Linnhe Marine, Oban & England v Italy

Linnhe Marine

Loch Linnhe, the southern end of the Great Glen, Scotland’s natural fault line is about 290 miles from home.

The journey was OK.  We were slowed drastically as we had to wait while a rather large motor cruiser was manoeuvred into a marina on Loch Lomond but apart from that all was well.  We arrived tired and ready to rest but that isn’t how sailing works.

First, we needed to bring EB to the pontoon, then bring all our provisions, clothes and kitchen sink (not really) on board.  Then we needed to put things away or away enough to spend our first night in comfort.  Oh, and eat. 

Bringing EB to the pontoon was straightforward.  Nick who runs the family owned marine, took us out on the marine's work boat to where EB had been left on a floating mooring.  The dinghy was heaved from the deck, over the side and into the water, fenders and lines were put in place and we were ready to release ourselves from the mooring.  Floating moorings tend to consist of a large, anchored buoy with a smaller buoy attached by a floating rope.  The smaller buoy is usually taken on board and its line helps secure the boat to the main buoy.  To release this we needed to undo the line and push the smaller buoy back through the gap in the stanchions to release us.  Think pushing very stiff jelly through the eye of a needle.  

Loading was straightforward too.  We loaded the marine’s trolleys with our gear and rolled them down the pontoon to the boat.  Each item was then manhandled aboard and put somewhere out of the way.  It took two large trolleys and one smaller one.  By now tempers were getting a little frayed.

Once everything was on board, one of us started doing boaty things whilst the other, who didn’t know where the lockers were never mind which lockers were for what, started to put things away.  In addition, many of the lockers had things in them which needed to be sorted first and there’s a certain grubbiness about a boat when it’s been used on a passage as EB had.  Niceties like a clean cutlery drawer go out the window or in this case porthole however that’s being picky, it was generally clean but when you’re tired and hungry you do get picky.  Meanwhile my other half decided to help by being particularly impatient when he wanted an immediate answer to where to put things.  I was tempted.

from the pontoon

other half doing a boaty thing in the aft cabin -
Loch Linnhe looking north east in the background

our first sunset, about an hour later than the sunset at home

The following day was a day of jobs.  Mostly boaty jobs, finishing work and making small repairs after the boat's journey from home.  The weather was glorious – sunny and still.  There were moon jelly fish in the loch and at one time a shoal of mackerel.  I spent most of the day familiarising myself with the boat and its many lockers and reorganising the items quickly stowed the previous day.  

I came across bananas, never a good find on a boat.  After sorting the cutlery drawer, where a sponge scourer had died, all was starting to look more ship-shape and felt more like home.  We slept well, again.  [On rereading this, I think I should say here, we slept well every night.  The combination of full, active days, constantly being aware of our surroundings and sea air made sleep come quickly.] 

The next day was an adventure.  My other half had found a quiet inlet where I took my first swim of the holiday.  The water felt like silk; beautifully refreshing and clear.  It was just a quick dip this time to make sure I could get back on to the boat easily which in fact, turned out to be tricky however, we have a Plan B ready for next time.  My watering can shower was perfect and after I had been in the loch it even felt warm.

After drying off and a smoked salmon sarnie we set off again for Oban.  There was no wind so no sailing but the journey was pleasant enough on the motor.  At one stage the sky and sea turned a slate grey.  As the sun shone through the menacing clouds the light was extraordinary.  The brightness and whiteness of the wake of a passing motor craft looked other worldly.  Shining in the darkness.  My photos don’t do it justice.

Approaching Oban was like revisiting an old friend.  Nothing much had changed since our last visit except the buoyage.  Usually as you enter a port, starboard is depicted by green markers or perches and port by red.  Oban has marked the way we entered the other way round.  [more info is here]

Oban is a busy place.  It’s a major hub for the island ferries, it has an active fishing fleet, it’s a busy turn-round port for cruises and it’s full of yachts, motor cruisers and any number of other craft and vessels which will take you to see seals, to fish or simply go extremely fast around Kerrera, the island opposite the town.  

Oban also has supermarkets and a Wetherspoons.  One to stock up on fresh food and the other to have a drink whilst you watch the ferries and trawlers.  Incidentally, Wetherspoons name their pubs using a local point of reference, this one is called The Corryvrecken named after an area of water that has a complicated tidal flow which pushes over an underwater cliff edge.  We have been through there more than once and it’s fascinating to see the swirls and eddies which are seemingly random.  Adventure seeking swimmers have swum through it too.  https://www.highlandopenwaterswim.com/corryvreckan/  Some folk are barmy. 

