Final days in the Outer Hebrides

With a somewhat epic round of trains and ferries complete, and having collected Hektor from Bristol, we arrived back to Lochboisdale to find Contour in good shape, plenty of wind (as always!) and the weather looking good to continue our Southerly exploration towards Eriskay, Barra, and Vatersay. The first short passage took us to Acairsaid Mhor on Eriskay; a very sheltered harbour which Hazel and I had visited in May. With fair weather, we walked the short distance to the village, stocked up on some essentials, and went to explore the white sandy beaches which we had previously seen only in the rain. After a momentary wave of enthusiasm on seeing the crystal clear water, Hektor could not be persuaded to join Hazel for a swim after his feet had made contact with the 12 degree water - a good lesson that appearances can be deceptive! Whilst the population of Eriskay is now increasing (especially since the causeway was constructed), in the recent past the opposite has been true. The island is dotted with abandoned and ruined houses, some of which are rather sombre when you think of their remote and isolated locations. Hektor was extremely keen to explore one near our anchorage, but his initial enthusiasm was quickly overcome by the spookiness of all as his active imagination started to run riot!

Wildflowers and sunshine on Eriskay

Abandoned house

White sand beaches

Eriskay ponies

Eriskay cemetery overlooking the sea

Hektor ready to repel borders!

From Eriskay we made a further short hop South to anchor for a tide in the pool between Gighay and Helisay; yet another narrow tidal entrance rewarded a tranquil anchorage with ample exploring to be done on the neighboring islands. Having overcome a somewhat tricky seaweed landing (even more fun when we returned to the dinghy at low tide!), we made for the summit of Gighay to enjoy an amazing view and test out the replacement drone a safe distance from the water! We departed on the next tide to head yet further South towards Vatersay.

The pool between Gighay and Hellisay from the summit of Gighay ('interesting' entrance visible on the left)

Dinghies, Tides, Seaweed!

Vatersay, and specifically it's beaches, lived up to their reputation as being some if the best in Scotland (if not the world!). The timing of our visit was perfect as the wind dropped and the sun came out properly for the first time in a good few days/weeks - June and July have not been kind to the residents of the outer islands this year! Hektor's approach to dams, walls, pools, castles and beach constructions in general is to decide on a broad (usually highly ambitious) plan, sketch out an impressive perimeter, dig a bit, then quickly delegate the heavy lifting to a nearby adult whilst providing lots of helpful encouragement and instruction... still we all enjoy digging on the beach! The water here was even beautiful enough to tempt everyone in for a swim, albeit very briefly in some cases.

Enjoying a very sunny day on Vatersay

Contour anchored off the beach at Vatersay

The forecast was unusually offering no prospect of wind for a few days, so we slightly altered our plans; initially the idea had been for our friend Dan and his son Henry to take a ferry to the Hebrides and we would then sail back in with them. Given the prospect of a long, tedious motor-sail we agreed to meet them in Tobermory on Mull. As we set off Hektor attempted to connect to the internet for the first time only to discover this was not possible "what, you mean there's no internet at all????!!! I could NEVER live here!".

Keeping the crew happy on the slightly slow passage to Mull

The passage to Mull was slow and tedious, although we had a little wind occasionally which gave respite from our somewhat noisy diesel engine. However, this was the most we've used the engine this trip as too much wind has been a far more common problem than too little so we can't complain. We were sailing overnight and Hektor was keen to stay up to keep Hazel company on her watch until midnight. The main reason for this being the last time he stayed up for a night watch we were bringing the boat from Southampton to Portishead and he got to see bioluminescent dolphins leaping around the boat somewhere near Lands End. This was possibly one of the most incredible sights any of us had ever seen, but we tried to manage expectations by explaining that glowing dolphins are probably a one in a lifetime occurrence and not to be expected on every night sail. However, Hektor does appear to have some dolphin whispering skills and, about 5 minutes after Hazel told him to summon some dolphins to keep us company, we heard the familiar squeaking and splashing which announced the arrival of a large pod of common dolphins jumping around the boat (sadly no bioluminescence though).

With the rendezvous successful, we made the most of the good food supplies available in Tobermorey, as well as (rather to our relief as it is a bit scarce) getting some more cooking gas. Hektor has unfortunately developed a strong affinity for the Tobermory chocolate shop - priced for the many visiting American tourists that frequent Mull!

