Having secured Heydays and given her a metaphorical pat on the back, we pop into the closest bar which turns out to be attached to the unfortunately named Culag Hotel…the photos don’t help. We notice the exclusively male clientele and then duck as a fight ensues. It is more like handbags at dawn but they send our plates flying before the bar-lady pulls them both apart. The young lad is sent away, the old drunk returns to his corner and told to be on his best behaviour. This does not apparently exclude loud and frequent profanities along the lines of “look at the **** state of that” in response to various acts appearing on Eurovision which is being played loud and avidly watched.

After a break to attend to matters domestic, John and James make journey once more to Orkney, via Caledonian sleeper, beautiful train ride to Thurso from Inverness and then ferry to Stromness. Great night in the bar on the sleeper chatting to an Aussie who tries to convince us that the wildlife there doesn’t always see you as dinner. For the first and only time we out-drink an Aussie….but probably due to the fact that he is still jet lagged.

The photo of the Old Man of Hoy is a cheat as it is taken from the ferry…more of that later, but the winds and down draft off the high mountains of Hoy give both of us serious pause for thought, as we are due to sail out past here tomorrow.

We both spend a slightly restless night trying to think through the passage from Stromness to the Western Isles round Cape Wrath in forecast strong winds. Wind in the rigging always sounds grim and at 4 in the morning, the howling and whistling does nothing to reassure. We meet up with Alan and his old fishing skipper colleague who are of the opinion that a Friday lunchtime depart would not be for them. That settles it! If old fishermen aren’t going for it, then neither will we. The forecast for a Friday night departure looks better(ish) with Windy (our favourite weather app) suggesting 5 and 6. But…our own instruments are showing steady winds of F6 with gusts up to 7. We have an afternoon snooze anyway as prep for a night sail. Again, sleep is fitful and finally we have a brain wave…what about a Saturday am departure? The winds should be lighter and although we will have foul tide for a while, it means we can do the whole trip in daylight. It helps to see the waves coming (sometimes)!

We sleep that evening much more soundly but 4am comes indecently rapidly. However, the northern morning sky is already light and we busy ourselves with the usual pre-passage prep. Getting off the berth is tricky, but we are almost like a well oiled machine and soon we are punching out into Hoy sound, sad to be leaving Stromness, but great to be on the move again.

The GPS and our nav instruments tell us that Hoy is there, but we see almost nothing of it as we are spat out with the last of the ebb tide through Hoy Mouth.  Completely surrounded by around two shades of grey it feels like we are living in a Rothko. We hope the similarity ends there, as his grey and black paintings were about death (after suffering an embolism), although some describe their desolate landscape-like qualities as an arctic wasteland…

Occasional patches of blue appear…”enough to make a sailor a pair of trousers” as my old grandma used to say, but we see nothing of the north coast of Scotland as we sail with a fresh breeze over the quarter towards Cape Wrath. We have had some conflicting advice about the cape. Some have suggested keeping close inside Duslic Rock, with others saying 3 miles off is the minimum. As it happens, the wind makes the decision for us by veering to a more southerly direction and it makes sense to plan the course for 3 miles off.

The cloud lifts after lunch and Cape Wrath appears faintly off the port bow. Its full majesty isn’t really apparent at first, but as we close the headland we start to get glimpses of the towering hills of the North West Highlands.

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As the visibility improved so the wind died and we turned properly south, motoring into an ever more calm sea. By 3pm our first decision…do we head for Kinlochbervie or make some further southing to Lochinver. The weather for the following few days is not brilliant for passages south and we have a date with our wives in Kyle of Lochalsh on Thursday…it would be nice to meet them. We press on in the knowledge that we have a couple of hours fair tide left in our favour and daylight until at least 10pm for the final approach. We settle in for another few hours and the hazy coastline slides past.

We approach the Point of Stoer with a foul current, rain squalls and increasing murk when a school of at least 7 dolphins pass close by making their way north with the tide.

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We can finally confirm that David Attenborough has not been guilty of ‘fake dolphins’ and it lifts our spirits as we start to make out Soyea Island and the entrance to Loch Inver. The beauty of this part of Scotland becomes truly apparent in a weak evening sun and we are moored by 9.30 as the only visiting yacht. It’s is not about the numbers, but we covered a distance of 98.3 NM in 16 hours and 45 minutes with an average speed of 5.9knots and a maximum of 10.9 knots…

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It’s such a remote and beautiful place…. the wild and windy weather makes this big expanse of land both bleak and majestic, but it is also hauntingly beautiful, especially at some of the more remote headlands and shorelines. When there is no one else in sight, just the sky, sea and you, it is truly awesome. Anything that manages to grow here must be tough enough to withstand the strong winds…including the people! Despite this, we have been greeted by the welcoming sight of thousands of wild daffodils along so many of the roadside verges, reminding us that spring is indeed here even this far north.