After a very late start, we resorted to Plan B and stayed in Oban another night leaving another day to explore the town, catch up on a couple of jobs and… to watch England in the final of Euro 2020.  Delayed from last year due to Coronavirus / Covid 19.  [We seem miles away from that here although track & trace and wearing face coverings is still required in shops etc.]  England are playing Italy at eight o’clock and EE have given my other half, free streaming access between six and twelve.  So it would be rude not to.  Fingers crossed.

plans are afoot for the next day

Oban to Tayvallich, Loch Sween

This was always going to be a learning process and more about letting the blog develop according to what's happening rather than try to stick to a process.  

The first significant change was not being able to write an entry each day.  By the time we had finished sailing, showered and sorted our evening meal etc it was too late for mind & body.  However, I did make notes & drawings most days in my sketchbook.  Some of those notes I will transcribe here and some of the sketches I will share too.

The football didn't go well:  England lost on penalties.  Scotland was noticeably supporting Italy and many Italian flags were flying in the marina and through Oban.  At the end of the game, shouting, cheering, chanting, car horns blaring and all manner of celebration could be heard along the quay and in the town.  Everything quietened down soon enough and we were able to enjoy the sunset in peace and quietly reflect on the impact of Boris and Brexit. 

The following day we headed south.   

sunset in Oban

Oban, across the harbour

Oban, towards the promenade

leaving Oban

leaving Oban

Isle of Seil

We passed the Isle of Seil, a place we had visited a few times before by road and via a footpath after anchoring in Loch Phoaldorian.  Seil is one of the Slate Islands and are said to have roofed the world.  This place also holds the world Stone Skimming Championship.

By land, Seil is on the other side of Clachan Bridge aka The Bridge over the Atlantic, a tall arching bridge which was built to allow vessels to pass underneath.

Bridge over the Atlantic - from an earlier visit

 

overfalls near Fladder

I quickly discovered how fascinating water is on this trip.  

The overfalls near Fladder produce flat, calm, reflective circles of water between areas of dark blue, short waves.  However, not a place for an inexperienced swimmer.  The overfalls reminded me of Monet's waterlily paintings unlike the Corryvrecken which, at the right state of the tide is the third largest whirlpool in the world.  On a good day, this area of water can be like going through a washing machine.

Craobh Marina

We spent a beautiful clear evening in Craobh Marina (say Croove).  Pub on hand and showers.  The view from the hotel leads your eye over the land in the distance, to another loch.  

opposite Fladder Lighthouse

Tayvallich, on the road to Carsaig looking towards our mooring

Tayvallich from our mooring

Tayvallich, about 5 miles up Loch Sween is a picturesque village overlooking the sheltered bay.  Here we found delicious soda bread and somewhere to buy butane gas for the cooker.  

The heavy gas cannister needed to be brought back to the jetty, loaded onto the dinghy and taken back on board EB.  No problem, the gentleman who sold us the gas brought it to jetty for us in his golf buggy.  A suitable line was attached and the rest proved a lot easier than anticipated.  My other half, never one to resist using muscle power, was ready to carry it the 1/2 mile or so on his shoulders.  I wonder why he has dodgy knees.   

our mooring - EB's mast is 2nd on the left

   

Tayvallich to Ardminish, on beautiful Gigha

Another beautiful day as we set off from Tayvallich down Loch Sween and out into the Sound of Jura. 

Approaching Castle Sween from the other direction highlighted the area as a very popular holiday destination.  Rows of chalets overlook the loch and people were enjoying different water activities, the shore and castle ruins.

The no wind/no sail approach to motor sailing enabled me to draw what I saw and write my musings in my sketchbook.  The second drawing below was undertaken as we approached, passed and left the castle, giving a distorted panorama of what was there.  In a small way, it reminds me of how Braque and Picasso explored depicting objects at the beginning of the twentieth century which resulted in Cubism.  In this case, it's probably, more correctly "addition" rather than "abstraction".

A really interesting phenomena I knowingly encountered for the first time on this trip, was when two bodies of water of different speeds meet head on.  The faster water appears like the waves coming on to a beach:  these cover the slower water which appears flat and calm.  The breaking waves are much darker than the apparently still water and stand out like a wall.  The speed of the tide in the Sound of Jura was over 2 knots and in Loch Sween was 1 knot which created this spectacular tide rip.  

On this passage, as we headed south to Gigha, it was interesting to see how seaweed responded to the tides and currents.  The movement of tide rips send water in different directions which makes the seaweed come together creating floating islands and ribbons of weed.  [Both need to be avoided if possible to save impromptu diving sessions to take the vegetation off the propeller.]  The floating islands of weed reminded me of Monet's waterlily paintings where the artist captures the sense of floating and the depth of water.  They also reminded me of the place in the North Pacific Ocean where the tides bring together huge islands of plastic in the Great Pacific Garbage Patch. 

