Settling in nicely

We've been busy washing and drying most of our gear, and had our sails drying in the garden during one of the rare sunny days recently. We've also had time to finish the processing of our Azorean coffee, and just had a cafetiere of it with breakfast - delicious!

Yesterday evening was the first time in quite some time that we've gone out for just a wee leisure sail, with no particular destination, and it was lovely. We zoomed back and forth across the Forth at 6 knots, watching the seals, sea birds and a fine rainbow. Superb scenery begins right outside the harbour. We are definitely happy that we've made the decision to keep the boat close by rather than somewhere on the west coast.

On Sunday, we plan to continue the exploration of our home waters - maybe making it out to the Isle of May, a bird sanctuary off the Fife coast. Plenty of daysailing opportunities. And we'll have to practice drying out against harbour walls (no boozing reference intended), since most of the harbours around here dry at low water.

39° 52' N, 3° 7' E to 37° 44' N, 25° 40' W to 58° 00' N, 3° 20' W to 55° 59' N, 3° 13' W

The wind was still easterly when we left Burghead, and the most exasperating day followed. We were tacking down the Moray Firth towards Rattray Head, making only minimal progress. We actually went as far north as 58 degrees on the offshore tack, to just south of the Beatrice oil field. At one point Jim looked at the 'time to waypoint' on our GPS and it said: 'Forever.' It actually said 'Forever'. Luckily, the wind died during the wee hours on Sunday morning and we could motor around the corner, along the bleak and featureless coast, or so it seems on a grey and windless day, around Peterhead.

We were getting quite glum from lack of sleep and progress until four impressively fast and fun black and white Common dolphins showed up near Montrose and rode our bow for more than half an hour. Dolphin visits always seem to bring luck, and things picked up from then on. We were sailing downwind at a nice clip with the jib poled out, making rapid progress until we rounded Fife Ness into the Forth of Firth.

The wind then died down, but we were in home waters and got quite emotional seeing the familiar sights of home - Bass Rock, Berwick Law, Arthur's Seat, the Pentlands and the Bridges. We were also amazed, as on the previous occasion when we sailed these waters, at the wildlife to be found just outside the city. There were puffins and gannets a go-go bobbing on the water, lots of guillemots with chicks, and seals basking on the buoys.

We pulled in just after low water, with Jim's dad (Gordon) there to welcome us. We then indulged in a large pizza feast, shower and rest at home before returning to the Forth Corinthian Yacht Club in the evening to sort out the details. By 2230 Fettler was on her new mooring.

In all, we've voyaged around 4,500 nautical miles since taking up our stewardship of the Fettler in Mallorca last spring. It's concentrated living out there, on the edge. Time itself stretches in a funny way and one can't help learning, growing and feeling closer to this Earth by the end of it.

Burghead rendezvous

It was already 1300 by the time we made it into the Inverness Firth and we wanted to push on as far as possible, but the east wind determined that wouldn't be very far at all. Most of the harbours on the Moray coast are tidally restricted and the only good option seemed Burghead, a small fishing port where, according to our pilot book, 'a vessel drawing 1.5m should [our italics] be able to enter at low water springs'. Of course, it was low water springs when we arrived and we can report that a vessel drawing 1.4m can't quite enter at LWS. We stranded on the sand just in the harbour entrance for five minutes before the tide lifted us off.

Burghead is quite a small harbour and still a good size active fishing fleet. We first of all rafted up against a squid boat but were told by a friendly fisherman that it was going out later that night so we shifted to the inner part of the harbour, where Jim executed an impressive three-point turn and rafted up against the only other yacht.

Ken then joined us with his dog Kelly and we can say that it's easier to get a hound aboard at high water than to get it off the boat, across two other boats and three metres up a ladder on the harbour wall at low water the next morning.

We hadn't heard of Burghead before, but it's in Brodie country - the castle is quite nearby - so it seemed a good choice. It turned out to have a Pictish fort and well ("Access at all reasonable hours"), a fine coastal walk and beach and we were sorry to leave, especially since it was the day of the local fete. We also checked out one of the local pubs, which had only slightly less than five dogs in it (dog ownership seemed to be mandatory in town) and Ken and Jim made full use of the sailor's rest room, which came complete with stereo and pool table!

