Green Wyvern Yachting Club
John has sailed all manner of boats on both river and sea. In 1988 he, along with some friends, hired a yacht and sailed the waters around theWestern Isles. This is his account of that cruise.
For those of us who are fortunate enough to live in or near Norwich and can sail every weekend, the rich diet of the Thurne Lion, Berney Arms, Reedham Ferry and the Yare at Brundall, together with the associated sailing, can almost become commonplace and hence I accepted, with alacrity, an invitation from a group of Scottish country dancers, to sail the northern seas around Skye . . . the image of an eightsome reel on the foredeck of a wildly plunging yacht was too appealing to miss.
The week started at Armadale, just across the Sound from Mallaig, where the local roads are even narrower than our Norfolk byways. The yacht was a 43ft Seastream ketch with accommodation for nine so that the actual crew of seven lived in some luxury with two shower/toilet compartments, inside steering, in case of rain, and a powerful diesel for emergencies. The crew consisted of skipper Frank and his wife Janet, Ian and Lorna, Margaret, Eileen and myself, who are all admittedly of a certain age.
The sailing around Skye is a sailor’s paradise. The scenery is awe inspiring and always in sight, except when the cloud is down . The water is deep and sheltered except for rocks which may be covered, or not, depending on the tide. The tidal range is between six and nine feet which matches the yacht’s draught of 6ft 9ins. Thus daytime navigation is easy but careful chart and pilot readings are a must. There is a multitude of anchorages scattered around but most are remote from any habitation, so it is essential to take all barely sufficient to equip us for the week!
The plan was to sail north past the Kyle of Lochalsh and explore the north-eastern coast of Skye and the surrounding islands, such as Raasay and Rona, together with some walking in the Quirang before returning south to Armadale. Some minor forewarnings of events to come surfaced when, after a pleasant shakedown sail, we attempted to come to anchor in the dark in a large bay off Isle Ornsay. Nothing seemed quite right. The lighthouse was too lose and the water too shallow. Low water was the excuse but, after a quiet night, morning revealed that we had missed the main entrance to the real anchorage and had moored in a subsidiary bay, narrowly missing overhead power cables to the lighthouse. Friends of the Upper Ant will remember similar more electrifying moments of years past.
We then sailed on north in glorious sunshine through Kyle Rhea, where the tide can sluice through, Yarmouth style, at anything up to seven knots at Springs, to a delightful anchorage between the two main Crowlin Islands, which are off the mainland just south of Applecross. Or it would have been delightful if the main anchor had not picked up a boulder and dragged during a force 8/9 gale while we were asleep. I awoke with the disquieting feeling that I was at Norwich or Beccles . . . yes I’ve dried out at both places . . . and for a moment blamed the wine and whisky combination to which the crew were addicted. But no, we were solidly aground and starting to heel. The usual form of frantic chaos ensued. It was pitch dark, there was five feet of water on one side of the boat and nine feet on the other. You cannot push a 20 ton yacht anywhere, the rubber dinghy was no match for the wind and tide and, of course, the tide continued to fall. However we managed to fix halyards from the masts and cleats to rock pinnacles ashore and then wondered what strain they would take before snapping. In the end most of the crew spent a convivial night ashore until the tide deigned to change at about 5.00 a. m. and we waited, with bated breath, to see if she would right herself. She did . . . just.
No apparent damage was done but it was only as we motored out of the channel into a force six breeze that we discovered that the clutch had deposited its oil into the bilges so that, at the crucial moment, in the narrowest part of the channel, it failed
. . . but that is another story!
The rest of the week was comparatively uneventful. We were surprised by the richness of the wildlife. Guillemots, razorbills and shags were abundant, we were investigated early one morning by a school of over thirty porpoises, the seals were still healthy. I think we are all just waiting far an excuse to explore further. Why not try it yourselves?
JR
1988