Seaweed wasn't the only thing to be brought together where tides meet, seabirds flock to them too.  I counted 16 groups of 7 to approx 60 birds in less than an hour.  

These flotillas of seabirds bob and sway in the water.  Some dive when they are disturbed, some fly and some appear to take the sound of the boat as a starting horn and set off paddling in their avian regattas.  

One flotilla, included gannets.  These have to be my favourite seabird.  I've seen them many times on wildlife programmes diving into the water to catch fish but nothing prepared me for the spectacle of seeing them in action, in the wild.

Soaring above the water over a flotilla of other seabirds, they click their wings in and with needle-like precision plummet into the water like avian Evil Knievels.  With barely a splash, they are back on the surface again with their catch.  

   

Although I tried hard to capture a diving gannet, like porpoises, dolphins and seals, they know when the camera is pointing at them.  I think wildlife photographers are a different species.  

approaching Gigha from the north

Heading down the east coast of Gigha we passed a large fish farm.  6 maybe 7 cages of what I mistakenly thought were salmon, kicking, wheeling and splashing inside huge, round, netted cages.  Maybe, if these creatures were land based, their suffering wouldn't be tolerated.  The only positive I could see, is the water is changed twice a day by the tide.  It's certainly made me question whether to eat farmed salmon again.  

[As I wrote this in my sketchbook, we passed 9 more cages being tended by a barge like vessel and commented, "I hope the diners appreciate their fish course."] 

On Gigha we had the most delicious smoked halibut bagels.  After a little research I know now the fish farm was producing hallibut!  This diner certainly appreciated their fish course but has been left in a dilemma.] 

Gigha... 

We sailed down the west coast of Kintyre and ended up in what appeared to be the Isles of Scilly.  This truly stunning place has clear turquoise water through which you can see the white sandy beach, an abundance of colourful seaweed and fish.  Cordyline, grow around the island, plants which look like palm trees and the Gulf Stream brings a mild climate:  a Scottish, "tropical" paradise. 

Perfect for paddling, swimming and sharing the busiest beach with multi-generational families.  MJ, L, JJ, BW, Q, J, C & F we would have loved sharing it with you. x  

from the pontoon

cows paddle too

our "Little Island"  Eilean Beag

swimming in water that felt like liquid silk

my after-swim shower - solar heated

soft, powdery white sand on a quiet beach...

...looking towards Kintyre

my other half amongst the rocks

The busiest beach where we watched the ferry.

A fascinating phenomenon to witness was the sea mist as it rolls in.  Although this wasn't the Mull of Kintyre, that's further south, Paul McCartney was spot on and you couldn't help but hear his words as you watched.  

Gigha, the heavy mooring buoys...

Visitors' moorings are chunky beasts with no line/rope or smaller buoy to pick up.  The idea is to thread your own line through the loop on the top.  Doddle, except the distance to the loop is further away than the length of my arm.  With help from my other half who pulled it out of the water so I could reach, it was finally done.  Apparently, we have a gadget on the end of a pole that would have done this for me which, at the time was carefully stowed in the aft cabin:  it is now securely fastened in a handier place.

Once moored, we could see the seabed some 9ft/3.3m below us.

Having experienced mooring by threading a loop, I was interested to see how others did it.  I didn't need to wait long.  The next boat's crew lassoed it, pulled it out of the water and tied up effortlessly.  The second boat used the gadget we had and after a couple of attempts, again moored effortlessly.  I was suitably impressed and told them.  Apparently it's not done to shout "Well Done" to others when they've caught a mooring buoy - note to self, "Don't applaud either."

sunrise as we left Gigha

Gigha to Ardfern and onto Oban

"Foggy morning mist over Kintyre shrouded the early start with mystery.

Passed the pools of swirling water as we head north again.  These tidal vertices capture the seaweed and form it into floating islands of treachery for the propeller.  Similar currents in our major oceans work the same way capturing discarded plastic of huge floating time bombs for the planet."

"Fewer observation gaps - fog." [from my sketch book]

Through the Sound of Gigha then the Sound of Jura into Loch Craignish to Ardfern we had fog for some of the way.  My look out watch was intense.  The land, usually always in sight, was hidden and distances were difficult to judge but before too long I spotted the mast of a yacht in the distance which gave an indication of how far away things were.  Less pressure and time to enjoy the damp air on my skin - a timely spritzer facial after several days of sunshine and factor 15.

