“The heart of man is very much like the sea, it has its storms,
it has its tides and in its depths, it has its pearls too.”
Vincent Van Gogh
Finally. The doors to our sailing lives reopened. For 11 months, our boat sat in the harbor in Bangor, Ireland. The surrounding countries had not been open to foreign sailors. Even though we had been residing in Ireland for over a year, we were not free to sail even within the UK. The marina warned us that if we sailed out of the harbor, we would not be allowed to return.
We made the best of our 11-month respite. We were happy that if we had to be “stuck” somewhere during this Covid epidemic, it was in Ireland. The two weeks prior to our release to sail again, two of our children, now adults, flew to meet us. We wanted one last walkabout on the island to take in some of the sights we had missed during our sojourn.
Our travels took us to all four sides of Ireland. We began in the north, drove the west coast, almost all the way down south, and back up the east coast to Dublin. Between this trip with our kids and the time we spent in the south house sitting, we feel we have seen quite a bit of this incredible island. The people have been friendly and welcoming. There isn’t the presence of fear-mongering and politics polluting the ambiance of the country. There is peace, beauty, and a loving attitude toward all people. We loved sharing this beautiful land with family after spending a year exploring the country alone.
The week prior to departure, Dan went into overdrive making sure our ship was in shape to sail again. We ran the generator, got the fridge working well, and cranked up our brand new Eberspacher diesel heater. Over the winter, Dan had installed the new ducting for the heating system around the boat and the unit nested inside our stern locker.
Everything but our water maker was up and running. Since we would be stopping at islands and at some marinas, we would be able to fill our tanks with water when needed. All seemed good to go.
Bad weather delayed us for almost a week. Storm after storm barreled through preventing us from taking the first leg of our sail from Bangor, across the Irish Sea, to Lamlash Harbor on Arran Island in Scotland. It was only a day sail away, but the Irish Sea can be a harsh mistress, known for its strong currents and turbulent waves. Personally, I didn’t want my first experience back aboard to be rough and miserable. I have a few demons I’m still battling with when it comes to sailing in rough weather. Having not sailed for such a long time, I was really hoping for some pleasant weather. I wanted to get my confidence back.
arron Island
The bad weather took a brief respite. Our maiden voyage started out with some clouds and a light but steady breeze. It was almost surreal being back out on the water after so much time on land. We were instantly transported back to the reason we chose this life. There is nothing better than the feeling of exploring new places, driven by the wind, skimming across the water on your home on the sea. You can almost hear the whispers of your ancestral spirits, the voyagers of the past, and feel their excitement as new horizons appear, silhouettes of islands rise into view.
Our first day back out on the water was brilliant. My faith in our adventure was temporarily restored. Then like a brick, the antithesis of all the good stuff hit, reminding us of the difficulties this lifestyle also presents.
Within the first 24 hours, the water pump to our generator broke and our brand-new heater stopped working. No heat, no generator. We had pulled into a mooring in Lamlash. Our manual on Scotland told us this was a safe harbor, except when the wind came from the east. The east was exposed directly to the Firth of Clyde and the waves could be unsettling. We planned to stay two nights at this mooring before we could sail to our next destination, Campbeltown.
Dan broke down our options. We could continue with our plans or sail back to Bangor and do repairs. Neither of us wanted to return. Continuing would mean relying on our engine, wind vane, and solar panels to charge our batteries. The sun was not going to be contributing but between the wind and running the engine, we theoretically would be good on battery power.
The temperatures drop into the low 50’s at night and reach almost to the 60’s during the day. Cold and damp is the norm, but we have plenty of blankets and warm clothes. It wouldn’t be any worse than camping in the spring or fall. We were not going to be driven back by a few inconveniences so we made the decision to continue on. Besides, the cold would help keep our refrigerator cool.
The second night in Lamlash, the wind changed directions to the east. Remember what I said about being in that marina when the winds came from the east? That night, our boat became a bucking bronco tied to a post. She did her best as the waves battered us relentlessly, tossing her side to side all night long. At some point, around 3 am, I gave up trying to sleep and just sat on our setee, waiting for the night to pass.
First thing in the morning, the sun made a brief appearance after a completely washed out day prior, where we had to explore the town of Lamlash in the rain. We were exhausted from lack of sleep but excited for our next island. Our sail was to a port that came highly recommended, Campbeltown, the Whiskey Capital of the world. Several people from Bangor had extolled its virtues. However, no one we talked to had sailed there since the lockdown.
Campbeltown on the Peninsula of Kintyre
We had a short 4-hour sail to Campbeltown. The wind was fair, the seas were kind, and the sun even made a few brief but welcome appearances. Entering the bay was magical. A white lighthouse, perched on the green mountainous hillside, was a beacon that welcomed us into the harbor.
