Our reason for a stop-over in Campbeltown was the promise of winds for a decent sail over to Ireland. In the event Campbeltown proves to be a great stopping off point in its own right. The facilities for sailors are clean, modern and…they don’t charge extra for luxury items such as loos, showers, electricity and wifi (which actually reaches to the end of the furthest pontoon)! Sadly we don’t have enough time to look around more, but what we see is delightful and we would recommend it for a longer stay…and a great local bakery.

After topping up with diesel we leave a drizzly Campbeltown, complete with mist rolling in from the sea and gear ourselves up for what has been forecast as some strongish cyclonic winds.

The currents in the North Channel (between Mull of Galloway and the Antrim coast) are strong and we have planned to arrive off Belfast Lough on the last of the Southerly stream. This means that we opt for a course which takes us further east of Mull of Kintyre than the direct route, to avoid the last of the north-going stream.

Cyclonic 4 or 5 does not appear and we motor on into an increasing bright day. To be fair, we probably are experiencing cyclonic winds but are just right in the centre of the slow-moving low. The sea is very lumpy however with a long and steep swell coming from the SW. The sky continues to lighten and soon we are stuffed up in our oilies and getting hotter and hotter. The huge lump of Ailsa Craig stays with us all the way to irish landfall.

Soon there are some tentative little gusts of wind from an unfamiliar direction and we shake out the sails. Just motor sailing with the main at first, but then unfurling our big genoa as the wind continues to get more north in it. Heydays is in a sunlit centre of circling cloud. There is gloom over Scotland and as far as we can tell, gloom over Antrim as well, but we are scooting along at 6 or 7 kts with just a few distant ferries for company.

We start to see the Irish coast and adjust our course to take account of the stronger stream south (as we’re closing faster than planned). The sun disappears as the wind strengthens to the forecast 5 and the oilies become a help rather than a hindrance.

We reach the entrance to Belfast Lough and round the Black Head lighthouse (unfortunate name) in increasing gloom and the first few drops of rain.

We get a tantalising glimpse of the cranes of Belfast, still two hours away. It is the last we see of the city until we are in it!

Our final picture of today (other than another Rothko study in grey) is the little town of Whitehead (no comment) where they appear t have used some colour on their pebbledash!

Belfast disappears into the rain and soon we are huddled under the spayhood counting the marker buoys down the remarkably narrow channel for such a major port. A huge cruise liner comes the other way with its little pilot boat in pursuit and we keep well clear. With sail down as instructed, we make contact with the harbour control and receive permission to enter…not sure what we would have done if they had refused. We begin to wonder if we should have opted for Carrickfergus instead of the City Centre Marina. We can only make out just one buoy ahead each time and soon another coaster appears out of the gloom going the other way. It would have been fascinating to have seen the city docks with all their history, but neither light nor inclination allow for photos at this point. The old Harland and Woolf big cranes appear and the old Titanic dock and new centre slide past just before we turn in to Abercorn basin and find a berth for the next couple of weeks. The sitter-oooter (cockpit cover in Peterheadish) is up in double quick time and we set off to find some beer and some nosh…

 

 

We lock out of the Crinan canal just on 9am and turn south once more, waving goodbye to Ardrishaig.

After the calm and tranquility of the canal, it takes some time to get used to a boat that feels alive once more on the (almost) open sea. The decisions are always around the wind, which is only right and proper for a sailing boat. Forecasts at the moment are for SW winds veering SE later. Do we sail free and get as far as we can towards  Troon and then hope that the SE winds pick us up and drive us on to Girvan (but knowing that in reality it will mean a likely beat into a F4/5)? In the end the decision emerges with the latest shipping forecast. It is suggesting that the winds for Monday will be going round to the west and then NW. Belfast is west from Girvan and this would make for an uncomfy crossing of the North Channel. We opt for stopping over in Campbeltown on the Mull of Kintyre which will give us a broad reach over to Belfast. So…the west side of Arran it is.

