We land back in Belfast on a hot and dry morning wondering where Heydays will be and whether we will be able even to get into the marina. Still no response from the harbour admin… Heydays is now rafted up and the remains of the sailing festival are being cleared away with a lovely square rigger still in the marina. A call to the harbour gets a code for the gates and the promise of a response re payment etc.

We have a loose plan to sail for Isle of Man on Tuesday due to favourable winds and so after a quick settle in we set off to see something of Belfast. The Titanic museum certainly deserves its reputation and we end up spending over 3 hours there learning about not just the building and sinking but also about the history of Harland and Wolff and the docks.

It turns out that even in the late 1800s there was a clear sectarian segregation among the workers, with catholics working in the poorly paid flax spinning and rope-making industries and living in 2 room houses, whilst the 3 room houses and skilled jobs were reserved for the protestants.

Equally fascinating, but also depressing was the open top bus tour. This took in all the key sights including Stormont with its imposing statue of (the protestant) founder of separate Ulster, Edward Carson.

We wondered how they would deal with ‘the troubles’, but the commentary whilst being very balanced and non-sectarian, nonetheless tackled the difficult matters head on. It included a visit to all the key areas of West Belfast such as Shankill and Falls road, the various para-military murals, the memorials to the ‘heroes’ from both sides… mostly shown with balaclavas and guns… and the ‘Peace Wall’ and gates.

 

…and it went on and on and on throughout West Belfast…

We had seen pictures and documentaries many times, but we were still both shocked and depressed in equal measure by the wall. In places it is nearly 15m high and one passes through shabby industrial gates which are still shut each night to keep the catholic and protestant communities apart despite nearly 20 years since the Good Friday agreement. Each housing estate seems solely the province of one ‘religion’ or the other and all have high walls and razor wire surrounding them.

The murals are all carefully repainted and nurtured and we saw plenty of Union Flags hanging from protestant lamp-posts together with huge bonfire preparations for the 12 July commemoration of William of Orange defeating the catholic King James at the battle of the Boyne. A big mural says “Culture is not a threat” but we wonder whether in the face of all these reminders plus segregated schools when/if it will ever really end.

Even Crumlin Road Jail remains as a monument to the inability to seek to forgive rather than condemn. We failed to learn from Nelson…

 

Back on the boat we re-do the tidal calculations and decide to make best use of the southerly ebb from Belfast Lough rather than the at first simple option of a day sail…the snag is that it requires a 1am departure. A quick shop, pizza on board and a couple of hours kip serves as our preparation.

With apologies for so much focus on the politics this time, but it still has an enormous impact on Belfast, whether as a tourist or resident.

 

As a footnote to the previous post…having arrived and paid for a day at the automatic machine, we squelch our way into the city in search of a couple of beers and some food. At 9.30 there are some bars open but none serving even a sandwich. An increasingly anxious dash round various shut restaurants does not lift the spirits until we come across a Mexican fast food outlet called Boojum. They are starting to clean down but welcome us with apparent joy as if they had spent most of the day waiting for two damp old blokes to come in. It gets even better when they serve us some beer (lager really). The food was excellent and very reasonable in price.

The next day is spent drying out and doing laundry and exciting stuff in preparation for leaving her for a couple of weeks. Despite repeated calls we still have no response from the harbour admin re an extended stay, but we meet Elliot who almost lives aboard his small yacht in the harbour and Dave the harbour attendant. They exchange knowing glances when we ask about formalities and happily give us codes to get us in and out.

Belfast of course, comes with a set of expectations, assumptions and perhaps even prejudice for those  of us old enough to remember the nightly news in the 70s and 80s of yet another shooting, bombing or knee-capping. We are in what is now described as the Titanic Quarter and it has preserved two of the big iconic gantrys called Samson and Goliath which were used in building the Olympic class ships including Titanic herself. The area is very much like many other up-market harbour redevelopments and links via a new foot-bridge to the Cathedral Quarter with its bars and shops …and cathedrals.we later see a Thai restaurant…

 

But back to the assumptions… whilst waiting for laundry to dry (our reader can probably hardly be contained at this point), Dave and Elliot have a very detailed discussion about the police reaction to the London Bridge van attack. They both are very knowledgeable about weaponry, ordinance and things of that nature. Our reader may be mildly surprised to know that James does not get involved in this particular discussion, but within very few minutes it is so abundantly clear that they are from the protestant community. They clearly intensely dislike Jeremy Corbin (“…obviously as he is an IRA sympathiser…”) and even want the ‘return’ of a further two counties now in the republic that apparently should be part of Ulster. Dave it turns out, used to be in the forces, but not Elliot whose parents moved to Scotland to get away from the troubles. He however returned as an 18 year old “…to be part of it”. We put two and two together and make a few hundred about Elliot and wonder about how he managed to get so much knowledge of ordinance…just askin’!.

The early morning flight out gives us a bird’s eye view of the marina. The issue of payment is unresolved even though we have no idea what they will do with Heydays when the international sailing festival arrives while we are away. Oh well, we’ll find out in a couple of weeks.

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.