Evadne
Well-Known Member
In the second week of May, my wife, Jane, and I chartered a yacht for a week. It was our first charter experience. To minimise any worries we stayed in the UK, opting for Oban where I’ve spent a bit of time over the years on visits to the marine lab. We picked a boat that was as close in size to our own as possible, with tiller steering. Alba sailing in Dunstaffnage marina fitted the bill, and having just concluded the last of the financial dealings with them I couldn’t recommend them highly enough. Friendly, helpful and efficient, when we eventually return to the highlands we will be going there again.
It was our first charter, and the first time Jane had sailed on another boat. “Evadne”, our Elizabethan 29 is pretty but compact by modern standards. By comparison “True Blue of Hamble”, a Moody 31 was a huge boat. The same displacement and only two feet longer than we were used to but twice the volume – beam and freeboard mostly - with all mod cons including central heating, an oven, an engine that would power the QE2 and as much space as a small apartment. The hand over was comprehensive, introducing us to the mysteries of electrical anchoring, mains shore power and roller reefing.
David and Jane’s Scottish voyage (“Two get wet in Scotland”)
We arrived at Glasgow airport in distinctly unpromising weather. The wind was gusting to gale force, and the rain was horizontal. The drive up to Dunstaffnage saw sunshine and blustery showers, but the forecasts we had been following for at lest a week had been promising and improvement by Saturday so we were hopeful.
We had booked ahead, a table in the Wide Mouthed Frog that evening, so there we sat as the rain lashed the windows and the wind howled.
The next morning dawned grey and windy, but the forecasts were still promising an improvement in the afternoon so we set off mid morning as the westerly wind moderated. Despite dire warnings of currents when manoeuvring in the marina, getting out under power was a doddle. Us long keelers aren’t used to boats that go backwards as well as forwards. Once clear of Eilann Mor, we unrolled a bit of genoa and motor sailed along, close hauled and hiding behind the sprayhood when the squalls went through.
Jane in her Scottish sun hat
By Lismore light the wind showed signs of easing and the showers were getting further apart so it was off with the motor and up with the reefed main and we beat our way towards the sound of Mull. A small pod of porpoises off Duart castle lightened the mood and it felt more holiday like. After a while, we could see the ferry that runs between Mull and our destination for the night, Loch Aline. We had a quiet meal on board, and watched the sun go down in a clearing sky as the water turned mirror calm.
[image] http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh261/evadne_photo/tn_IMG_3614.jpg[/image]
Sunset over Loch Aline
Next morning there was time for a walk ashore before catching the tide up the sound of Mull. The wind was still westerly so we tacked all the way to Tobermory. The weather became warmer and the rain stayed away. The scenery is as good as it gets, with mountains all around. The boat was a pleasure to sail, apart from a few minor niggles. She needs very little sail to get her moving in any wind, . Navigation, using the full set of charts, pilot and Mk 1 eyeball is not difficult in those waters.
[image] http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh261/evadne_photo/tn_IMG_3630.jpg[/image]
Tacking up the sound of Mull
There was a plotter on board, but although I played with it, it really isn’t necessary. Deep water and shallow, unmarked rocks mean that planning is important, but the pilotage is fun, rather than challenging. The proximity of land at all times, and weak tidal streams meant that winds that would have raised a nasty chop in the Solent, not to mention a nauseous swell in the channel, were well within our ‘comfort zone’.
Tobermory is a pretty little town, for those that don’t know it, with a pontoon berth if you want to walk ashore, and buoys if you don’t. Also, there’s plenty of room to anchor if you’re feeling particularly mean. There are plenty of eateries and pub just outside the “marina”, next to the distillery.
A classic view of Tobermory
It was in Tobermory that our various plans diverged. My initial and wildly optimistic plan had been quietly shelved. Circumnavigating Mull, taking in Staffa, Iona and a couple of places in the firth of Lorn would take more than a week to do it justice. More like three. The next morning we crossed the sound of Mull, avoiding the Stirk rocks. I’m sure they warrant the warnings issued in the pilot, but in the warm and sunny weather we had, they are clearly visible from a long way off. Loch Sunart opened out before us, with the snow on the peak of Ben Nevis visible in the distance. The wind was still in the west, and it was nice not to be tacking, for a change. The wide and open waters showed no hint of swell, and we chuckled along under full sail. Three or four little fishing boats were mostly distant, and we saw only half a dozen other yachts over the next three days.
