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.

However, bus trip tomorrow and some whisky…

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…

Yesterday was spent getting the old girl ready for winter. We replaced all our day to day mooring lines with the more sturdy ropes and snubbers we keep buried away for just such an occasion. We survived the winter storms in a much more exposed Peterhead 8 years ago, so this should be much more protected.

We have re routed halliards and sheets to prevent chafe, we’ve eaten the last of the perishables (chocolate and biscuits are perishables, right?) and we even had time to say hello to Terry the landlord at the Queens Arms.

He’s such a helpful man, as are the rest of the early afternoon drinkers. A casual question about where to find the elusive small calor gas bottles, ends up with people making phone calls to other people and a general sense of disappointment when it turns out that none are available in Northern Ireland.  He also puts us in touch with a friend who now keeps her boat in Donegal, but who used to keep it where Heydays is.

Packing and a takeaway pizza from an Italian restaurant less than 50m from the boat, sees us finally ready for the short walk to the station in the morning.

Its been a funny summer in many ways, not least the weather…

…we were delayed leaving Lymington by about a week in June, as a steady stream of  decidedly unseasonal gales swept through. Even then, we holed up in Portland for yet another blow…

Along the South West coast we dodged both rain and wind and arrived in Newlyn wondering if this time we would finally make it to the Scillies. The Scillies were worth the wait and the effort and made us want to go back.

With more wind forecast we made the decision to take advantage of a brief lull and hop over to  Cork, but even then, the sting of an earlier than expected heavy blow took its toll as it hit us halfway across.

The Irish Republic was simply amazing for both the welcome and the scenery with the last leg to Malahide being in almost dead calm. With Heydays ashore and a break at home, we return to a broken hoist delaying being put back in the water…and another 4 days of gales blowing through.  With a deadline of today to get back home, we spent less time exploring than we had originally planned, but even then we had to hang around in Carlingford Lough, waiting for the next weather window. A long hop all the way to Glenarm  got us back on track….and another 2 days in harbour waiting for the northerlies to blow through.

With two brilliant day sails to finish, we get to Coleraine feeling exhilarated, rejuvenated…and just a little bit blown about!

That’s just about it until the spring.  We’ll go back from time to time, to do one or two bits and then get her ready for the next northern adventure.

Broad plans…always subject to change…

…we want to spend some more time in the western Isles, having whetted our appetite 8 years ago….we want to get to the outer Hebrides, and we definitely want to go back to Orkney. ….and then???

Off to the station and the airport, so Heydays out for now…

We spent much too little time in Ballycastle,  as we leave with a feeling of wanting to get to know it much more. There is an imperative to get to Coleraine and under the lifting railway bridge, before the marina stops for the night.

By 10.15 we are ready and on our way out of the little harbour,  vowing to return…

We knew in advance that we would need to plug some foul tides today, and that with very little wind in the forecast, that would mean burning some diesel ‘in the old iron tops’l’ as sailors probably never used to say. Actually,  Heydays is happy to push along like this, and we settled in to one of those bright, sunny, but very crisp autumn days, on a calm sea, just watching the rugged coastline drift past…

There is a slight breeze once we are further out and beyond Rathlin Island,  and we get the main sail up. There’s not enough to push us along at anything over a knot over the ground, but it gives us a little, and so we are a bit like a hybrid.

A quick explanation….Heydays is not the fastest of boats, and her natural cruising speed through the water is around 5 knots, unless we push her really hard either under sail or motor…and that makes everything less comfy, especially on the longer passages. However, when the water is heading solidly in the opposite direction,  its a bit like running up the down escalator, so for us, speed over the ground is more important.

Around the headlands today, there is quite a bit of stronger current against us, and also associated rougher water. We keep further offshore to avoid the worst, but then try to duck back inshore to find the slower currents….but on a wonderful day like this, its just great to be out on the water, and we are still on track to get up the river Bann to Coleraine before everything is shut.

