Vague plans for 2014

Sorry to wake you up. It's almost the shortest day. Soon the number of hours of daylight will increase and we can start dreaming of balmy sunny days and light breezes wafting over the ocean. Although I think such weather may in short supply in Scotland in May.

You may recall that I promised you a map. 

Here is one, taken from one of my many route planners. 

The starting point, Balvicar (near the bottom). Then north to Fort William and along the Caledonian Canal. Continue North along the East coast of Scotland, turning West (either through the Pentland Firth or continuing north of the Shetlands). Bump along the top to Cape Wrath, before turning South. Then, (depending of the weather) between the Isle of Skye and the mainland or down the Minch, then dash across the the Sound of Mull back to Balvicar. 

All I've to do now is negotiate the "time off" with the owners agent.... 

 

Committed to a start date for 2014

My regular reader will recall that I was wondering what to do, now that Vagabond and I have been awarded the Ruby Cup by the GXSA and no doubt were on tenterhooks waiting for my pronouncement.

Here it is: 

Vagabond and I have now registered to join Sail Caledonia for the jaunt (raid?) northwards along the Caledonian Canal next May.

This will be the starting point for a circumnavigation of Scotland in the widdershins* direction.

Sail Caledonia starts in Fort William and finishes at Inverness.

After the final party, my hangover, Vagabond and I will try to find the bit of sea where we abandoned our voyage from Lossiemouth to Inverness****. Having picked up the thread (as it were), we'll turn north up the east side of Scotland to Wick and then, depending on weather, tides and all that sort of stuff, turn West along the "top" of Gt Britain ****** to Cape Wrath. Then south, passing all those wonderful places like Lochinver, Ullapool, Gareloch and Loch Ewe. Depending on how brave (or foolhardy) I feel at the time (and weather and tides etc) we may visit the inside of the Outer Isles and, eventually, back to Balvicar.

Yes, I know: I'll publish a map of the proposed trip in the next edition.

For those of you really interested, here's a link to the Sail Caledonia web site :
http://www.sailcaledonia.org/
‎


* anticlockwise **
** turning left every day ***
*** unless anchored near (not on) **** an island, when it might mean turning right......
**** or tied up to
*****  Remember to turn right out of Inverness, it's up an estuary
****** or the bottom, if you have a Southern Hemisphere map with South "up".

Silverware

To the first meeting of the Gerrards Cross Sailing Association on Wednesday night for this winter session.

Cripes!

They've given Vagabond and me a cup for our adventures so far.  

OOer....

Now what do we do??

Bedding down for winter and the beginning of a new rig

Off to Balvicar at 08:30 last Thursday, to make sure that Vagabond was settled for the winter.  Arrived, hot and sweaty (the car, not me) about 9 hours later, to find Vagabond apparently quite happy under the tarpaulin.

Pottered about the following morning, replacing the piece of string that controlled the jib roller mechanism with one of a smaller size. Several times now, I had tried to furl the jib in strong winds, only to find that there were insufficient turns on the winch to fully furl the sail, despite the winch being "full" when the jib is flying. Replacing the furl line with a smaller size has let me load the winch with a couple more turns. Sods law suggests that the next thing that will happen will be that the furl line will break under the strain. It's bound to be during some critical event........

I waited for the post - the day I left for Scotland, Swallow Boats had dispatched to me, c/o the boatyard, a couple of D rings - but they didn't arrive on Friday.

Off to the local pub in the evening, to be entertained by a duo singing Andy Williams songs out of key......The beer and food were OK but the noise was beyond suffering so back to the Herbalists daughters cottage to the book.  (How many apostrophes should be in that sentence?)

Next morning saw me varnishing the rails and checking one or two things. To my surprise, the after ballast tank was still full of water. No wonder the tow from Lossiemouth to Balvicar had been a nightmare, with the dreaded snaking cutting in at about 45 mph...Just to help matters, various rollers on the trailer prevented me from opening the drain, so my arms got some much needed exercise using the pump.

By noon on Saturday, the D rings had arrived, complete with instructions for positioning them on the cabin top.

