Well yes, I knew this: I have been helping Janet Harber keep up to date details of the waters in which my dinghy trails astern of Whimbrel on her travels around this coast for a great number of years. This help has been provided by many people around the rivers and creeks, including Judy, Janet’s sister, and Judy’s husband before he sadly died. I met the family up at Snape some years ago now, the pleasure was all mine.

East Coast Rivers is a fantastic pilot book to have aboard, it is my only pilot book, apart from annotated charts and what is stored in the grey matter I have aloft…

This new edition comes out on the 60th anniversary of Jack Coote’s first pilot book, which followed in the footsteps of  Irving’s Rivers and Creeks of the Thames Estuary published in 1927 and the earlier East Coast Rivers by Messum published in 1903. Jack’s baby was taken on board by Janet following his sad, yet natural, death. It is a volume I have been familiar with all my life: it was my father’s sailing bible too…

The book will obviously be in stores, chandlers and on web based book sites, however, you can go along and meet the author at Fox’s marina chandlery (Marine & Country) at the marina on the edge of Ipswich overlooking the Orwell.

This is to take place on Tuesday 1st November from 6 pm.

I’m looking forward to my copy and my battered (last) copy can be rested awhile on a shelf. Awhile only, surely, for Like many of my coastal books they’re on and off the shelves often!

I hope you all feel likewise…

Yes, autumn has arrived. Two things tell me this, other than the shortening of the days, and these are the arrival of Brent geese on the Leigh and Canvey Island saltings, and the sudden disappearance of terns.

Autumn offers something else too, but we’ll come to this. Not that you need to feel the nip of autumn to…

A common tern. This one was ‘captured’ in front of the Erith YC a few weeks ago.

I was out sailing my patch last week, the 20th I think, and did not see any Brent geese. It was on that sail that I noticed the absence of the terns which are often seen around the outer stretch of Smallgains Creek. I learnt from a contact that the Brents came in on that day, but probably later on the tide.

Sailing out of Leigh Creek.

My trip had taken me up Leigh Creek up to the Leigh Motor Boat Club where I ‘spun’ the boat by nosing against the mud edge, with someone ashore shouting that I was in shallow water … I knew this! The day was what can only be described as absolutely gorgeous for the day before the autumn equinox.

The following day, escaping from my electronic slate, I popped out for another sail. This took me up Benfleet Creek turning before the BYC moorings. On the way out past the eastern end of Two Tree Island, I spotted the unmistakable movements of little groups of Brent nosing amongst the marsh edges. The saltings hasn’t yet settled into autumn yet, but soon those colours will come too.

Brent nosing the marsh edges…

Leaving these behind I spotted in the distance, away to the east towards Southend Pier low ‘black clouds’ against the generally grey sky. ‘Brent!’ I exclaimed. Several groups landed over the flats off Leigh, to the north of the Ray Channel, darkening the surface. Some almost immediately took off, setting all the others on the move again. The arrow-like flight headed for Hadleigh Ray, saltings and grass lands, food clearly needed.

Autumn arrived…

Crew enjoying the conviviality of Whimbrel’s cockpit… But, note the hats: it’s autumn!

The arrival of autumn is not a signal to give up sailing though … either for a few hours on the tide, and over night or a weekend. Last weekend (Jolly Boys) saw me taking my ‘kid’ brother – he’s 55 soon – and my friend Graham, an old hand on these jaunts. We enjoyed a pleasing sail over to Queenborough, initially thinking it would have to be a motoring trip: the Thames was like glass. Then a breeze sprang up and before we knew it we were bowling along at 5 knots obliquely across the Thames channel. Cutting inside the Fort on the nose of Grain we made a single tack to clear the entrance into the West Swale … stowing sails and mooring a few minutes after high water. Wow, what a sail.

The sun was setting as we set off ashore around 1830…

During the summer I had been awarded the position of Star Letter by the editor of Yachting Monthly with a prize sponsored by Cellartrends.co.uk with a bottle of Pusser’s Rum. Rubbish is an important issue, as is the care of our sailing environment, and I take issue with purposeful environmental vandalism.

Letter about waste being deposited into the sea by pleasure sailors.

Returning aboard after a convivial meal – coffee, liberally laced with Pusser’s Rum, to warm the cockles!

The next day we enjoyed a sparkling sail down to Faversham Spit round the Swale before sailing to the South Deep. I’d booked a berth at Swale Marina: The Ship does a wonderful plate of fish and chips, amongst much more. The evening was finished off with a further Queen’s ration!