We had called the day before to make sure there was room at the marina for us to dock. As we arrived, we got a hesitant reception by the man on the phone. Dan and I had fought over who had to talk to him. We have not yet learned to decipher thick Scottish accents and neither of us had fully understood our conversation with the man the day before.
“Oh, yeah, we will try to fit you in…” was all I (the coin toss loser) managed to extract from the conversation. Not exactly the words you want to hear when entering a marina. Our marina man was on the dock to greet us when we arrived and pointed us to a finger pier about half the size of our boat. We had to wedge ourselves in with a can opener. The lines secured, we high fived, and our excitement was building to explore this famous town that had come so highly recommended.
It was late afternoon and we planned a circuitous walk around the town to pass by all three whiskey distilleries. To make a long story short, all three were closed due to Covid. Thankfully, there was plenty to see and do in Campbeltown and our visit was amazing.
Our favorite excursion was to the island we passed with the lighthouse when we entered the harbor. At low tide, a stone causeway called the Doirlinn appears. You follow the exposed path to Davaar Island, a national park. Hikers are able to take the 40-minute walk along the exposed causeway and explore the island. You can hike to the top of the bald mountain and experience breathtaking views, along the north side to the lighthouse built in 1854 by the father of Robert Louis Stevenson, or hike the south side where there is a series of caves. In one of the caves, is an extraordinary cave painting.
The life-sized painting of the crucifixion was painted by an art teacher, Archibald MacKinnon, in 1887. He was prompted as to what to paint and where to paint, in a dream. He completed his painting in secret. Fishman discovered the paintings and thought they were a divine miracle. When the truth was uncovered, Archibald was driven out of town. Archibald returned twice to touch up his masterpiece and the painting is presently cared for and restored by local Campbeltown art teachers.
In addition to visiting the island, we rode our bikes all the way across the peninsula to the other side. It was about 10 miles round trip. We got to eat a picnic lunch on a small sandy beach and look out over the top of Ireland into the Atlantic. The weather was a mix of clouds, sun, and a few spirts of rain, but we were thankful we had the opportunity to explore. Campbeltown got two thumbs up from us even without the distillery tours. We purchased bottles of whiskey from the store from the three local distilleries and had our own tasting on the boat!
The day we did our bike ride, I stopped to chat with a couple on a motorboat getting ready to go out fishing for the day. I always like to get advice from locals on fishing. I haven’t caught any fish since Bermuda and desperately miss having fresh fish to cook. When we returned from our bike rides that afternoon, there was a knock on the boat. The women held up to me, a bag of fresh-caught filets from their fishing trip. Her kindness overwhelmed me.
I marinated the filets in lemon juice and garlic and sautéed them in butter. They were so tender, mild, and delicious. We were in heaven. Times like this make the weight of all the other stuff lift, and it makes all our hardships worthwhile.
Gigha Island – Ardminish Bay
The brochure said, “historical site with beautiful gardens and white sandy beaches.” We arrived in yet another storm with heavy wind and rain. There was one tiny, less than white beach and no buildings in sight. We didn’t even entertain the possibility of going ashore. We spent another rocky night and decided to move on the next morning, despite the blustery wind and rain, to the island of Jura.
Jura – Craighouse Port
I suppose it was inevitable. When sailing in the fall in the northern latitudes, there is bound to be rough weather. We had a rough sail from Gigha to Jura. Sailing is all about direction. Direction, direction, direction. Even in the highest winds, if you have the right sails up and the right point of sail, the going can be tolerable. We had to cross broadside to the waves in winds gusting to 30 knots, with the added chaos of currents.
Dan is a saint. He stays up in the cockpit, smile on his face, taking the rolls and chaos as if it’s a walk in the park. Me on the other hand, when the boats get tossing, I get a little stressed. Let’s just call it PTSD. The land was always in sight though. I knew we were in no danger; it was just dang uncomfortable.
I had been busy down below on jetsam management duty. Living on a boat you want to have things, lots of comfort items. The problem is, you have to be able to stow things so they don’t fly around the boat when the going gets rough. So far, we had been doing great. This day, things went flying that had fared well in less rough conditions.
The breaking point, literally and figuratively, was when the cabinet door with all my canned goods in it, gave way. I guess a can rolled against the finger latch on the inside of the cabinet. It happened when we got broadsided by a huge wave. The boat literally got knocked over on her side. I heard the explosion and ran down to check out the damage. Cans were everywhere. There were probably 15 cans and containers, ketchup and mayonnaise bottles, fleeing in all directions on the salon floor, like little inmates desperate to escape prison.
My first act was to prevent any more convicts from escaping. I closed the door, shoving the other eager beavers back from joining the crew. Amidst the rolling back and forth, I got on my hands and knees and chased down each of the little bastards. I couldn’t open the cabinet to put them back inside. If I opened the door again, more cans would come flooding out as the boat was still rolling violently. My strategy was to wedge everything behind the companionway stairs. With some effort, I rounded up the culprits and stacked them against our ditch bag and the doors to our hatch. They seemed secure there, so I left them.