Matt (owner of and designer for Swallow Boats) has introduced a new, stiffer rig for the Bay Cruiser 23. It was on display at the Southampton boat show and includes an extra set of stays and spreaders on the mast. Big boat stuff....He and I had discussed rig stiffness after Vagabonds interesting voyage from Holyhead to the Isle of Man last year and I like to think this new rig is a result of that conversation but there again......



Drilled holes in the cabin roof

Covered for the winter

Anyway, I had decided that it was worth considering as a retrofit on Vagabond. So, on  Saturday afternoon, taking the Power Drill in hand, I set to work drilling six holes in the cabin roof.......The process involved removing the cabin headlining, drilling the holes, cleaning the foam core way from around the holes and refilling holes with epoxy, before redrilling to size and screwing on the rings.

I got as for as filling the holes with epoxy before the weather turned awful and I covered Vagbond with the tarpaulin for the winter.

The following morning the weather was still poor, so there was no point in staying. I pointed the car south and all was fine until the M6 froze solid for half an hour or so, just south of Stafford....

Resting place for the winter

I realise that by now my regular reader will have chewed her/his finger nails to the quick, waiting to know the answer to the question "where is Vagabond?"

Please contain your excitement, the answer will be revealed in a few moments.

In mid August I left the kitchen fitters in charge of the kitchen and the owners agent in charge of the fitters, reclaimed the trailer from the farm and headed north.
The M40 and M6 were (relatively) empty and we zipped along until the end of the M9 at Perth. Then commenced the crawl along the A9 from Perth to Aviemore. I have vivid memories of being driven along that road in the family Morris Minor in the late '50s and am convinced that some parts of it have not changed. Eventually we branched off along the Distillery trail to Elgin and on to Lossiemouth.

More than twelve hours had elapsed since leaving home.

Vagabond was still afloat in the Marina. The Marina manager had left her keys at the Steamboat Pub, where the beer was most welcome, although I had to wonder what a Scottish pub was doing selling London Pride. What's happened to 40 shilling?

The following day, I took Vagabond round to the slip and lowered her mast. The slip looked steep and slippery, so I opted for a lift out rather than trying to get her out on the trailer. (I must get a front tow hitch made up, so that the weight of the trailer and boat is transferred to the front driving wheels when pulling the rig up a ramp).

Duncan (the harbour master) was delighted to play with his huge boat lift and threw in a "free" high pressure spray; in next to no time Vagabond was on the trailer, dripping water from the ballast tanks, as I dismantled this and that and tied down that and this, ready for towing.

In the middle of this I discovered that the splice at the top of the port stay had almost failed.

Everything had been fine when I inspected the rigging when at Stonehaven where, at low water, the splice had almost been at eye level.

I assume that the splice had started to fail during the beat to windward in my aborted attempt to reach Inverness. It looks as if my decision to turn back to Lossiemouth was quite right!

Resolving to discuss the matter with Swallow boats at the earliest convenience, I carried on getting the boat and trailer ready and by 12:30 we were ready; I went off to find some lunch whilst mulling over whether to bring her south or take her to Balvicar.

The answer was obvious really - leave her at Balvicar where she would be ready to resume the voyage next year in the wonderful Western Isles. But I would need a week or so to get her ready for the next year and this would mean more time away from home. I consulted the Owners Agent.

And so it was that Vagabond was towed across Scotland that after noon. We followed the line of the Caledonian Canal and the traffic was so slow that we didn't hold any one up, eventually arriving in the boatyard after tea. Vagabond was parked in a corner and wrapped in a tarpulin. The keys were given to Mike and Morag who were charged with keeping an eye on her for the next six months or so. Perhaps I should rephrase that: "tasked to keep an eye on her" would be more accurate; I'll be the one to be charged!

The following morning I drove home, with Freddie in the boot for company. The kitchen was almost finished and the next phase of the alterations had started with a chap called Tigger knocking out the partition walls on the ground floor.

So the second part of the voyage round Britain is ended. Next week it's the 100th birthday followed by the Southampton Boat show (where I have offered to "help" Matt on the stand).
Then there's the allotment to knock back into shape, the pocket handkerchief garden here to do something with and a few days in Florence with the Owners Agent.

I might be allowed north to check Vagabond out during October.....