Our destination was Drumbuie, which we reached by lunchtime. Cautiously, I furled the sail and motored in through the narrow entrance. There is only one invisible rock to worry about, and we didn’t find it, I’m pleased to say. The bowl of the anchorage held some fish cages and one yacht at anchor. We motored around, looking for a spot shallow enough to anchor in. The wind was predicted to come around to the east, but not strongly enough to cause us problems and indeed, as usual, it fell light overnight. The other yacht left shortly after we arrived and we had the place to ourselves for the afternoon. We rowed ashore – it seemed too tranquil a place to spoil with the noisy outboard – and climbed the hill to view the yacht below us.
Drumbuie, looking north
Next time I’m taking an OS map, I’m sure there’s a footpath there somewhere! Later that afternoon, three other yachts arrived. Two dropped their hook close to us, the single hander in a trimaran opting for the shallower water near the burn. The third one went for the anchorage at the far end of the loch, where it would be more sheltered if the stronger easterlies had sprung up, but the usual spot is pretty sheltered, even from the east.
The next morning we left after a leisurely breakfast and sailed further up loch Sunart. We passed the narrows without incident, opting to go around the south of Risga rather than through the shallower channel that I saw two other yachts sail through. The hills rose on either side of us as we tacked up the loch, and the wind got flukier. We passed a few isolated groups of houses – holiday homes, some of them. A couple of fish farms and a little used pier passed by as well, but apart from the road along the lochside, it felt wild and unpopulated. Apart from a couple of fishing dories we had the water to ourselves.
The wind got just too flukey as we approached Salen, so we dropped the sails and motored in. It was early afternoon and near low water, so the rocks and their vicious looking broken perch on the port hand were clearly visible. Later, you’d never know they were there so this time I felt that the pilot’s cautions were well warranted. Identifying the visitor’s buoy(s) took a while, and tying up to them from our towering side decks was no easy task, without any pick-up buoys, but the little inlet is well sheltered and, as ever, the wind dropped as the sun went down.
We had a pint in the Salen hotel, the only hostelry. We booked a table for the evening – it didn’t fill up but it’s a busier spot than you might expect, we found. We also left payment for the mooring with the landlord. He does have a mooring of his own we could have used. “I must get around to marking our name on it”, he explained as to why we couldn’t find it. But the row ashore would have been rather longer and we didn’t fancy moving the boat again.
Salen, looking out to Loch Sunart
By now stronger easterlies were being predicted for the end of the week, but it looked good for the following day. We found that the Stornoway inshore waters forecast on the vhf was our best source, supplemented by various sources I found on my pocketsurfer. Next morning we were again off after breakfast. We ran down the Loch, retracing our path to Tobermory. It was still dry, sunny and warm. We were pleased to have a little longer to spend in Tobermory this time, buying souvenirs and going for a walk around the bay to the south, a pleasant hilltop walk with picturesque waterfalls in woodland and views across the bay.
The next day it was blowing a 5-6 from the east, straight down the sound but we had to go. I put two reefs in the main and hoisted it in the bay, then motored out into the sound where we unrolled about half the genoa. The foresail set like a carrier bag, but it was good enough to get us along. I promised Jane that if it got too much, we could roll the genoa up, drop the sail and motor along but we sailed on, tacking down to Salen bay. The wind started to drop towards a F4, so I unrolled a bit of genoa and we were thinking of shaking out reefs. Level with loch Aline entrance, the wisdom of our caution was justified as the wind rapidly picked up to a F6-7. I heaved on the furling line to roll the genoa away, the engine was fired up and I dropped the main. It was a repeat of our entrance into the sound of Mull, wind on the nose with us sheltering behind the sprayhood. There was little or no rain in the squalls, but the wind was stronger. The porpoises were gone, but some grey seals basking on Lady rock made our day, the first seals we had seen. The wind was on the nose all the way back to Dunstaffnage, so we gritted our teeth and bounced along under engine, wanting to get back in time for a meal out rather than beating back and getting in as it got dark. We felt we’d done enough tacking on this holiday!
