2004 - Summer Cruise - Avocet - 20th July to 8th August.
NEW: See the complete story with pictures – click here.
Avocet spent the winter
ashore at Skippool on the river Wyre
in Lancashire, home of the
It was windy, with an
inshore waters forecast in Liverpool Bay of SE 5-7, becoming SW 3-4 later. Once
down the river to Fleetwood we picked up an all-tide mooring and reviewed the
situation in a horizontal position. (It had been a busy morning...). Meanwhile
the wind eased and veered, so we scooted north across Morecambe
Bay, or maybe skated would be a better term, as at times we had just a metre under the keel. We got rained on, and becalmed -
usual story - before motoring up the Walney Channel
leading to Barrow in Furness, and picked up a mooring below the Castle on Piel Island, a scenic and peaceful spot, sheltered from all
but SE winds.
Peaceful that is, until the
wind did come SE and blustery in the early hours, with the fetch at high water
coming right across Morecambe Bay.
The log states: 'Windy,
wet, bouncy, roly, noisy', and that sums up our
night!
13 miles, 4 hours 20 mins.
Wednesday 21st July
The forecast of S or SW
3-4, occasionally 5, sounded just right for a good downwind sail to Whitehaven
in Cumbria, and so it was for the first couple of
hours, but as the wind dropped, the south-westerley
swell with southerley overtones caused slatting sails and a motion like riding a three-legged
carthorse, so we were tortured into using the engine! The main feature of the
trip (apart from the beautiful Lake District scenery) was a couple of
cable-laying barges off Sellafield, which caused us
some head scratching as to which side to pass. We chose the beach side, but a
Dutch voice called up 'Yat Avocaat'
on the VHF and directed us between the two vessels with precise instructions,
i.e. " Turn 90 degrees to port NOW".
Towards the end of the trip
we rounded St Bee's Head - she actually has two, north and south - and once
sheltered from the swell had an enjoyable goose-winged run in warm sun for the
last few miles to Whitehaven, entering with half an hour to spare, as the harbour entrance dries at low water. The inner harbour has a sea-lock and a good marina, with Tesco's next door!
38 miles, 10 hours 15 mins.
Thursday July 22nd
We locked out of the Marina
at 0815, but we had left it too late on the tide and grounded in the outer harbour (muddy bottom). We were able to re-enter the lock,
and repeated the exercise on the tide's return at 1130. Our intended
destination was The Isle of Whithorn on the Machars Peninsular of Galloway, and the wind was on our
side at last, with south-westerly 3-4 giving us a satisfying close reach across
the Solway Firth.
We were making good
progress, so at 1515 we changed our (mental) passage plan to destination Mull
of Galloway. Half-way across Luce Bay the wind started to freshen from the
south, and with quickly building seas we found ourselves racing wetly towards
the Mull in a good F6. Although slack water was approaching, rounding the Mull
wasn't much of an option in those onshore conditions - not for me at any rate!
- so we slipped into the sheltered water behind the hook-shaped southern end of
the headland and dropped the anchor in Tarbert Bay,
with some relief on my part. (20.05 hours). Shortly after we were joined by
another yacht, Jehu, also seeking shelter.
When the tide turned we
could see the white water of the tide-race roaring eastward past the end of the
Mull.
46 miles, 11hours 50mins.
Friday 23rd July
The next day the wind was
still strong but had veered south-westerly. (Forecast: SW4 or 5,
occasionally 6). High water slack was at 1530, which would give us the ebb up
the west side of the peninsular. We decided against attempting the Mull in such
boisterous onshore conditions and (uncharacteristically!) slept all morning,
which showed that we must have been pretty tired. Around 1700 the wind suddenly
dropped and we pumped up the dinghy and went ashore for a stroll.
We walked or scrambled
right round the cliff-tops of the Mull, and could see no particular danger below
apart from a patch of overfalls at the east end. In
the main the overfalls extended well out to sea, but
close inshore appeared relatively calm. We decided to go for the low water
slack, but leave early to catch a bit of ebb up the west side, hoping to be in Portpatrick, on the Rhins of
Galloway, before the pub closed. Some hope!
We set off at 2020, and
entered the race at the east end of the Mull, which bounced us and splashed us
but not much more. After that it was just a matter of whirlpools and swirlies, (That might be a home-made word!) and enjoying
the spectacular cliffs. All went well until the tide turned against us off Crammag Head, and the light started to fade. We tried to
find a reverse eddy close inshore which exists at some states of the tide, but
nothing was very apparent, and anyway it got too dark to be in close.