Camping at home

Vagabond I have now been separated for almost a month and I'm getting withdrawal symptoms. I assume she's still afloat and will find out next week, for I'm going to rejoin her in Lossiemouth. However, events dear boy have overtaken us (as one of pur former Prime Ministers used to say) and we will not be continuing the voyage this year.

The builders arrive at the end of next week and the Owners Agent insists that I am at home to supervise them whilst they remodel the ground floor.

Then it's the 100th birthday. My mother has rallied. The family has been summoned and about forty of us will converge on her old peoples home during the first week of Spetember. The Palace has been notified and we are assured that the official birthday greetings will be conveyed by Special Delivery on the appointed day. (Not quite a Queens Messenger but probably the nearest us commoners get to one!)

By the time the party is out of the way and the builders have finished it will be mid September.

The last month has been put to good use - the old kitchen has gone, the live electrics found behind the plasterboard have been nutralised, new electrics fitted, the walls replastered and the new floor laid. I have become even more familiar with the local recycling centres.

We are now camping at home, with the old sink unit outside, making good use of bucket, the microwave is in my "den", the fridge and a camping gas ring are in the garage.

Next week the kitchen fitters start work. The Owners Agent will supervise this, not I, so I can take the trailer north to take Vagabond out of the water and take her to her winter quarters. At the moment, I am undecided whether to bring her back to the barn in Buckinghamshore, or take her to Balvicar (where we finished the trip last year) and leave her under a tarpaulin.

Watch this space.

Pause button pressed - Part 2

I had left you all at Stonehaven, a really delightful harbour. We could only stay for one night for there was now an urgency to get on to somewhere where I could leave Vagabond and get south fairly easily. It was 06:00. Time to go. We nosed round the harbour wall and promptly disappeared into a hemisphere of visibility that had about a 50 metre* radius. There was a scraping sound under the boat and we stopped, despite Freddies’ best efforts. The depth sounder said we were in eighteen metres* of water, so we weren’t aground. I assumed we were snagged on some fishing gear that I hadn’t seen and lifted the centre board. We lurched forward a few feet** and stopped again. I looked over the stern and found a fishing float wedged between the rudder and the transom***. After a bit of pushing and prodding, we were free and resumed our noisy but almost invisible progress.

A positive squadron of Gannets flew past – the last couple having to change direction to miss us. I wondered how these birds managed to stay in stable flight in these conditions and how they navigated from place to place. Without the two GPS displays and the compass, we would have been lost within minutes of leaving the harbour.

Cleared for attempted take off

A puffin struggled to take off in front of us. In the flat calm conditions, it was having trouble reaching flying speed and skipped across the sea like a pebble. It occurred to me that they may rely on the upthrust of an ocoming wave to take off from the sea, a bit like the ramp that was used by the Harriers.

Gradually visibility improved but there was still no wind as we worked northward up the coast towards Peterhead. We crossed the entrance to Aberdeen, one of the centres for north sea oil and gas support vessels, so we were expecting some shipping. ....We only saw two ships. 

Aberdeen entrance

One was a large oil tanker, way off shore, and I thought the second one was similar until I suddenly realised that it was an odd shaped support vessel, not only under way but quite close too. There we were shaping up to pass (as I thought) well clear of her stern when in fact we were crossing close to her bow. 

Which end is which?

A rapid (and obvious) course correction followed and passed astern of her.

And on to Peterhead, where the yacht marina is tucked into a corner of the main harbour, behind it’s own breakwater and close to a chemical storage depot, marked ominously with danger signs.

Peterhead Marina

Off to forage for petrol and food and then back to bed, only to find that a large contingent of Dutch yachts had arrived. We first met them at Hartlepool, then at Amble and now here. They, too, are going round Britain but in much bigger steps than us. Their next port of call is Lossiemouth – I think it will take us at least two days more to get there.

Next morning (at 05:30) we cast off and followed the Dutch fleet out of the harbour. There was Haar (of course) and a light southerly breeze.

The Dutch cohort each hoisted their spinnaker***** and disappeared. We drifted along, goose winged on the calm sea. We passed Rattray Head,

the most easterly bit of Aberdeenshire and turned to the NW, drifting through swirling tide eddies. Eventually we picked up the slight west going tide drift along the north coast of Aberdeenshire. Then the wind went light northerly, so we had an unplanned gybe. We passed cliffs that were attracting the attention of a tourist boat out of Banff, so went to have a look. Serried ranks of Gannets clung with
their nests to the cliff and flew around the cliff faces. From a distance, it looked like a swarm of white midges across the cliffs.