It appears to outsiders like us that life is somehow simple and gentle here. Watching little school-children cycling home by themselves (a small lad even manages to perfect his uni-cycle skills) one can’t help but wonder that it must be wonderful for those kids growing up so close to nature, without the distractions of the materialistic possessions which so many kids elsewhere seem to yearn for.

Everyone we meet is so friendly and trusting. We’re given free crabs, the loan and use of a car and even strangers on buses help with directions, timetables and advice. Maybe because it is so remote here, everyone has a strong community spirit and they look out for each other. In many ways, it must be tough to make a living in these harsh surroundings and yet the people we have met seem so gentle and kind.

This is the furthest north I have come in the UK, and when we left to make our way back south, I felt an odd sense of sadness knowing that it is unlikely that I will come here again. I don’t know why this seems to affect me more than other places I have left. Is it because of the remoteness of the place? The lack of crowds? One getting older and aware of one’s own mortality?

As our ferry docked in Aberdeen and we make our way to the train station, we have to wait nearly 5 minutes before we could cross…the traffic was constant. I had not seen so many cars for a while and this was a stark reminder that we are indeed heading south and in the land of big cities again.

With John and Chris gone the boat is oddly quiet. Having dropped Chris at the airport we make use of Alan’s kind offer to borrow his car for the rest of the day. Just east of the airport is Deerness and we have a bracing (isn’t it always?) walk along the cliffs to The Gloup.

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Yee Tak’s mind is on other things and we end up at Jolly’s Fish back in Kirkwall. As luck would have it, the weather has been too rough for most of the local boats and so we have to satisfy ourselves with just squid (which Chris would not miss) and salmon (which she would). We have been ever so slightly ashamed that Heydays has just sat in the marina for the last 2 weeks, with not a sail raised in earnest….good to know that even the locals thought better of going out.

We take the ‘scenic’ route back to Stromness and find ourselves in Tingwall. This is a small fishing harbour and also the ferry jetty for services to Rousay, Egilsay and Wyre.

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Oddly enough, Yee Tak wanders over to a fishing boat which is unloading crabs and whelks. A casual enquiry to James, the skipper of ‘Enterprise A’, about a crab results in him promising to ‘sort her out’ with something. I stay close by! We finally stagger away with 3 large brown crabs, two velvet crabs and over a dozen huge whelks. James refuses to take anything for them, telling us to accept them as a present from Orkney. Yet another example of the kindness and generosity of people on these islands.

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Even Yee Tak has not come across velvet crabs before…apparently they are not regarded in UK so they all get shipped to Spain.

One the way back to Heydays, we drive past Eynhallow Sound which is another route into and out of the islands from the west. The pictures tell a story of dangerous roosts and local fishermen tutting and sucking their teeth when one talks about sailing through.

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Back on the boat we know that Chris would not be enthusiastic, but we miss John who would have loved this feast. We dine simply that evening on a brown crab and the two velvet crabs (very sweet meat), with simnel cake to follow. Lunch the following day on the two remaining brown crabs and then dinner of pilau rice with the boiled and garlic sautéed whelks…and the odd bottle of wine. We toast James from the Enterprise A…cheers James.

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The three of us are leaving Heydays for a while and are sad to be leaving both her and Orkney. There is no doubt that these islands are something very special and we are all grateful to the people we met along the way who suggested that we make the voyage north. Special mention to Pam and Dave on their Westerly Seahawk who we met in Arbroath on their way round clockwise, who first put the idea of going right round the top in our minds. A magical experience we are glad not to have missed.

James and John will be back in May (elderly parents permitting) with Yee Tak and Chris coming later after family commitments, to continue our voyage anti-clockwise.

We have been checking and re-checking weather forecasts (WindyTV is brilliant – thanks Brian and Anne) in preparation for the exit from Scapa Flow out of Hoy Mouth (‘area to be avoided’ says the chart, somewhat botheringly). However John has had a call to say that his Dad (Roy) in Plymouth is really poorly and that he ought to get back. Alan has left his unlocked car at the ferry terminal complete with the keys (the islands are incredibly safe) and it gets John to the airport within the hour and the start of a rapid journey south.

With Chris also gone, we revise our plans. Heydays will stay in Stromness until John and James hopefully return on 10^th May to continue the journey to the Western Isles. We know that friends want to join us along the way and we will keep this blog updated re our whereabouts. Thanks again to all the new friends we have made and their generosity for the help we have had so far and we know the boat will yet again be looked after in our absence.