We begin by short tacking down the Kilbrannan Sound (between Arran and Kintyre), but after an hour of little progress we reluctantly turn to the Thorneycroft once more and punch into a short chop which is reminscent of the Solent.

Arran is (to us) surprisingly mountainous and craggy compared to Kintyre just a short hop across the water and the clouds across the peaks are endlessly fascinating…

 

The rain sets in but we are warm and dry under the sprayhood and the miles and lunch roll by, with the headland of the Mull of Kintyre coming into and out of view as squalls pass over.

The lighthouse on Island Davaar beckons us in to Campbeltown Loch and a Cal Mac ferry comes to meet us at the narrowest point of the channel…together with a fishing boat hurtling up behind us. Nothing in sight for hours and then…

The harbour master comes down to meet us on the pontoon and we even have time for a quick look around (and a beer or two and dinner) before the rain sets in again.

 

Friday is a chance to dry out in the sun and to see the canal (at least our bit near Ardrishaig) in its summer glory.

…and we’re back to the pebble-dash!

Early in the morning Vic 32 gets up steam and is soon under way. She is one of the last of the Clyde Puffers still under steam and makes barely a noise as she noses into the lock, with just enough for a cigarette paper between the sides. There is a whole load of technical stuff on-line to do with condensing boilers and the lack of a puffing sound, but these boats were built in large numbers as victualling vessels for the navy . Vic32 was built in 1943 and is mostly used for holidays now, with a reputed 2 resident chefs on board.

Ardrishaig is trying to get to grips with a new leisure-canal based life with little commercial traffic, but we ate at two places both of which we would highly recommend, but neither of which came up on a simple Google search…just sayin’, but we wish them well and good luck.

The canal is quiet as the evening draws on (except for the midges) but there is a poetic moon in the rigging…not quite Sea Fever by John Masefield but it’s the best we can do.

We are planning a few more weeks ahead now and it is sad to realise that we have just one or two nights left in Scotland. One way or another Heydays has been in Scotland since last Autumn and this part of our journey round the UK has been memorable in so many ways. Top of the list without any shadow of doubt have been the people we have met. From the harbour-masters willing to spend the time to talk and share local knowledge, to new friends who have made this so special. Anne and Brian from Peterhead have been amazing and not only gave us great tips on where to go, but kept an eye on Heydays during the winter storms when we were tucked up down south. Alan and a reluctant Ian who sailed with us across the Pentland Firth and who lent cars and a host of other sailors from Tony and Ingula who just loved the chilly and stormy northern waters, to Tommy and Barbro from Sweden who seem to know more about our country than we do. The Solent and English Channel are our home waters, but they are also more crowded in a yachty kind of way and people seem to have less time to spend just chatting. The peaceful anchorages and even marinas up here, are a world away from the slightly irritated folk who can be found too frequently on the inside boat of a raft of 6 in Yarmouth IoW on a bank holiday Monday. Not to mention the constant thrum of powerful motors in the endless procession of Sunseekers racing off to Cowes for Sunday lunch.

So…our plans for the next few months, in case friends or family want to catch up with us, join for a few days, or are just vaguely interested….

All being well with wind etc. we plan to sail to Girvan (just above Stranraer) tomorrow and then over to Belfast where we need to leave Heydays for a couple of weeks to attend to stuff at home. The broad itinerary then is to return around 19 June and sail over to the Isle of Man then on to Liverpool with a day or so to look around each (and see John’s daughter and family). Then to Dublin via Anglesey and following a mooch down the Irish east coast over to Milford Haven for early July. Other commitments mean that we’ll then try for the Scillies early September, before a meander along the south west coast to home by the end of October. That’s the plan but…we’ll keep you all posted.

