Aleria's Adventures

I noticed a note in my inbox in Facebook. Then I noticed the inbox next to it that says "Other". I remembered that this is the box where Facebook stows stuff it thinks you don't want to see. I wish Facebook would just stopping trying to think for me. They always get it wrong. In it were multiple messages from friends and one astonishing one.

Fog in Port Ellen, Islay Across the North Channel, Heading Home Seal wishes us farewell There was heavy rain overnight, but it was generally calm and a gentle swell brought a sweet night of rest.  The ferry boomed us awake in the morning. Thick fog had wiped the world away. We were very glad to be anchored here away from town, rather than closer inside where the ferry turned.  You couldn’t see the boats we knew were anchored there…at least they had been there attached to the bottom the night before. Typically, you shouldn't be starting a voyage on a Friday.  But this wasn't really starting a voyage; we were completing a circle. And we weren't really sure it was Friday. When you are cruising, you don't always know what day of the week it is. You know the date because you make log entries daily, but the day of the week can be elusive. Sometimes, they include it in the forecast on the VHF radio. Usually, I jot it down then. This time, we thought we might...

Aleria at anchor in Oronsay Gorgeous scenery, wildlife galore, and a lovely passage under a painted sky We had to rise early to catch the south flowing current in the Sound of Islay. It would be a long day and once again there was no wind. The Paps of Jura in the distance We headed out by 0800 and picked up a favourable flow past the Treshnish Isles towards Colonsay.  We passed close to the basaltic stacks off Iona and we realized we were early – at least 2 hours early and we now had a 1 knot current against us.  So why fight it?  We pulled into Oronsay for a visit.  Dropped anchor between the rocks and the island in the most beautiful spot yet. We thought we might have time to get to the priory but it was too far to walk in the time we had before the tide turned. Geese on the beach

Catabatic winds blowing down Skye as we depart The day of the winds It was heavily overcast, but a nice breeze of 10-15 knots as promised, as we prepared to get underway. We hoisted the main and mizzen and made way by 0830, heading down the Loch Harport with the tide but directly into the wind.  As we turned the last corner by the light house where we thought we’d be sailing, the wind started cranking up really fast: 20, 23, 25, 27, 29, 33.  Oh my, the boat ahead of us in full sail was getting hammered.  Suddenly, it was slammed to the water, broaching as it rounded up.  Alex puts two reefs in the mainsail Aleria is not as easy a pushover, but seeing that, Alex quickly went forward and double reefed the main as the wind stabilized at around 27 knots.  The boat ahead of us did the same. We suspected katabatic winds, and so we power sailed through it, mostly on the nose.  It suddenly dropped from 27 knots to 17, and we were sa...

View of  spectacular Skye from  Loch Harport Touching Skye in Scotland Mid-morning we headed over with the tide to mountainous Skye, which looked like the fabled Highlands to me.  This whole area was once connected to Greenland and North America at the equator.  But its peaks were formed by volcanos in more recent times. There are collapsed calderas noticeable everywhere.  Skye itself reaches up into the heavens and catches the clouds on its lofty peaks. It is spectacular, when you can see it.  Alex watching the 'cumulobimbos' The sky darkened as we approached Skye and thunder started booming overhead.  There were small lightning discharges but nothing like what happens along the east coast of the US.  A heavy downpour washed off the boat and Alex, while Onyx and I suffered down below. We were concerned about bursts of wind but it really wasn't like that. We'd never seen such interesting and heavy cloud formations at every ...

The anchorage in Loch Scresort on Rum Castles, calderas, and wildlife on Rum We sailed downwind out of the harbour to Ardnamurchan Point where the wind died, so we motored until the wind came back up. Lovely.   We were heading for the Small Isles, and the topography had changed significantly. The hills were more ragged and peaked. Ardnamurchan is the remains of a volcano, as are the Small Isles – Muck, Eigg, Rum, and Canna. We were heading to Rum which consists of huge peaks covered with forest. Very distinctive.  We wondered why it was called Rum and not Whisky, but we didn't find any answers. 

Staffa, with it's basalt columns, home to Fingal's Cave Natural splendor in seeming isolation Sailboat passing by We returned to the pier where we had tied the dinghy and were horrified to see that the fast ferry was in and jammed against our inflatable. Poor Cappucino was almost squished. But luckily not quite.  We departed Iona at the height of the tide and followed a circuitous route to keep to the deepest areas to avoid rocks.  Daria stood at the bow and watched for rocks in case the chartplotter proved unreliable.  The water was so crystal clear here, it was easy to see through it.  And the sun was at just the right angle to assist. We made it through the Sound of Iona without a hitch, which saved us hours of motoring all the way around.  Beautiful cut between the islands As we approached Staffa, the basalt rock lit up showing us her most impressive façade of columns topped by what looks like a giant afro.  I was annoyed with...

