Eriskay, Rum, Eigg, and confounded machinery

As the gales blew themselves out, and with a fleeting weather window in the offing, we decided to make a break for the Outer Hebrides, with the idea of making our way to Barra at the Southern end.

The forecast showed the wind veering to the North West, which should have enabled us to make a close reach down the Sea of Hebrides from Canna for the 30-odd mile run.  All seemed well with a strong steady breeze as we left Canna, forsaking the now familiar comforts of the harbour for a sea still restless with the remnants of 4 days of steady gales.

40kt winds in Canna the day before leaving

The sailing directions laconically note that for any given weather, the sea of Hebrides is routinely twice as rough as the waters further North, a function of the underwater topography, rapidly changing depths and tidal currents which make this a challenging place to sail.

As we hardened up onto the wind and emerged from the lee of Canna, we quickly realised this was going to be a tough upwind slog (i.e. Hazel should probably have taken a sea sickness tablet prior to leaving the harbour!). The wind was staying resolutely South Westerly, with little sign of the forecast change of direction we had slightly been banking on to ease our passage.  The confused and lumpy sea seemed intent on frustrating our progress, and Contour, usually so good in the weather, seemed to slam to what felt like a standstill every time the log climbed above four knots.  We fought our way North West to try and attain some of the lee of the outer islands, and decided that bloody - minded patience was going to be a key component of the day!  Luckily, anticipating a less than idyllic sail, we had prepared food for a long day.

As time wore on, we started to lose the favourable Southerly set; this was helpful in that it reduced the wind against stream effect and the sea-state, but meant we were now having to stem a half-knot or more of current.  With wet squalls and slow progress, the deeply-sheltered sea loch, Acarsaid Mhor, on the Eastern side of Eriskay started to appeal more than a further few hours slogging towards Barra (and an arrival in the dark).  We tacked again and made our way up in the lee of Eriskay, welcoming the flatter sea and happy to see the log climb up towards a more satisfactory five knots for more than ten seconds - average speed over the course of the day was probably (optimistically!) around 3 knots.

Eriskay looking very appealing in the setting sun

11-17 May 22

Weary but happy to be out of the blow, we carefully picked our way through the narrow entrance at dusk, grateful as ever for the brilliant Antares Chart survey. Possibly due to fatigue (or laziness) we decided to pick up a visitor mooring rather than anchor as another 40 knot gale was due the following day. The pick up buoy and general set up seemed a little strange, but we attached ourselves and settled in for the evening. The following morning a chance conversation with some local fishermen revealed that we were in fact attached to a buoy that they used occasionally to attach 'boxes' to - no idea what was on the bottom of it and no idea when the chain had last (if ever) been tested. It turns out the visitor moorings had been removed the previous week as they had also (perhaps more surprisingly) not been tested for a few years and a yacht had found itself aground the previous week after the chain gave way. We made a hasty return to Contour and brought her alongside the pontoon instead - blown nicely alongside with the 20 knot onshore breeze. Lessons learnt!

Eriskay - beautiful, but distinctly lacking the otters that were promised

Taken about 10 minutes before we got absolutely drenched in a short-lived but very violent squall

They lied!

We explored this small Outer Hebridean island, and, whilst disappointed by the notable lack of otters, very much enjoyed the warm welcome in the setting of 'Whisky Galore' - the inspiration for the famous Ealing Comedy and subsequent Eddy-Izzard remake.  The island's only pub is named for the 'AM Politician' - the whisky-and-treasure carrying cargo ship which went aground in 1941 at the height of the Battle of the Atlantic trying to evade U-boats.  The pub boasts an original bottle of recovered whisky, accompanied however by a warning that the last person who tried to drink the amber nectar ended up in hospital!

Acarsaid Mhor, Eriskay - Contour in the background

Disappointingly, and having fought against a persistent Westerly to get out to the Hebrides, the forecast was starting to hint that a persistent Easterly was in the offing - threatening us with a struggle to get back East in time for Marcus to catch the Sleeper to Bristol.  We decided that we needed to return, but would have to cut short this foray to the outer islands, and head back to Rum in the Small Islands to be in a more sheltered sailing area.