Flaming it isn’t! Unremitting rain (it is still raining at 21.45 as this is being written) dampens the spirits and saps the energy, but there is no doubt that this is a beautiful canal and despite the general dampness, we would not hesitate to recommend it to anyone as a passage through great scenery.

We disturb a heron who grumpily flies off along the canal as we approach only to get even grumpier as we keep catching up with him.

The bridges are wound open as we approach and only once do we catch one bridge keeper out as he huddles out of the rain in his hut.

The young women from Crinan are clearly concerned by two old blokes doing the locks on their own and they cycle ahead to help us through the flight of 5 locks going up. The locks are certainly deep and the flows push the boat about like matchwood. In the end, we think we get their approval…

Going down is easier and since we are now thoroughly wet we decide to press on and not stop for lunch. We get into the rhythm of a smoothly oiled machine…John driving Heydays and handling both lines as the boat descends and James scampering around with gates and sluices…and getting wetter on the inside of oilies with sweat.

With one lock finished and gates and sluices shut, John motors gently on and James runs ahead to prepare the next lock. As we near Ardrishaig we make the decision to stay there for tonight rather than locking out to sea immediately. This proves fortuitous as the boats in the loch are certainly bouncing around in the swell…and we manage to stamp on the ignition key and break it off in the lock. (That is three lochs, locks and locks today and we haven’t even got to Irish loughs). Looks like we are here until a replacement arrives on Saturday courtesy of a phone call to the very helpful Crinan Boatyard.

Googling places to eat in Ardrishaig throws up two places which are closed down and one about 2 miles away but with frequent buses. We could of course eat on the boat, but we are wet and lazy. The bus doesn’t appear and we decide to find a taxi until…just round the corner is a great little Café called Rumbling Tum. Even better it has a superbly priced and very tasty bistro menu and has only been open in the evening for the last two weeks. They don’t have a licence but they direct us to the Co-op and we spend a happy evening getting warm, dry and mellow.

As a footnote…locals here are complaining about the year of the ‘super-midge’ due to the mild winter. So much for our plan to come early and leave early…

As a final footnote to a damp 1st of June, we share the basin with Vic2 who as the evening draws on has a merry log stove burning brightly…

 

The scenery is astounding as we leave Oban and work our way between so many islands, isolated communities and rocks.

We tick the islands off one by one….Kerrera, Mull, Luing as we hurtle down the Firth of Lorne.  We get abeam of the Gulf of Corryvreckan and the sea starts to boil and bubble. The patterns are amazing and the pictures don’t really do it justice.

Steering a straight line becomes a challenge and the log tops out at 11.2kts over the ground. Jura is off the starboard bow and we consider diverting for some whisky but Crinan beckons, with its short cut canal to Loch Fyne and points south. While we hang around outside for permission to enter, another grand old motor yacht sails by…

There is no shortage of advice on how to tackle the canal, but we are well prepared and the incredibly helpful young women make entering through the high and somewhat daunting sealock a doddle.

On their advice we decide to stay just above lock 14 (of 15). This gives us easy access to the facilities at Crinan and also allows us to make an early start in the morning once bridges and locks open at 8.30.

Not that we are obsessed, but the café has great wifi (in an otherwise connectivity desolate spot) and even better ice-cream and beer. There is little better than whiling away the last of the afternoon sun…there is even a very well stocked chandlery nearby. Dinner in the Crinan Hotel includes linen napkins (dining above our station clearly).

Tuesday morning…the early view from our boat

Tuesday morning a bit later

Apologies for that…

The ‘booked’ water taxi is too full and they operate a first on last off principle, despite the fact we have all booked. Some folk are requested to leave, but at least the skipper hasn’t been to the United Airlines school of customer service. He promises to be back in half an hour or so. Oban is resolutely wet, but we have a nice (but very slow) coffee in the Palace Hotel…artisan coffee but took them a while to find the artisan. James’ cousins join us and it is good to catch up on booze, boats and the blues…oh, and some family stuff. The waterfront seafood shack next to the station does a great lunch and then all too soon we have to say goodbye.