And that was it. The following day we mooched around, visiting Dunstaffnage castle in the rain before being whisked off to Glasgow airport.
It was our first charter, and the first time Jane had sailed on another boat. “Evadne”, our Elizabethan 29 is pretty but compact by modern standards. By comparison “True Blue of Hamble”, a Moody 31 was a huge boat. The same displacement and only two feet longer than we were used to but twice the volume – beam and freeboard mostly - with all mod cons including central heating, an oven, an engine that would power the QE2 and as much space as a small apartment. The hand over was comprehensive, introducing us to the mysteries of electrical anchoring, mains shore power and roller reefing.
David and Jane’s Scottish voyage (“Two get wet in Scotland”)
We arrived at Glasgow airport in distinctly unpromising weather. The wind was gusting to gale force, and the rain was horizontal. The drive up to Dunstaffnage saw sunshine and blustery showers, but the forecasts we had been following for at lest a week had been promising and improvement by Saturday so we were hopeful.
We had booked ahead, a table in the Wide Mouthed Frog that evening, so there we sat as the rain lashed the windows and the wind howled.
The next morning dawned grey and windy, but the forecasts were still promising an improvement in the afternoon so we set off mid morning as the westerly wind moderated. Despite dire warnings of currents when manoeuvring in the marina, getting out under power was a doddle. Us long keelers aren’t used to boats that go backwards as well as forwards. Once clear of Eilann Mor, we unrolled a bit of genoa and motor sailed along, close hauled and hiding behind the sprayhood when the squalls went through.
Jane in her Scottish sun hat
By Lismore light the wind showed signs of easing and the showers were getting further apart so it was off with the motor and up with the reefed main and we beat our way towards the sound of Mull. A small pod of porpoises off Duart castle lightened the mood and it felt more holiday like. After a while, we could see the ferry that runs between Mull and our destination for the night, Loch Aline. We had a quiet meal on board, and watched the sun go down in a clearing sky as the water turned mirror calm.
[image] http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh261/evadne_photo/tn_IMG_3614.jpg[/image]
Sunset over Loch Aline
Next morning there was time for a walk ashore before catching the tide up the sound of Mull. The wind was still westerly so we tacked all the way to Tobermory. The weather became warmer and the rain stayed away. The scenery is as good as it gets, with mountains all around. The boat was a pleasure to sail, apart from a few minor niggles. She needs very little sail to get her moving in any wind, . Navigation, using the full set of charts, pilot and Mk 1 eyeball is not difficult in those waters.
[image] http://i258.photobucket.com/albums/hh261/evadne_photo/tn_IMG_3630.jpg[/image]
Tacking up the sound of Mull
There was a plotter on board, but although I played with it, it really isn’t necessary. Deep water and shallow, unmarked rocks mean that planning is important, but the pilotage is fun, rather than challenging. The proximity of land at all times, and weak tidal streams meant that winds that would have raised a nasty chop in the Solent, not to mention a nauseous swell in the channel, were well within our ‘comfort zone’.
Tobermory is a pretty little town, for those that don’t know it, with a pontoon berth if you want to walk ashore, and buoys if you don’t. Also, there’s plenty of room to anchor if you’re feeling particularly mean. There are plenty of eateries and pub just outside the “marina”, next to the distillery.
A classic view of Tobermory
It was in Tobermory that our various plans diverged. My initial and wildly optimistic plan had been quietly shelved. Circumnavigating Mull, taking in Staffa, Iona and a couple of places in the firth of Lorn would take more than a week to do it justice. More like three. The next morning we crossed the sound of Mull, avoiding the Stirk rocks. I’m sure they warrant the warnings issued in the pilot, but in the warm and sunny weather we had, they are clearly visible from a long way off. Loch Sunart opened out before us, with the snow on the peak of Ben Nevis visible in the distance. The wind was still in the west, and it was nice not to be tacking, for a change. The wide and open waters showed no hint of swell, and we chuckled along under full sail. Three or four little fishing boats were mostly distant, and we saw only half a dozen other yachts over the next three days.