Out of the Canal

After an enforced stop in Fort Augustus - because the lock-keepers called it a day after locking a bunch of boats through the other way at 4pm - Martin and I (Jim) rushed Fettler into the first lock at 8am the next day, along with five other sailboats and a wee powerboat. The lock-keeper wasn't impressed, throwing a bit of a strop when I showed reluctance to shift after coming starboard side to along the lock wall. Fettler ended up rafted up to a powerboat full of friendly Faroe islanders (4 brothers) who assured us we'd be welcome in Torshavn and left me with phone numbers, while walking both vessels through the series of locks, while I motored ahead or astern to assist. Great strategy for getting through the locks as Martin and I merely had to keep ahold of the lines tethering us to Mighty Fine as the Faeroese did the rest of the work.

We then sailed the length of Loch Ness before a stiff breeze, enjoying the dramatic Highland scenery and the peace of sail power after a spell of motoring. We left the boat at Caley Marina, downed a swift half pint at the Clachnaharry Inn (great pub) and took the Megabus down to Edinburgh and the working week.

Sonja and I returned on Thursday night and met Ken for a more leisurely pint in the Clachnaharry Inn. The next morning was gorgeous, and we were lucky to slip through the Muirtown locks at 0830 sharp. The tide under the Kessock Bridge runs up to six knots so we decided to wait for slack water, giving us the opportunity to take in a cooked breakfast (£2.65 at the local Co-op) and hang out at the Clachnaharry Sea Lock in the brilliant sunshine.

Truly lovely, the Caledonian Canal. Looking forward to going through it at a more leisurely pace, some season soon.

Coming home

We pulled into Granton at 1330 this afternoon after a bit of a hard slog down the coast. Delighted to have made it! We will move Fettler onto her new mooring buoy this evening.

Peel to Fort William: the full story

We left Peel at 3.30pm, just as soon as the tide allowed. It was still blowing Force 6 but from the southwest, the sea state was moderate and we had a nice sail towards the Mull of Galloway in the evening sunshine. Just as we were approaching the Mull, Jim decided to peruse the pilot book about the Forth & Clyde Canal and came across a passage that said 'air draught 3 metres'. Since Fettler is a boat with a low profile we hadn't thought this a problem before, as long as we took the mast down. However, Jim's mind wandered aft to the the radar tower and realised immediately that it wouldn't clear. It was lucky he discovered this then, before turning the corner - we could simply head for the Mull of Kintyre!

We were both a bit excited about this sudden change of plan since it meant some double quick passage planning up to Fort William, an area full of outrageous tidal streams. Just as we were settling down again, we had our first incident. At around 11pm the wind died and Jim had gone to double reef the main sail so that we could motorsail. When he lowered the boom, the topping lift (which holds the end of the boom up) worked out of its jamming cleat and whipped wildly around the mast, wrapping itself several times around the mast and stays. There was no way of retrieving it without going up the mast.

We quickly secured the boom, got out the Mast Mate (a webbing ladder for climbing the mast) and hoisted it. Meanwhile we were rolling around. Jim then climbed halfway up the mast until he could reach the topping lift and tie a second rope to it. We started untangling the topping lift, but as the light was failing we reached a dead end where we couldn't see what it was hooked on. Time for another trip up the mast. Jim managed to get all the way up, clinging to the mast for dear life, and we did get it sorted pretty quickly.

Jim then went below for a little well-earned rest, while I took up my night watch. I could see a few fishing boats and ferries, but nothing to worry about until I started brushing my teeth. That's when I spotted a vessel on what looked like a parallel course to ours. It was approaching rapidly and I flashed a strobe light on our mainsail to make sure they'd see us. There was no time to check my original compass bearing to see if it was changing. Suddenly this fishing boat cut across our bow and I jumped up to the wind vane, changing our course 30 degrees - we missed a collision by a couple of metres. I could see that there was no one on deck. They must have just set the autopilot, and they didn't even notice that they almost sank our boat. Jim heard my cry of alarm, jumped out of bed and just saw the blinding lights of the fishing vessel as it passed at high speed.