Horror! Cruise ship at Iona. Fog around Mull.  Iona, Scotland’s most important historical and mystical place… Iona is clear of fog at 10 am.  The cruise tourists are leaving!  It’s a good thing we rested up the day before because this day was going to be a long one. After two peaceful days in a hole that had to be a pirate’s lair, we were ready to see more.  Beach and anchorage for small craft Today, it was sunny, it was settled, and we were heading to Iona, the holiest place in Scotland, and just around the corner from Tinker’s Hole.  We’d be there in an hour.  As we started the process of pulling up anchor, our neighbour called out to us, “Where are you heading?” Alex answered, “Iona.” He said, “I just saw a cruise ship in there when I walked to the top this morning.”  Our hearts sank. Seeing a place like that in the midst of mobs of cruise ship tourists is among out worst nightmares. Oh well, we’re here. It’s probably...

Morning brings dense fog yet again Bumper boats and and crystal waters Onyx watching the action  We decided it was so beautiful, we’d stay an extra day in Tinker’s Hole. Besides, overnight a fog settled in so we used that as an excuse – we wanted to be able to actually see Iona! We’d been moving about every day and sometimes twice a day, and we just needed to chill. That’s what cruising is supposed to be. Drop anchor and stay awhile. So we were permitting ourselves an extra day. It was a beautiful sultry morning, people postponed departure until the fog lifted, but all the boats eventually left except one other.  

Parting Company Vicki and Paul aboard Nokomis Daria studying the coast pilot We agonized over the decision. Should we continue on with the OCC fleet which was heading around the bottom of Jura and back up Jura Sound where we had just been, or should we part company and head north while we had a good window to do so.  The forecast was for westerly wind of about 15 knots today, dying out to less than 5 knots and variable the next day as another high settled over Scotland and all of Europe. That high was to remain in place for at least a week.  If we went south and then around Jura, we’d be motoring all the way north after that.  We’d had enough motoring, but we really wanted to stay with the group.

The Race, whirlpools, swell and ticks…dangers all around. Gulf of Corryvreckan between Scarba and Jura Water boiling and whirlpools at slack water Aleria was among the first group of five boats to pass through the Corryvreckan and, even at slack water, the water was still boiling all around us as we passed through under power at almost 10 knots. Our speed through the water was only 5.8 knots as we raced over a 224 foot deep chasm that would soon shallow out abruptly. We were being set quite substantially. We anchored in hard sand and weed in gorgeous Pig Bay (Bagh Gleann nam Much) just on the inside of the top of Jura with the Race's waters rushing past the opening to the Bay while inside it was calm and secure.  The Race extends out quite a distance, which is called an overfall here in Scotland. Luckily, there wasn't much wind, only about 10 knots, because when wind opposes tide, it can get very nasty, with standing waves and square chop intertwined.  9...

Lay day in Craobh with OCC friends The Ocean Cruising Club 2013 Scotland Rally crew The OCC burgee flying proudly at the Currin's home Being at a marina was such a luxury to us.  We had not had a chance to really scrub Aleria since she was on the hard in Westport.  She had weeks of grime and salt built up on her topsides, and lots of tidying to do below.  So Alex scrubbed the top while I set to work below. Since Alex had the whole boat torn apart fixing things and installing things, many things were still out of their designated storage spaces and others were grimy from the sooty smoke or greasy from being touched with greasy fingers which cannot be helped. It took some time to straighten up. I was hoping that people wouldn’t feel that I was being antisocial. I just couldn’t face continuing on without cleaning up. Bikes proved a good mode of transport from marina to party

Sailing at the speed of knots Flying Fish burgee of the Ocean Cruising Club (OCC) As we had finished our chores in Ardfern, there was no need to stay on, so we decided to catch the afternoon tide and make our way north to Craobh (pronounced Croove).  That was where we were meeting up with the OCC Scotland Rally  and the opening dinner was the following night.  It would be nice to get there a day in advance. The wind was just picking up as we lifted our anchor off the muddy buttom.  Alex was grateful for the salt water wash down system he had installed several years back. Craobh Haven Marina We had a nice 15 knot breeze coming down the loch close hauled, no need to tack until we got to the Point. We thought one tack would take us right around.  Brilliant.  Tacking Aleria is a lot of work so we try to tack as little as possible. Just as we approached Dorus Mor at Criagnish Point, the wind suddenly picked up to 25 knots and clocked so it was r...

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 Thr...

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 comple...