Aleria's Adventures

Brittle stars and high crosses - waiting for the tide to turn has its benefits Brittle stars brought up with the anchor chain Lovely clear view of Tayvallich Hazy morning in Loch Sween It was a beautiful misty morning in Loch Sween. A raptor circled overhead as we prepared to weigh anchor. In this anchorage, because of all the deciduous trees, we expected and found a very muddy bottom. It took some time to hose down the anchor chain and anchor, which was also covered in brittle stars. We decided to sail down Loch Sween and around the corner toward Loch Craignish, but to stop at Kiells to visit the church there while we awaited the turning of the tide.

A visit to the mainland lochs of Argyll Motoring in flat calm Who would have thought we'd need the awnings? Fishing boat coming in with fresh catch No wind again. The forecast was for variable Force 2-3, seas smooth, visibility moderate to poor, occasionally very poor in patchy fog – for the next three days!  We’re all motor boats with masts out here going this way and that.  Once again it’s shocking hot as we weigh anchor and make our way north. Hazy entrance to Loch Sween.  The East side of Islay didn’t have many suitable harbours for our draft so we decided to cross over the Sound to visit the mainland lochs on the way up to our planned meeting with the Ocean Cruising Club fleet in Craobh (pronounced ‘Croove’).  The entrance to Loch Sween was strewn with islets and rocks that we had to pick our way through, then it opened up into a lovely wide sea loch. Castle Sween on its eastern shore stands as a major ruin worthy of Game of Thrones.  The Cast

Get out the bikes, Islay and the whisky * trail beckon Coming into Port Ellen inner harbour The visitors' pontoon in the marina The village contours follow the beach We got up excited about being in 'a foreign country'. As Alex is an Irish citizen and I have an EU residency visa, we didn’t have to check in to the UK.  But we were still visitors and had to display proper etiquette. No need for a Q flag but every need for the Scottish courtesy flag.  The dinghy dock The fog was still with us and it was hard to see where town even was. We decided to do a quick reconnaissance trip ashore by dinghy from the distant anchorage to see what the marina had to offer in the inner harbour. Then we thought, we might move Aleria in closer to town so our dinghy delivery of our folding Montague bicycles would be less arduous. 

Land ho, Scotland! At least I think I see it.  Sailing in light breeze nearing Malin Head We awoke at 7 am to a beautiful sunny morning.   Soon we were underway but planned to take our time and use this wide open Bay in Donegal with no swell or wind to calibrate the autopilot. Without it we had been taking turns hand steering all day.  To calibrate Otto, you have to give the autopilot control and walk it through a series of manoeuvres and turns so it learns your boat, which can be quite unnerving. So we gave the program control and sat back watching.  Just as a little speed boat came charging out of the harbour toward us waving hello, our boat veered sharp left.  Aaarrgghh!!!  We were about to bash into them, when they bore away swearing at the rude sailors thinking we were aggressive nuts! But soon the autopilot informed us that it had learned enough and passed the test.  Cool!  Disaster averted, and, more important, calibration complete.  One more thing expertly installed

Happy Independence Day America!  Huge swell combined with cross waves to create a confused sea. Pounding around Achill and into Black Sod Bay, County Mayo, Ireland Well at least it wasn't a red sky at morning. The concert before we left had ended with a fireworks display reminiscent of American Independence Day.  We’d had our fix of oooohs and aahhs and ohwwwsss! All we could do now was celebrate our independence by setting off and hoping for the best. In the morning, despite a threatening looking sunrise, heavy swell and confused seas, we left Clew Bay and sailed around Achill Island to Black Sod Bay.  It was like being in a washing machine, tumbling every which way off the crests of waves that squared off against a huge 20 foot ocean swell.  Despite 25 knots of wind out of the WNW, we were so closely hauled that we had to power with the engine on full to make way through the pounding surf around the imposing headland.  The cliffs off Achill are the highest in