As our sail West out to Eriskay was the epitome of an up-wind slog, our sail back East smashed Contour's fastest passage record, with 17-20 knots just aft of the beam, and our big No1 yankee, and gollywobbler (large reaching sail rigged fore-and-aft between the main and foremast) hoisted.  With steady speeds of 7.5 knots and touching 8 for prolonged periods, we flew back with a gentle beam sea and picked up a visitor mooring (a proper one this time) in Loch Scresort, off the small Rum village of Kinloch. 

Loch Scresort

As we reached around the North West Coast of Rum, we noticed a large fishing vessel hard aground on the coast - the background to the wrecking of the French FV Jack Abry 2 is sobering - 13.5 knots straight into the cliffs must have been an unpleasant way to wake.....   Welcomed by bright sun and the chance to explore another of the Small Isles, we wondered who will take on the challenge of looking after the vast late-Victorian pile which is gently rotting in the middle of the village, Kinloch Castle - advertised recently for sale at the modest sum of £1. 

Gaffer at anchor - Loch Scresort

The next destination was Eigg, and with a forecast calm day we expected to motor the dozen miles to Galmisdale, aiming to arrive at Low Water so we could check out a potential drying spot next to the sea wall - we are due to check anodes, scrub, and do some underwater jobs and this thought might be the chance.  Having hardly used the engine in a couple of weeks, the chance to make a tank of hot water for a shower also appealed! As is often the case, the mechanical gods chose this moment to intervene... half an hour after starting the red 'electrical nonsense' warning light came on and all the output from the alternator disappeared. Not ideal!  Whilst we have an effective wind generator, with more calm and warm days, and no solar panels (yet) we are still reliant on the odd bit of engine use to keep the lights on.

North end of Eigg

An Sgurr on Eigg

Glassy seas = not great for sailing a big heavy boat

Disheartened, having escaped any significant engine room faffs since we left in March, we went to anchor, turned the engine off, and went ashore to explore. Poking around to ascertain the problem would be a (slightly) more appealing prospect once working on the engine didn't resemble climbing around an over-hot Aga. 

Bad times!

Early checks suggested a disappointing lack of a simple 'loose wire' type problem, and much cursing and swearing then accompanied the removal of the Alternator from the engine.  Naturally it's positioned so as to require complex upside-down yoga moves in close proximity to the (still annoyingly hot) engine be combined with abundant dexterity and spanner wangling.  No further progress was possible with the resources onboard so we blessed the wind generator howling away on the pushpit in the persistent strong breeze. 

Eigg at sunrise (only seen because a particularly annoying rattling halyard had to be dealt with!)

The wind was set well for a close beat across the Sound of Arisaig to explore Loch Moidart, a sprawling sea-loch with an entrance somewhat famous for being tricky, and a place we wanted to recce in readiness for adventures with Hektor and some friends in early June.  The fast up-wind sail reassured us that Contour can sail to windward, and we picked our way through the slightly tortuous entrance and anchored well inside the loch, benefitting all the time from the strong funnelled breeze but passing a comfortable night, before our return to Arisaig and a (growing!) list of logistics and travel.

Marcus in his helming happy place

Eigg looking a little moody

Loch Moidart

Loch Moidart with Tioram Castle in the background

Aside from the repair to the alternator (due it's own little holiday to Preston have its stator re-wound) we had also decided to press ahead with our solar power plans - with lighter breezes (hah!) and more sun expected as Spring advances, this will further reduce our dependence on the engine. The boat's electrical system was 'fitted for solar' already after work through the winter.  (Note from Hazel: anyone who knows Marcus will likely understand the degree of frustration associated with not being able to fix the alternator himself! It was therefore extremely fortuitous that the solar panels were ready and waiting for us in Arisaig enabling a swift diversion of attention to things that could actually be fixed!). We were also expecting parts to repair one of the main cockpit winches - a chance for Hazel to (somewhat reluctantly) expand her skill set.  This is the second blog in which we reflect on the work we are doing to keep Contour going - but about half of what we have done has been 'improve' rather than just 'maintain'. We have chosen to progress some projects, partly just to provide an interesting challenge, although nor should we understate the hours required to keep a boat like Contour safe and available.