Weather remains too rough for pleasurable sailing round Scapa Flow and so we opt for a ferry ride out to Hoy and back. We pass some famous seaweed eating sheep…but they are not on North Ronaldsay!

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As it turns out, driving rain keeps us in the 40’s themed café in the museum at Lyness on Hoy. An old radio with printed stations such as Hilversum and Light Programme on its dial (but with modern innards), is playing war-time tunes. We think about an impromptu tea-dance but would look odd in boots and oilies… The whole area is derelict WW2 oil tanks, gun batteries and other war detritus. The museum however, is strangely compelling, with stories of the activities of both British and German navies in both world wars.

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A constant theme of our trip from the south up the East Coast has been the increasing levels of friendliness and warmth from almost everyone we meet. We sailed over from Wick in the company of Alan and his long-suffering crew Ian on Cordula and were invited for a glorious lunch with Ian and Annette at their house on the beach on South Ronaldsay. They are not the first people we have met either, who have left Cornwall to get away from it all in Orkney.

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The boat has had a changing complement over just a few days…Paul, our faithful crew, herring gutter admirer and curry cooker has left for Majorca, John’s wife Chris has arrived and now James’ wife Yee Tak and nephew Byron have joined. A hired car for the day gets us around the main tourist sites and provides refuge from the constant wind (and occasional rain). We have seen Neil Oliver’s TV programmes about the Neolithic settlements here, but the reality is awe-inspiring. The Scara Brae village, the Maes Howe burial mound and the Ring of Brodgar seem to touch us down the generations even more than more recent relics and monuments. In reality of course, they are the relics of ordinary people like us, not just the grandiose buildings of kings, queens or bishops. We spend time just standing next to their 5000 year old village on a windswept rocky beach, gazing out to the same horizon as they did…and wondering what on earth would induce any lunatic to set out to sea!

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In a similar sort of vein, the Italian Chapel is also oddly compelling. Built by Italian prisoners of war out of two old Nissan huts, it is a small piece of beautifully decorated Italy next to their old POW camp. Once again it speaks of just ordinary men and now stands testament to an enduring friendship with the islanders.

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Driving to South Ronaldsay is now possible because of firstly the sunk block-ships and then the Churchill Barriers, erected to close off the Eastern entrances to Scapa Flow….after a U-Boat sent over 800 men and boys to a watery death on HMS Royal Oak at the start of the war. Churchill apparently convinced the Italian POW builders that it was a community project to link the islands and not a war project…!

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Unsurprisingly the weather dictates a fair chunk of life up here and since this blog is not intended to be a (very) rough guide, what follows is just a random collection of thoughts and impressions in no particular order…

So what have we learned?…that modern scotch whisky could not exist without bourbon or maybe sherry and that prior to someone buying a load of old casks to keep their raw whisky in, it was just that…raw and tasteless. Except that the tiny Scapa Distillery let us taste some of their raw spirit from the heart of the distillation and uniquely they had managed to keep the malted barley flavour. It was very different from what we now know as scotch…and very nice…and unobtainable. Scotch whisky can only be called scotch if it has been matured for at least 3 years…and nicked flavours from the Spanish or Americans! The other slightly disappointing fact…the barley for many distilleries (in this part of Scotland at least) is all malted in Berwick on Tweed (in England!) and then brought up in lorries….disappointing fact number 2 is that the raw spirit is then tankered back down south to be put into casks…and then brought back up for ageing here. Not quite as romantic as we thought. However, the tastes are still great and we’ll keep on drinking the stuff.

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A windy walk out round the headland opposite Hoy did little to reassure us for the passage out of Scapa Flow when we finally depart for the Western Isles. More strong currents with ‘roosts’ (local word for rough water and overfalls) means careful planning about both tide and wind strengths and directions. Local sailors are, as always, incredibly helpful and reassuring, but also warn about getting it wrong!

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The residents of the graveyard have a wild and windy view over to Hoy which, whatever the weather, seems to have a cloud topping giving it an odd volcanic appearance.

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Our trip to Inverness noted a surfeit of barbers (Orcadians are much less well coiffed) and queues for the ice-cream parlours…this bit also seems to be an Orcadian predilection. In the middle of nowhere for us (but centre of the world for the many Neolithic Orcadians at Maeshowe) there is a bungalow selling ice-creams. It turns out not only to be open, but in the 35 minutes we sit there waiting for the bus, there is a continual stream of people coming in…some to sit like us, others just to get take away…they are also locals. Perhaps they are closer to their Neolithic roots than we think.