Birds on the cliff face

Then across Banf Bay, past a group in a red rib watching a couple of dolphins playing around their boat. We round the last headland to look for the entrance to Whitehills harbour. There was no local boat to show us the way......

Entrance to Whitehills

Eventually we found it and secured to the visitors pontoon, which squeaked abominably. ‘Would you mind moving’ said the harbour master ' I’ve two yachts that want to come in and raft together and that’s the only space I can put them’. I accepted his alternative with alacrity. Whitehills is a gem of a place. The harbour is compact and well protected, there are a number of small useful shops and little tourist tat. Well worth a visit (from the sea). It was a perfect, sunlit, still evening.

Entrance to Whitehills

Which made the northerly force 4 next morning a bit of a shock. The forecast suggested it would die away by midday and then become SW –right on the nose. ‘Better catch the tide and get a move on’ I said to myself at 04:30 so we managed to leave by six. The chop in the bay was awful – short, steep waves about four feet from crest to trough so we pushed over (and under) them, through them to slightly less trying conditions offshore. The wind was still blowing at about 20 knots when I hoisted the main, leaving two reefs in it. Scarcely had we got settled on our course, with the sail drawing nicely and us moving at over 5 kn, when the wind fell away to about 12 knots and then to 8. With all the reefs shaken out we scudded along at just around 4 knots and made good progress for a couple of hours, until the wind dropped completly. We had an hour of Freddie and then the wind picked up, this time from the NW, which suited us fine and brought us into the lee of Lossiemouth harbour. 

Lossiemouth Harbour Entrance

The phone rang with a timely message from the Lossiemouth Harbourmaster, telling me where to berth and where to find the keys. It was Saturday and neither he, nor his deputy would be on duty until Monday.

We found our berth, tied up and did all the things you do to tidy ship after a 7 hour passage. Now I had to find a mobile signal to find out what was happening to Mega Gran, how worried the elder sister was and how to get home. The best bet seemed to be to get Vagabond to Inverness on Sunday and take the train home on Monday. The weather forecast looked benign.

On Sunday, the weather had not read the forecast. SW, force 4 to 5. Inverness is SW of Lossiemouth. Anyway, I thought we’d give it a go. After a couple of hours butting into an increasingly white sea, I gave up. We had a lovely downwind sail back to Lossiemouth and then ran aground in the entrance. Up came the centre board and the rudder and we crept back to our original berth.

The harbourmaster turned up in the evening – he’d been to Wick and back for the weekend (by sea) and I explained my predicament. ‘No problem – we’ll move her to a quiter berth when you’ve gone. I hope all is well and give us a call when you can.’

And so the pause button was pressed......


For non metric and non boaty people

* 1 metre is about 3'4" Imperial
** 1 foot is about 300 mm
*** The transom is the flat bit of wood / metal / glass fibre that forms the stern****
 of most small boats
**** the back end
***** big round sail that makes boats go really fast when sailing downwind - can be dangerous.

Pause Button Pressed at Lossiemouth - part 1

Attentive readers (there are some of you, so you assure me!) will have read the recent, misspelt and picture free dispatch. Magrat * has been temporarily out of action and communications have been very difficult in the small harbours on the south coast of the Moray Firth – the idea of a free Wi Fi being a means to lure customers to your pub or cafe had not yet penetrated these parts of Scotland on a large scale, and Vodofone’s coverage also leaves much to be desired. It’s been a major task to find enough signal to download a weather forecast, let alone all those facebook pages that people keep recommending me to open. This definitely puts me the 'Grumpy Old Man' category.

You will also notice that the pause button has been pressed. At the moment, I have no clear idea of when our wanderings will resume, for  I am writing this on a very full East Coast mainline train south from Inverness (only 4 unreserved seats in the whole train see GMO above!) as I rush south to see Mega Gran (as she is known to the family) who has become ill some two months short of her 100^th birthday.  As well as that, the plumber is attacking our “new” home next week, followed by the kitchen fitters and the builders.

