After some lovely walks ashore it was time to leave this delightful place.
The muddy anchor needed a good wash off, having glued us into the glutinous ooze for four days, burying itself deeper with each tide; Zoonie’s bow dipped as she finally pulled it clear.
Since leaving Stornoway we have used the anchor at all our stops except for Loch Scresort on Mull
We couldn’t wait to return to Loch Aline and sat out four days there while inclement weather went by overhead.
Entering at just after Low Water Neeps Zoonie had 1.4 metres beneath her, quite enough. The right hand black line was our departure route.
Last year we anchored to the left and this year on the right hand side after I fiddled about a little in the middle.
Magnificent Duart Castle, looking out over the entrance to The Sound of Mull after her major restoration. Sir Lachlan Maclean carries on the clan tradition by living there, but in 1911 the castle was a ruin, bought by the current chief’s great grandfather Sir Fitzroy Maclean. It was used in the film ‘Entrapment’ starring Sean Connery and Catherine Zeta Jones. This castle was built in the 14th century and succeeds a fort on the site.
The day started sunny and warm and as we rounded Grass Point into The Firth of Lorn we could see the two hazy blue Paps of Jura well to the south and beyond our planned destination for the night in Loch Tarbert.
The wind was on the nose, heading us as we approached Jura, and as predicted it started to increase in the afternoon to 27 knots. Zoonie was dancing like a cat on hot tiles. I remembered the last time we had a strong head wind was for twelve hours as we made our way from Peniche down the Atlantic Coast of Portugal. Not pleasant.
The spray on the windows of the spray hood made looking for lobster pots to avoid impossible. So we had to look over the top of the canopy and got the occasional face-full as a result. Never mind the salty lips made the well earned G & T in the evening taste even better!
The entrance to Loch Tarbert has plenty of depth despite it looking constricted by rocks. Blondie Hasler, leader of the Cockleshell Heroes of WW2 and advocate of junk rig which he installed on his Folkboat ‘Jester’, installed transits on the way in to the Loch which have been painted white since we were last there and they are trustworthy, but then so is Navionics and common sense, so the entry is almost fun.
It was blissfully calm inside and we wondered if the two other yachts who approached would join us, but they remained outside. Zoonie’s Delta anchor bit straightaway, spinning her bow smartly and we knew we were safe for the night. The wind dropped in the evening and all around was wild magnificence.
This would be the last remote anchorage we would enjoy for a while. Not even a bar of phone signal, so we had taken screenshots of the weather on our phones to cover the time we would be off grid.
The narrow entrance opens in to the vast Tarbert Loch on Jura, shallow on the north side but with plenty of depth where we went. There is a good walk ashore south of our spot but it’s deer country, so beware of the ticks. I caught a few ticks last summer despite being well covered!
As we left the next morning a group of people were being taxied to this holiday home, carting their cases up the beach from the fast RIB that had dropped them off. What a place for a stay, only access from the water and with a bare glen right behind and gorgeous empty beaches in front. Fancy it?
Motoring down the Sound of Islay we had timed our transit to have the tide with us all the way round to Port Ellen and watched as the speed reading crept up and up in a clearly fast moving body of water.
My fear for the day was strong winds at the end of the sound as we passed down this waterway, putting us on a lee-shore, that last year, in the opposite direction was our gateway to the Scottish Islands. Rob’s fear was a strong wind and swell pushing into the anchorage, making it uncomfortable.
In the event the wind was light at 6 knots, the water surface slight and our prospects of a restful night were assured. Just goes to show the wind can be less as well as more than that forecast.
We anchored in the same place on the left of the picture as before. Last year we went in to the small and crowded marina on the right of the picture, for a couple of nights, so we could go touring by bus. But this year being back in another trusted anchorage was great and to mark our last night in Scotland we finished the Laphroaig Whisky. It will be Irish Whiskey and Guinness next!
So that was our last stopover in Scotland and the next morning (July 11th) Rob took down our rather battered courtesy flag as we set out across the North Channel of the Irish Sea.
Numerous pairs of guillemots were training their young on a one to one ratio on the rules of ocean living. They would keep in touch with the young vocally as we approached. I did see one recently-dead one, its beautiful white chest facing upwards in the water and its head still horizontal, but nothing like last year when hundreds floated past as we crossed to Scotland from Rathmullen. They really are beautiful looking birds I think.
Both our white sails sped us across towards the Traffic Separation Lanes. We kept a reef in the main because with the wind behind the beam we didn’t want it blanketing the genoa.
Bye bye Scotland, thank you for everything.
This is the first time I have seen a Razorbill. Either we took him by surprise or they are not as shy as guillemots and puffins, because he stayed put alongside as we whizzed by. This and the Guillemot picture are by courtesy of ‘Seabirds of the World’ by Enticott and Tipling.
When we came round nearer to the westerly wind to cross the TSZ at as short a distance as possible, Zoonie sped up and progress was good and more than we could comfortably motor. Cargo ship Bonacieux called us up to say he had slowed down and altered course so we could pass in front of him. We were pleased by his courtesy and consideration. We were quite ready to give way to him, but he got there first and well in advance of the situation. He is now in the harbour here in Larne.
The mountains of Antrim.
Anchoring is not allowed in Red Bay because of the sea grass, so we tried Glenarm Bay, only to find thick kelp and no holding. So it was onward to Larne at the start of a grey and rainy evening.
The Mull of Kintyre was sporting an unusual hat of numerous types of cloud.
Fair Head at the north east corner of Northern Ireland, was far behind us by now!
Guillemots flying with a purpose with the Emerald Isle in the background.
The famous North Channel ebb tide was a good friend to us, just like the Agulhas Current off south east Africa when we needed to get south to East London fast because we both had Covid. Going with tides and currents is a fabulous boost to a boat’s pace.
It rained and somewhere the sun was shining, so the East and West Maiden islets were graced with ethereal rainbow light.
The friendly voice in Port Control at Larne Harbour, we thought, gave us permission to enter, as it happened in the wake of Bonacieux; so in we went and were just passing the Harbour Control Tower when he called us up and again said we were clear to enter! Oops.
Our pilot book and charts showed three muddy anchoring spots tucked well into the lough, so we chose one where a reviewer said he had found mud in this pleasant location. And that is where we are now. Taking a day off to relax and get up to date (ish) on blog writing, before moving on to Bangor tomorrow, and a bit of city life in Belfast.
I put the charts from our chart plotter in just in case any of you are thinking of coming this way.
Larne is a busy ferry and cargo port and there were many wind turbine blades in storage at the harbour. In 2021 a planning application was lodged for 14 wind turbines to be erected a few kilometres away but there were over 90 objections.
From the busy harbour we motored in the rain to a peaceful rural area, and the cattle are now sheltering from the rain behind a hedge. I don’t blame them.
The little green arrows mark our route south over the past few days as far as Rhum. The upper line from Rubba Reidh was our route to Stornoway from Gairloch.
