Pre-departure planning the previous evening presented a bit of a navigational debate. The Admiralty Tidal Atlas and our two trusted apps, Navionics and Savvy Navvy, appeared to have attended entirely different courses on hydrography. The apps suggested a relaxed, “leave whenever you fancy” approach, while the Admiralty, in its authoritative manner, was insisting on considerably stronger tidal streams and a correspondingly later departure.

A night’s sleep resolved nothing, but the forecast offered a helpful nudge… headwinds were due to arrive late afternoon, which concentrated the mind. Departure was set for around noon, a decision that felt decisive.

Easedale came to life in the morning sunshine as we attended to brunch, and set about preparing ourselves and Heydays (The Old Girl), for what promised to be an “exciting” trip in F3 to 5 conditions.

Passing through the narrow entrance, we noted with that we were the last vessel to depart, leaving behind a now-deserted anchorage….

Years of sailing Heydays have taught us that she respoinds reall well to conservative sail management. A reef or two in the main, a few rolls in the genoa, and she is transformed. Speed is maintained, whilst comfort, controllability, and the boat’s general wellbeing improve considerably. This approach was validated repeatedly throughout the morning, as the surrounding hills and mountains generated the occasional sharp squall.

With approximately a knot of tide in opposition, Heydays was still getting a respectable 5 knots over the ground, a performance we attribute with considerable satisfaction to her Coppercoated bottom, which continues to prove its worth.

The scenery was extraordinary. Ben Nevis and the Cairngorms loomed over the horizon with a magnificence which was quite inspiring.

Running downwind with a building sea demanded a lot of concentration at the helm. Occasionally, and with exhilaration,Heydays approached 10 knots, surfing down the faces of waves as we charged up the Firth of Lorne. Crinan and Oban slipped astern, and we looked forward to a late lunch in the relative civility of the Sound of Mull as we passed Blacks Memorial Tower and later, the imposing Dewart Castle…

These waters are altogether much busier than the quieter passages around Jura and Islay. CalMac ferries, coasters, and workboats went purposefully about their business in all directions.

The gusts strengthened as the afternoon progressed, but with the tide now generously in our favour, Heydays was eating up the remaining miles to Tobermory with considerable enthusiasm.

A passing CalMac ferry acquired a Coastguard helicopter, which shadowed it for the better part of half an hour. Clearly a training exercise, the aircraft hovered mere feet above the ferry’s stern, producing a spectacular downdraft.

Tobermory materialised around the headland right on cue, and with gusts still making their presence felt, we dropped the sails and aimed hopefully for a walk-ashore pontoon berth rather than the more athletic alternative of a mooring buoy. Luck was with us and we secured what appeared to be the final available berth. With Heydays safely tucked in and a rain shower providing the atmosphere, gin and tonics were poured, and a brilliant passage was complete.

Postscript: The Admiralty Tidal Atlas, it transpired, had a rather firmer grasp on reality than our apps. Some institutions, it seems, have earned their authority…

Final thought…for those of you kind enoughh to actually read these ramblings, I write most days if there is signal and would love to hear from you if you wish to comment or indeed subscribe.

Our lives, inevitably, are dominated by the weather. The forecast for today is to start off with some nice Sou’westerlies, going round to the east then back to SW. That will do us nicely as by the time the SW comes back we should be headed NW and on a nice beam reach for the River Yealm. The only cloud on the horizon (literally) is that solid rain is due around 3 or 3.30pm. We make the decision to stem some foul tide for a while in order to be snug and hopefully dry up the river by this afternoon.

So a 6 am alarm comes as no surprise and we have our first cup of coffee with some lovely sunshine. A light breakfast and we slide out of the marina just as some early fishing boats leave and a couple return home with the night’s catch.

The wind is lighter than forecast as we round Berry Head …

…and set out west once more. So we top it up with some diesel in an effort to keep up our speed over the ground and make the Yealm before the rain sets in. A few boats are heading in to Dartmouth, but somehow we prefer Brixham with its slightly rougher, workaday edge than the most definitely yachtie destination of Dartmouth.

The day turns rather hazy and the wind becomes ever more fickle as the rather beautiful Devon coast slips by, with its red striated rocks and fields clinging to the cliffs. A bit of sun would have shown its true glory…

There is quite a swell running, presumably left over from previous strong winds out in  jus asternthe Atlantic and as we get closer to the Skerries bank just off Start point the sea build and becomes quite confused. Coupled with little wind, we are tossed around a bit, until with Salcombe fading behind we are back to some idea of calm. Of the promised easterlies there is no sign and while we keep the main up to reduce the roll, the genoa is rolled away, then let out again, then rolled away….

A seal lazily rolls out of our way looking very contented, presumably having had its fill of fish for breakfast. The sun disappears and we keep looking nervously for the rain clouds….all OK so far, and then all of a sudden we find ourselves disturbing a pod of dolphins. Sadly they are not interested in playing with us, finding their shoal of fish a more attractive proposition. A glimpse of some white bellies and a dorsal fin, and they are gone.

We are now bearing away just in time to make use of the promised SW winds. Like dolphins, the wind just teases and still the diesel keeps purring.

We approach the entrance to the river Yealm as we feel the first few tentative drops of rain. Newly ‘togged up’ in our finest wet weather gear, we lose the redundant sails and make our way round the sand bar within a biscuit’s toss of the rocky shore.

We find a visitors buoy just as the rain begins and we pick up the line, make it fast then dash back to get the cockpit tent up all in the space of around 60seconds. Inside and largely dry, the heavens open and we congratulate ourselves on a plan coming together.

Postscript. The very wet harbour master comes alongside in his launch for his fees and cheerily tells us that the rain is set in ‘til Sunday, but ‘scorcio’ after that!