It is always sad to see people leave and we are waving in all directions to cousins, friends and wife as they make their way back down country…and a warmer midge-free life.

Back on Heydays John and James are starting to feel well disposed to the new owners of the marina who are having to catch up on lots of overdue maintenance. We almost feel that the top dollar price is OK, until one of the co-owners starts to tell us of his ocean racing exploits and his custom-built mono-foil yacht capable of doing over 30kts. That, together with no fresh water at all and we begin to question priorities and what exactly are our marina dues paying for.

The arrival of the grand old paddle wheeler Waverly lifts us…

…but mostly Heydays is a slightly grumpy boat that evening …probably too many old men!

Our friends Brian and Anne are down in Loch Aline and it would be wonderful to drop in there on our way to Oban, but the weather is wet, the wind is on the nose (isn’t it always?) and there are gales forecast for Tuesday. Reluctantly we decide that we need to make for Oban tonight to be sure of getting Lyn Ash and Yee Tak to their sleeper on time.

For a while we manage to make reasonable progress under sail, tacking down the loch, but the wind dies to a whisper and we turn to the trusty Thorneycroft once more. To our shame we pass Brian and Anne in Skoling without recognising them (so much for diligent watch-keeping).  We arrive in Oban Marina which is actually on Kerera Island but has the promise of electricity, water, wifi, bar/restaurant and an hourly water-taxi to Oban itself.

In the event, the water is limited (low rainfall), the electricity and showers are extra, the wifi temperamental, the bar and restaurant shut and the taxi 2 hourly booked in advance. Perhaps we are only grumpy because we are wet, but we have haggis (including veggie haggis) to look forward to and plenty of booze… Hopefully we’ll have a more positive post tomorrow and the marina staff are very helpful and apologetic.

We have opted to stay here for the day and generally slob about in the sun, with just full Scottish breakfast (actually it is almost lunchtime), a tour round the Tobermory distillery to distract us

…and the joys of essential laundry. It is funny to be here among tourists once more (…although surely we are just water-borne tourists?) having had glorious places like Rona, Scavaig and Canna almost to ourselves. Perhaps it was the sense of adventure, or the loneliness, because Tobermory is delightful against a backdrop of wooded hills and is certainly not in the crowded league of Poole or Lymington on a bank holiday weekend.

We also meet Bill and Rosemary on their Nauticat who are friends of Anne and Brian. Folk up here are, as we have said before so friendly and welcoming…

After dinner in the Mishnish, we finish the night sitting out watching a beautiful sunset…burning citronella candles to keep the midges at bay.

 

The sea is glassy calm and there’s not a breath of wind and the Cal Mac ferry calls but seems to neither drop off or pick up. The Dutch tall ship also beats us up and out of the harbour…

We know that purists would say stay put and wait for fair winds, but…the diesel goes on and we motor out into the sound of Canna and slide down the west coast of Rum in the Sea of the Hebrides. It’s a gloomy day with poor visibility and Eigg and Muck are just about visible as the miles slip past. We followed the Cal Mac ferry out of Canna but it is soon out of sight and we wonder what else is out there…we soon have an answer as a coaster appears about a mile away. The radar goes on despite its thirst for electricity and provides some reassurance, although this is not like crossing the nautical motorway that is our home stretch of English Channel. The rain comes and flattens what little sea there is. We are approaching Ardnamurchan Point and prepare to toast this most westerly point of mainland UK when, rising majestically out of the calm depths, comes a Minke Whale…not the best photo, but its our Minke!!

This sounds like we knew exactly what we were seeing, but we made an assumption (see below)…Our uncertainty does nothing to dispel the magic of the moment and we are all transfixed by this majestic creature cruising slowly northwards.