We sail past the basalt cliffs of the Giants Causeway, but with the sun in our eyes, we don’t really get the full majesty…

…and then! We’re treated to just about the best dolphin display. The pod is one of the biggest we’ve seen and it seems as though they just want to play…apologies for the length of the second video, but we just couldn’t stop…

This was one of those magical moments that will stay with us for ever. We were left with just big grins on our faces, and a feeling that we have witnessed something really special.

Sadly we need to bear away towards the entrance to the river Bann, and the dolphins give a last few jumps, and then they are gone, off to Lough Foyle.

We approach the entrance around low water, and call ahead to the Harbourmaster to arrange for the railway bridge to be lifted.

The entrance itself is narrow, and the sea builds up…

…but soon we’re through and motoring up stream, past the herons, oystercatchers, and other birds making the most of what can be had before the tide returns…

A cormorant watches us slide past…

…and an egret seems anxious that we might disturb its fish supper.

We get the impression that this is not the busiest of rivers, as a couple of seals can’t even be bothered to move…

We approach the railway bridge a few minutes early….and hang about until the train is through and the bridge begins to lift…

As good as their word…someone is on the pontoon ready to take lines, and then all of a sudden the trip is over and we’ve arrived.

Denise and Lisa in the harbourmaster’s office have been amazing. All instructions, gate codes and even train times to Belfast airport are ready and waiting for us, they really could not have done more for us. We immediately feel so relaxed now about leaving the old girl here over winter.

One recommendation they give us is for the Queens Arms….about a full 100m from the boat. With a modicum of tidying, we trundle over and have a small drink or two and are immediately made to feel welcome by Terry behind the bar. He’s fascinated by the trip, and even knows Lymington as he bought himself a rib there a few years ago.

Back on board, with what turns out to be a brilliant dinner made up of food on board, which needs eating up, we reminisce about this last leg of our cruise….

…from Malahide, where we were subject to crane failures and 4 days of gales blowing through, to Carlingford Lough where we waited for yet another gale to blow across, up to Glenarm in a long leg which caught up our schedule, the careful planning for Rathlin sound with its awesome tides and waves, to Ballycastle and finally this last stunning leg to Coleraine with the dolphins.

The journey has been memorable, but in many ways, and even more incredible, is the amazing welcome we have had from harbourmasters, bar staff and owners, and just ordinary folk we have met along the way.

The plan for today is to head for Ballycastle, which is just opposite Rathlin Island. The wind looks set for a nice sail, and there’s no mention of rain.

There is, however, a real chill in the air as the wind has a big chunk of north in it…fresh from Iceland presumably…

The only fly in the ointment of a perfect sail, is the reputedly fearsome overfalls and standing waves, firstly off Tor Head and secondly across Rathlin Sound itself, which lies between Ratlhin Island and the main Irish coast. Several people plus the pilot books have warned us of the dangers, and we check and re-check our passage plans to make sure that we arrive at each ‘gateway’ with either enough distance off, or at the right state of the tide.

There’s no point leaving too soon, so we busy ourselves around the boat, and even pay more attention to our own ablutions. 

We slip out of Glenarm just after 12 30 into a fresh breeze and a reasonably calm sea…

Tides round here can be a complete pain, or, as today, our best friend. Heydays is soon surging over the ground at well over 8 knots despite a modest through the water speed of around 6 knots.

The coastline is very pretty and it slides past as we tuck into warming soup. There is something deeply satisfying about being the only boat pushing along on a crisp autumn day.

The Mull of Kintyre is very close and bathed in sunlight…at times…

…and then the first of the potential deal breakers is getting close. We have plotted a course to be well outside Tor Head and the breaking seas,  and while it gets a bit rougher, we’re soon past the worst of it.

The photo does not do it justice however…

In the distance is Fair Head, and opposite, Rathlin island itself…

We resolve to come back this way and spend more time, but for now, we push on in some exhilarating sailing…

Across from Fair Head to Rathlin island a stretch of white water appears,  but nothing especially daunting at this state of the tide…and no more than we experience on a regular basis in the Hurst Castle narrows at home.