Marcus had to go aloft to change (again!) our anemometer - somewhat of a saga. Hektor never misses an opportunity to get hoisted up the mast but he's remarkably useful these days (and very light!) so this is something we positively encourage. This time he was able to help with calibration of the anemometer, somewhat to the bemusement of neighbouring boats who may not have entirely approved of our approach to child labour and were certainly surprised that both the children on board had such a good head for heights! Henry was still settling in to life onboard but he's quite accustomed to climbing and also made it up far enough to inspect Tobermorey from the vantage point of the foremast crosstrees and pose for photos.

Getting a good view of Tobermory

Follow our progress here.

Outer Hebrides; the Shiant Isles to South Uist

Having very much enjoyed the wild and unpredictable Loch Torridon, the end of June saw us making our way West for a second attempt at exploring the Outer Hebrides.  Luck was with us and we enjoyed a fast, close reach from Torridon past the Northern tip of Skye in 15-17 knots from the South West - Contour's best point of sail.  This made the passage an absolute pleasure; fast and comfortable in a gentle swell, with bright sunshine. We arrived at North Harbour on the island of Scalpay, just inside Loch Tarbert which divides North and South Harris. We ambled ashore having found space on the luxurious new community pontoon and were very lucky to get a seat in the most extraordinary bistro on the harbour side serving fresh locally caught fish and seafood.

Scalpay community pontoon

The following day we ran (stumbled through bog) around the island and out to Eilean Glas lighthouse, which marks the Eastern extent of the island. This was the first lighthouse in the Outer Hebrides constructed by Robert Stevenson in 1824; it is still painted exactly how a lighthouse should be with bright red and white stripes!  The buildings and engineering of the place hark back to a time when public works were expected to last forever. Unfortunately, although the light is well preserved with a fresh coat of paint, the keepers house and peripheral buildings have suffered over the years with a small community charity trying hard to maintain and improve them.  Not an easy task when the only access is on foot or by sea on a calm day.

Eilean Glas Lighthouse

Despite being entirely in the wrong direction, we decided to make a diversion to the Shiant islands before heading further south. They're known for abundant wildlife but, being somewhat exposed out in the middle of The Minch, visits are only enjoyable in calm conditions. We sailed North East from Scalpay and were pleased to find the anchorage reassuringly benign.  It is hard to describe a visit to this magical place, which fully lives up to the etymology of the name ("charmed", "holy" or "enchanted isles"); hopefully the photos which follow will give some sense of the magic we were privileged to enjoy. These pictures are the product of the passage to, on shore, and afloat around the islands during our visit. The density of sea birds made it feel a little like being surrounded by a swarm of bees at times with black dots constantly filling the sky above us. The sea was just as busy, with flocks of sea birds covering the surface and black and white shapes rocketing about below the dinghy diving for fish.

Hazel's aged mini-SLR is still remarkable, despite it's many adventures over the years, including a slightly emotional trip in a rigid raider (Byron!) 

Razorbills

Guillemot

Somewhat overwhelmed by the Shiant experience, which had included torrential rain, driving the dinghy through a large natural arch in a cliff face, and many, many puffins, we reluctantly got back underway.  The conditions which enabled the visit also made the subsequent passage to Lochmaddy on North Uist somewhat dull as we motored across the uncharacteristically flat and glassy Little Minch. However, an extended visit from a pod of common dolphins playing around the bow easily made up for the lack of wind.  

We anchored off Lochmaddy in the early hours of the morning then moved to the small village pontoon the following day. Here we benefited from excellent local knowledge; our friend Byron had suggested we visit Langass Lodge, a shooting and sporting lodge close by. Given that Marcus was about to lose the right to describe himself as in his 'early forties' we booked a table and enjoyed another stellar meal - the Outer Hebrides turning out to be something of an unexpected gastronomic destination.  With Scalpay having blown us away with seafood, Langass lodge served up a steak which left Marcus speechless for some time; a very memorable birthday!  The only challenge to the whole affair had been finding transport to get from Lochmaddy to the restaurant as there is no taxi service on North Uist and we were already dragging a taxi driver over from Benbecula to pick us up after the meal. However, the team of volunteers running the marina displayed boundless Hebridean generosity in organising a lift for us (in the form of a kind daughter and her new car). In our limited experience of life in the outer Hebrides, it seems people are extremely adept at finding ways to fix problems by whatever means available. 

The next fixed point on our calendar was the plan to leave Contour for a few days on South Uist, to enable us to visit family, progress some 'life admin' and collect Hektor who would be joining us on breaking up from school. This left us with a couple of days to work our way South from Lochmaddy to explore the extraordinarily varied coast of North and South Uist, a landscape where the sea, loch, hill and dale are so intermingled that it would take months to properly explore. Our first stop was Haunaray Sound, a huge expanse of enclosed water between North Uist and Benbecula, dotted with islands, and accessible through a pair of minute channels, barely 20m wide at points. These require some care, however the pilotage pays off, and we were rewarded by sheltered, serene anchorages surrounded by spectacular landscape.  Inevitably we felt the urge to tuck Contour into the smallest possible crevice, ('Eagles Pool'), accessed via a 10m-wide, S-shaped channel with some associated double-anchor / kedge faffing required to keep us off the rocks on arrival.  As ever, it paid to be adventurous and we landed and climbed to the highest peak in North Uist (Eaval) to look around.