After a motoring marathon
(big yawn) we finally entered Portpatrick Harbour at 0200, having been tantalised
by the lights of the town for ages. It was low water and the leading lights
were the vital ingredient in navigating the narrow, rocky entrance. Because we
were so low, the forward light appeared almost as high as the rear light, which
made things more difficult, but we've been there a few times now and were soon
safely tied up to the massive harbour wall. I would
like to say all was peaceful, but an Irish gin-palace was over from Bangor and
still in party mode, providing a minor irritation (yes, understatement).
Nothing, however, could have kept us awake for
long.
17 miles, 5 hours 45 mins
Saturday 24th July
It was wet and windy in the
night, and still blowing well onshore in the morning. The sea was covered in
white horses and force 6 was mentioned on the forecast; all in all a good day
to spend ashore! When the sun appeared it was warm and sheltered in the harbour.We had showers at the superloo
(£1.20) and sat and watched the antics of the resident black guillemots,
delightful birds with red feet which nest in holes in the harbour
wall. Another power-boat arrived, from Donaghadee,
Northern Ireland, a classic Fairey Huntsman with a
family aboard. They rafted up to us, all shaken up and exhausted by a rough
crossing of the North Channel - and it had only taken them an hour to cover the
22 miles!
We shopped at the tiny
village store, then walked a couple of miles north along the cliff path to the Killantringan Lighthouse, which had guided us the previous
night.
The Downshire Arms provided us with a delicious meal that evening, and enjoyable live music rounded off our day.
Sunday 25th July
The next day was sunny and
breezy, this time with force seven creeping into the forecast, although the sea
was going down and one or two yachts ventured out. We passed the day doing some
boat maintenance and enjoying the sun, and chatting with our Irish neighbours. We had another cliff walk, south this time; the
wild flowers were lovely and for a while we lay in the sun in a sheltered spot.
(I mentioned that for a reason!) The wind died away in the evening, the
gin-palace departed, and the harbour was all peace,
with the strains of a (well-played) harmonica drifting out from one of the
boats. We got out the next chart we would need - The Clyde Estuary.
Monday 26th July, Portpatrick.
After all that rest we were
awake for the early shipping forecast, and at 0615 motored out of the harbour into a quiet, damp, grey morning, with a bit of
residual swell but very little residual wind, and that from the north-west! We
did have the tide with us however, and for the next couple of hours we followed
the coast north and enjoyed the rocky scenery and the abundant wildlife, which
included large rafts of eider ducks and the spectacular diving gannets. Once
past Corsewall Point, round which the Stranraer to Larne Sea- Cats can suddenly - and heart-stoppingly - appear, we shaped a course for Sanda Island, south-west of the Mull of Kintyre,
hoping to anchor there for lunch over slack water. This tiny island now has a
pub, but no other human inhabitants apart from the publican’s family – a
tempting proposition.
Millpond conditions now
prevailed, not good for sailing but excellent for nature study! We saw schools
of porpoises, manx shearwaters skimming low across
the sea, some enormous seals, puffins, guillemots and their young continuously
calling to each other, and the pirates of the sea-bird world, the great skuas.
As we approached Sanda from the south, a westerly breeze sprung up, so we
forsook the pub in favour of a sail, and had a
cockpit picnic instead. We had a good look at the notorious and awe-inspiring
Mull of Kintyre as we would be returning by that
route, then goose-winged east through Sanda Sound,
navigating carefully because of submerged and awash rocks.
By 13.30 we had the genoa up and were able to broad-reach goose-winged on the
starboard tack up into Kilbrannan Sound, with the
dramatic scenery of Island of Arran to starboard, and
the Kintyre Peninsular to port. We were heading for Campbelltown, the first safe haven up this part of the
coast. As we approached the entrance to Campbelltown
Loch, the wind veered back into the northwest and freshened, so that we had a
lively tack up the loch, first rounding the impressive island of Davarr which guards the loch entrance. At 18.50 we dropped
anchor off the Campbelltown Sailing Club, and soon
after rowed ashore in search of adventure and….food.
Later, after the worst
takeaway baked spud I have ever had (sorry Campbelltown!),
as Brian undressed for bed – apologies for intimate details – I noticed that he
was covered in bites, presumably from our walk at Portpatrick.