We have been hoping to find local music on our trip. Half expecting fiddlers or pipers to be sat in cosy pubs by the peat fire. This was in part rectified by an outfit called Rack and Ruin at the Royal Hotel in Stromness. They are from Cullivoe on Yell in Shetland…and they play mostly blue-grassy covers mixed with some Scottish, Shetland and Irish folk. The usual chaos of pub bands, involving cables worthy of the Stones and enough duct tape to stretch across the Pentland Firth, eventually comes together around 10 and the place starts jumping. A slick ‘sting’ operation by (Wives? Mothers?) the merchandising crew involves one flirting shamelessly with drunk men (and women) while the other sizes them up and throws a perfectly fitting T Shirt across the room.

A deft move and the mark is left wearing the shirt and fishing for yet another tenner…she helps!

At 1.30 they are either out of T shirts  or songs or both. The whole pub sings a Shetlandish song and then spills out into the street. Drunk, rowdy but never lairy and a great evening even for this folk-sceptic.

It is not often we are able to have photos of our own boat on the water, so these are a few taken by Alan and Ian in Cordula…

…and with the Pentland Skerries in the background…

off South Ronaldsay and finally with Mainland (Orkney) getting close.

The day dawns clear, bright and looking very changeable. A relaxed start to the day nevertheless sees us shipshape and cleared from breakfast when a tap on the coach roof signals the arrival of our Harbourmaster for the day – Lyndsey. She watched us from home motorsailing in yesterday in perfect conditions, and she congratulates us on seeing Scapa Flow at its best. Stromness Marina is run very efficiently by friendly and knowledgable volunteers, and in no time our arrangements are clarified and we get lots of good advice on matters nautical and touristy.

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Paul only has a couple of days left with us, so we plan a day to include the Neolithic stones and a look at Kirkwall while the weather lasts, and head for the bus stop at the marina. More friendly advice from bus driver Maureen see us furnished with weekly Megapasses and we head for Stenness, after only a short 10 minute delay at the stop while the intricacies of validating the new bus smart cards are refined between Maureen and the depot…… Other passengers seem mildly amused rather than grumpy at the delay, and we are beginning to like this place and its people a lot.

We’re dropped off at the cross roads we need rather than the village ( all part of the service!), and reach the tall majestic Stones of Stenness after a brisk 15 min walk.

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No-one has done this before!!

A brief photo call later we head on over the narrow causeway between the salty Loch of Stenness and the freshwater Loch of Harray, and soon reach the Ring of Brodgar. This is impressively large, symmetrical and complete, and we spend some time studying the timeline display setting it at 3500BC within 1000 years of the first known human civilisations.

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Just touching the stones takes us back over the millenia and we try to imagine the individuals whose lives these stones commanded…

The weather looks to be closing in, a 35 min very brisk walk back might just connect with the next hourly bus, and Skara Brae is still 4-5 miles away – so we head back and just make the bus for Kirkwall.

Coffee seems overdue by this time, so it’s off to Strynds tea shop round the corner from St Magnus cathedral. Here coffee is forgotten as excellent carrot and parsnip soup with Bere bannocks (a tasty dark flour soda bread) is on offer. After an all too short look at Kirkwall it’s time to head back to explore Stromness., which turns out to be a mixture of intriguing alleys and cottages…

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…and a working port…

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…with not many trees!

While the weather closes in a couple of hours fly pleasurably by in the museum. This very much focuses on the all aspects of the town’s past, including fishing, whaling, lighthouses, trade and the historic wrecks from the scuttling of the German Fleet after WW1. Perhaps the most riveting were exhibits from the expedition of the eminent explorer John Rae who completed the NorthWest Passage routeing in the mid 1800’s. A rubberised fabric ‘Airboat’ he used to ferry expedition members one at a time across icy cold rivers in Northern Canada (paddling bare handed with a tin plate!) looked uncomfortably similar to our Avon Redcrest – they must have been tough in those days. Recruiting posters for the Hudson Bay Company show just how international the outlook has been on Orkney for centuries.

Back to the centre of town to a good meal and evening in the Ferry Inn, only to receive a text from Alan, Skipper of Cordula who sailed in company with us yesterday, to say he’d made up and dropped off a rubberised-pipe fender plank for us. We weren’t able to contact him to join us in the pub, but the plank fits and works beautifully. We look forward to renewing our acquaintance with him in the near future, and remain very grateful for the friendliness and support of those we meet in this northern tip of the U.K.