Deck department maint ops 1 down, 6 to go......

Sikaflex will obscure a multitude of sins!

New solar panels in place.

Follow our progress here.

Eagles, Ardnamurchan, and the Small Isles

Feeling that we had probably spent long enough around Mull and Oban for now, and with a good spell of weather forecast, we decided it was time to make our way further North.  In Scottish cruising ‘lore’, the area North of Ardnamurchan Point is where conditions, weather, and challenges increase somewhat. It used to be customary for any yacht returning from a cruise North of Ardnamurchan to display a bunch of heather at the end of her bowsprit as a token of having been around this exposed headland.  With time in hand and Contour in good shape, we were looking forward to the opportunity to explore some of the more remote areas of the inner and outer Hebrides.

29 Apr - 6 May 22

Having enjoyed the visit to Puilladobhrain, we fought our way up the Sound of Mull, in classic conditions for this part of the world – i.e. not quite enough wind to sail well, followed by lots too much, with little time to adjust in between.  As Contour is very traditionally rigged, changes in conditions often mean sail changes; a different size ‘Yankee’ dragged up from the forepeak, as well as putting a reef in the main (not done from the comfort of the cockpit!), and we were therefore kept busy. The plan was to call into Tobermorey to pick up some fresh supplies before exploring the area around Loch Sunart for a day or so and then picking a good moment to round Ardnamurchan.

We duly screamed across the North end of the Sound of Mull, a brisk sail enlivened by Marcus executing a spectacularly badly conceived ‘wend’ (a means of gybing by going ‘the long way round’ sometimes useful in strong weather).  Once the ensuing pickle was sorted out, we reached fast into Tobermorey; Hazel executed a ninja fore-deck-shuffle, getting No2 Yankee, two staysails and the main stowed in double quick time.  From the comfort of our rain-lashed cockpit, Marcus enjoyed bemused stares from a passing ‘sail-training’ yacht – in which the students were learning how to roller-reef their headsail form the comfort of their cockpit dodger. The instructor was pointing out the details of Contour’s rig as Hazel was busy beating our staysails into submission in 25kt gusts prior to picking up a buoy.  Pah!  We felt superior.  Or stupid.  Or both!

The horizontal rain and hail continued, however we were unsure of our next opportunity to embark vittles so, in recompense for ‘wend-gate’, Marcus pumped up ‘cornflake’ (our petite 2m tender) and, finding it difficult to distinguish between sea and sky, motored ashore with two large waterproof rucksacks and a larger shopping list. Having duly emptied Tobermorey Co-op, and barely able to walk under the load, he might as well have swum back to Contour given the amount of water lashing down and splashing up.  With dingy stowed, we headed back out for the short sail to Loch Drumbuie, a picturesque bolt-hole which promised good holding and better shelter. With an Easterly gale much stronger than forecast quickly coming on, we learned yet more about Scottish topography and the bizarre local effects, before losing the wind entirely as we gingerly poked our nose through the rocky cliffs that line the narrow channel into Drumbuie. As we entered the loch it felt like a different planet after the vicious squalls outside.

Loch Drumbuie - the calm after the storm

Invariably something to fix -  this time some sail sewing

Loch Sunart harks to sailing around the Clyde estuary; long and winding, with good shelter and good anchorages ranged along the picturesque and varied coastline. We happily meandered along this spectacular loch, with the occasional fish-farm and an endless supply of spectacular loch-side houses. Our first night in Sunart was spent in a small bay anchored next to another cruising yacht with a family living onboard.  Keen to explore, and having seen a likely track on the OS map, we paddled ashore.  After a pleasant evening walk, we encountered a very friendly German gentleman, and his young son, who it turned out had recently purchased the nearby castle, the slip where we had landed, and a couple of adjacent islands.  After a longish chat it was still not entirely clear whether they welcomed the presence of cruising boats or rather felt that we were trespassing in ‘their bay’, but we nonetheless parted on friendly, if slightly nonplussed terms.