Eagle's Pool

Contour just visible in Eagle's Pool from Eaval

Muddy disaster area after retrieval of the kedge - Marcus looking very pleased with the mayhem of his creation!

The appealing rock-strewn exit from Eagle's Pool

We had a somewhat muddy time weighing anchor, then worked our way slowly South East through the Sound and out through Flodday Sound to continue our exploration.  Time sadly prevented a visit to Benbecular, so after a short lunch stop at 'Wizard's Pool' we picked our way into another of the South Hebridean loch systems - Loch Eynort on South Uist, for the evening. 

The final leg took us South to Lochboisdale, arriving as planned to throw ourselves into a minor logistic frenzy to prepare the boat for our (brief) absence and our return Eastwards.  Fuelling by means of 10 litre cans was somewhat backbreaking, however with some kind help from neighbouring boats we left early on the morning of the 4th July to commence the long journey South.  Ferry to Mallaig, Bus to Fort William, Sleeper to Euston, train to West Sussex.....

Follow our progress here.

 

Testing the anchor in Loch Torridon

We departed the serenity of Acairsaid Mhor on Rona to be greeted by the Sound of Raasay living up to its somewhat truculent reputation; a stiff breeze - against - tide made the first minutes of our passage a little uncomfortable until Hazel had completed her speedy-sail-hoist exercises. We then settled on a fast broad reach North along the coast of Rona, to gybe around Limpet rock and head ESE towards Loch Torridon.  Torridon is famous as a remote and beautiful mountaineering destination and we had it in mind to find a secure anchorage and climb some hills.  Our sail to the mouth of Torridon was a straightforward, speedy reach with a reefed main and our No2 Yankee pushing us along happily at 7 knots.  Once past Sgeir a Gheir, the headland marking the Southern entrance to Loch Torridon, things got a bit less simple.  The wind backed by nearly 100 degrees as a we made our way down the loch and, from a broad reach at one end, we found ourselves beating into the wind by the time we were half way down and in the inner loch ('Shieldaig').  After a brief visit to the town of Shieldaig to visit the shop, we weighed anchor and, as the wind has died completely, started what we thought would be a gentle motor into Upper Loch Torridon. 

From our first exposure to loch sailing in the Firth of Clyde, we have learned that it is a 'different' experience, in particular the wind can be expected to be consistently inconsistent!  The further North we have progressed, as the scale of the surrounding topography has increased, this has become all the more evident.  It is hard to mitigate this; vigilant helming and a conservative approach to reefing and selecting headsails helps, however at times the changes can be so stark that the only response is to react quickly when it happens!  Some lochs seem especially prone; the mountains around Upper Loch Torridon certainly accentuate any gusty weather, and it is one of the few places (another being South Georgia) where I've encounters wind increasing from  nothing to 40+kts in a matter of seconds.  When it comes to beating upwind in these lochs, there does seem to be a slight on-the-wind effect at the edges of the loch, allowing us to sail closer to the wind. I guess the friction of the land slows the wind and shifts the direction slightly -  so if the wind is strong you might make a bit of extra progress by going close to the edge and pinching upwind. The downsides are obvious - trying to avoid hitting bits of submerged Scotland alongside the less dramatic risk that you might lose the wind completely.

Upper Loch Torridon certainly had some surprises in store for us; in the 3.5nm sail from Eilean a Chaoil at the entrance, to our anchorage in Hotel Bay at the Eastern end, the wind increased from virtually nothing to 12 knots - "shall we put the sails up and save diesel?" (that would be ALL the sails - no reefs), to 29kts - "we're nearly at the anchorage, lets hand the sails now and motor the rest" to 36kt gusts - nicely timed for Hazel having the somewhat truculent No2 Yankee half-stowed (best not to quote the conversation at this point).  Slightly unpleasant, and gusts that were a taste of what was to come for the remainder of our stay in this spectacular loch.  We anchored as the wind touched 40 knots; relieved that the holding was excellent and we settled quickly; little need for blasts of 'astern revs' to dig the anchor in!