The head itself, which at over 200m tall is the tallest cliff in Northern Ireland, appears to be very similar to the basalt columns, which we are expecting to see tomorrow when we sail past the Giants Causeway….

…and then almost before we know it, we are on the approaches to Ballycastle…

It is a lovely little harbour, tucked inside the bay, with brilliant shelter, and an incredibly welcoming harbourmaster.  He had seen us coming across the bay and came down to meet us, helping with lines and just generally making sure that we were happy.

A short day sail, but just amazingly satisfying. It always feels good when a plan comes together and the wind and waves and weather play nicely. Brilliant.

The wind has gone round to the north, and is forecast to be up around F5 or F6…..not normally a problem except that our direction is north and the tidal race through Ratlin Sound  is not to be taken lightly in this weather.

A conversation with Ken, the amazingly helpful harbourmaster at Glenarm, confirms the decision. We’re going nowhere for the next 2 days. He gives us the local knowledge of some vicious standing waves reaching 2m just off Tor Head and also of the dangers of an entrance into the river at Coleraine in strong Northerlies.

Freshly showered, we head off to catch a bus to Larne, which is the closest ‘big’ town. The drive along the coast is very pretty, with little villages clinging to the rocky shoreline, and the steep hillsides behind.

Larne itself has seen better days. It reminded us in some ways of Grimsby, with its shuttered shops, the preponderance of vapes and tattoo parlours, and a slightly more modern, but nonetheless dispiriting shopping centre which has turned its back on the high street. A coffee stop turns into lunch/dinner of pie and mash for John and Yee Tak, and quiche and mash for James. With an hour left before the bus back, we set our sights on something more liquid. But this is an Irish town like none we have visited so far. There is not a pub or a bar in sight. We decide to walk back to the train station (near the bus stop) and find a bench for an hour…

…but as luck would have it, there is a station bar. It is wall to wall TV screens showing racing and premier league football, but the barman and handful of early afternoon drinkers are really friendly….one even delivers the Guinesses to our table. It turns out that another used to be on the lifeboat crew at Red Bay, just up the coast. He now has a small fishing boat, and corroborates our own instincts and that of the harbourmaster,  by saying that he most definitely won’t be going out in the next two days.

Back on Heydays, Ken the ever helpful harbourmaster, offers us a more comfy berth for the night, to get us out of the northerly swell which is starting to make its presence felt, even inside the marina. We make the hop around the marina and he compliments us on how easy we made it all look, even in what is turning into a fairly fresh breeze….we try not to look smug, as the next time we do it, we’ll get it wrong….in front of the inevitable crowd of onlookers.

Musings so far…

Seen through the eyes of the news and other writings, we clearly recognise the very different cultures in the north and south of this island….the Catholic dominated south with its proud sense of independence and struggle against the English Crown, and the protestant North with its siege mentality against southern takeover and fierce loyalty to the UK. This is not the time or place to delve into the politics of the two states, just a reflection on what we have seen so far…

…a resurgent and lively independent state largly at peace with itself, and  making real investment in its civic infrastructure. Proud of its battles for freedom, but seemingly without any lasting grudges against the English. A preponderance of bars, music, art and colour (in the towns and villages we visited), all in contrast to a much less colourful and dour protestant north. The lack of bars, the militaristic marching bands of the various orange lodges and, in the words of one local, “our tendency to want to memorialise individuals and never forget.“

He went on to explain that the different marching bands memorialise different people from King Billy to local heroes, as the wreath laid yesterday affirms.

A couple of further musings…

…there seems to be an interesting contrast between the Irish Republic tricolour, representing green for the Catholics, orange for the protestants and white for the hope for the future, set against the St George cross of the north, with its crown and red hand of Ulster, representing a strong and separate loyalist identity and, so we are told, no surrender.