View across Loch Sunart from Garbh Eilean nature reserve

For our last day in Sunart we wanted to locate an anchorage well sheltered from the South in expectation of the change in weather prior to making our way around Ardnamurchan.  Garbh Eilean seemed to offer the perfect secluded position so we made our way further into the Loch and dropped anchor in yet another silent, calm, and beautiful bay.  As we settled in to our anchorage, warm in blazing sunshine and a light breeze, Hazel suddenly exclaimed at the extraordinary sight of a very large eagle perched in a tree on the bank 200 metres from the boat.  Further inspection revealed a large white-tailed eagle, looking magisterial and entirely unperturbed by our arrival.  Already slightly stunned at this extraordinary sight, we soon realised he was not alone and hidden in the tree was also a large nest, with a large and regal head just visible.  These enormous birds are one of the largest eagles, with wing-spans of up to 2.6m, and have been re-introduced to Scotland in recent years.

White-tailed eagle

Evening sun Loch Sunart

Abundant sea life, with a large colony of seals and even fleeting glimpses of (maybe) otters further enlivened our stay. We slipped away the following morning to sail back down the loch towards Ardnamurchan feeling that we had been very privileged indeed. 

Common seals at low tide

The South Westerly arrived as ordered, and we enjoyed a fast sail to explore the coast around Ardnamurchan; firstly ‘Kilchoan’ (to anchor for lunch and investigate a defective sheet winch) then further North to 'Sanna Bay’ just around the end of Ardnamurchan.  Overnight the wind gods did as they pleased, showing no inclination whatsoever to abide by the forecast, and we woke to discover ourselves unexpectedly on a lee shore, with a large swell rolling into the bay and breaking over the line of rocks which hitherto had ensured our comfort. We decided it might be safest to enjoy the glowing white beaches on another day!

A rather forbidding view of Ardnamurchan lighthouse

Sunshine on Sanna Bay with an unexpected strong onshore breeze curtailing our stay

With our plans to pick our way up the intricate coast North of Ardnamurchan somewhat kyboshed, we headed North East past Muck and Eigg, the South Easterly of the ‘Small Isles’ headed for Arisaig.  Arisaig is a small village at the head of a large and sheltered sea loch and, with a rail-head, is our intended logistic hub for the next month or so of cruising.  The catch is a somewhat narrow and tidally constrained entrance, so we anchored in the roads outside and in a welcome break in the weather, took the opportunity to explore the sandy beaches and islets which frame the entrance. We made friends with a large colony of seals who appeared bemused by our choice of anchorage, then, with the rising tide enabling our entrance, we picked our way in and found our allocated mooring.  

Having explored ashore, checked out the local food and confirmed a mooring booking for later in the month (when we have some travelling to do, and to receive some spare parts) we enjoyed an unexpectedly glorious walk in some botanical gardens near Arisaig.  We then prepared overnight for our first venture into the Inner Hebrides – the Island of Canna, famous amongst Gaelic scholars, reputedly enjoying a sunny micro-climate, and a good stepping off point, if the weather is kind, for the Outer Hebrides.

A fast approach to the Canna anchorage

On the hunt for puffins at the Canna sea stacks

The 'small Isles' all have quite distinct characteristics; Canna is the most North Westerly and benefits from the best harbour; the small population are scattered around the South East corner of the island, which is joined by a bridge it it's small neighbour Sanday.  We made a good upwind passage past the heights of the Island of Rum and into the sheltered anchorage to wait for a forecast weather system to pass, after which we aimed to make the sometimes challenging passage across the sea of the Hebrides aiming for Barra or Eriskay. The forecast, however, suggested we would be in for a bit of a blow, so we happily took the opportunity to explore the island and had five comfortable nights tucked out of the way of a strong low-pressure system moving to the North of us.  We were not the only boats with the same idea, although we felt rather humbled by one of the neighbouring yachts, waiting for a weather window before attempting a single-handed run up to Iceland!

