claymore
Well-Known Member
In early August I invited a couple of friends of mine for a sail/delivery trip of the good yacht Claymore from her summer quarters up in Gods Country back down to the industrial North West of England. Pressures of work were looming and I saw that it was not going to be possible to make any trips up the road to Oban once September was upon us.
Pressure to get somewhere has often proved the downfall of us all, I am sure. Presence required at our place of work on a Monday will have urged many of us to set off when wiser counsel might have suggested it better to linger and leave when more clement climatic conditions prevailed.
So it was against this backdrop that we made our dash for the Dorus Mor and headed into the Crinan Canal on that wet and windy Saturday. We'd agreed that to pursue a course down the Sound of Jura was to invite folly in the form of strong headwinds and were satisfied with out deliberations and the cordiality with which we reached agreement. The early part of the Canal went well and we made astonishing progress - helped in part by the excellent advice offered by Sgeir and the practical support we got from the fair Madam Sgeir as she wound the sluices like a good 'un. Drink was taken at Cairnbaan and we settled for a pleasant evenings sleep - relishing the calm waters of the Crinan instead of being bashed around somewhere by Jura or Islay.
It should be mentioned here that the flaw in all of this lay in our timing of our passage through the Canal - as we were sharing it with everyone and their nautical dog, all returning from West Highland Week. Progress ground to a halt on the Sunday morning and what should have been an egress from the canal at around 11:00 a.m developed into an epic with us finally reaching the Sealock at around 15:00hrs. The weather forecast was for following breezes and a drop of rain and we were fortunate in that the forecasters got it absolutely correct and conditions were suitably rotten.
Impatient to be away I walked down to the Sealock - it should be mentioned here that in deference to the age and infirmity of my two companions - I had elected to handle all the shore lines and work the locks - so being the one ashore it seemed only reasonable that I should undertake this duty in an attempt to move a bit of progress.
Its a strange sensation looking across to boats in a canal basin and seeing one of them drifting sideways at a rate of knots. It is a stranger sensation to recognise the mast of this vessel as the one belonging to your pride and joy. The strangest sensation of all though is the one which comes over you when you hear the unmistakable sound of a boat drifting sideways at a rate of knots as it stops abruptly, parked against the biggest Motorboat - occupied by the biggest man you ever saw and watching the rage come over him as his brand spanking new gas guzzling whatever it was is firmly clouted by a 30 ft motorsailor with the helm seemingly oblivious to the fact that something was amiss.
It is a true testament to the strength of our friendship and my own particular sanguine qualities that we remain the very firmest of friends but no doubt Para - in his own inimitable way will put his slant on this particular turn of events. I eagerly await......
Pressure to get somewhere has often proved the downfall of us all, I am sure. Presence required at our place of work on a Monday will have urged many of us to set off when wiser counsel might have suggested it better to linger and leave when more clement climatic conditions prevailed.
So it was against this backdrop that we made our dash for the Dorus Mor and headed into the Crinan Canal on that wet and windy Saturday. We'd agreed that to pursue a course down the Sound of Jura was to invite folly in the form of strong headwinds and were satisfied with out deliberations and the cordiality with which we reached agreement. The early part of the Canal went well and we made astonishing progress - helped in part by the excellent advice offered by Sgeir and the practical support we got from the fair Madam Sgeir as she wound the sluices like a good 'un. Drink was taken at Cairnbaan and we settled for a pleasant evenings sleep - relishing the calm waters of the Crinan instead of being bashed around somewhere by Jura or Islay.
It should be mentioned here that the flaw in all of this lay in our timing of our passage through the Canal - as we were sharing it with everyone and their nautical dog, all returning from West Highland Week. Progress ground to a halt on the Sunday morning and what should have been an egress from the canal at around 11:00 a.m developed into an epic with us finally reaching the Sealock at around 15:00hrs. The weather forecast was for following breezes and a drop of rain and we were fortunate in that the forecasters got it absolutely correct and conditions were suitably rotten.
Impatient to be away I walked down to the Sealock - it should be mentioned here that in deference to the age and infirmity of my two companions - I had elected to handle all the shore lines and work the locks - so being the one ashore it seemed only reasonable that I should undertake this duty in an attempt to move a bit of progress.
Its a strange sensation looking across to boats in a canal basin and seeing one of them drifting sideways at a rate of knots. It is a stranger sensation to recognise the mast of this vessel as the one belonging to your pride and joy. The strangest sensation of all though is the one which comes over you when you hear the unmistakable sound of a boat drifting sideways at a rate of knots as it stops abruptly, parked against the biggest Motorboat - occupied by the biggest man you ever saw and watching the rage come over him as his brand spanking new gas guzzling whatever it was is firmly clouted by a 30 ft motorsailor with the helm seemingly oblivious to the fact that something was amiss.
It is a true testament to the strength of our friendship and my own particular sanguine qualities that we remain the very firmest of friends but no doubt Para - in his own inimitable way will put his slant on this particular turn of events. I eagerly await......