After anointing him tenderly with bite-ointment I also undressed and found that
I too was covered in nasty, scabby bites. That night they started to
itch…. 40 miles, 12 hours.
Tuesday 27th July
We started the day with an
‘incident’… We decided to sail off the anchorage, which involves me standing by
the sheets and tiller ready to make way, while Brian hauls up the anchor.
Normally he yells as he feels the anchor come off the bottom, and I sail away.
On this occasion, anchored in deep water, Brian didn’t feel the anchor leave
the sea-bed, and I wasn’t paying sufficient attention to my surroundings to
notice the boat blowing gently onto a lee shore. I did notice when we were
still some 50 metres off, but simultaneously our
keels connected with a groin constructed of granite rocks. (Imagine nasty graunching noise here!) We went into our well-worn ‘motor
on, rock boat’ routine and made an undignified getaway, not un-noticed by
bystanders ashore. (11.10) The wind was fresh and westerly, and early fog was
lifting.
We had read in our cruising
guide that there was a cave painting on Davarr Island
that was well worth a visit, so sailed round to the south side of the island,
and anchored in the lee of the causeway that connects it to the mainland at low
tide. Some walkers ashore anxiously waved and shouted at us – we assumed they
thought we were going to try and sail over the Causeway. Maybe others have!
We went ashore in the
rubber dinghy and explored caves until we found the painting – a copy of a
Dutch Master’s crucifixion, painted by a local art teacher over a hundred years
ago. He had been inspired by a dream to paint the mural and it has become a
place of pilgrimage.
Having had our bit of
culture and spirituality, we again sailed off our anchorage, but this time had
the engine running ‘in case’, having been a little unnerved by the earlier
incident! (13.55)
In a good force 4 and
sunshine we reached briskly up Kilbrannan Sound; it
didn’t last. An hour later the breeze died and the sun was hot. We sun-bathed
lazily until the tide turned and the scenery started overtaking us, and
thereafter motored or sailed as the wind came and went. We had hoped to make Ardrishaig, at the southern end of the Crinan
Canal, but the gente conditions and the lovely
surroundings lured us into Carradale Bay, on the West
side of the Sound. Luck was with us this time; the forecast South-easterly
stayed away till the next day and we had a peaceful, but itchy, night with a
stunning sunset and complete solitude. Oh yeah, and Brian cooked a delicious
supper!
12 miles, 6hrs 45mins.
Wednesday 28th
July
Having got irretrievably
into leisurely starts, it was 0940 before we sailed quietly out of the
anchorage and headed north again up Kilbrannan Sound.
On cue, the easterly breeze died and we motored all morning through the quiet
grey day, past Arran’s brooding mountains, slowing as
we approached the north end of the island to give way to a ‘Calmac’
(Caledonian MacBrayne) ferry entering Loch Ranza. We now entered Inchmarnock
Water, a huge marine crossroads. Straight on was the island of Bute and access to the stunning Kyles;
to starboard the Firth of Clyde stretched away south-eastward; to port was
Lower Loch Fyne, our route north-west to the Crinan Canal.
At 1340 enough of a south
easterly had materialised to enable us to run
goose-winged, making gentle progress to within five miles of our destination.
With a bit of motoring we soon entered Loch Gilp, and
at 1940 tied up to the Ardrishaig sea-lock waiting
pontoon.
We were luckily in time to
get a key for the facilities; we strolled round the village, visited the
ubiquitous Co-op, inspected the first flight of locks, then indulged ourselves
in the shower-block!
30 miles,
10 hours.
Thursday 29th July
The first opening of the
sea-lock was at 0830 and we managed to be ready on time. Once in the basin we
became quickly acquainted with our fellow travellers.
Working through a canal is all to do with co-operation and teamwork, and we had
good teachers in the family crew of another classic motor cruiser, a Fairey Swordsman, Spirit of Cumbrae.
They were regular users of the canal and knew exactly what to do. By the end of
the day we were through the nine miles and fifteen locks of the canal, bar the
final sea-lock. We had risen to 68 feet above sea level and had a scenic treat.
We had even taken time for a wet walk up the hill at Cairnbaan
to see some 5000 year old ‘cup and ring’ rock carvings – we were suitably
impressed. On our way back to the boat Brian got chatting to what he thought
was a local builder, but he turned out to come from the next village to Brian’s
birthplace in Derbyshire!