 
We quickly came to admire the island and it's small, remote, community. Whilst serviced by a regular ferry, the sailings are frequently subject to cancellation due to the weather; there is a strong sense of self-sufficiency in the farmers and small businesses on the island.  The island boasts of a good cafe / restaurant / bar but more impressively a 24 hour cooperative shop, well stocked with necessities, ranging from vegetables, tinned foods, ice-cream, woolly hats, and a large selection of books.  Payment is made by means of an honesty box, logbook and calculator, or by paying via paypal.  

'Puffin Stack' on Canna.  They were out when we called.

One of the many fine beaches on Canna

Looking down on the anchorage with Rum in the background

Canna Protestant Church

Descent from the hills.

We used the time on Canna for a series of long walks / runs, during which we covered much (although far from all) of this fascinating place; an island which has been inhabited for millennia and is rich in history and cultural artefacts.  One striking former habitation was the site of a former nunnery, precariously clinging to a tiny area of land at the bottom of some very large cliffs.  Our conclusion was that the nuns of the era really wanted to get away from it all! 

The mysterious ancient 'Sous Terrain' - their intended use remains unknown.

North coast of Canna with Skye in the background

With the weather clearing, we were ready to make a break for the Outer Hebrides, although the passage promised to be a hard one with a strong Westerly wind set in for a few days, we would be beating upwind in seas built up by several days of gales....

You can follow our progress on our boat page at noforeignland.com

Maintenance on magical Kerrera island; Puilladobhrain and the Bridge over the Atlantic

It turns out that leaving Hazel unattended on Kerrera, an idyllic little island off Oban, was something of an error. In a somewhat determined tone, reminiscent of the time she, slightly surprisingly, declared she had found our next boat (Contour - we know how that turned out!), it was made clear that Kerrera Marina is likely to be our base for sailing for some time (years) to come.  While Marcus had been travelling to Bristol with Hektor, Hazel had been catching up on some work whilst also popping out for 'little runs' (in this case circumnavigating Kerrera). She had also been left with about a cubic yard of laundry and Contour in a bit of a pickle after two weeks with visitors (and small people). Once the chores were complete and with a few days of dry, mild, and windless days forecast, we decided to tackle a bit of work on Contour that we had not been able to complete before we left - basically an excuse to stay in Kerrera a bit longer! 

The maintenance issue we set ourselves to resolve was the tendency for the large skylight in the main saloon to leak. It is one of the great features of Contour; a 1.5m long skylight which allows light to flood into the cabin (and incidentally also enables easy removal of the engine). Like everything onboard, the (removable) frame is beautifully constructed with a curved Acrylic (Perspex) window. We had known for some time that the seal between the teak and the Acrylic had failed, and as time has gone on it started to leak more and more. It's not something we could leave for to long, not just because it's inconvenient to get water dumped on your head when the boat heels over, but because the fresh water could do serious damage to the deck head structure over time. The long train/plane journeys gave Marcus ample time to research adhesive sealant options and pick up supplies during a brief transit stop in Glasgow.

The starting point - in a slightly sorry state as varnishing delayed due to need to fix the leak

With some trepidation, Hazel had set about removing the 35 screws holding the acrylic down and drilling out the wooden plugs to get at the screen holding the wooden supports down. Getting it apart was problematic - of course; whilst not bonded well enough to seal, the bedding material was sticking well enough to make it extremely difficult to detach the perspex from the frame! Having spent a number of hours with a Stanley knife attacking the sealant and after a stream of rapid fire (slightly panicked) texts highlighting the fact that taking a screwdriver to the one free corner and attempting to lever up the perspex was a very, very bad idea, progress was delayed until Marcus returned from Glasgow.  If the perspex cracked it was agreed that it would be better if it occurred while both of us were present.....

Having noticed Hazel battling with the frame on the pontoon, Tim Vollum, the extremely helpful marina boss at Kerrera marina, took pity on us and offered space in their workshop to continue the task. Moving the frame onto a proper table in a well equipped workshop made all the difference. This was of course hugely kind of Tim as the workshop is used by staff at the marina for all their other maintenance tasks and we were well aware that not many places would let the crew of a visiting yacht anywhere near their facilities for a DIY project (another reason to stay!!). A few hours of hard and careful work with a box-cutter and we had the perspex separated from the frame and still intact - major progress. 