Enough of this personal stuff, let’s get back to the wanderings.  Last week, after a foggy motor from Anstruther to Arbroath and the encounter with the dredger in the outer harbour, Vagabond and I wanted to move north to Stonehaven. The snag was that we couldn’t get out of Arbroath harbour to catch the morning tide north, not because the dredger was in the way but by a combination of tide times and council working hours.  The depth in the inner harbour at Arbroath is controlled by a gate, held open for a couple of hours either side of high water. Except that when we wanted to go, high water occurred so early in the morning that the gates weren’t manned. We had an enforced stay in Arbroath – it was a wonderfully sunny and warm day with a southerly breeze as I played tourist and watched attentively as the dredger worked the outer harbour.

 She was one of those ships that it was difficult to imagine ever having been new. Her black hull was liberally spattered with mud and dents, in almost equal proportions. Her draft marks were in feet so she must be at least 40 years old. Mounted on the bow was a mechanical bucket digger that looked as if it should be powered by steam and could have seen service digging out the Panama Canal. The bucket was controlled by wire and winches and was dropped into the harbour, apparently as random, remerging drippingly full of dark, smelly mud. In her centre was a well, into which the bucket deposited its’ noise-some load. This seemed already to be full to the brim as more was piled in.  A bridge and accommodation structure completed the stern of the ship, originally white but now spattered liberally with mud and rust. I, and other loafers, watched as she rammed the jetty a few times (to get in the right position, one assumed, ran aground in various places and slowly worked around the harbour. The crew all looked to be about 18 (but that’s probably a jaundiced view see GMO above) .

Keeping close to the shore

The sunny day gave way to a chill evening and the Haar thickened off shore.

Overhauled us from the south

Glistening cliffs

None the less, as 0700, as soon as the gate was opened (and the fishing boats had gone out) I took Vagabond out to sea. The gloom was not as bad as I had expected and we were able to sail slowly north, keeping the coast in view (most of the time). The wind dropped. The sun came out. On came Freddie and we motored north towards Stonehaven. A large yacht slowly overhauled us from the south and eventually overtook us. The cliffs ashore glistened white – was it with seabirds or their guano? We didn’t go to look.  Stonehaven castle looked down on us as we rounded the last point and there was Stonehaven harbour and town. Just as well, because for the last hour or more, we had been breasting the tide and it was going to get stronger for the next couple of hours.

Alongside the wall

The harbourmaster was on the wall, waiting for us, holding a pair of heavy mooring wires – ‘The trawler’s not back for two days’, he shouted. ‘Use these, they’ll hold you against the wall – there’s a 4 metre tidal range today. Is there anyone following you?’ Now I knew why he was expecting us – the people in the yacht that had overtaken us, now tied up alongside the wall, had told him we were on our way.  We tied up – my head was just about level with the top of the wall. Four hours later, the tide had gone out and I could examine the upper rigging from the jetty without having to look up. It was a long way down the ladder to the deck.  Two hours after that, the other yacht came to life and sailed – none of this staying overnight stuff, they  were just waiting for the tide to turn favourable again.

Painting the coach line

Once alongside, the harbourmaster dragged me off to look at his pride and joy – a traditional wooden yacht with a long keel that he was patiently restoring – ‘I used to work in the shipbuilders’ he remarked. Clearly a labour of love: as the tide receded, he was seen on a step ladder lining in the coach line on her side.

I told him about the dredger at Arbroath - apparently she had failed a survey a year or two ago and had been sold for scrap. Someone had bought and put her back into use. He wouldn't use her.......

A shower in the portakabin loo block, followed by a seafood meal (I’m not generally a fan of this but when you’re on the coast there seems to be little else on offer!) it was off to bed for another early start.

 

Comments, translations and conversions

*the elderly shipboard computer **

** her name is NOT misspelt – if you thought so, you are clearly not aware of the Disk World dreamt up by Terry Pratchet

*** 1 metre = approx 3’4”

**** 1 foot = 12 inches, 1 inch = 25.4 mm

 

 

Whitehills and no pictures

Three or four days have passed since the last entry and it's possible that my regular reader (s?) may be wondering what's happening. (On the other hand, they may be much more interested in the current test match or the state of protests in  the Luis Vutton cup *). You may also recognise that my  typing is even worse the usual - I'm using the ipad.......