The detective writer Peter May, has set his Lewis Trilogy in the outer Hebrides and he describes the Northern calvinist Isles as dour and soulless, with, even until very recent times, a banning of pubs or music on Sundays, in contrast to the Catholic southern isles of South Uist and Barra, where life (and drinking and music) was more free and easy. If Heydays gets that far next year, we’ll report back.

There is something about knowing that you’ve not got much time to sleep,  which makes it even worse getting to nod off. Fitful, is the best we managed sadly, so the alarm at 2.45am was not welcomed.

The best bit is laying out all the warm clothes in advance so that one isn’t hunting around in the early hours. Morning greetings to each other are polite but cursory, as each of us goes about our usual chores.

The wind overnight was still whistling through the rigging a bit more than we would have liked,  promising a more lively sea.

At 3.35 we’re ready, and cast off in the pitch black with just faint outlines of shapes of boats for company. We slide gingerly out of the marina and head out for the first pair of red and green channel buoys.

In days gone by, we would have written down the light pattern for each buoy, and ticked it off as we go past. Perhaps we should do that now, but we have electronic charts, so no need for old fashioned stuff eh? We feel our way down the lough and feel the seas rise as we clear the entrance. We round the final south marker and head north. We catch a glimpse of the lights of a couple of fishing boats, but otherwise we have the sea to ourselves. Just us and the drizzle,  which has set in!

With the early flood in our favour, we plug on, making good progress along the Ulster coast. We realise too late that we’ve already broken the law, as we should have notified the UK border force of our intention to come back into the UK.

There is no spectacular dawn today, just a gradual and very faint lightening of the sky. We start to make out a horizon, and then gradually more detail of waves and clouds. Taking turns to snooze is not easy, as the motion is quite bumpy at times, but as the morning wears on the drizzle fades, the wind lessens, and even the waves show signs of easing.

We had originally planned to stop in at Ardglass, but with all the delays, time is of the essence and we plough on to Bangor.

The coast line is grey and uninviting for photo opportunities, but we pass the South Rock lighthouse, and then as the visibility improves,  we find ourselves able to see four different territories…The Isle of Man, The Irish Republic, Ulster, and Scotland’s Mull of Galloway….even though they are mostly grey smudges above a grey sea.

The Irish sea is fascinating in all sorts of ways, not least being tidal flow. All along the South coast, the Bristol Channel, the south Irish coast and halfway up the Irish Sea, we have been used to thinking of flood tides as flowing east or north, and ebbs as west or south….easy. However, there is a huge amount of water in the areas bordered by Morecambe Bay, the north Welsh coast, and Galloway. The only two places for it to go are south past Anglesey and north through the boringly named North Channel. The problem for the latter is that it meets water sluicing down the west coast of Scotland. The  result, for those of you now asleep, is that firstly the ebb flow is now north (unnatural for us southern sailors) and secondly very fast.

As we pass the entrance to Strangford Lough, (sadly no time to visit this year, but certainly when we come back down) and turn more northerly, we get the full benefit of a strong north going ebb. The sun makes a watery appearance and the sea flattens, with just a long, lazy swell remaining from astern. Heydays slides down the front of this swell, occasionally making 10knots over the ground. This may seem glacial to those of you with yellow Ferrari, motor boats or even a decent pair of legs, but for our old girl, it is like turning into Usain Bolt.

We approach the first tidal race, Donaghdee Sound, just before Bangor, around 2 hours earlier than planned…

…”how far is it to our next planned stop in Glenarm?” muses Yee Tak. John and I look at each other and with a few tidal calculations, plus weather checks, it seems clear that, given the previous setbacks,  this makes sense. 

A slight change of course takes us ever more northerly…

and we head out across Belfast Lough. Even the wind seems to agree as it veers to put us on a nice beam reach. 

With Lough Larne rushing past one side and the twin lights of East and West Maiden on the other…

…we find ourselves in the approach to our first stop in ‘the six counties’.

We had called ahead to talk to the harbourmaster and he was extremely helpful. We knew exactly where to moor and had all lines and fenders ready, so that we were through the entrance, tied up and out of sailing togs all within about 10 minutes.

