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…
Even after one day, the early morning routine is established….get dressed by numbers, say a bleary good morning as brightly as we can to each other and get the kettle on. The forecast is for showers, a bit of a chill and Easterly F4….more getting togged up and more layers. Just as we are getting ready to slip the mooring, Billy and his son arrive back in harbour and they are really chipper having had a good haul of langoustines. We thank him for the crab, but as we leave the harbour he throws us a big bag with at least 60 or 70 langoustine tails. What a brilliant way to start the day and so we slide out into the new day with not just hot coffee, but a really wonderful warm feeling and broad smiles on our faces.
The easterly F4 does not materialise…in fact there is not enough wind to properly fill the sails. However, the previous night’s easterly has left a rather short swell over the beam and Heydays rolls slightly uncomfortably. We tighten the sails, not to drive us along, but just to dampen the rolling.
The coast is definitely becoming craggier and there are all sorts of cliffs and stacks rising out of a sea with breakers at their foot.
Off shore there is a huge windfarm and we seem to be sailing past it for hours…alternately it is in bright sunshine and at other times we see the rain squalls washing past…some of which get us as well.
Amid all the slop and tossing of a beam swell, some dolphins decide to keep us company for a while. Not as spectacular as Coleraine last September, but they always lift the spirits…
As we approach Wick, there are signs of civilisation appearing on the cliffs, but no sign of the promised fresh easterlies…
We call the Wick Harbourmaster and he is waiting on the pontoon to guide us in and to take lines…another great welcome and service which we have rarely (if ever) met ‘down south.
We lunch on crab linguine, langoustines and a bottle of white…cheers again Billy from Helmsdale…and promptly fall asleep….
We do a short shopping list and head off to the Coop for essentials…2 whites, 2 reds, one gin, one tonic and some spaghetti….its a tough life.
Wandering round town, we get a sense of real decay since even the last time we were here in 2017. There are just so many shops which are boarded up and even the Weatherspoons has gone. It was clearly once a very grand town with huge wealth built on the herring. One information board describes the heyday of the herring industry with a single day catch of over 100million herring and an army of over 3000 fearsome herring gutter women. With over 1000 boats out of Wick in the 1930s we see just a couple of dozen now. The information board seemed to blame the quotas introduced in the 60s, but the reality is that the herring were simply over-fished, and they killed the very thing which made them rich.
However, as we wander back towards the harbour we see some signs for the future…huge wind turbine blades on the dockside ready for transportation to a new wind farm just down the coast. The blades are huge…78.5 meters long according to a young dock steward, and 20 tons, and are carried vertically on specially designed transporter. Great, we think. Maybe there is hope and life for the future, only to be told that these blades have come from Germany, while others come from Mexico and the US. We are left angry and frustrated. Why are we not building them here? Why are we not giving some hope, jobs and prosperity to a town which clearly needs it?
OK OK, this is a sailing blog, but one of the best bits about sailing like this is that we get to visit places which are convenient harbours, but which are off the tourist trail. We get to see bits of our country which we would not otherwise have visited and to confront some difficult truths about post industrial, finance and service sector focused UK.
We are back on Heydays having spent some time back home, renewing our acquaintances with grandchildren, gardens/allotments and general domestic stuff.
Chris is not with us for this leg so it’s just John, James and Yee Tak driving up to Inverness early on Tuesday morning. We take turns driving, 2 hours on and 2 hours off…a bit like being on watch for long sea passages. Breakfast in probably the best
motorway services in the country, at Gloucester Farm Shop, and apart from a few pottystops and hand-overs, we get to Heydays by early evening and it’s great to be back on board…and she smells good too!
We have a couple of day’s worth of jobs planned…including new valves for the toilet…who says sailing is all glamour.
Friday morning and a 5.30am alarm gets us up if not raring. We were woken at times in the night as the rigging was whistling and vibrating in the wind, and the rain lashed down with a fierce drumming on the roof…not conditions conducive to a good sleep. The
forecast is for westerly winds F4 to 6, but with showers for most of the day. The main
reason for relinquishing our pillows so early, is so that we can get the strong ebb current out under the bridge and through the Channory Narrows. We get fully togged up as not only are we expecting rain, but the wind is chilly too.
We called Helmsdale Harbourmaster yesterday to check that there would be space for us, only to be told that due to a winter of South Easterly storms, the harbour and the entrance is silted up and that it is effectively closed to leisure boats. We explain that as a bilge keeler with limited draft, we are used to the south coast mud and are happy to take the ground. After a conversation with his boss, the very helpful Billy said that he
was happy to take us and that if we call when we are close, he will guide us in.