Contour at anchor in Hotel Bay, Upper Loch Torridon

With many days and nights at anchor in unfamiliar surroundings, we have really put our anchor gear to the test over the last few months. We have dragged once; off Copeland Island at the entrance to Belfast Lough whilst waiting for a fair tide. In this instance dinner was ready, we knew we weren't going to be there for long and it's likely we weren't as rigorous in our approach to dropping the hook as normal. However, given some of the weather we've encountered, it's something of a surprise that dragging hasn't been more of a concern. It's probably fair to acknowledge at this point that our 27kg Delta Claw anchor has worked really well in a range of different conditions (touching wood at this point). There are undoubtedly more modern anchors out there (plenty of scope for heated anchor-related discussions on yachting forums!), but our bowsprit arrangement limits what we can use, and in fact it has been great.  We carry 45m of 10mm chain on the bower, with a further 40m of 12mm hawser rode.  We almost always put all the chain out - and carefully plan anchorages accordingly - although rarely use the rode. We then rig a large anchor strop - made from 15mm hawser-laid polyester spliced to a large chain-hook. This does two things; it stops the chain beating up the bobstay too much and also mitigates shock loading if the sea is bouncing us around, or if it is gusty - a particular problem when anchoring in lochs. On a gusty day you can watch it stretch alarmingly, and then be reassured that it is saving the bow roller and rest of the gear from all that bashing. The polyester has also proven usefully resilient to chafe from the bobstay with which it (inevitably) interacts often. 

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When the forecast has been especially bad (> 40 kts), we have wanted to leave the boat alone somewhere for a while, or if we want to 'kedge' in a tight anchorage, we rig our second anchor.  This is a quite remarkable bit of kit, a Fortress FX23 which is made from a light magnesium alloy, sort of like the offspring of a Danforth crossed with a jet plane. It is paired with 30m of chain and a long hawser.  With the benefit that it can literally be lobbed into position from the deck, this has proven to be a great investment and we have ridden out some truly howling Scottish weather with both anchors laid well off the bow, about 40 degrees apart (it even comes apart for easy stowage).  Faffs can occur when the wind drops and allows the boat to swing around creating a wonderful tangle - this is not a setup we would leave rigged for days on end without a kedge.  For anyone with a true love of anchor chat, we also carry a further 40kg Danforth which came with the boat - made of heavy galvanised steel it lurks in the steering compartment lashed to a bulkhead, threatening to break fingers and lacerate shins when released!  Used only once as a kedge, it is very effective but damn heavy. When deployed from our tiny dinghy there is the very real risk that both anchor and crew will enter he water together!

Ok, probably time to move on from anchors. Once established in Torridon we ventured ashore to explore; Hazel to go for a longer and faster run, Marcus for a more sedate exploration to find a cafe. Torridon has an active combined community centre, gallery, and really good cafe and, slightly to his surprise, a conversation with a group of elderly locals developed in to them bursting into a rather prolonged song, a pleasant if unexpected addition to a cheese toasty.

Summit of Ben Damh (South side, Loch Torridon)

Our first bit of walking was to summit Ben Damh on the South side of Torridon; we set out in clear weather and made our way up through coniferous woodland,  past picturesque burns and dramatic waterfalls.  Climbing above the treeline the going got a little tougher and then in places the path crossed large shale and boulder fields which run along the ridge up to Ben Damh. Spectacular views as far as Plockton and beyond rewarded our efforts and, true to the wild reputation of the place, other people and signs of civilisation were scant.  

Boulder fields along the ridge to Ben Damh.

Waterfall at Glac na Gainmhich 

Spectacular sunset at the anchorage

Our next expedition was the 'classic' Torridon walk along Liathach; we shied away slightly from a somewhat tedious tarmac 'walk in' from our anchorage and instead managed to find a helpful local taxi driver (the only one and very hard to track down) who got us to the start of the path. After this we had a relatively brutal continuous ascent from sea level to the first peak at 915m made easier by the excellent clear track.  From here we made our way West South West to Spidean a Choire Leith - the first Munro at 1055m and high point of the day. With the weather holding and the wind manageable, we continued along the rather more adventurous pinnacles section of the route and on to Mullach Rathain, the second Munro.  

The start of the pinnacles section on Liathach - a reasonable head for heights required

Keeping to the ridge line on the final pinnacle

Enjoying the views over Coire Mhic Nobaill and Coire Dubh

Looking back along the pinnacles

Our descent down 'Toll Ban' was a further demonstration of the high speeds Hazel can achieve over rough ground, and we fairly flew down a rough, loose shale slope - the anticipated cafe opening hours and the dire requirement for cake setting a clear target to beat (target thankfully achieved!).

