisps!
The next bar however suits us well before we head back for some dinner.
First impressions…Islay (this bit) has definitely been discovered by the whisky tourists….all the distillery trips are fully booked, as is the fancy restaurant. Not quite as ‘small islandy’ as we thought.
The 6 am shipping forecast is not encouraging, with some stronger winds forecast, some north easterly predicted (that’s where we’re heading!) and a moderate to rough sea. We decide that plugging close hauled grimly into a roughish sea is not the stuff of enjoyment for our first sail of the season…and we’ve got plenty of time.
We’ve got a railway bridge opening booked for 10.45 so we decide to make use of that and head to a marina just down stream. This will give us more flexibility for leaving hopefully on Friday…and a change of scenery.
Even just for a short trip down river, it’s good to get water flowing under her keels once more…
After a whole mile of motoring we’re once again moored up. Oh well, perhaps tomorrow…
Seacock in and glands tightened, hull given a final polish, and we’re ready to be lifted in. We’ve been sailing many years but it is always special when we’re relaunched, even after just a week ashore.
We are lowered gently in and check all the skin fittings, seacocks etc and all is good…except one! We’re lifted out again and necessary glands tightened. Back in and the seawater stays on the outside.
Next tricky operation is re-fitting mast and all the standing rigging…straightforward, but fiddly…why does so much work on a boat involve being upside down.?
Finally, the mast is reasonably straight and pointing up, the stringy bits are sorted and we’re ready to motor up to the original mooring and prepare to start the voyage tomorrow.
James and Yee Tak visited the Giants Causeway recently, so John and Chris make use of the car to drive out. We sailed this way in September, but with the sun over the cliffs, the Causeway passed by in a dark and shadowy haze…now we see what it really looks like..
PS…as of the 6pm shipping forecast, the winds and sea state which have been favourable all week, have started to show a bothering trend. Decision tomorrow…
The broad plan for ’26, is to leave Coleraine and head up to Islay…with its 9 distilleries, and then work our way up to the Outer Hebrides, before we round Cape Wrath and then to Orkney. Time and weather will dictate any further progress north, before we head south once more down the East coast of Scotland. No decisions yet about next winter, but Coleraine has been good to us (and our pockets)…so who knows…?
John and James are coming out early to do the usual pre-season checks and prep. We’ve booked in to have Heydays lifted out…we need to sort some electrical stuff on the mast, insurance has asked for a full survey, and we need to pay attention to her bottom.
But first things first….. Heydays has done really well over winter, snuggly up the River Bann, and we renew our acquaintance with her…and with The Queen’s Arms, where Terry remembers us and welcomes us like locals.
Out of the water the old girls looks good and with a fine bottom…
…so we have a wee celebratory dram as the sun sets over the river.
We gradually tick off the list of jobs, re-wiring on the mast, new hatches…on an old boat, the routine list of repair and maintenance gets longer by the year. By Friday, we’re up to date, apart from making her smell nice and looking less like a den for a couple of old salts, and more like something Yee Tak and Chris would actually want to live in.
We wander in to town to be greeted by Union Flags and the Ulster flag from almost every lamppost, lots of people milling about and police closing roads. It turns out that there is a big event for the marching bands (mostly drum and fife). There must be well over 30 which are still marching over 2 hours after the start…and long after we’ve retired back to our boat.
All very militaristic, some with innocuous names like the Ballymena Drum and Fife Band, but others with clearer intentions….and most with union flags and assorted orange colours.
We refrain from asking if there are any pictures of the pope!
Our feeling as observers was one of watching long memories and defiance.
Saturday, and the river is buzzing with huge numbers from the rowing club on the opposite bank…
…whilst on Sunday, nothing much happens until 1pm (presumably apart from the church goers at the very many assorted non-conformist churches and chapels).
We decide that we too should have a day of rest, and take the train to Derry Londonderry. Its quite a spectacular ride beside rocky pools and glorious sandy beaches, before we turn into Loch Foyle and the city itself.
This is not the place for a history lesson, but the walls are amazing, and steeped in sectarian memories, both from the siege by catholic James 2nd, and its eventual relief by the protestant Wiiliam of Orange, right up to the watchtowers and dividers throughout the 70s 80s and 90s. Nowhere is free from reminders from both sides…
…and down on the Creggan and Bogside…
But outside these areas, there is a real sign that life is normal once more, and that there is a desire to look forward…
….one of 5 bars in a row…….and the Peace Bridge.
Monday is a slightly apprehensive day with a surveyor due…
He gives her a clean bill of health appart from some corrosion on one of the seacocks in the engine room. This is less good news as failure of these can lead to seawater being more on the inside than the outside of the boat…not normally ideal. There are some brilliantly helpful people around and when gentle persuasion with a big spanner doesn’t work to remnove the old one, a neighbour lends us his angle grinder.
We’ve rented a car for the next two days, partly to fetch Yee Tak and Chris from the airport and partly to let John and Chris do some sightseeing…James and Yee Tak have driven this recently. This turns out to be a brilliant move as we tour the chandlers for essential bits. A special mention has to go to Down Marine just outside Belfast. This is a real Alladin’s cave of boat bits and we get just about everything needed to get the job done.
With our other halves collected, John and Chris trundle off round the Titanic museum (one of the best museums we have ever been to) and the others find a bar… The scenic route along the coast road from Belfast is stunning, and hugs the cliffs and rocky beaches all the way past Ratlin Island, Ballycastle, The Giants Causeway …and Bushmills Distillery. Dinner in Rory McIlroy’s home town of Port Rush sets us up nicely for what will be a hard days work tomorrow.