Sitting in the cockpit with dodgers* on each side, my view of the world, passing or otherwise is limited to all above my sightline.  So when my other half pointed out a very smart boat/vessel, all I could see was the portion above the hull.  This appeared as a gliding platform of rigging - an improbably constructed and a very expensive raft.  When I repositioned to see all the vessel, clearly it had a navy blue hull.  This combined with a white deck and beige rigging was a very classy.

*Dodgers are the rectangles of canvas, usually with the boat's name added, attached to the stanchions at the rear of the boat.  These give a degree of shelter from waves and wind at sea and a certain amount of privacy in port.  

Ardfern, our home for two nights, was busy with lots to see.  

We had noisy neighbours, nesting on the sheltering island.  This colony of seagulls, like teenagers sitting next to each other or indeed some older women on mobiles (we had one nearby), had no volume control.  Everything was theatrically shouted so even those at the back could hear, whether they wanted to or not.

There were expensive looking boats with koala prints going up the mast.  These were in fact electric footholds or steps which opened at the press of a button to make climbing the mast easier.

Many boats had curiously shaped anchors.  Our near neighbour was fitting one which enabled me to find out more.  Apparently the curved bar opposite the flukes enables the anchor to turn on the seabed enabling the flukes to catch more easily.  An elegant solution to a sometimes, frustrating problem.  During our conversation we found our neighbours were from Norway and one of the reasons they keep their boat in Scotland was so they could enjoy dark nights in summer.  One of the things we love about Scotland is the long days and short nights!

Still on boats, one of the most beautiful on our trip was "Summer Wine".  We spotted this clinker built vessel as she was being taken out of the marina.  The engine had a lovely, classic "pop pop" sound.  At the helm was an older man wearing a traditional navy sweater and navy captain's cap accompanied by a white dog (think Snowy from TinTin).  A fishing rod had its place at the stern and the dog was standing on the seat looking over the bow.  An image straight from a story book.  Unfortunately no photo and no sketch at the time but we did find the boat later. 

an old, folk boat or maybe an old folk, boat

One of the many highlights of Ardfern was the impromptu lunch in Lucy's.  After donning our hiking boots we set off to stretch our legs and to see a little of the village.  We didn't get too far when we spotted the local pub which seemed to have a carving of a Norman near its sign.  The Galley of Lorne was tempting but I had spotted a very busy cafe over the road.  

Lucy's served us delicious food from their all day, Sunday brunch menu:  homemade bread, fresh coffee and a comfortable settee to sit on.  [A comfy settee is one of the few things we miss on the boat.]  Highly recommended.  I later found they are opening in Kilmartin too - lucky Kilmartin.

Ardfern sunrise then more fascinating whirlpools. 

Another early start, 6am, from Ardfern to catch the tide and as usual, had the radio on to catch any news on or near our course.  Through this, we discovered there was a race from Ardfern to Tobermory.  We looked aft and spotted one yacht then eight or so more following us.  We seemed to be at the front of a race!

Inevitably the fleet of 14+ over took us.  We followed them and their progress on the water and on the radio.  Apparently, the race would start when they found some wind, probably at the southern end of the Sound of Mull.

Lismore Lighthouse & maybe the start of the race, although the competitors are long gone.  Notice the water - another place where tides meet.  The still weather enables these spots to be noticed, if it was windier or raining they wouldn't be as clear.

On the way to Oban, we stopped in two beautiful bays.  The first had at least three rocky islands that seals used to sunbathe.  I counted about 20 seals.  As the tide came in, many took to the water and came over to look at us.  I think I caught one on the camera.  They too know when to dive! 

Castle Bay

The second stop was Gylen Castle Bay on Kerrera.  Stunning from the sea and equally stunning from the land.  We watched walkers watching us.

leaving Castle Bay

arriving in Oban

Mooring on the pontoon in Oban was interesting!  

People are very friendly and helpful in marinas and as this chap had come alongside offering to take a mooring line, I didn't hesitate.  I passed him the line which he held!  If you catch a line, you would normally quickly fasten it to a cleat - any cleat is better than none!  Then you would normally move out of the way for the crew to finish the job but no, he continued to hold the line and be in my way so I couldn't jump off.  Grrr!  Then he started telling my other half what to do!  

Meanwhile, the inertia of the boat had kept it moving forward and aided by the wind, was moving towards our new neighbours!  Fortunately, another person came to help who caught another line I threw, enabling me to get ashore and secure the first. It all took seconds but I felt I had lost ten years!  

The second helper turned out to be the harbour master.  I wonder if he has helped others negotiate the help of the first chap before...

  

Later, after a shower and food, we relaxed and watched a thick blanket of mist fall over the land behind Kerrera - a slow motion, silent avalanche.  The following image captures a glimpse of it in the distance.