Upper Loch Torridon in the sun

Safely back on board, we made further plans for a lower walk on our third day in Torridon, however, the weather was not remotely cooperative and our inclination for covering the kilometers in the lashing rain was limited. We progressed some routine boat stuff (including checking over and lubricating the steering gear that Marcus rebuilt in the Autumn last year), did some planning for winter projects, and raised our second anchor ready to make a prompt getaway.  Torridon, however, was not finished with us. Our last evening at anchor was characterised by a slightly unexpected series of screaming squalls which again tested our (now single) anchor, and rather prevented a comfortable night's sleep - 6 to 40kts over seconds leads to a certain amount of noise, alarms and boat movement even when the anchor is holding well! Having said that, and notwithstanding the challenges of Torridon, I think we will be back - it is worth it!

Steering gear works - not the easiest access!

From Torridon, plans take us across the Minch to explore more of the Outer Hebrides - hopefully the Minch will be kinder than last time and we will take less of a beating!

Follow our progress here.

North towards the Kyles of Lochalsh.

  

The somewhat threatening Loch Hourn

Emerging from Loch Nevis as the weather calmed down, we started heading further North to pass through the narrows of Kyle Rhea and Loch Alsh (interesting tidal gates which present the risk of finding yourself sailing backwards if you mistime your transit). Having made a fast passage up the Sound of Sleat (between Skye and the mainland) we had time in hand before the tidal gate at Kyle Rhea so we turned South East into Loch Hourn.  The loch looked somewhat sinister, with cloud and mist rolling over the hills, contrasting with the sunshine we'd been enjoying so far.  Marking the Northern side of the Knoydart hills, Loch Hourn is described by some as the 'hell' to Loch Nevis's 'heaven'. It was certainly living up to this reputation as we entered, with imposing mountains capped with dark cloud, squally sailing down the loch, and a prevailing sense of wilderness.  Having flown down the loch, we turned upwind to beat our way back up to the Sound of Sleat and towards Kyle Rhea.  It was an exciting sail, with gusts to 30+ knots keeping us busy, before (naturally) the wind died almost completely in the Sound of Sleat. 

Brief Loch Hourn sunshine

Squalls in Loch Hourn 

We had arranged to meet the crew of SV Henry in Kyle to ferry them (and a large volume of supplies) back to Plockon where Henry was moored - essentially providing a very slow and not terribly reliable Uber schooner service. We'd made surprisingly good time and, after motoring West under Skye Bridge, were able to enjoy a gentle sunset sail North to Plockton, a picture-postcard fishing village at the head of Loch Carron. The new crew appeared to enjoy their introduction to the wonders of ferrocement schooner sailing; somewhat different to the modern aluminium speed machine that is Henry! Marcus was slightly surprised to recall he had, in fact, visited Plockton before, albeit only the small aerodrome on the outskirts of the village which is occasionally frequented by Navy helicopters moving people ashore from the North Atlantic. 

Plockton

Having explored the countryside around Plockton a little and enjoyed the local hostelries, we motored over a mirror-smooth sea to anchor in Applecross Bay, the mouth of the Applecross River and the site of the famous Applecross estate walled garden. The wonderfully settled conditions meant we were able to anchor in the exposed bay and head ashore for food and exploration.  Fortified with an excellent lunch, we walked the 5k along the coast to Applecross Sands, a pristine beach facing Raasay and the home of a very large sand dune which can be run up and down (once was quite enough!).

Motoring from Plockton to Applecross

Applecross Sands

Applecross Sands

At anchor in Applecross Bay

From Applecross, we motored across the Inner Sound and between Raasay and Rona to the excellent anchorage of Acarsaid Mhor (Big Harbour in Gaelic) on Rona. This small, privately owned and beautifully kept island also has a resident herd of deer which, incidentally, are sometimes available as remarkably good venison burgers.  Like so many of the islands here there is a great deal of history associated with Rona and, the following morning, we set out for a slippery run to the island church (in a cave), and some of the deserted ruins.  The small museum eloquently tells the story of settlement, the impact of the 19th century clearances, how hard the living was on these small remote islands, and their eventual depopulation by emigration and the social upheavals after the First World War.

Anchorage at Acarsaid Mhor on Rona

Cathedral Cave on Rona

On Rona we were also pleased to meet another Endurance - a 37 called 'Mr Orion', she's based in Plymouth but has spent a couple of summers exploring the West Coast.  It was good to compare similarities and differences and, as always, pick up some tips!

From Rona we planned to head back to the mainland - to the remote mountainous area around Loch Torridon to get some altitude and give our legs some walking practice....albeit with the promise of more unsettled weather and high winds looming over us.

Follow our progress here.