I breathed a huge sigh of relief when the waves started calming and Craighouse Harbor came into view. We picked up a mooring ball and through the light misting rain, we could see the Jura distillery. Even though the weather was not nice, we launched the dinghy (which has to be secured to our foredeck when crossing) and motored to shore. Dan had certainly earned a decent Captain’s Hour.
Yes, this distillery was closed too. There was nothing else in the harbor except a restaurant and bar. Once again, we did our own little tasting of Jura Whiskey in the quaint little bar. We couldn’t stay for dinner as there were only a few tables and they were all reserved. With no alluring surroundings to explore and crappy weather, we retreated back to the boat. The next day was horrific. We hunkered down with quilts and pillows and read and watched movies.
Ardfern
Ardfern was another semi-rough downwind passage. Fortunately, it was only half a day and we were going in a much better direction. Unfortunately, the cans made yet another great escape. After the second incident, I had the engineer figure out how to pack the cans so no one could roll against the latch and free their ‘canpatriots’.
Ardfern had its own unique issues when it came to anchoring. We tried to anchor to save the fees of a mooring ball. The wind was again gusting to 30 knots and our anchor dragged. After a slightly scary and unsuccessful anchoring attempt, we phoned the marina and asked if we could get a mooring ball. The fit was tight in the area we were directed to. I had to battle between getting blown onto the rocks and maneuvering the boat so Dan could grab the mooring line. It was nerve-wracking and quite challenging, but we prevailed.
The town of Ardfern was complete with a restaurant, café, great marina, and a small store for provisioning. We even got to take hot showers – quite the treat after being chilled for days on end.
Our favorite part of our Ardfern visit was when we took a hike, even though the weather prediction was not good. We were blessed with mostly sunshine. We walked over the hills and across the peninsula to the Croabh (Croove) Marina on the other side. While the scenery was spectacular, it was the unexpected friends we made that made the trip special.
Halfway on our hike, Dan’s phone battery died and we lost our directions. There were many crossroads where we had to choose a direction. Not sure we were going the right way, we came across a small house perched on a hillside. The tiny covered porch was crammed with at least 10 Scotsman, obviously celebrating. I took the opportunity to stop and ask for directions. We were assured we were on the right road and of course, got invited to join the party. We thanked the group but continued on our way to our destination.
We reached the marina, the only pub there was closed. It was getting cold and overcast again so we started the 2 1/2 mile walk back. When we reached the Scotsman on the porch, they were still partying. They vehemently asked us to join them, so how could we refuse?
When people find out we sailed to Scotland from the US, of course, they want to hear our tales. We were supplied with beer in return for our stories. We got a few stories about their lives out of them as well. By the time we left, we were told we were brave people whom they admired and we got a little taste of the caring and welcoming people of Ardfern. Meeting people like this is one of our favorite parts of this incredible voyage.
Oban
We left Ardfern and traveled a short distance to Oban. The weather was not nice, once again. We picked up a mooring ball in a small harbor about a mile out of town. When we woke the next morning, we were shocked by still pond-like waters and brilliant sunshine. It seemed a grand illusion, but it was real. We were having a cloudless, windless, sunny day in Scotland!
We got in our dinghy and explored the coastline. We found a castle, closed of course, then tied our dinghy to the town dock to explore Oban. We saw from the shore a structure shaped like a Coliseum on the hill above the town. We had an amazing lunch outdoors in the sunshine and plotted our day.
To our amazement, the town had the oldest distillery in Scotland. It was open! We made reservations for 3:00 then hiked up the hill to see the structure. It was built in the early 1900s for the performing arts and offered an amazing view of the harbor. We could even spot our boat in the distance.
The Oban Distillery is one of the first to reopen. We were not only given a tasting but a lesson in learning how to ‘respect whiskey’ and the proper way to taste it. It was an enlightening education. Oban whiskeys are some of the finest we have ever tasted.
So Here I Sit
Our one day of sunshine ended. We are experiencing yet another day of wind and rain. We hope to carry on tomorrow to a new destination. We are still reeling from our amazing day yesterday. Having a break from sailing and sightseeing means I can take the day to write about our experiences. Dan is trying to fix the heater and I am reflecting on our travels in Scotland.
While this land does not have warm waters and sunshine-filled days, the beauty of this harsh coastline is unparalleled to anything we have seen before. To date, we have sailed to 21 countries on our boat. While some days are cold, rainy, and stay inside kind of days, when the sun does come out and shine upon us, we are able to witness the raw beauty of this country. Every day, every moment is not pleasant. However, I wouldn’t rather be anywhere else than right here, at this point in time. I will never regret the difficulties we have had. The beauty will be what we remember and will leave permanent imprints in our minds.
Fair Winds,
Alison and Dan
S/V Equus