We arrived at Crinan too late to lock out, and anyway the lock was full
of trawlers waiting to unload in the morning. The basin was crowded but we
found a berth alongside a home-made 22foot sailing cruiser (A Hornblower) with a peat-burning stove making copious smoke.
Also in the basin was the famous steam puffer ‘Vital Spark’, star of the Para
Handy tales.
We had just settled down
for the night when a very noisy firework display erupted at close quarters,
setting off a couple of terriers on the next boat and keeping the midges awake!
(As it happened, we never got bitten again like we had at Portpatrick).
Pretty as Crinan was, we felt a bit claustrophobic and were keen to
get back to the open sea. The Western Isles beckoned.
9 miles.
Friday 30th
July
By 0850 the sea-lock at Crinan was clear of fishing boats and the yachts crowded in
expectantly, keen to be released into the beckoning sea. At O920 the gates
opened and out we poured into Loch Crinan, the
larger, speedier yachts disappearing in a matter of minutes. It was a quiet,
hazy day with light and variable winds as forecast. The scenery, though was
stunning, especially the view up Loch Craignish. Our
intention was to sail to the Island of Luing, home of
fellow Eventide owner, Norman Garnett.
We headed north-east toward
Dorus Mor, a notorious
passage between the mainland and a group of islands, where the tide runs fast
and the bottom depth varies from 62 to 19 metres.
Consequently it can be very turbulent, given the right, or should I say wrong,
conditions. Today it was in placid mood as the tide carried us speedily
through, but even so there were large whirlpools to be seen and the boat swung
about as she encountered them. As we sailed out into the Sound of Jura, Norman rang, and needed reassuring when we told him
where we were, as Dorus Mor’s
reputation is second only to that of the Gulf of Corryvreckan!
Now heading north, we were
able to sail to the light westerly breeze, and headed for Shuna
Sound. This took us up the East side of Luing, with
the island of Shuna to starboard. Luing
is one of a group of islands heavily mined for their slate in days gone by. The
southern half of the island however is very green and fertile and home to a
number of indigenous cows, which deal well with the rugged terrain.
On our last visit we
anchored on the west side of the Island in a rocky pool near Norman’s home.
This time we chose Ardinamir Bay on the north-east
corner of the island, sheltered from the north by the adjacent island of Torsa. The entrance was only a few metres
wide, between two submerged rocky outcrops, and we motored in very gingerly,
peering over the side to pick our route. ( 12.25) It was an idyllic spot,
surrounded by woods and rugged green hills, with cows standing in the shallows
along the beaches of the bay. The water was so clear we could see the anchor,
and watch starfish and crabs wandering around on the seabed. And the sun was
shining!
We had planned to walk the
mile or so across the island to Norman’s place, but while we were still
pottering around the boat, he arrived in his pick-up. We paddled the rubber
dinghy ashore through underwater forests of kelp, and later enjoyed showers and
a real feast, courtesy of Norman and his friend and neighbour,
Pam.
11 miles,
3hrs 45mins.
Saturday, 31st
July
This was as near perfect a
day as one could hope for – calm, warm and sunny first thing, so that we just
hung about the boat, watching the wading cows, listening, and soaking up sun
and atmosphere. There was a heronry in the trees along the shore, and the odd
buzzard wheeled overhead. Eventually we got ourselves ashore and walked across
this beautiful island to Fladda, the small former
slate-mining settlement where Norman lived, almost opposite the tiny island
shop. We did some shopping, then returned to the boat for a sail with Pam and
Norman.
At 1405 we sailed off the
anchorage in a light westerly, and slipped quietly through the narrow exit,
submerged rocks clearly visible within feet on either side. We sailed downwind
across Shuna Sound, then south-east, picking our way
between islets, and heading towards the large marina at Croab
Haven. Here, dozens of yachts were gathering for a Sail Scotland Week race the
next day; Norman and Pam waved to a couple of boats that they knew, Border
Raider and Magic Mood, another Maurice Griffiths designed boat.
As the afternoon wore on,
we headed back upwind, tacking through the islands again to return to Ardinamir Bay, just needing the engine to renegotiate the
entrance channel before dropping the anchor again through the clear water onto
a patch of sand. (17.25)
We had a date that night;
one of the islanders, John, was having a sixtieth birthday ceilidh
in the Community Hall at Toberonochy, and all the
seventy-odd islanders were invited, including us.
