An Impromptu Adventure
Ok so I acknowledge that winter sailing does call for more planning and cold sleet in the face is not as pleasurable as the summer sun. However, the pontoons are empty, the wild life is more approachable and a winter's seascape with a back drop of snowy peaks cannot be matched. The softer conditions down south allow for all year sailing, recent comments in a sailing magazine on the poor probability of a good and safe sail in the more extreme West of Scotland felt like a challenge to our regular all year sailing, a slap of the duellers glove. Taking expected conditions and concise risk assessment into consideration Scotland becomes an all year sailing venue with few if any peers.
I was supping a dram & firmly ensconced in front of a blazing winters' fire at my home on the Isle of Tiree, scanning through the aforementioned magazine and in the process of recovering from all things Christmas. The trip sprang to mind from the bottom of the glass and the die was cast, the phone call was made, and was Mark ever ready to set forth on another Impromptu adventure. Fortunately the boat had just gone back in the water (timing enforced by overseas work) and Oban Marina had pulled out all the stops to allow me to sail off into the big blue chill.
Impromptu spends my summer breaks sat in Gott Bay on Tiree, not the most sheltered of locations but safe enough. Contrary to popular opinion; adequate summer shelter does exist on Tiree and our July regatta regularly attracts visitors willing to hang off a hook. The swells are bigger in the winter so until we get the planned breakwater or harbour; Impromptu resides at Oban Marina. Arinagour on the Isle of Coll is as far as most summer sailors go, those in the 'know' sail the extra 10 or so miles. By the time Mark and me had travelled on the Calmac ferry from home to Oban and completed the normal supermarket 'shop till you drop' it was Wednesday the 8th of January before we set off up the sound of Mull in a raging F2. We motored, carried along on fair tide totally enjoyed the incredible winter's sepia light the wild life and the peace. The Sound was completely devoid any other yachts our only companions were the occasional ferry and a coaster. Arriving in Tobermory, via the southern short cut around Calve Island we were treated to a close quarters flyby of a huge Sea Eagle the first I had seen so close to habitation. We pulled up at the empty pontoon, the ever friendly face of the harbour master and the benefits of early dusk steered us into the Mishnish. After purchasing a new paraffin light to boost both the ambiance and the warmth of a saloon virtually devoid of adequate winter heating, we settled down to roasted lamb shanks and an exceptionally still night's sleep...An otter running up and down the pontoon added a welcome distraction from the type of weightless sleep that can only be found onboard a boat. Thursday's dawn came at a sensible time and on a rising breeze we set off in the direction of Loch Sunart, aiming for Salen as a first port of call. Every man and his dog warning of an impending deep low weather system heading towards the west coast during the weekend. We enjoyed a blaze of a sail across the Sound around the Stirks and into the mouth of Loch Sunart. Sailing across an open passage in little more than a F6 is normally undertaken by me with full sail. However we were getting some pretty wild gusts as we made our way closer towards the mountains so we threw a reef in and wound the genoa up a couple of turns. The occasional funnelled gusts were hitting 40knots from the SW and the somewhat confined entrance to Sunart gives little sea room, there was little swell and the sun was shining. For those that have never sailed up Sunart you are missing one of Scotland's true gems, enough rocks to keep the navigator awake and enough scenery to cleanse ones soul of all worldly worries. Ben Hiant stands sentinel to the loch and is somewhat of a touchstone to me, 10 years or so ago while wandering its lofty heights I decided to make Tiree my home, I have never for an instant thought that the decision was ill founded. 
We pulled into Salen at around 15:30 and headed to what we hoped was a visitors mooring, though the frayed 8mm riser had to be, after much hauling, backed up with some of Marks substantial rope engineering. An empty 40' ketch, a 30' yacht and a couple of fish farm boats were our harbour mates. By 18:00 we were back aboard after a couple of pints and a dram or two. Another night's sleep was only disturbed by the weather forecast for tomorrow evening and beyond...What ?, Storm force?, mention of Hurricane force in the Minch, Southerly veering SW later...Ok, but in the morning we planned to see the head of the loch and head East to Strontian on the morning tide.
