On every journey, there's always been some kind of issue. This one saw major works to the rail network in the Southampton area, so it was by bus that the crew arrived at Airport Parkway, to catch the train to Clapham Junction & back down to Gatwick, some hour & half after seeing the Flybe aircraft sitting on the concrete.
So Friday was lost to travel and provisioning from a nearby supermarket local. Later a beverage in the Chart Room, together with another stunning meal, had the crew fed & watered.
Saturday and the sun was fast dissappearing. The passage plan to Cambletown and on to Port Ellen on Islay just had to go. The forecasters were predicting F7 with the Mull of Kintyre moderate to rough, not the best of time to get to know me. Soon pehaps, but not this time. A revised schedule was then to take them up to Carrick Castle. My new owners had been in touch previously with the sailing club there and paid an outstanding fine of £10, which is the charge for mooring on a visitors buoy. Something that is quite common in Scotland.
With me teathered to a buoy, it was time to get the rubber dingy out, now wasn't the time to find out that it had perished or had worst still a hole. Everything was fine, even the Yamaha outboard fired into life without much effort. So with spare fuel, radio & even oars, the skipper went along the shore line to find a place to land as what appeared to be a hotel could be a place for more Scottish hospitality later.
This was not to be. Having spent an evening in one of the committee members houses with other members turning up to see my crew, it was discovered that the building had been converted into flats. The castle had had the top floor converted into a house with no toilets - some house ! One can only assume that that the public toilets nearby were to a higher than normal standard ! After a wee dram of single malt & heads full of places to visit, the crew headed back for dinner. The skipper having learnt from past experience had put the anchor & subtle saloon lights on so I could be found in the otherwise black & still night.
Sunday, saw me head back past the facility where nuclear war heads are transferred to submarines. This time no high speed rib making sure I didn't get too close. In fact the whole ridge, was probably hollow as a similar facility was in the Loch on the other side. With that & a fuel storage area further up the Loch, this tranquil & picturesque area has a very dark side. Wind came & went, east to west, depending on the valley's aspect.
I was directed towards Rothesay, where the Wemyss Bay ferry calls for the Islanders of Bute. Unfortunately the harbour master wouldn't let me in, only 2.0m of depth he said. I spun round & headed to the middle of the Clyde only for the wind to dissapear again. Largs looked a likely port of call, but with no wind I was pointed back to Kip. Having been secured on my pontoon, the crew went off to Inverkip Hotel, a building that seems to be a right of passage for my new owners, who stayed here on their visits to come up & see me whilst concidering my fate.
Monday & back out into the Firth of Clyde & may be a visit to Lamlash, as it appeared that the weather on the other side of the Island of Bute meant that a run up the Kyles could be a wet one. Whilst the sun tried and the dark clouds kept to the north west, the wind had been taken away again and I drifted again around Skelmorie's bank, the site where the nuclear submarine ran aground. With 8.0m of water beneath me, lunch was served. Having observed four passages of the Rothesay ferries, time came to call it a day. Lamlash was never going to happen & even Largs was highly unlikely.
Having spun through 180 degrees the crew found wind and somehow plenty of it. Close hauled other yachts could only watch as the speed transducer was climbing 6, 7, 8 knots, 30 degrees off the wind. SOG was 7.5 knots and easily obtained with a little effort trimming my sails. I headed up to the Holy Loch and we tacked all the way to the end, then gybed round and headed back. Six knots in 7 knots of wind - this was easy.
Tuesday was a day of rest for me. A few house keeping jobs needed doing: the shore power decided to stop and that tunrned out to be a disconnected neutral wire. The issue that couldn't be resolved was the diesel fired heater, which just wouldn't heat the master cabin. Despite blanking off the saloon it just wouldn't work. Even the holding tank in the saloon heads decided to set a task for my new owners. However the skipper donned on a pair of rubber gloves & like the little Dutch boy with a fettish stuck his finger in the tank's air vent, whilst Alex pumped. With a sudden burst, a cloud blew out of the port side and drifted across the marina. Luckily there were no yachts on that side - job done !
Wednesday, after putting the rubber dingy away a wash & brush up, another long trip home for my crew.
Have a look at the pictures !
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