Vagabond and I are now at Whitehills, a pleasant little fishing harbour converted to a Marina with some European ( eg ours ) development money.We arived at about 15:00, having left Peterhead at the eye watering time of 05:30. We left the marina, Freddie doing his stuff, hoisted the sails in the harbour and left.....into thick fog.This was the fourth day of sailing (well, motoring really) in fog.

You'l have read about the first day from the pen of the motoring corespondent. He is now under lock and key in the forepeak, pending a management decison on the size of his pay off and whether we can get away with not telling the board of trustees about our plan**

We left Arbroath at 05:00, in haar, so that the tide whisked us to Stonehaven. by just after midday (it's springs and the currents on this coast reach almost two knots, so you have to make sure you catch them in the right direction). We nestled against the harbour wall in Stonehaven, using some spare fishing boat ropes to cope with the 4 metre tidal range ***.

It's a lovely harbour, one part dries out, the other doesn't. It has a deep stone wall, inset with ladders, against which we were held by these long, thick and heavy pieces of rope.

A five o'clock start for Peterhead, to catch the tide and the fog. Another day of Freddie.

Peterhead has a well founded Marina, surrounded by industry. Not a place we wanted to linger. Hence the early start today.

Now, I've not told you about the Dutchmen, the author and his motorboat, or the harbour masters and their hobbies or hosts of other stuff, but my main course has arrived and you will all have to  wait for a further installment....

And, of course, for the pictures.


Explanations of jokes etc


* originally the Americas Cupa sailing competition
** sounds familiar?
*** range = the rise and fall of the tide

To Arbroath - from the motoring correspondent

Hullo there, youse  no hearrd from me before, it’s cos that posh yin wurrent let masel’  git a worrd in. But he’s awa to his bed, as he didna git much sleep last nicht. He tells meself that he was worri about the watter goin awa an trappin us all in the harbour. didna ken this sailin’ lark was as a prison sentence but then he shown me these photos like and there’s na water aboot the place where them boats are meant to be floatin. Anyways, that’s his excuse, I ken better - it was all them light ales he sank whilst celebrating wi’ us Scots the victory of our man Murray at tha' Wimbledon place. Although wha he’couldna have done in a real place like Glasgie I dinna ken.

 Anyway, whur was I. Och, yes, I have to tell you aboot our journey fra Anstruther to Arbroath this mornin’. What with worrin aboot the water and what not, our lad was awak at four o’clock (wuld you bleeve it?- on a guid nicht out you’d barely be in yer bed by thin) anyways he was up and rarin’ to go. 

Vagabond on the mud at low water

The motor (why he calls it Freddie is beyun me) wus fired up and we wur off. Inta the haa* I couldna see muir than aboot a hundred yards all round and it went on like that for hours and hours. The watter was flat calm. We had the hood up but  I couldna see through it becos the haa was landing all over it like midges on yer face in the Heelans in August. ‘It will have to come down’, he said. So it did and the haa landed on us instead, it wus so dreecht.

'Do youse ken whur  them heedlichts are, cos we ned those, it's sa bad' . 
We don't have headlights but you can turn on the navigation lights, if you like. Top switch on the panel.' 
'does yu mean them sparkie red, grun an whit things at the end o' the beeg stick?'

’Steer for those ripples’ he commanded and set about readying them sail things for raising. ‘Whas the point of them’, I asked, all polite like but tha wud nae stoppin  hisself. Oop tha wunt, leavin' all these bits of string lying aroun’ in the cockpit. ‘Wha’s all them for?’ I asked.

‘They are the reefing lines and we’ll have to coil them up, or else they might garrotte one of us’, he said.

The ripples came ta us and the sails all shook theselves an filled. ‘You can turn Freddie off now’, he said, so I did and I could na help noticing how quiet it all became.

The ripples went awa an I had to start Freddie again. For a wee little thing, he doesna do a bad job. Och- it’s only a single cylinder four stroke but it gives us a guid push when it’s needed.

I hope my regular reader will forgive me for allowing the motoring correspondent to say a few words – he’s been under control up till now but today he was in his element. We covered 26 miles, in fog most of the way, with Freddie barking in my ears all the time.