Sunday 2^nd April 2017 and the day dawns with rain and general drear.  Alan and Ian on Cordula confirm a 13.00 departure from Wick with us and we have a late-ish brekky at Wetherspoons. Back on heydays and she is all ready by 12, with everything which can move properly stowed tied or lashed. We are in our wet weather gear…with thermals and lifelines at the ready…and we’re hot. The sun is out and the wind is almost non-existent…we’re strangely anxious, almost like waiting for the dentist. We’ve read so much about crossing the Pentland Firth with its ‘walls of water’ and other dire warnings, that despite the harbourmaster telling us we are set fair for not even getting our slippers wet, we still feel apprehensive.

Cordula is first away and we follow her out of Wick at around 3 hours before HW Dover. This gives us plenty of time to get off Duncansby head by the time the tide turns West. Following Cordula and Malcolm the Harbourmaster’s advice, we hug the coast (more or less the 20m depth contour) and pick up a much reduced southerly stream and in places a positive lift. Another small boat is not far behind and they shadow our course, remaining as just an outline in the early afternoon sun.

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We get the genoa filling with a southerly breeze an soon Duncansby (and the end of Scotland) starts to make its presence felt. A couple on the cliff top stop and stare, presumably wondering why there are several middle-aged and even elderly men on small boats quite so close to them.

We are just off Duncansby itself by 3.15 which is around 90 minutes or so before the West going stream starts (and what is recommended in the various pilot guides). We radio Cordula, wondering whether we should hang around for a bit or anchor. But with light southerly winds they suggest pressing on (albeit slowly) to get as far towards Lowther Rock before the tide really turns West. Soon we can see John O’Groats and then Dunnet Head opening up to the West and the clear lights of Pentland and Muckle Skerries to the East.

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The sea so far shows no sign of its infamous nature…just a few oddly flat circular patches surrounded by wavelets. Certainly nothing worse than our own Hurst Castle narrows…so far. We keep Lowther Rock firmly on the nose while all the time making sure that we are getting close to Muckle Skerries…but not too close. Gradually our easting reduces and within less than 15 minutes we are feeling the effects of the westerly stream. We keep heading for Lowther whilst keeping an eye first on Stroma and then on Swona to make sure we are not being swept on to them.

Halfway across we throw our empty Old Pulteney bottle into the sea. Not a mindless act of littering but it contains a message to a potential finder that we will reward them with a filled bottle of the same in return for a good story. It goes overboard with good wishes to the finder for a long and happy life.

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With wind again filling the genoa, the northern tip of Swona starts to open up and we are making over 7kt over the ground. The worst is over…we didn’t get our slippers wet and we feel a strange mixture… of elation that we are now in Orkadian waters, gratitude that it was very easy and even an odd sense of almost anti-climax. Our companions divert into Sandwick Bay so that Ian can wave at his wife…their house is by the beach and she does indeed wave a tea towel enthusiastically…at us before realising she is waving at the wrong boat.

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We still have the tide with us as we slide past Flotta at over 8kt and into Hoxa Sound. A fast cat is the only other boat we see as Scapa Flow itself opens up.

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We are in flat calm now and the genoa is furled once more as we bask in an early evening sun gradually sinking over Hoy. The big rocky island dominates the landscape to the west, but everywhere else is big sky and now we start to think about the final approaches to Stromness itself.

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The westerly stream out of Scapa Flow is making itself felt now and we edge north away from Graemsay to avoid being rushed past the entrance and spat out into the North Atlantic. We can see breakers across the sound and would rather not tangle with them at this stage in our voyage.

We tie up at the marina, thankful to be out of our sweaty gear, just as Cordula comes in alongside.  John James and Paul have a group hug on the foredeck with a sense of a major milestone in the UK trip being reached…even if it wasn’t heroic in the end. We celebrate with a bottle (or two) of fizz inviting Alan, Ian and his wife on board as well.

Footnote: On the passage across the Pentland Firth…a number of factors we have thought about since…

our route across…

• We did lots of reading and listening to locals and decided to go with the easiest winds we could…it ended up south or SW 2-3 and as close to neaps whilst still arriving in mostly daylight. This also meant however that we took our time getting to Wick and met some great people along the way and got to know NE Scotland just that little bit better.
• We erred on the side of caution by getting to Duncansby Head a bit earlier than planned. We were prepared to wait to cross, but with slight seas, decided to get some of the way over (making just 2.5 -3kt at times) before the west going tide started. With a stronger wind over south east going tide this may have been too uncomfortable. We were around half springs, but nearer springs a stronger current may have taken us too close to Muckle Skerries.
• We had great visibility and this, added to the electronic aids, reassured us that we were not being swept too far west.
• One final point….as Alan later remarked, you don’t treat the Firth as one body of water. There are complex and changing currents, counter-currents and eddies…expect the unexpected.
• …or maybe we just got lucky!