We slipped away from Conyer a little before high water. Although it was a little after 0700 the saltings was devoid of  bird activity – too early for them perhaps.

Sunday’s sunrise over the disused brickworks site alongside Conyer Creek.

The day was decidedly autumnal. Bright start before clouding over. Some rain was talked about by the forecast lady on BBC Essex, but the Gods were smiling: we had none. Before long long periods of sunshine bathed our passage home…

Ah yes, I can’t wait to get out there again.

Many years ago during a passage up the Thames I detoured into Dartford Creek but only as far as the barrier. At the time I hadn’t any information as to what lay beyond (The Mate was surprised at the time when we turned about and sailed away…), but I’ve long harboured a wish to go further!

Sailing in on my earlier ‘visit’ in 2011…

For several years now a fledgling trust concerned with the tidal sections of the Darent and Cray (Dartford and Crayford creeks) has been operating through a facebook site.

See: https://www.facebook.com/groups/1493013297641232/

This has primarily been aimed at rejuvenating the locks below Dartford and bringing boating back to the town, something planners have foresaken. Although this interests me, historically and for its good, my interest lay with the other creek up to Crayford: this could be visited by masted yachts whilst Dartford cannot due to a low bridge traversing the creek just avove the juncture of the two creeks.

Disused barge wharf just above the Bob Dunn Way road bridge – a little way upstream near distant warehouse is a filled in drydock where concrete sections were built for the building of the WW2 Mulberry Harbour.

Crayford has fine wharves which lay dormant. With vision and access (via a boatyard perhaps) it could be useful for local boating and visitors. The drawback is the barrier. When built it was given a limited air draft of around 12.5m at MHWS. My air draft gives me a mathematical 2m breathing space…

The tidal headwaters have a fascinating industrial history going back several centuries, however, as time passed by and coastal shipping increased in size the practicality of the ports lessened. Industries included, bricks, milling, manufacturing, timber, explosives, ‘chemicals’ and barge building to name but just a few.

Dartford Lock.

Up in Dartford the lock was abandined and left open. There are plans to have it brought back into use but tides flow arcoss the top at times their top height being lower than the ‘shut point’ for the barrier. These would need to be raised sufficiently, presumeably. The road bridge is the biggest bugbear: the height is limited indeed.

Boats are going up though and berthing above the lock. Currently this on a cleared patch of bank where silting up has left a flattish reed covered edge. For sensible use this would need to be dredged – this costs money…

‘Our’ wharf… 

On a road visit to the place I intended to take Whimbrel and her Mate, we spied out the terrain and spoke to several operators on the wharf tops. Dugdale, a hard core ‘milling’ operator who has his business atop the lowest wharf said, ‘Yes, come up whenever you like … just let us know…’ The manager calls me, Nick the sailor…

Since our road visit a couple of craft have been up to Crayford and stayed. One a yacht at a wharf fron just below a railway viaduct – ‘It was somewhat noisy…’ the chap told me. Another, a inland waterways narrow boat went into a disused mill basin above the rail line. This is all treed to one side as the fresh water Kentish stream trickles by. The other has useful wharf fronts with no ‘public’ access.

Anyway, there we were just a week or so ago, at Erith. We’d tacked down against a fresh easterly the previous day after an enjoyable week esconced within Limehaous Basin.  Departing with the tide on the flood we sailed gently down to the creek#’s entrance. Outside seals basked upon the mud banks and a male (we thought) swam up and down patrolling the edges. It kept coming up along our side, looking and ‘blowing’ at us…

I’m watching you…

We went in with the tide at 4.3m – Tilbury at 0900 – under main and jib. Once within the creek, I dropped the main to ensure some proportion of astern control if needed at barrier (Even though I’d done thre maths!).  It was a sureal experience as we crept past the barrier into a different world – truly ‘betwixt land and sea’ taking a cue from a story in Salt Marsh & Mud, one of my earlier books.

Entering…

& under…

And so into Crayford Creek…

We were in a world of land birds mixed with more usual critters. Duck and diving grebe abounded. Overhead, skylarks warbled. The world was a-twitter with sweet song. There were some fast flashes across the creek top too… Soon we turned into Crayford Creek – I had a map taken from the PLA map of the creek with a ‘path’ drawn in from looking at google, but the ‘blue’ line on our GPS map we have proved to be extremely accurate. Deviate and it shallowed!

