I am sure you will rember that there would be photos in this instalment. Sadly, you will have to wait until I can find a faster internet connection: in the meantime you will have to be content with my prose. Indeed, you may have to be content with prose for the rest of this trip; my camera has "done a runner". Either I have put it away in such a cunning place that I can't immediately locate, or (more likely) I have left it somewhere. I could, I suppose use the phone....
Nonethe less, I am pleased to report that we're almost on plan. The crew has departed to the south, exchanging the Scottish Highlands for the wineries of Portugal and Spain and Vagabond and I are bouncing to buoy off the yacht club in Fort William, ready to join Sail Caledonia after a few necessary tomorrow.
But it was a close run thing.
I'd left you all bouncing to a different buoy off an un-named hotel in a north facing gat just south of Ballachulish. We returned to Vagabond, after a delightfull evening meal in the Holleytree hotel to find that the wind had changed in an unforecasted way. It was now from the north, right into our shelter. The dinghy ride was interesting and we boarded Vagabond with some difficulty before spending a noisy and boisterous night.
We set off to go to the north east, up towards Fort William. We didn't even get as far as the Corran Ferry narrows. The wind reach 25 knots and stayed there for several hours. After an hour motoring into it (in a vain attempt to catch the tide at the narrows), I gave up and we turned east into Loch Leven, under the Ballachulish bridge into the Bishops Pool, a delightful pool, surrounded on two and a bit sides by steep, wooded hills. In the other directions was a view of the loch and the forbidding, snow covered* mountains of Glen Coe.
We found a buoy of dubious heritage, with it's slimy mooring rope the home to long strands of kelp, numerous small fish and an angry shrimp. There was no wind to speak of, and little tide so it seemed safe enough. Meanwhile the gale blew through the woods. Bluebell still carpeted the floor; gorse, rhododendrons, azaleas and elders bloomed in the clearings. We were there until the wind died down.
But there was a problem. The crew had to be at Fort William to catch a train on the following morning and Vagabond had to be there too, admittedly a day later, to catch the Sail Caledonia "raid". We adjourned to a local hostelry to consult taxi companies and bus timetables. A bus was selected. Tide table were also consulted and I found that if Vagabond and I left our pool at about 9 o'clock the following morning we'd catch the last of the ebb** to get out of Loch Leven and the first of the flood*** to get through the Corran narrows.
Perfect!
So, after another pub meal we retired to bed, to wake the following morning to find the wind had dropped - a bit.
The crew and her bags were put ashore, Vagabond was made ship shape, the main hoisted (with one cautious reef), the buoy dropped and we were off.
Read all about our thrilling adventures, how the jib repeated the Liverpool bay trick just as we approached the narrowest point and a lost shackle pin nearly caused a major incident, in the next edition!
* Well, in the gullies.
** The outgoing tide
*** The incoming tide
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