Our destination was Drumbuie, which we reached by lunchtime. Cautiously, I furled the sail and motored in through the narrow entrance. There is only one invisible rock to worry about, and we didn’t find it, I’m pleased to say. The bowl of the anchorage held some fish cages and one yacht at anchor. We motored around, looking for a spot shallow enough to anchor in. The wind was predicted to come around to the east, but not strongly enough to cause us problems and indeed, as usual, it fell light overnight. The other yacht left shortly after we arrived and we had the place to ourselves for the afternoon. We rowed ashore – it seemed too tranquil a place to spoil with the noisy outboard – and climbed the hill to view the yacht below us.
Drumbuie, looking north
Next time I’m taking an OS map, I’m sure there’s a footpath there somewhere! Later that afternoon, three other yachts arrived. Two dropped their hook close to us, the single hander in a trimaran opting for the shallower water near the burn. The third one went for the anchorage at the far end of the loch, where it would be more sheltered if the stronger easterlies had sprung up, but the usual spot is pretty sheltered, even from the east.
The next morning we left after a leisurely breakfast and sailed further up loch Sunart. We passed the narrows without incident, opting to go around the south of Risga rather than through the shallower channel that I saw two other yachts sail through. The hills rose on either side of us as we tacked up the loch, and the wind got flukier. We passed a few isolated groups of houses – holiday homes, some of them. A couple of fish farms and a little used pier passed by as well, but apart from the road along the lochside, it felt wild and unpopulated. Apart from a couple of fishing dories we had the water to ourselves.
The wind got just too flukey as we approached Salen, so we dropped the sails and motored in. It was early afternoon and near low water, so the rocks and their vicious looking broken perch on the port hand were clearly visible. Later, you’d never know they were there so this time I felt that the pilot’s cautions were well warranted. Identifying the visitor’s buoy(s) took a while, and tying up to them from our towering side decks was no easy task, without any pick-up buoys, but the little inlet is well sheltered and, as ever, the wind dropped as the sun went down.
We had a pint in the Salen hotel, the only hostelry. We booked a table for the evening – it didn’t fill up but it’s a busier spot than you might expect, we found. We also left payment for the mooring with the landlord. He does have a mooring of his own we could have used. “I must get around to marking our name on it”, he explained as to why we couldn’t find it. But the row ashore would have been rather longer and we didn’t fancy moving the boat again.
Salen, looking out to Loch Sunart
By now stronger easterlies were being predicted for the end of the week, but it looked good for the following day. We found that the Stornoway inshore waters forecast on the vhf was our best source, supplemented by various sources I found on my pocketsurfer. Next morning we were again off after breakfast. We ran down the Loch, retracing our path to Tobermory. It was still dry, sunny and warm. We were pleased to have a little longer to spend in Tobermory this time, buying souvenirs and going for a walk around the bay to the south, a pleasant hilltop walk with picturesque waterfalls in woodland and views across the bay.
The next day it was blowing a 5-6 from the east, straight down the sound but we had to go. I put two reefs in the main and hoisted it in the bay, then motored out into the sound where we unrolled about half the genoa. The foresail set like a carrier bag, but it was good enough to get us along. I promised Jane that if it got too much, we could roll the genoa up, drop the sail and motor along but we sailed on, tacking down to Salen bay. The wind started to drop towards a F4, so I unrolled a bit of genoa and we were thinking of shaking out reefs. Level with loch Aline entrance, the wisdom of our caution was justified as the wind rapidly picked up to a F6-7. I heaved on the furling line to roll the genoa away, the engine was fired up and I dropped the main. It was a repeat of our entrance into the sound of Mull, wind on the nose with us sheltering behind the sprayhood. There was little or no rain in the squalls, but the wind was stronger. The porpoises were gone, but some grey seals basking on Lady rock made our day, the first seals we had seen. The wind was on the nose all the way back to Dunstaffnage, so we gritted our teeth and bounced along under engine, wanting to get back in time for a meal out rather than beating back and getting in as it got dark. We felt we’d done enough tacking on this holiday!
And that was it. The following day we mooched around, visiting Dunstaffnage castle in the rain before being whisked off to Glasgow airport.
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