The next part of the passage went very well. We arrived at the Mull of Kintyre at exactly the right time to take advantage of the strong tide and rounded it in the morning sunshine. I saw our first puffins of the trip just inside the Sound of Jura. But alas the pleasant weather was not to last and soon we were navigating by GPS and radar in the fog and rain and motoring as there was no wind.

The next tidal gate was the Sound of Luing, where the stream runs at up to seven knots. This sound is just after the (in)famous Corryvreckan Whirlpool, which runs west at the same time as the Sound of Luing runs north. We had to be very careful not to get sucked into that. Again, we timed the tide right. Stan, our autopilot, couldn't cope with these crazy waters, and Jim took the helm. The water looked like it was boiling around us. There were whirlpools and eddies and upwellings aplenty. Our speed peaked at 9.5 knots over ground (with the engine only contributing 4.5).

After that, I slept for the only two hours I was going to get that night while Jim took us into the Firth of Lorn and past Oban. Then we were both needed to go through the Lynn of Lorn in the dark. Most of the buoys and islets weren't lit and we had to change course every half a mile or so to make a safe course through. We had just reached the safety of Loch Linnhe, a very deep and hazard-free loch, when the engine suddenly cut out.

Luckily, a faint breeze was just coming up and we hoisted the jib. Initially we thought that we'd miscalculated the fuel level and therefore topped up our fuel. Jim started the engine again, and it seemed fine, but since there was wind, we shut off the engine and sailed through the night. Loch Linnhe was very atmospheric at night - hardly any light and high mountains in shades of grey lining both sides.

Jim was getting his 1.5 hours' sleep for the night when I decided to wake him as we were approaching the Corran Narrows. Loch Linnhe is shaped like an hourglass, and at the Corran Narrows the tide runs very strongly. This time we weren't there at the right time - 3 knots of currents were against us, and we were only sailing at 3.5 in the light winds. Jim decided to use the engine to help us through there, but it cut out after a minute or two. We then crept through the last part of the Narrows at 0.1 knots over ground.

Once we were on Upper Loch Linnhe, Jim got down to business, bleeding fuel lines and trying to figure out what was wrong with old Sven, our 40-year-old Sabb engine. He quickly found that the breather valve to the fuel tank was totally clogged up, creating a vacuum that starved the engine of fuel. We got out the pipe cleaners and started cleaning it, but as we found out later, it's almost 50cm long and we couldn't get it cleared while under way. However, Jim hit on the idea of opening the fuel filler cap slightly and this worked a treat.

While Jim was toiling in the engine compartment and we were sailing back and forth outside Fort William, I caused an accidental gybe and one of our winch handles was caught by the mainsheet, flipped into the air and overboard. Good thing we had a spare.

We then entered the Caledonian Canal around 9 in the morning and had to go straight through a lock. I had a hard time throwing our lines up in my state of utter exhaustion. We tied up while we were waiting to go through the second lock, and a very nice thing happened. A guy came up to us and said: 'I know the man who built this boat.' Turns out his father was a good friend of Fettler's original owners, Joe and Val Rickerton (hope this is spelled right). Val is still alive, and he was going to let her know that Fettler is still going strong.

As we were pulling away to go into the next lock, one of the lines holding the tiller jammed and Jim just managed to get us clear of the boat next to us. Almost clear, that is: One of the two wires supporting the radar tower was hooked by the fluke of its enormous anchor and snapped. This was the final straw - it was time for some rest.

We tied up at the first available pontoon, where I slipped on the wet boards when jumping ashore with the lines and bruised my shin. Jim then fixed the radar stay, while I got a blissful 90 minutes of snooze. Jim rested up a little as well before our crew, Able Seaman Martin, arrived and helped us negotiate Neptune's Staircase, a series of eight locks that take boats up 21 metres. Just as well that Martin had decided to join us, since it's tricky with less than three. After that, we decided to call it a day and stop the night in Banavie, especially since the lock keepers had warmly recommended the Lochy Bar. Unfortunately, this hostelry was fully booked and the only other hotel bar in town was closed because of a wedding so we had to take a cab into Fort William to get a well-deserved dinner and a pint. And this time we really got an early night.

No photos for this one - we were too damn busy!