It is brilliant to get the boat ready for the open sea…checking sails, ropes and finalising
the navigation for the day.
Finally…we slip our mooring and slide out into the bright Inverness morning…
With the fresh breeze fine over the port quarter, we opt just for a genoa. Over the years we have found that the old girl sails really well like this, and is easy to tack down wind. The added note here is that we don’t need to push on too rapidly as we can’t enter
Helmsdale until 2.30 at the earliest.
As Inverness falls astern into a brightening sky, we are grateful for our early morning coffee. This is June, but with lots of layers stuffing us up, it feels more like February.
We zig zag through the narrows and then we see them…our first dolphins of this leg. Sadly for us they are more interested in their own breakfast than playing or allowing their photo to be taken, but it is still lovely to see them…
We settle in to the usual pattern of a longish passage, the autohelm doing its job and us watching for the usual pot buoys. Of other ships we see nothing, just a small coaster pushing out eastwards.
The rain comes and goes and we are thankful for our wet weather gear, but when the sun deigns to make an appearance we are quite pathetically grateful…but it really lifts the spirits.
Lunch of hot soup and bread is a real treat…
…and soon we are contacting Billy the harbourmaster to guide us in across the new sandbanks. We line up the marks and then with a sharp turn into the harbour as instructed we are in and Billy is there to take our lines. 9 years ago we were the first yacht of the season to visit Helmsdale, this year we are also the first of the season to attempt the entrance. Just as we make fast our lines, the sky opens (again) and we retreat inside to dry off.
Billy has only been doing the job for a couple of months, as he used to be a regular fisherman. Now, with a couple of hip ops behind him, his son has the boat and Billy helps out from time to time, although he still has a small boat of his own which he uses occasionally. Mostly they catch crab, lobster and langoustines which they sell to local restaurants and hotels.
We opt for an afternoon nap and when we wake up, we find that Billy has left us a tub of crab meat. He is due to go out this evening with his son and so we say goodbye and just realise again how friendly and helpful the harbourmasters are up here.
Helmsdale has clearly seen better days, and the storms and silting of the harbour will do nothing to help. With a few forty winks under our eyelids, we head off for a wander round…
to the ‘famous’ La Mirage fish and chip restaurant. It is renowned for its huge portions, its glitzy pink décor and its famous attraction for Barbara Cartland who was apparently a frequent visitor. Under new owners the portions are less enormous, but we still can’t finish everything. We head back to Heydays considerably heavier than when we left and prepare ourselves for another early tide to catch.
Today is the day we leave the canal system for good. We’re booked to go out at 10, when the railway swing bridge will open (controlled by Network Rail instead of the canal organisation).
Just as we leave, we’re getting really slick at this lock stuff…
Just one final lock and we’re back on salt water. The canal has been made special by the helpfulness and cheerfulness of the staff, not a single snigger as lines snag or fenders slip…they’ve been brilliant.
The flood tide coming under the Kessok bridge is phenomenal at around 5kts…mental note…we’ll leave here on the ebb
The rest of the morning is spent packing and deciding what to take home, what to leave and what is surplus. We’ll pick up a one way rental car tomorrow and then be back in around 2 weeks.
A wander into town sees us with some intetesting music in MacGregor’s bar. It’s some kind of jazz, which turns out to be manouche….a French gypsy jazz. This is followed by a group playing more traditional Scottish reels. A very relaxing way to spend a Sunday afternoon…
…and then we head back to Black Isle for beer and pizza.
Overall…a brilliant time in Scotland, so far…great place, great people, new friends and some brilliant memories…
We have planned a last day in the Seaport Marina, in order to do some sightseeing in Inverness. A leisurely morning and a final bon voyage to Andioni, and we’re wandering into town…first stop is Leakeys bookshop. This is an amazing place, with secondhand books covering every single wall and vertical surface. There is a vast log burning stove in the very centre of all this dried old paper…not lit today.
We could have spent all day just browsing, and as it is we wander happily around and end up walking out with just a few old tomes.
Inverness is a lovely old city and today it is playing host to a very eclectic mix of classic motors…everything from a Bond Bug to a Mclaren, with old moggies, a couple of Vivas and not a few Capris in between. We’re treated to a parade at the end of the day, serenade by bagpipes and drums.
Just wandering, people watching, and mooching is a very relaxing way to spend a day, with some lovely views over the river Ness…
We wind up in a ‘shed’ on the rooftop garden in the Black Isle Bar…a huge selection of craft beers, including Black Island Hibernator which is only sold in max one third pints…
The little café at Dochgarroch has tempted us with a cooked breakfast, and the six of us convene at the suitably relaxed time of 9.30. The Full Urquhart suits the haggis munching, meat-eaters and they also do the usual smashed avocado, poached eggy stuff as befits a 21st century urban café.