At a island ceilidh everyone brings food and drink, and members of the
community take it in turns to entertain. We heard John’s small grand-daughter
reciting gaelic poetry, and, among other things
danced ‘Strip the Willow’! We returned to the boat at 01.15, with a full moon
to light our way across the still water of the bay.
Sunday 1st
August.
At 1010 we dragged
ourselves away from this little paradise, motored out into Shuna
Sound, and headed south-east for half an hour, leaving the island of Shuna to starboard. Our plan was to visit Oban, then the Island of Mull. The breeze was itself
south-easterly, so we had to round the south-east corner of Shuna
before we were able to sail south-west to pass to the south of Luing, before heading north for Oban.
The Sail Scotland racing was just getting under way, and large numbers of
assorted yachts started to bear down on us from the direction of Croab Haven. First came the classic yachts, then the family
cruisers, then the ‘big boys’.
For a short while we were
able to pretend we were leading the fleet, especially as we were able to round
the southern tip of Luing (1220) and head north,
while they had to round a buoy further out. As we broad-reached north up the
Sound of Luing, in a freshening breeze, we were
surrounded by colourful spinnakers and sleek crews,
everyone enjoying the sunshine but in a competitive sort of way! They chatted
to us as they passed, and it became clear that firstly there were at least 170
yachts in the race, and secondly they were going to Oban
for the night. They were obviously all going to get there before us… We
exchanged glances and changed our (mental) passage plan, deciding to forget Oban in favour of Tobermory. The race fleet was going there too, but wouldn’t
arrive until Wednesday.
We headed across the Firth
of Lorne to the south-east coast of Mull, arriving off the entrance to Loch Spelve at 1600, the wind now light and south-westerly.
At 1715 we rounded Duart Point with its picture-postcard castle, on the
easternmost coast of Mull, then turned north-west up the Sound of Mull, with
the Isle to port and the Morvern peninsular to
starboard. Each Scottish Island has its own character, and Mull is no
exception. It is mountainous, but the valleys are close to sea-level, so it’s
dramatic profile is clear against the sky.
At 1900, with Loch Aline to starboard, we motored to counteract an adverse
tide and light conditions – we still had twelve miles to go. Within the hour
however, the wind had piped up from the south-east and the ebb had started, so
we were able to roar along goose-winged. Looking back down the Sound, Mull’s mountains were topped with dramatic clouds, turned
pink by the setting sun. Ahead, the first lights of Tobermory
were beginning to show. We were full of anticipation as we had wanted to get to
Tobermory last year and hadn’t made it, and it had
been our main goal for this year.
Calve Island lies across
the entrance to Tobermory’s bay, making it sheltered
and lagoon-like. Had we arrived on the first of the ebb we could have entered
south of the island, but it’s a ‘local knowledge’ type of entrance, so we
carried on past Calve Island, belting along in a rising wind, and at 2100 we
rounded its northern end on a storming beam reach. Brian’s brother Graham
phoned just then, so he got a running commentary on our precipitous arrival!
Having motorised and doused the wild sails we cruised
around the sea-front but couldn’t spot any free visitor’s moorings, so picked
one up on the west side of the harbour under a steep
wooded slope, away from the public eye, but with a fine view of the colourful waterfront. (2140)
With a strong feeling of
satisfaction we sat in the cockpit, boat stew bubbling on the stove, and
watched night fall on Tobermory.
38 miles, 11.5 hours
Monday 2nd
August
The forecast the next day,
SE5-6, with a Strong Wind Warning in place, gave us the excuse we needed to
stay in port for the day. We dinghied ashore and
window-shopped our way along the picturesque sea-front, where the merchandise
(and prices) appeared geared to wealthy American tourists. We visited the much
more parochial local museum and indulged in coffee in the Chocolate Shop,
before coming down to earth in the co-op. When we returned to the boat with the
shopping, Spirit of Cumbrae was moored nearby,
and her skipper rowed across for a chat. Later we returned ashore and climbed
into the hinterland. It was sunny and warm in spite of the breeze and the views
were breathtaking, although we couldn’t see the Atlantic from there. Our return
to the quayside coincided with the arrival of a mobile chip-shop. Bliss!