AIS warning of collision

The fog cleared every now and again. Once, it cleared in time for me to see an approaching vessel before I was frightened by the AIS system telling me of a danger vessel.

The gap!

Then is cleared as we need the northern coastline of the Dee estuary and I could see the ends of the harbour wall and the leading marks. We were no where in line with the marks, so had to steer away to get the correct bearing. We’d just got line up with it, when down came the fog again and we had to rely on the GPS to show us the way. Just before the bearing became really critical (for the entrance to the Arbroath harbour is through a narrow channel of deep water) the fog lifted. I called up the harbourmaster to ask permission to enter and he warned me to take special care as there was a dredger in the outer harbour.  He was right – there was just room for us to squeeze between it and the harbour wall and we were in, snug on a pontoon in the inner harbour. The Haar stayed with us all day and only disappeared around six o’clock in the evening. I don’t fancy going out in it again tomorrow.

*sea fog that is particulary prevalent on the east coast most of the time **

** he lies – only when an on shore wind occurs in late spring early summer. Quite where this fits in mid July is any ones guess

mmm

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).

Escorted to Eyemouth

It was bright and still early morning when Vagabond and I slipped over the cill at Amble to avoid being locked in for the day by the tide. We motored out into the bay, turned into the slight breeze off the land and hoisted the sails. Then we set off NNW to follow the coast, past the Farne Isles, past Holy Island and on, across the Scottish border to arrive, we hoped, in Eyemouth before the next falling tide locked us out.

The surface of the sea was calm and we picked our way through a puzzle of fishing floats and resting  puffin.

The breeze started to freshen. What had been a 5 knot waft, which barely moved us had become a 10 knot breeze. Vagabond loved it and our speed rose to a consistent 5 knots.

The wind (it could no longer be called a breeze) freshened further. Soon it reached 14 knots and Vagabond was now surging along at six and a half knots. Water broke over the bows as the sea state changed and a gust of wind reached 18 knots. ‘A reef is overdue”, I thought and turned into the wind to take in the first reef. This reduced  the sail area to about half the normal size; even so, our speed did not diminish much, for we were on a more consistent, even keel.

The sky became overcast and blotted out the sun.

The shore line of the unspoilt Northumbrain coast went past  with it's history written in the ruined castles.

The wind had not  finished with us. It rose further and a after it had been consistently at 20 knots for a few minutes, I took in the second (and last reef). These things never happen at convenient points in a trip, for we were just approaching the passage between the mainland and the Farne Isles at this point, and we were having to manoeuvre between a couple of fishing boats, whilst reefing and avoiding the hard bits on either side of the (admittedly wide) channel. In the middle of this, a screw in my glasses went ping and they (the glasses) fell apart. I couldn’t retrieve the spare pair from the locker (or the bits of the broken ones until the boat had been attended to....

The Farne Islands

Even with both reefs in, we passed the Farne Islands at 7 knots (admittedly helped by a bit of tide). Shame.  I thought we might have had time to have look at them.....

We charged on, driven by this demnted wind off the land – it was now reaching a consistent 23 knots and I was vaguely wondering what to do if it got any higher....

Lindisfarne or Holy Island

We surged on, passing the entrance to the Holy Island anchorage. I had considered going in there for lunch but in the present circumstances it was out of the question. The wind would have been blowing straight down the anchorage and it would have been untenable.

Inland, the sun had come out.

We were half way across Berwick Bay, at about midday, when the wind started to drop. In the space of about half an hour, it went from 23 knots to 10. I shook out both reefs. 10 minutes later, the wind had died completely and Freddie was on pushing us forward.

An hour or so later, I noticed a dorsal fin drifting alongside us. I shut down Freddie – then we were joined by two other dolphins, one smaller than the others, presumably a calf. They weren’t swimming parrall with us, but criss crossing ahead and astern of us, and diving under the bow. There were a couple of bumps below, which I assumed was one of them hitting (deliberately?) the centreboard. Three other dolphins joined us and we drifted along for a few minutes. But this wasn’t getting us to Eyemouth, so I started Freddie again. To my surprise the dolphin stayed with us and we were joined by three others.