Our broad plan is to make the short hop to Seaport Marina, virtually in the heart of Inverness and then do a bit of touristy sight-seeing ourselves. The only slight complication is the flight of locks and a couple of swing bridges which need some advance notice.
The lockkeeper is very efficient and organises us to get going reasonably rapidly in order to make the swing bridges and to get to the flight before lunchtime closure. This is definitely getting more populated, and there is a real mixture of boats along the canal-side…some live-aboards, some lovingly looked after, and also a few of the sadly decaying but clearly once-loved wrecks.
There is something sad about boats in that condition, clearly once the apple of someone’s eye, or the embodiment of their watery dreams, now amounting to a cash drain or a doleful reminder of hopes gone…
Despite the closeness of Inverness there is still a plethora of wildlife eyeing us warily as we pass.
We get to the flight of locks and take temporary moorings at the appointed time as some boats finish their transit up the flight and exit. We prepare our lines, start the engines, only to see the lock gates close firmly shut again and the keepers begin their lunch. Oh well, we’re in no rush…
Once their lunch is done, we transit the flight. This is easy stuff now, we feel like old hands just as we’re about to leave the canal system.
The swing bridge at the bottom opens and were in Seaport Marina, our last stop on the Caledonian. We finish the evening with Ian and Maureen over for a drink, and swap plans for Andiamo and Heydays over the summer. They are heading south and plan to possibly over-winter on the East Coast with vague ideas about a European adventure in ’27. After a couple of weeks back home, we’ll come back to Heydays and hopefully head north towards Wick and Orkney and then a second chance at the Outer Hebrides. We’ve had a lovely time cruising the canal in their company and will definitely keep in touch…
To be fair, Nessie himself (herself? Themselves?), could have given us a scaly tap on the shoulder or swum around the boat taking selfies, and we would barely have registered, through the driving rain and gloom.
The day started a bit dampish as we slipped the lines and began the descent of the 5 lock flight to Loch Ness . Once again we were in the company of Ian and Maureen on Andiamo. As we passed the Lock Inn, three of us (OK…Ian, John and James) were reminded that the beer and whisky went down really well, and that this morning we feel slightly less than our best…we dont get much sympathy…
Through the swing bridge and Loch Ness opens out into a wide and deep stretch of straight water. The wind was directly on the nose (of course), and at times, sent sheets of water barrelling down the loch. We kept the cockpit cover up and at least kept dry through the worst of the squalls…
The Loch is around 20 miles long, so we settled in for a 3 to 4 hour passage. From time to time the rain stopped and the Loch teased us with glimpses of beauty and colour in the sunlight…
At its northern end, Loch Ness becomes narrow and changes into Loch Dochfour. Its just like cruising up a river. The wind has died, the sun toys around with us…
…and as we see more excursion boats taking trippers to see ‘Nessie’, we realise that our solitude and tranquility are slowly diminishing as we get closer to Inverness, now only a few miles away.
Dochgarroch is busy, but the two boats manage to find some berths above the lock. This is something of a tourist hotspot as the departure point for boat trips to Loch Ness. The cafe is nice, but the gift shop most definitely knows its tourist market and charges accordingly. Whisky has less of an attractuion tonight and we’re all tucked up and in bed before 10pm…so much for a rock and roll lifestyle…
The weather up here changes with almost every glimpse. We wake up to sunshine and blue skies, but also certain that things will change…
Heydays slides away from the mooring, and we glide along Loch Lochy (did they run out of ideas for names?) for the short hop to Laggan at the start of Loch Oich. We’re in no rush…just enjoying the scenery of the beautiful Highlands…
We keep the cockpit tent up, as a foil against the wet squalls we know will come, and we are motoring today with no chance of a sail…
We alternately bake in the sunshine inside, but then are grateful as the rain and even some hail lashes through like some kind of demented banshee.
Ian and Maureen on Andiamo are ahead of us and we have agreed to meet up again at Laggan at the other end of the Loch. We were planning to stay this side of the locks, but they let us know that we need to go through to the available moorings…
While the locks are easy to handle, some of the deeper ones present a challenge to throw ropes up to the lock keeper.
Ian and Maureen on Andiamo are moored on the pontoon next to us and we have a lovely early evening on their Jenneau. Yee Tak and Maureen continue reminiscencing about their school days, including a few bars of the old school song. Maureen’s mum also taught at their old school in HK (St Paul’s Convent School in Causeway Bay) and taught the elders sister of Yee Tak’s best friend.