The reeds closed in around us…

The Mate maintained a ‘watch’ forward… The Stanham River trickles in to the portside, here there was once a barge yard.

Passing the entrance to the Stanham River I went to starboard into the last reach up to Dugdale’s Wharf, once the domain of Rutters, brick makers, barge owners and builders. Ahead I could soon see ‘our’ wharf with the paraphenalia of concrete crushing on its top – it was bank holiday Monday, so all would be quiet! Sail was finally disposed of as the land influences mad sailing impossible…

‘Okay’ I called, ‘dump the jib…’

The stream had all but started to run against us. We found the same when toddling up to Alresford Mill off the River Colne a couple of seasons ago. The tide had an hour and half to run (lift) too… Passing the waharf, well it is a long run on past the rail viaduct, we nosed into the reeds and turned round.

Soon after berthing in total quietness: all was stood down for the holiday, I was away in the dinghy to search out the tidal head waters

Whimbrel safely moored.

Crayford’s last mill house being dismantled… Beneath it sit the old tidal sluices.

During the early evening one of the ‘trusts’ key members popped by, on the opposite bank, to say hello. This chap has for a number of years been driving the Northfleet Harbour Trust where MDL have been carrying out an appraisal for Kent County Council on the reopening of the old harbour as a marina, an interesting proposition indeed…

See: https://www.facebook.com/search/top/?q=northfleet%20harbour%20restoration%20trust

and, http://www.northfleetharbour.org.uk/

Later, sitting in the cocpit, a brightly coloured flash shot across the water’s surface and seemed to career into a distant wharf crevice. Surely a kingfisher…

The next morning, as soon as the boat had floated and after saying farewell to our host, now back at work, but surprisingly quiet we thought, we departed, under sail with the engine ticking over.

Through the barrier under full sail…

Departing the creek.

Some hours later after a beat down river (apart from round past Tilbury) we sailed serenely up the Ray to moor on the Island yacht club’s waiting buoy where we spent a pleasant night to punctuate our summer sailing…

Sunrise on our last morning. This picture is the essence of our sailing summer – one of the best we can remember, and boy, we’ve had so many during this past decade…

During my wandering around the Thames below the Pool of London and beyond along its edges, a few derelicts have been seen. There are more than would imagine. The reason is perplexing: I understood the authorities normally ‘ordered’ the removal of a sunken vessel.

I suppose if a ship is just abandoned and the owner just disappears then there is little an authority can do other than remove themselves or just leave, perhaps to another who wants a dedicated berth.

Erith water front.

Down at Erith, by the yacht club, the edge of Crayford marshes are littered with abandoned lighters, work vessels and small craft rotting in the reeds growing here. In the reeds behind the fine looking club headquarters rests the sprittie Redshank, whilst along the shore sits the gnarled and rotting hull of the Lady Mary – once used as a store by the club.

The Lady Mary at Erith.

Once this area is left behind, apart from the visible signs of a vessels bottom on the foreshore in Gallions Reach there is nothing until the Thames flows by Isleworth and Brentford. Both places are home to house boats of various sorts, but at Brentford along the waterside running inside the Ait there are a plethora of vessels that have a ‘hang-dog’ look. Some clearly all but abandoned.

Looking down upon an abandoned little motor boat … it is at least supporting an array of plant life!

Along this front were vessels partially cut up with bottoms and jagged bottom structure remaining – leaving a useless berth. Towards the Brent’s meeting of the Thames sits an island of greenery.

Trilby and another abandoned ship – the stern could just be made out in the ‘darkness’…

It all looks normal enough with a vessel sitting outside what looks to be an overgrown wharf. The vessel has its hatches falling in – clearly long abandoned. But looking closely a the ‘island’ I spotted what looked like the bow badge of a barge behind a layer of buddleia.

The Trilby at Brentford.

This barge was built in 1896 in Rochester (Strood) and later rebuilt as a larger craft in 1947. I could make out what looked to be a big steel ‘plate’ rudder. Her reincarnation was as a motor barge. She ceased trading as late as 1982 – and was apparently abandoned here some twenty years ago. You can find her up by Brentford Watermans Centre…

That wasn’t all. Upriver by the lower Richmond Bridge sits the partially dismantled hull of a riveted inland waterways barge…

Wreck near Richmond lower bridge.