 The frame post preparation ready for re-assembly. 

Glue! (OB1)

The next step was to repair the frame, and clean it back to bare wood ready for re-fitting. At this point, we benefited again from the lovely people at Kerrera; it is the sort of place where an expert joiner happens to be kicking around. After a chat with the extremely helpful Gary, we adjusted our plan for the repair - most significantly in having the confidence to NOT use the 35 screws to re-attach the acrylic, as the modern adhesive we had identified to bed the window is very strong and flexible, and screws would risk damage to the frame from differential thermal expansion (probably the root of the original problem). 

We were also dissuaded from our planned epoxy-and-varnish coating plan, with great advice on a more durable and suitable alternative. (Gary has a future in diplomacy - he stopped for a chat in the workshop, listened patiently to our ideas and then completely changed our plan (very much for the better), all whilst making us think we were still doing a good job......!) So after three days, the skylight was stripped with a repaired frame, and ready to re-fit, looking superb (if we say so ourselves!).

Whilst this process had involved several hours in the workshop, it was not all work - we had time to extensively explore the island (it is about a 15KM walk to circumnavigate) and confirm the veracity of the many glowing reviews of the restaurant. After a day spent scraping, masking, and glueing, a large rump steak and a beer is much needed!

 

Alongside the repair to the skylight, you may recall a somewhat emotional episode in the Crinan Canal when Hazel discovered that the engine control level did not, as intended, control the engine. Marcus had been able to effect a temporary repair, however the control mechanism was clearly very worn and a repeat performance was likely. A replacement mechanism had arrived in Kererra, and so a few hours was required to strip, check, and then fit the new engine control lever which gives us both more confidence; Contour weighs a little over 20 tonnes and losing the ability to go 'full astern' when occasionally needed is sub-optimal.

After this frenzy of activity we were ready for a rest; we flushed and filled our water tanks, topped up on fuel, and then set off on a glorious sunny day to explore Puilladobhrain, a sheltered anchorage tucked into the rocks off the island of Seil, South South West of Oban.

Happy to be out on our travels again, we set off ashore for a run, with the aim of making the ferry across to Easdale, one of the 'Slate Islands' - a chain of islands which were extensively quarried for Slate from the 1700s until the 1950s. The countryside of Seil is gently undulating, and the five miles to the ferry at Ellenabeich rolled away. Stepping off the ferry at Easdale is something of a step back in time. The rows of immaculate workers cottages are now picturesque homes and holiday cottages, rather than accommodation for the intrepid quarrymen who dug hundreds of feet below sea level to extract the high quality slate - for use all over the cities of the UK and Commonwealth. Quarrying began to decline when (perhaps unsurprisingly) storms overcame the sea-walls and many of the quarries flooded. We explored the extraordinary quarry sites – which as well as providing a very deep open-air swimming pool, host the annual 'stone - skimming' world championship. Following our impromptu trials, we can confirm that we will not be competing next time around! We ran back, taking time to look at the very picturesque 'Bridge over the Atlantic' - a spectacular arched bridge that joins Seil to the mainland over Clachan Sound. We got back to Contour in time to bake a loaf to replenish our supplies and enjoy a glass of wine with the sunset.

 

The following day we took the tender to the mainland to climb Beinn Mhor, a ~200m hill which gave spectacular views over Mull, Kerrera, and the Firth of Lorn. Marvelling as always over the brilliant Ordnance Survey mapping, we explored some of the off-lying islands around Puilladobheain then accidentally stumbled into a good pub before returning to the boat, reality biting a bit as we both had a pile of work & admin to get through.

The Bridge over the Atlantic

 

Mull from Beihn Mor

Puilladobhrain from Beihn Mor

Kerrera Sound from Beihn Mor

With a few weeks before our next fixed diary mark, the plan from here is to head North up the Sound of Mull and explore Loch Sunart.... the plan from there is to have no plan, and see where we end up! It probably involves going around Ardnamurchan, and towards the Small Isles. 

You can follow our progress on our boat page at noforeignland.com