Fridays morning was again bright sunny and...Getting windier, strangely and due to been in a loch surrounded by lofty heights the wind was straight from the east...so motor on and away we went. Just as well as we were getting gusts of 30knts, and Buy's Ballot's Law was backed up by the higher cloud shift. Again my eloquence as an author can do no justice to the incredible views, dramatic scenery and rather fast scudding high cloud. The decision was made to complete our objective and head back to Salen and find a rather more substantial mooring for the night's big blow. We arrived back at dusk, Mark arranged mooring and it was substantial to say the least, we were off the western shore of the bay by a cable at most, the wind was due South and now a steady 40knts, the bar at the mouth of the loch is exposed on a low tide and was taking some of the sting out of the chop, thoughts of a dingy trip to shore were dropped. At 20:00hrs the dial was reading a steady 52knts...there we were bobbing around like a cork in a jacuzzi, the bar now covered by a good tide the chop rolling in, every drop of wind from the south, funnelled from the east and funnelled from the west by the mountains was raging into our southerly facing bay. Down below was uncomfortable, everything howling above in banshee like chorus, first Impromptu would swing her aft 30 deg to the East and then race through 60 deg to the West, all the time pitching and occasionally tugging on the substantial (oh I hope so !) mooring. There was a near full moon and in the bright light it was obvious that we were in a maelstrom of a storm. At around midnight the 40' ketch broke, pulled or just plain gave up on her mooring and disappeared up the bay, it was morning by the time we saw her next, high and dry at the head of the bay, luck was on her side as she had missed rocks during journey. Now it is fair to add that throughout the Hebrides', Lochaber and the Highlands gusts well in excess of 100mph were reported during the night. Our mooring and cleats etc, etc, etc...So many things that we felt needed to be cross-checked all night long, held steadfast. We had little chance of going anywhere, had to brace ourselves with every limb in the heads and had completely lost our appetite for anything other than pot noodles and the occasional rum; the winds were still a steady 40knts. We spent the entire day reading and bobbing around in a most uncomfortable fashion, our lone companion was yet another otter enjoying the ride and most probably bemused at our plight. On Saturday evening's high tide the ketch was refloated by a valiant group of locals and motored in the dark to the old stone jetty, she looked bruised but surprisingly unscathed by her nocturnal wanderings. A chap appeared in a small dingy and asked if we would mind shifting to another mooring as they wanted to put the ketch on our chosen buoy. Mark and I were pretty amazed that this chap was firstly out in a 30knt blow in such a small craft and secondly was not wearing a life vest. Anyhow, it came to pass that we had spent the previous night on a 17 tonne mooring and in retrospect we were a little apprehensive to move to unknown empty mooring with obviously more exposure to the wind and fetch. As the low moved off to the NE of Scotland a repeat of the past nights antics were forecast again. The dingy man assured us that the whole village had watched us all night long and it was obvious that if we had 'survived that blow we could survive anything', he then bobbed off into the spray driven gloom. The wind did shift due west and though the winds were again storm force we had more shelter...we slept. 
Sunday came with abating winds and high seas warnings for the mouth of Loch Sunart; discretion is the better part of valour so we decided to stay put with the promise of less weather on Monday.
The Great Escape was made the following morning when we made a break for Tobermory; the weather was cold, crisp and glorious noting our safe havens on route we set off. Sailing through huge rainbows framing the peaks we exited Loch Sunart without a hitch, on through a high swell and towards Tobermorys haven, en route a large cargo vessel was seen sheltering in Bloody Bay. By early afternoon we were sat in a glassy harbour with no wind and a bemused harbour master asking how we had faired. It was the biggest blow for 4 years, an exciting if not strange way to pass the time. Both Mark and I were pretty worn out, the showers were icy cold but fortunately so was the Guinness in the Mishnish. The following day we motored down to Oban on a falling tide with no wind, a lone shower cloud followed us the entire length of the Sound of Mull sweeping down icy sleet from Beinn More. We didn't finally arrive home on Tiree until Saturday having done the 4 hour ferry trip out to Tiree only to have to turn back and travel to the mainland because of yet another low and a nasty swell...hell of a beautiful place the West Coast of Scotland in January. Lessons learnt: The Contessa would make an excellent lifeboat. Always start off with a reef if the gusts are expected to be high inland. Always have alternative ports of safe refuge The days are short so keep your objectives in perspective Scotland is an incredibly beautiful place, whatever the weather (but we knew this already) The dingy man of Salen I am told is part kelpie, but that's another story. Karl Hughes/Mark Beese SV Impromptu Scarinish, Isle of Tiree. 03-02-09 |
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