We have a double toast…to Ardnamurchan Point and to ‘our’ whale. The clouds lift and the final miles into Tobermory are a dream which could only be bettered by being able to sail…

We treat ourselves to a pontoon berth for the night with electricity hook-up, a ‘fix’ of wifi, water and some hot showers.

Seafood pasta on board is washed down with some of the Coop’s finest  and we put the world to rights on the back of the dregs of a bottle of scotch…a shame that the world wasn’t listening!!

We wave goodbye to Skoling and with light winds make our way down the Sound of Sleat   heading towards the tiny Loch Scavaig as recommended for lunch stop by Brian and Anne.

The entrance is tricky (especially with Lyn doing an impersonation of Kate Winslett) with lots of partly submerged rocks but we anchor in 3m almost completely surrounded by the towering peaks of the Cuillins.

There are parties of day trippers brought by small boats, but that doesn’t spoil the magic of this wild and desolate place. We walk up to Loch Coruisk past some waterfalls and find ourselves alone and in perfect peace….with only the gentle sound of our KitKat wrappers to disturb!

John does some “rock climbing” not to be out-done by Lyn in the naff impersonation stakes…

The sail to Rum is glorious and not overly strenuous …

although over too soon and we cautiously nose towards the shallows with 20m of anchor chain at the ready. Our first attempt  at digging it in fails miserably and we bring up a huge gob (technical term) of mud and kelp. Some strenuous work with the boathook and a brush and we are ready for another try. This time it holds and we spend half an hour checking and re-checking bearings.

Eventually dinner, some scotch and scintillating conversation provide some reassurance that we’re going nowhere. A couple of other boats have followed us in and anchor in deeper water (presumably being without the comfort of our twin keels).

“James…..JAMES” from Ashley at  2.30 in the morning brings a alarms going off and a worried face waking us wondering if we are about to crash into rocks. The alarms are right…we are in less than 1.7 m and we are 1.4m deep. What’s to worry…we’ve got 30cm to spare! The joy of a bilge keel boat is the relative freedom from depth anxiety (providing it is only mud below us). We turn off the alarms and return to the zzzs.

Rum is odd, but in a good way. In the morning we run ashore to discover showers, a bunkhouse/hostel and apparently 26 people living on the island. The grand old house/castle lies sadly unused these days…

even as a hotel it failed to thrive and the days when visitors were met by a fleet of Albion cars from the ferry are long gone. However there is a funny mix of almost alternative life-stylers here together with a little shop and post office and a community hall selling coffee and some freshly baked and still warm cakes. A poster advertises music tonight courtesy of Stoneage Jenga. We don’t know them but it sounds heavyish and thrashish enough to put off even us dedicated musos.

As we prepare to leave for Canna, the ferry arrives and at least 50-60 people get off (many with back packs) and a beat up old Mercedes van, presumably carrying Stoneage Jenga.

We watch the boat next to us failing to get their anchor up and then sending down their youngest and presumably most bidable person down to try to get a line on to release. Fortunately ours behaves and soon we are sailing out of the loch, leaving them still stuck firmly to the Rum shore.

The sail to Canna is a glorious reach at over 7kt in the sunshine and we even break out the sun cream. We’re not competitive….but we pull away from another boat not far behind ha! Canna is another tricky entrance, not at all obvious at first sight, but the harbour is simply stunning and soon we are rocking gently on a mooring and considering showers and dinner….

The harbour is actually between the islands of Sanday and Canna although there is a footbridge linking the two….built by the parish council to help children from Sanday get to school. There are also 3 churches/chapels…

Also with a population of just 26 we wonder what life on these islands outside the tourist season must be like. We are enjoying over 19 hours of daylight, but in the winter months…

The husband and wife owners of Café Canna run it during the season, and the rest of the time she is a graphic designer, able to work from home. Perhaps connectivity and on-line working/hi-tech could be the saviour of these very remote communities. We’ve booked ahead fortunately as it is full, but the food is great.

Just the tender to the boat is slightly heavier than when we started…