Passing through St Katherine Docks I spotted a sailing barge looking a little sad. In fact there are two here. Bothe need heaps of money throwing at them. One though has that little sign that all isn’t well…

T

Is the May on the way too…

The sailing barge May, once a glorious sight upon the estuary, is sprouting buddleia… A few spritsail barges have sunk in these docks over past decades. This doesn’t look good!

On the radio the other day someone who tars all with the same brush, blithely announced that the rich could spend their money on their yachts in a discussion about those that ‘have’ and those that have not.

Now, yes, there are ‘rich’ yachting folk. But, in the main, we yachting folks are normal hard working people (or have worked in the case of the retired amongst us) who have scrimped and saved to buy that boat that we have fallen in love with. Whilst others, these could be football supporters, spend huge sums chasing their favourite teams around the country hollering and bawling for their ‘boys’ (or girls too for that matter) to ‘kick ass’! These people aren’t stereotyped as being rich…

From a tidy looking unpretentious motorboat a lady readies her little lug-sail dinghy…

So, being down on the Swale with intentions to follow the Kent Sail Associations, barge, smack, traditional yacht, modern and dinghy matches, my thoughts fell on these vessels – all lovingly maintained and cared for by ordinary working people – a man and wife, a chap with a caring girlfriend, a single lady who loves the joys of boat owner ship and the companionship of the sea…

The craft in the foreground is the lovely Nancy Grey, a little barge yacht built back in the 1930s, lovingly maintained.

Instead of spending a pot of money on football match tickets, this owner spends it on paint, hopefully helping the UK paints industry.

Leaving aside my ‘gripe’ at the BBC and its flunkies who flock to chatter, I’ll give a taste of what the ‘man in the street’ does for the reservation of our maritime traditions…

The Twee Gerzusters, a ‘Dutchman’ now registered in London is home to a family.

They  vessel is kept in very good order and often comes to the Swale to enjoy the event. They came home late, sailing the course, long after all others. Grand!

This is a grand little boat originally from N. America – lovingly restored by an owner to grace our waters…

Small can be beautiful – this little run-about was for the scrap heap, but her owner, always brimming with enthusiasm, fixed a few things and now youngsters are enjoying it too…

The Edwardian yacht Bonito has been carefully maintained by a family over many years.

Two little craft giving owners a salty taste as they harness wind and water to garner that little extra…

Yes, these are a little bigger, but, no less, both were restored by the owners and their families, saving two historic cargo carriers from an age before thundering lorries…

Ah yes, the Twee Gerzusters again, finishing that sailing match.

I don’t suppose any of the boats seen here have what could be termed rich’ owners – they’re lovers of the sea, believe in maintaining something fit to hand on to the next generation, doing something for this little corner of our country…

I can’t remember who you were on ‘that’ BBC Radio 4 programme but you slandered the ordinary working person who just loves a boat.

I take my hat off to all these ordinary people, and they exist all over our country. Bless them!

While in Chatham maritime Marina I took the opportunity to seek out the Snark.

I could hear that blasting was taking place – a reminder harking back to my ship life, once known, never forgotten. So as my Mate and I were also wanting to visit the new exhibition of the Nemur, or at least, the 10% found under the floor of the Wheelwrights Shed some years ago. At long last after some protracted investigations and preparation for display, it is now housed where found…

Anyway, after that I went to the Turks Boatyard doorway again and went in calling out, ‘Hello’ loudly for it had all gone quiet… A man, grinning and friendly, came towards me from the far distance. He turned out t be the owner of the Snark, Paul Jenkins.

The Snark began life as the barge used for filming of Atonement. A film largely about Dunkirk. The beach scenes were filmed on Redcar beach on the NE Coast. She was built by past owners of the British King… This vessel spent many years in a the yard of an industrial estate at Walton-on-the-Naze, Essex. It was a strange sight when sailing up the Walton Channel for sure…

The bow of the Snark… Note the ‘snout’, this is for the anchor required for yacht classification. 

The owner chatted keenly about the vessel. His enthusiasm is infectious! I was invited aboard.

View looking down deck towards aft. The hatches are closed to comply with yacht regs…

A view looking forward…

The steering gear and associated parts are original from the British King … so clearly this is a rebuild!

The transom.

The rudder has been designed to be lifting in that it swivels down for sea work. In the raised position it is the same shape as a traditional barge rudder…

The rudder blade sitting upon one of the part completed leeboards.

View showing the barge’s fine runs.