We all agree to cruise in company as far as Fort Augustus. It is easier for the lock keepers and the swing bridges, if they can get a few through at a time.
We look smugly at the weather out over the Hebrides, and congratulate ourselves on having dodged some nasty stuff by changing our plans.
The day opens up quite dramatically with mist and clouds on the hills above us, and we nose out into the start of Loch Oich. This is the highest point of the trip, from now on, the locks will be down hill.
Loch Oich is part of a river system, and meanders slowly north east. A cruise boat passes by and we’re grateful not to meet it at the narrowest places. The locks now are simplicity itself, as we motor in at the high level…no need to flex biceps, straining to throw ropes…
We radio ahead and wait for a while until the swing bridge opens. This is all very efficient and the bridge radios ahead to the lock…
The canal is easy motoring, and we’re enjoyingthe scenery…but we’re looking forward to getting back on the open sea at some point, and feeling the old girl heel into a decent breeze.
Finally we reach Fort Augustus, and moor, just as the hail breaks and hammers on the roof and decks. We stay just at the top of the flight of 5 locks…further away from the general mass of tourists. We marvel at the fact that we will be right in the centre of lots of unknown people’s holiday snaps.
4.30 sees us in the Lock Inn with Ian and Maureen…8.30 sees us still in the lock inn and getting just slightly more talkative…
Brilliant evening with some lovely new sailing chums…
We’re booked in to start our transit of the canal for 9am, so a relatively leisurely start, giving time to have a look at a huge cruise boat coming out… she barely fits…
…and then tea, coffee and a shower…not so. At 8.30 the lock master comes along to say that we are expected and can we please join 3 other boats already in the lock. John and Yee Tak almost break into a trot to get back on board, and then a less than leisurely few minutes getting thge right ropes, fenders etc ready for the deep locks ahead.
The first one (the sea lock) is easy…
However, ahead of us is the famous Neptune’s Staircase. A flight of 7 locks…all of them deep. There are 4 boats going through, a couple of very big, but skittish racing yachts which move around a lot in the turbulent waters of the locks when the sluice gates open.
With three of us ashore tending ropes, we look on a bit too smugly at how well Heydays behaves…perhaps we’ll get our come-uppance!
The back drop to the locks and the whole canal is stunning. I know I’ve used that word a lot, but I’m in danger of running out of superlatives…
We’re through and then cruise gently along the canal past a couple of swing bridges, while a train and cars patiently (we assume) wait for our little flotilla to pass.
We pass our final lock for today with the slightly confusing name of Gairlochy Lock. There is a quiet pontoon (with electricity for the fridge) and we’re tied up and hearing nothing but birdsong against the background of snowy mountains…
This is such an amazing place, not a sound save for birds and the occasional chuckle of water round the stern. We decide to stay for the night.
Postscript: One of the boats we have been in company with today is called Andiamo, a Jeanneau 32. They approach to come behind us on the pontoon, and we take their lines and generally help. We introduce ourselves and as always have to spell out Yee Tak’s name. “She’s from Hong Kong” we explain. “Oh” says Maureen (partner Ian) “I was born in Hong Kong and left in 1971 when I was 14”. What a coincidence… One thing leads to another and we invite them round for early evening drinks. Things then get even weirder… It turns out that Maureen and Yee Tak both went to the same school in HK (St Paul’s) and were both in the same year (although different classes). The rest of us watch on as bystanders at a school reunion, as they discuss the various teachers and nuns they had the fortune (or sometimes misfortune) to be taught by. It was lovely watching them reminisce back down to their schoolgirl days…
By the time we made our way back across the water to the boat last night, the weather had already decided to give us a break. The gale that accompanied our arrival had eased considerably, still breezy, still a little lively in the dinghy, but nothing like the conditions of a few hours earlier. We returned aboard well fed, moderately windswept, and largely content…and went to bed without any great delay.
Morning brought a transformation… the loch was completely still, glassy and quiet, with perfect reflections of the mountains, the trees, and the little cottage opposite, in the waters around Heydays.
We had a schedule to keep, however. The narrows at Corran are a tidal pinch point midway up Loch Linnie, and this required us to pass through before the tide turned against us, so by eight o’clock we were underway, coffees in hand, gliding up Loch A Choire in conditions that bore absolutely no resemblance to yesterday’s arrival. We had hoped for a little wind as we turned out into Loch Linnie proper, but the loch had decided otherwise, and we motored on without complaint into what was, in fairness, a genuinely beautiful morning.