A very tiring day, but a brilliant and very satsfying adventure. Cruising is not meant to be about rushing along,  but the earlier delays mean that we need to get to our winter berth in Coleraine within the next week. 84 miles in 13 hours and 15 minutes, average speed of 6.3 knots.

Footnote:

We wander ashore, to have a quick look around, and possibly find a drink or two. First impressions are of a much more dour little village than the equivalents we have visited in the south. Gone are the gaily painted cottages, to be replaced with a fairly uniform grey stone or pebbledash. To be fair, the village was based partly around a quarry, hence the easily available stone. It reminds us in many ways of  parts of Scotland, where we saw the same grey stone and pebbledash.

The two pubs (next to each other) seem warm and inviting…

…but it feels like we have stepped back a few decades to the kind of drinking place we went to as students in the seventies. Everyone is very friendly though. Several locals say goodbye as we leave and the landlady hopes to see us tomorrow..

Further footnote:

As we tuck into dinner back on Heydays, two police cars with blue lights flashing station themselves at either end of the village, holding up the traffic. We hear what at first is rapid gunfire, or is that just our prejudice or conditioning? As it turns out, it is massed drums and the start of a procession of marching fife and drum bands. There are around 10 different bands all with 20 or so men and boys. All very smartly, but militarily uniformed….and all carrying the Union Flags,orange flags, and the flags of St George with the Ulster Red Hand in the middle.

Why am I bothered by appearing to take an overt picture? As a result what we end up with is a blurry image….

…and a lot of questions…

A bit of a clash as they say, between the need to push on north and prudence/comfort. We had planned to make the trip along the coast to Ardglass, but the forecast was not at all conducive or welcoming, especially the predicted sea state after a day and night of near gales.

One option which we briefly discussed before bed, was to wait a day and then make a longer passage directly to Bangor, bypassing Ardglass on Friday. It would mean a 3.30am start to get the ebb out of the Lough and also to get a favourable tide through Donaghdee Sound and round to Bangor.

A 7am wake-up shows no change in the forecast and so we make the decision  to stay and leave on Friday. Back to bed with a coffee  and we plan to take the bus to Dundalk. We’re told that it is much more together than Newry across the border, although Newry has better shopping!

The morning is bright but cold….John finally decides it’s socks weather…

A morning walk along the pontoon disturbs the local heron…

The bus to Dundalk leaves from Carlingford village by the harbour…

…where we watch youngsters from the local adventure school throwing themselves into the chilly waters, presumably for fun!

We are even more fascinated by the local sauna by the beach as a group of men (they are all men), rush out of the hot box and get into the lough….why?

We’re not sure if King John was fond of throwing himself into the sea, but he built a castle here and was one of the few Kings of England to visit the island of Ireland.

The bus is busy (as have been most buses so far), and it takes us out round the headlands of the Cooley peninsula which we passed (bumpily) yesterday.

We arrive in Dundalk thirsty…

…and then hungry.  So there’s nothing for it  but to have an all day breakfast at Ma Brady’s.

We’re immediately taken, by the extraordinary amount of murals and street art, all created by different artists, and telling real or imagined stories of Dundalk….

What is nice is that despite being a ‘border town’ and having its share of violence during the troubles, there’s not a balaclavas clad man with a gun in sight…

…although there are a few swords.

Another big difference between Dundalk and anywheresville in UK, is that the high street is busy, full of independent shops….and they’ve taken the time to coordinate paint…

There’s an old tobacco and stuff factory, and we wonder at the art work writing. Apparently the line is from Robbie Burns, his link with Dundalk is that his sister lived here, and the company, searching for a name for a new cigarette called it Sweet Afton…

With an early start tomorrow, we hope on the bus back to Carlingford, and have a quick look round this lovely village…

The route back to the boat takes us past the little restaurant/bar at the marina….it would be rude not to…

A few last minute checks on tides, wind, waves etc, and then all ready for an alarm tomorrow at 2.45am!