With Brian’s daughter
getting married on the 13th August, it was now high time to head
south. With a decent forecast we could sail back down the west coast of
Tuesday 3rd August, Tobermory
Doing our homework for an
anti-clockwork circumnavigation of Mull, we found ourselves short of the
necessary chart (must have left that one at home…) The Tobermory
bookshop sold charts, but in our experience the local chart is often sold out,
especially in August. At 08.30 that morning we motored across to a waiting
pontoon to fill up with water, and meanwhile kept our binocs
trained on the bookshop. The moment the lights went on Brian beetled off, and
luckily for us the required chart was in stock. The urgency was to do with
catching the last of the north running tide up the Sound of Mull, and also the
pressure of time, with ten days to go before Brian’s daughter got married in
The forecast for this day,
hopefully the climax of our cruise, was for SW v NW 3 or 4, increasing 5 later,
rain followed by thundery showers, visibility
moderate to poor, improving, sea state slight to moderate. Not brilliant, but
not terrible either….
Brian had made contact with
the crew of a 24ft J24 class boat, Sandpiper from
At this point also we lost
our south-easterly, to be replaced by a light
westerly, so on went the engine, closely followed by Sandpiper’s outboard motor
(1050). In a slight sea, we set a course WSW for Caliach
Point, seven miles distant and not in sight, after which we would be able to
head south. Five minutes later, looking astern, we spotted a large sea-creature
heading back down the Sound of Mull on the tide, now running south. It was
probably a whale, but too far away to identify. Meanwhile we were having
frequent sightings of porpoise, all heading after the whale. Must have been
something good down there!
At 1140 we rounded Quinish Point, and five minutes later passed to seaward of Sgeir Mhor, which translates as
Big Rock, which it was, half a mile off the coast. At this stage it wasn’t too
foggy… Half an hour later, however, as we rounded Caliach
Point in noticeable overfalls, the fog descended, and
the log reads, “Oh Dear.” Here we were, our big day navigating the fabulous
west coast of Mull, and for all we could see we may as well have been off the
coast of
But we weren’t! We were
crossing
Brian has long wanted to
visit Staffa, the island famous for Fingal’s Cave, so, with help from the GPS, we set a
southerly course, and within the hour,
At 1505, having seen
nothing but sea and fog for over half an hour, Tiree
at last became visible, some 15 miles to starboard. Visibility was improving by
the minute. Five minutes later we could see Iona, and were reassured to find we
were on course for the
At 1540 we entered the
Sound of Iona – the Ross of Mull to port, rugged and windswept, and
Anchored in the Sound was
the Hebridean Princess, a modest but sturdy cruise
liner with which my two surviving aunts have an affectionate relationship,
having cruised the
An hour after entering the
Sound we were through, and now accurate navigation was called for to pass
through the infamous Torran Rocks, dozens of them,
some visible, some submerged. We also got a whisper of a breeze from the west
and thankfully turned off the engine and sailed for a change.
Sandpiper overtook, taking
a south-easterly course rather than the southerly passage recommended by our
pilot guide. Assuming they knew what they were doing, we followed them (you
might think we would know by now, wouldn’t you, never to assume…) We later
found out they were just guessing, but we both came safely through the Torrans, and set a south-easterly course to pass to the
north of the island of Colonsay, which in view of the
time looked a likely place to spend the night. With another fifteen miles to
go, we soon had to motor-sail to get there at all.
By 1900 were two miles off
the northern end of Colonsay and were picking up
quite a swell from the south-west, albeit a comfortable one. The light was
wonderful as low sun broke through the clouds and bathed the mountains of
It was getting dark as we
finally arrived off the tiny harbour, furled the sails and made fast to the
pier. There were a couple of dedicated yacht berths but they were already fully
occupied by very large yachts, so we made do with lots of fenders against
pilings. Sandpiper lay outside two other yachts.
In the last of the light we
went for a stroll ashore, following the only road up to the only hotel. We met
the Irish, and compared notes on the trip. They were running low on fuel, so
the good breeze forecast for the next day would hopefully save their bacon.
Sheep slept in the ferry terminal car park and around the building. Somewhere
nearby, some young things could be heard enjoying themselves, one of them
rumoured to be Prince Harry! The island is known for its own unique flora and
fauna, but there was no time now to explore – it was heads down, and away at
crack of dawn with the tide. Unfortunately a swell came creeping round the
island in the night and we had quite a bumpy time of it against the pilings. We
should have anchored off and we knew it, but we were too tired….
51 miles,
11.5 hours.
To be concluded