Anstruther , sun and tennis.

I met another reader today – that’s at least five who I know personally! Anyway, we’ll come to that later. My other four regular readers will know that Vagabond had reached Eyemouth on Friday; a small fishing town tucked down a ravine on the coast of Berwickshire. Our next port of call was originally going to be Dunbar but I had hear d that the entrance to the harbour was tricky. ‘Why not go for it’, I thought, ‘and cross the Firth of Forth to Anstruther directly from here.' On the chart it was only about another 10 miles to go than Dunbar would have been.

The tides looked auspicious. If we could get out of Eyemouth as the tide was falling (at the last minute before the harbour became to shallow for Vagabond) we could ride the tide flow north, and cross most of the Firth before the tide changed. I consulted the harbour master about the latest we could leave in the morning. ‘No later than 6:30’. I set the alarm for 5:30.

And so we were off. To be confronted by a large fishing vessel coming in on the last of the tide for him. He was much bigger than we were, so we pootled round in anxious circles waiting for him to come in. 

Leaving Eyemouth

Then another fishing boat full of anglers dashed in front of us, so we followed in her wake.

Out to sea. Away from the protection of the land, I found a strong SW wind blowing at 15 knots. Vagabond chortled along at 7 knots as I anxiously waited for the wind to increase. Sure enough, it did. As we left the protection of St Abbs head,

St Anns Head

the wind speed was inching upwards, so I put in both reefs to save time. I was pleased that I done this as the wind increased to 24 knots for a time. An island came into sight ahead – it must be the Bass rock, we were off course to the left, so turned more to the north.

The wind gradually died on us. The reefs were shaken out; even so we were eventually drifting along at 2 knots, at least half of which was tide. I phoned the harbour master at Anstruther to find out the latest we could arrive to still get onto the drying pontoons. ‘Ach, aboot three thirty’, was the reply, ‘I’ll leave you a key for the gate.’ (Sorry I can’t write in Fifie).

I called the harbour master at Eyemouth to apologise for leaving without paying. He sounded relieved ‘ Just send me a cheque for £20 alright’ he said.

I texted the Scottish herbalist, to invite her to lunch at Anstruther on the following day. She rang me to say she’d be delighted and did I mind if she brought her familiar with her.

Communications completed, it  was time for Freddie. On went the head set and I tried to find Radio 4. Of course, we’re in Scotland and it didn't seem to exist (I found it later). I gathered from Radio Scotland that the Lions had won and the betting was on their man Murray (gosh, two topical references).

Squadrons of Gannets flew past.

A flight of gannets

One flight swooped low, close by and I had the camera ready.

Then I felt a breeze on my right cheek. A sea breeze had set in, easterly up the Firth. This steadily rose to about 10 knots. Freddie had long been silenced.

As we approached the Isle of May (a bird sanctuary, which probably accounted for the gannets) the wind cut off sharply and then returned, this time from the West. As we were going roughly north it was just right. It was steady and the sea was calm, time for the elastic autopilot to do it’s stuff as I moved around Vagabond.

Look, no hands!

I even took a photo of the boat steering herself (from within it, of course!)

The Fife coast was becoming clearer now and I altered course slightly as the harbour came into view. As usual, I was greatful for a local craft to come out and confirm the way in.

Soon we were alongside the pontoon and I looked up to find a crowd gathering around this ‘pretty boat’ I don’t know whether it was the effect of the gloriously sunny weather, if the Fife people are particularly friendly, but this arrival was the first where anyone had taken any interest!

Let’s see what happens in Arbroath – our next stop.

Any way, that’s for Monday. In the meantime it was clean ship, play tourist and prepare for visitors. I was intrigued by the possible familiar.

She was a Jack Russell.

Oh, I forgot the tennis. Murray won (again).