June 14…heading South again…

Saturday…the better part of valour?

Saturday is given over to provisioning Heydays for the passage ahead, a necessary but unromantic chore that nonetheless carries a certain satisfaction. Lockers are filled, water tanks topped up, and the various calculations of fuel, food, and contingency that precede any serious passage are worked through with appropriate care. We are saying goodbye to Stromness and Orkney, and heading back to Scotland.

The passage itself demands a lot of care. The Pentland Firth required precise timing on the way in, but leaving via Hoy Sound and then rounding Cape Wrath is, in its own way, equally unforgiving. The roosts through Hoy Sound (those short, steep, breaking seas that build where tidal streams accelerate through confined water) dictate that we must transit at or very close to slack water, or find ourselves in conditions that make progress both uncomfortable and potentially hazardous. Once clear of Hoy, the rounding of Cape Wrath introduces a further complication…we need to be at least three miles offshore to pick up the westerly-going and then south-going ebb as it sweeps around the headland, avoiding the worst of the tide race that sets up in the shallower water closer in.

The maths is sobering. Total passage time is somewhere in the region of fifteen hours…the better part of two full tidal cycles…which means stemming a foul tide for a portion of the journey however carefully we time the departure. Our preferred destination is Kinlochbervie, a working fishing harbour on the north-west coast that offers good shelter and the considerable advantage of actually existing at the end of a long day. Plan B, should the forecast deteriorate en route, is to duck into Loch Eriboll and anchor, a perfectly serviceable if somewhat anti-climactic alternative, before rounding the headland in better conditions.

Which brings us, as it always does, to the alarm. Another 0330 start. At least at this latitude and this time of year, first light will be well established by then. The more pressing question is whether sleep will come at all if we turn in at eight.

The next entry may shed some light on that.

Sunday…an executive decision…

We are all awake before the alarm. This is not the cheerful, purposeful “we’re awake” of people ready to put to sea. This is the wakefulness of people who have been lying in the dark listening to the wind building in the rigging and feeling Heydays moving restlessly on her mooring lines. The fetch from the end of the loch is short, which means the chop is modest. What it also means is that anything sufficient to produce noticeable movement at the pontoon is producing considerably more outside.

We check the forecast. Then we check it again, along with the wave predictions for the crossing. The numbers are not alarming in any real sense Force 6, gusting 7, is well within what Heydays handles perfectly well. Double-reefed main, several rolls in the genoa, and she just gets on with it. In the right circumstances this is, quite honestly, exhilarating sailing.

The right circumstances are not a fifteen-hour offshore passage starting at 0330 after a largely theoretical night’s sleep.

There is a very real difference between a brisk four-hour thrash from Lymington to Poole, where the coffee is still warm when you arrive, and the discomfort has a level of exhilaration to it,, and a long passage in the same conditions. On a short sail, Force 6 is sport. Sustained over fifteen hours, with tide races to navigate at each end, it becomes something else…a test of endurance that nobody actually asked for, producing fatigue that hampers both judgement and good temper in roughly equal measure.

We ask the question…will we, over the next 15 hours, enjoy ourselves?

We also note, in passing, that there is music on in the pub this afternoon.

The decision, when it comes, is not a difficult one. Monday’s forecast is materially better, less wind, a more manageable sea state, and the same tides. We are not behind schedule. There is no deadline, no one waiting, nothing that cannot wait another twenty-four hours.

We go back to bed.

It is, without question, the right call. The heroic option has its place. This is not it.

A lazy Sunday morning doing not much except for a bit of settling, and then an informal bar-room session of folk, blues and americana.

Now, one or two readers will know that folk is not the favourite for James, however, in my (very) humble opinion, it is all about context….and this context was stunning. Local musicians singing in a bar…informal, but very talented…

No apologies about a few videos here, although a couple of songs were about ships…mostly with less than uplifting endings…to the boats and crew, that is, not the musicians!

…and some amazing individual voices…

Monday bright(ish) and early…

So 3.00 am is not as bad as 2.30, but only marginally. However, for the second time we had all our clothes laid out, coffee ready in the cafetiere, milk and sugar all added…all that needs to be done is throw the clothes on (hopefully in the right order), boil the kettle and then basic chores for the boat…like a well oiled, albeit slightly ancient machine…

The big benefit of these nothern latitudes at this time of year is the late evening and early morning light. We slip the lines and slide out past the ferry and on into the western end of Scapa Flow.

Really sad to be leaving Orkney again. We loved it before and it hasn’t dissappointed this time…it really is a magical place, and this is the furthest north which Heydays will go on this trip.

We plan to be in the middle of the Hoy Sound around slack tide…4.30, but the first of the ebb is already starting as we enter the race. We keep steadfastly to the northern shore to avoid the wordt of the race and the rough water, and finally see The Old Man of Hoy opening out as we head out into the North Atlantic.

Hoy fades astern and we have quite a big swell from the north left over from yesterdays strong winds. We revel in the last of the west going tide and the nice northerly breeze…for as long as it lasts….it’s due to veer.

We take it in turns to snooze as the morning wears on, and a couple of dolphins check us out as they meander north. The forecast was right, and the wind leaves us, so motor sailing it is with the genny furled for now…

Around noon Cape Wrath becomes clear and another milesstone approaches. The breeze comes round to the east, the tide turns in our favour once more, and Heydays pushes on ever-willingly round another of this countries significant headlands.

Cape Wrath is starkly beautiful in the early afternoon light and we have company for a while in the form of a Dutch Yacht much closer in….w eoutpace her for a few miles (not that we are racing!) as we have much cleaner wind out herem, HA!

The rugged coastline in the sun shows off brilliant pinks and we start to search for the entrance to Loch Inchard and the tiny fishing port of Kinlochbervie.

We have to trust the navigation and head for seeemingly rocky dead ends, and then just at the last minute, the harbour opens out and we tie up, tired but elated after a brilliant sail across the very north of Scotland.