Aleria's Adventures

For some, the joy of sailing  has to do with the thrill of tacking and jibing around in circles for honours, fighting storms and powering through calms, then retiring to the bar to recount a victory at sea. For me, the joy of sailing comes with the thrill of sighting land and dropping anchor in a foreign harbour to find the lone stillness of remote places we have yet to explore, but not tonight. This night, our anchor grips firmly  to the sediment beneath our keel and we rock gently into deep slumber, when uncomparable peace descends, no worries about anything at all,  in the anchor we trust. 

The Atlantic side beach of Culatra We pulled up our anchor at 9 am yesterday morning and were underway by 9:30. Hecuba had left long before us – they were gone by 7:30 when we got up. We set our sails close to shore and opted to follow the coast so we could get a look at some of the places we hadn’t had a chance to explore, places like Carvoeiro, Benagil and Albufeira. It was a beautiful morning and we had a nice land breeze filling our sails on a port tack heading down the coast.

Islands with a checkered history The Inishkea Islands (Goose Islands, Irish: Inis Gé)  are situated off the Mullet peninsula in Erris, which was recently voted as the best place to go wild in Ireland. We wholeheartedly concur. It was our first visit of many more already planned. The Inishkeas were abandoned in the 1930s along with many other islands on this inhospitable coast. They are slowly returning to their wild state. Having gone ashore and felt the spirituality of this place, I am certain its residents over the millenia were one with the sea as we, too, hoped to experience. There are two main islands - Inishkea North and Inishkea South. A small third island called Rusheen lies just off the main village on Inishkea South, and several smaller islets trail from its tail.  The islands are just off the mainland coast along the Wild Atlantic Way and offer some protection to the Mullet from the power of the wild Atlantic waters. They are now home to a large number o...

Aleria in her cradle in 2008 Clew Bay to Inishbofin - spectacular! We'd done little sailing since returning from Scotland in August. 'Things' like weather and birthdays and business matters and novels -- the writing of one -- kept getting in the way.  When it came time to put Aleria away for the winter, we were once again confronted with a dilemma. She's a big lady for this part of the world to handle. Our options were to bring her up on shore like we did in the past or haul her out like we did in the spring. Neither option had proven entirely reliable. She just doesn't like to sit on the hard. Alex actually thought she'd be best off on her mooring, which would have given me palpitations all winter long.

Thunderstorm approaching the coast of Donegal (click photos to enlarge) Tory artists and artifacts aplenty, but no King Leaving Mulroy Bay Someday we'd like to come tour Mulroy Bay by small boat. It's supposed to be the most wild waterway in Ireland. From what we could see, I'd say that's true. But today we were heading off again. It was yet another calm day but thunderstorms were forecast.  We hauled our anchor in Mulroy Bay destined for Gola in Donegal, but en route we decided to stop in Tory Island.  We are very glad we did. Exiting Mulroy Bay There were squalls and thunderstorms all around us and we kept thinking we’d get caught, but we somehow managed to miss them all except one little one.  There was  a persistent light rain which welcomed us back to Ireland. We’d had little rain in Scotland for almost an entire month.  The clouds made for a beautiful sky and we enjoyed the transit to Tory along the rugged coast of Donegal....

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. 

The Treshnish Isles, where nature abounds Nature and human nature  An adorable puffin on Lunga We’ve had this amazing weather – like the Caribbean – hot and hazy and occasionally humid. Light winds. Smooth seas.  Pretty bloody unbelievable.  For two weeks and more to come.  Everyday, the forecast read something close to this: Strangely shaped islets Sails up but not full in glass calm Meteorological situation: a high of 1030 mb has settled over Europe.  Forecast for 24 hours. Winds variable E-NE Force 2-3, seas smooth, conditions fair, visibility moderate to good, poor in fog patches, risk of thundery showers, temperature reaching a high of 22-24 degrees C. 

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.

GPS anomalies and tricky unmarked routes Aleria and Vagrant sailing toward Loch Tarbert. Photo by Vicki aboard Nokomis All night and for days after, we imagined there were creepy little things crawling up our necks, down our legs and burrowing into our skin.  And in fact, Alex did have two ticks that burrowed.  A great remedy is to smeer them with Vaseline and wait about 15 minutes. They suffocate and release their jaws. Then you can pick them out with tweezers and they just let go without leaving any parts behind that can cause infection. Of course ticks can cause all kinds of infections anyway, including Lyme Disease.  Fortunately, Alex and I were both vaccinated when the Lyme disease vaccine was available for a short time in the States. So good to be sailing again! Paps of Jura in the distance We had a lovely breakfast, the rain stopped, and we followed the fleet out of Pig Bay.  There was a nice breeze building. We hoisted sails alongside...

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...

Fixing things and doing laundry in exotic places once again! Boats going this way and that in the hot and hazy summer conditions Fog hugging the coast We realized that Ardfern is home to the marina and chandlery where we had ordered our hose for the radiator repair. If we were lucky, we’d get there before they closed. We arrived just in the nick of time, and lo and behold, that radiator hose was tucked away for us as promised and we even got their last gallon of antifreeze. Luck was with us! We spent the rest of the evening walking around town, exploring the craft shop, the deli, and the pub/restaurant. It was a beautiful day once again, so we sat outdoors at the pub and sampled a couple of local brews. The grounds overlooked the waterfront and tiny sweet holiday cottages. And the pub had wifi, so Alex was finally able to download his email but I could not get mine to work.

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 Thr...