They escorted me for a couple of hours in total and only parted company with us when we commenced our approach to Eyemouth harbour.  The rudder suddenly lifted, as if it had hit a rock. As there were no rocks in the vicinity (we were still in 30 metres of water) I concluded that one of the knocks I had heard from the dolphins was when one of them hit the rudder.....

We scraped into Eyemouth with just enough water under our keel to reach the pontoons along the south side of the river, where, with the help of a dutch yacht (which I used as a big fender) and its crew, we had our own space on the pontoon. As the tide went out,  with centre board and rudder lifted, Vagabond settled in the ooze.

Time to phone the Owners Agent to discuss plans. The snag with Eyemouth harbour is that it's down a deep ravine. No trace of a mobile signal.... Getting a weather forecast for tomorrow is going to be difficult.

To Amble and an unexpected snap

After a predominately wet Wednesday,  Thursday 3^rd July was forecast to be dry with a F3-4 wind from the SW – just right to waft us along the coast in a generally NNW direction.  I wanted to get from Hartlepool to Amble as I suddenly rrealised that some time pressure was  now looming. We had to be at a place where I could leave Vagabond for a few weeks whilst I went south to supervise building works at the new home. I first became aware of this when I received a text from the Scottish Herbalist demanding to know when I would be on the Fife Coast so that she could (a) do the washing and (b)whisk me to an airport to return me to the Owners Agent.  I’d thought I had another two weeks. The Owners Agent put me straight on this – I have to be present at the new home by break of day on the 15^th July at the latest. Cripes. Anyway, that’s a problem to resolve in a couple of days time.

Now to get to Amble. We left the lock at Hartlepool at 10:10 and puttered out into the bay, turning into the wind to raise the sails. Good, it was from the SW, about 8 knots. It’ll do. We puttered round the point , turned Freddie off, and proceeded on course at a slow walking pace. After a couple of hours, with Hartlepool still in site, the wind failed completely. On came Freddie and off we went again. Then the sails shook and a very cold wind came from.. the north.

Looking around I could see that some sort of front had passed through, moving us from warm air flow to cold airflow – hence the wind shift.

On came Freddie; he stayed hammering away for the next three and a half hours during which we weaved out way through a veritable forest of fishing floats and went past Sunderland and

Newcastle.

Then another front seemed to come through and the warm winds were with us again, this time at about 15kn. Off went Freddie and we went crashing along at 6.5 knots. The wind increased. By the time it had reached 18 kn, I thought I had better put in a reef.  This immediately made Vagabond more stable but made little difference to our speed. The wind grew in strength, eventually settling at a fairly constant 20knots, with the occasional 23kn gust. Rather than out in another reef, I moved closer to the shore, until we were running only about a quarter of a mile of the sandy beaches. This reduced the fetch on the water and gave us calmer water conditions but made little difference to the wind speed.

We continued like this for about five hours, by which time our destination hove into view and the wind eased off a bit. I could have taken the reef out but I was relishing a bit of a rest and, if reached Amble too early we would have to hang around for the tide to rise before we could get into the Marina.

Suddenly, wild life appeared. Gannets plunged from the heights, seeming to dislocate their wings as they enter the  water. A porpoise surfaced shyly on the starboard side and then was gone. Puffins erupted either side of the bow, coloured beaks full of sand eels, heads down and wings threshing the water like a demented breast stroke swimmer, before they claw their way into the air and flourish their orange feet in triumph.

Then we passed the island marking Amble and eased into the entrance to river. It was just after low water and my reading of the chart and tide tables suggested we would just have enough water under the centre board to get into the harbour. I watched the depth gauge intensely as we went in – the lowest reading was 0.4m clearance between the centre board and the bottom. It was a good thing there was no swell....

None the less, there was not enough water for us to enter the marina, so I tied up alongside an old gaffer that was tied to the harbour wall. I found the local pub and had my evening meal whilst the sun and moon did their work. An hour later I was able to cast off and glide into the Marina, mooring in the first available berth. Having secured  Vagabond and found an electric point that worked, I looked around and had a shock. On the pontoon berth opposite Vagabond was a familiar looking boat. Another Bay Crusier 23, also in Grey!  

 

Snap.