The narrows at Corran were quiet, save for a handful of motorcyclists waiting for the cable ferry on the far bank, and not much else. The Corran ferry skipper, we noted, was a more patient individual than his counterpart on the Studland crossing in Poole, where the approach with a yacht has an ambiguous quality…the ferry tending to depart at precisely the moment most inconvenient to all concerned. Here, he waited for us to pass before setting off, and we continued north with goodwill on all sides.
Loch Linnie narrows steadily toward its head, where Fort William sits on one shore, with Ben Nevis looming over…
…and the small town of Corpach on the other. Corpach is, in fact, the southern entrance to the Caledonian Canal, and we tied up at the community-run marina there — one of several such places in these waters, operated by local groups on something closer to goodwill and honesty boxes than the brisk commercial efficiency of larger marinas. Refreshingly so, even if refreshingly is doing some work in that sentence.
Formalities at the canal office were straightforward: forms, insurance details, facility keys, and a nine o’clock lock slot booked for the following morning. A seven-day canal pass, at £277 for the boat, gives ample time for the transit, most crews manage it in three or four days, but we intend to take our time and see something of the country on the way. Conveniently, seven days also brings us neatly to the point at which the four of us are planning to leave Heydays for a fortnight and head home, so the timing works rather well.
There is a small café beside the sea lock. We went in for coffee. This, as so often happens, evolved into fish and chips, loaded fries with haggis, and an excellent bowl of tomato soup, at which point we conceded that this constituted lunch and that, it being Sunday, a proper lunch was entirely in order.
We made our way back to the boat in the early afternoon moving, it must be said, with the slow plod of people who have eaten well. The rain arrived shortly after, and the mist settled low over the surrounding hills. The mountains are not quite the same in cloud as they are in sun, but they remain grand, and impressive, and it remains a privilege to be here, whatever the weather is doing.
Tomorrow: the canal begins.
Following the established morning routine of tea and coffee administered from a horizontal position, we eventually achieved sufficient motivation to prepare the vessel for departure. The plan: retrace our wake down the Sound of Mull, turn to port at the bottom, and proceed up Loch Linnhe, with an overnight stop in Loch a Choire, before continuing to Corpach/Fort William and the entrance to the Caledonian Canal.
A brief foray ashore for last-minute provisions, then into the sailing gear. The day was bright and clear, but the sun and wind seemed not to have agreed on who was coming out on top today.
We slipped the mooring just after 1pm, under a double-reefed main and headed out into what proved to be a near-dead run.
The Sound of Mull funnelled gusts down its steep sides with its customary lack of subtlety, and we maintained a respectful level of concentration to avoid any accidental gybes. A handful of sailing boats were beating up toward Tobermory…
…we kept clear as required and got on with our afternoon.
Soup and sandwiches did their job, but he scenery did considerably more than its job. The sailing was glorious, with little cottages and hidden beaches…
Bearing away into Loch Linnhe, the wind came more firmly onto the quarter, which improved both the boat speed and the general atmosphere on deck. We also noted not for the first time that sailing in enclosed waters has a distinct psychological advantage over open passages: there is always something to aim for. In this case, a succession of large and impressive mountains (although not to Chris, who comes from a land of properly high mountains called the Rockies…), which are considerably more encouraging than a featureless grey sea.
As the afternoon wore on, the wind increased and began to head us, so we dropped to motor-sailing under the main alone. Purists may raise an eyebrow, but it kept us in the sheltered inshore waters, made use of the weaker tidal streams, and, crucially, kept things manageable as the gusts crept above 30 knots approaching Loch a Choir. The reefs earned their keep.
Mainsail furled, we motored the final stretch directly into 30-plus knots, running through the options for anchoring or mooring in what the pilot book diplomatically describes as subject to “often violent squalls in strong winds.” The pilot book, on this occasion, was not exaggerating.
The Old Boat House restaurant at the head of the loch, keeps a few mooring buoys for visiting boats. Only one other vessel was in residence, sensibly so, given the conditions, and we picked up a free buoy with the quiet relief of people who had been giving the anchoring question rather more thought than we would have liked.
A call to the restaurant confirmed we were welcome to use the mooring overnight, whether or not we came ashore to eat. A generous gesture, really kind.
The backdrop was quite beautiful, mountains on all sides, the loch settled despite the wind, the light beginning to shift toward evening. We decided to go ashore for dinner.
The Old Boat House turned out to be exactly right, six tables, run by a couple, unhurried and excellent….
We settled in as the sun dropped behind the mountains and threw long reds and oranges across the water, and agreed that the day had gone rather well.
There is something genuinely stirring about cold northern waters in bright sunshine. The discomfort is real, but so is everything else.
A near-perfect day.
heydays346 