The Snark is actually a Fay design from 1898(?) I believe Fay barges were built in Southampton. Incidentally the destination and base for the barge.

I’m told that the barge will be used as a cruising home as well as possible film work. The vessel will be fully coded. Launch date is close. She will have had her first coats of paint today. Once afloat after being lifted into the River Medway by a huge crane she’ll go back into the Turks yard’s dock…

The spars are all ready for fitting – these are all wooden. The sprit is a length of Scots Pine sourced from Finland…

Paul, Snark’s owner, welcomed me to return for her launching, in around two weeks…

I shall do my utmost to be there, probably out on the river, or I’ll pop by again from the marina…

Away on my travels again, as if oft the case in the summer period, I’ve ben coming across a few clinker strakes around and about. Some have been in pretty good shape, others not so, and even ‘stroked’ a plastic variety seen up atop Iron Wharf…

At Iron Wharf is a Finesse 21, Harmony, a boat on the East Coast Finesse Group boat list. The boat is up for sale. Her owner had intimated as much some while ago, but the yard manager, Toby (owner of the Ironsides) said she’s up for any offers.

This lovely Finesse 21 is open to offers. She needs a fair amount of work, but has a newish engine in her.

A stepped coach roof was put on some years ago during a refit. The boat has the very narrow edge decks, unlike later sisters of the class.

Deck edges have gone and will need renewing…

For someone who likes a challenge, a good vessel could be yours and she’ll be sailing after a little TLCA.

While around the Iron Wharf yard I ‘fell over’ a fine looking GRP day sailer which is for sale. She’s a Lune Whammel and is marked up at £1600…

A sweet sleek looking thing…

Just along from Iron Wharf one ‘trips’ over he rails and slipway car of Alan Staley’s yard. On the wharf was, I believe Alan’s own, day sailer ready for the water. Alan usually brings her out into the Swale during the Swale Barge, Smack & Traditional Regatta which takes place this year on Sat 6th August (Check date…).Now this is undoubtedly a workman’s boat and she shows this off in her own graceful way.

A workman-like clinker boat. Alan recently scarphed  in a new piece into stem…

Along the Swale, in Conyer, I came across a little tender. Oh she’s a sweet little thing and I’ve fallen in love…

Three views of such a delight…

She’s named Puffin and has a ‘puffin’ flag … I’ll show my good Mate later…

Lastly I saw a lovely little pocket cruiser on a close reach going west along the Swale channel yesterday … what a little cracker.

She’s clinker in a way: she’s of the stitch’n’glue class with wide strakes…

Ah, surely I’ll spot more as the summer goes on… I hope so!

Some while ago I had a little rant about plastic and rubbish ‘thrown’ overboard by fellow yachting folk. I was so incensed that I dropped the editor of Yachting Monthly a letter. They responded, which is more that the commodore of my own yacht club, as far as I am aware…

See:  http://nickardley.com/rubbish-ditch-crawler-can-only-agree/

Currently I’m sailing with a sibling and two friends and all have been astounded by the amount of ‘plastic’ littering the Thames estuary seen on our passage yesterday to Harty Ferry. I begs belief, but there we are. Bottles, balloons, bags, packages galore.

It’s sad…

Photograph of the YM letter…

Whilst sailing aboard the Eda Frandsen around the Scottish western isles recently I spotted in Plockton harbour a pretty clinker craft which I gauged to be around 15′ when discussing them with another of our group.

The craft appeared to have a ‘fifer’ type stem with a tight kicked up wine-glass raked transom. The boats are traditionally clinker built. They looked sweet yet purposeful. The slender and raked mast mirroring the transom seemed incongruous within the robustness of the boat and sail area looked to be fairly impressive.

Some of the craft I saw in Plockton harbour – Plockton was a ‘manufactured’ village in that it was built to better the living conditions of fisher folk. It is now a gentrified place that appears more English than English. It is a beautiful spot to sail into, that’s for sure.

I talked to the she skipper/owner of ‘Eda’ and he told me that most were built on Skye at Portree by ‘Mackenzie’. I vowed to investigate further.

A recently painted one sitting over on the fore shore.

During a search for Mackenzie boats I found two interesting pieces of information, see:

http://www.am-bata.org/upld/files/PlocktonSmallBoat.pdf

and,

http://www.plockton-sailing.com/index.asp?pageid=462739

The craft are strict one-designs. 15 feet in length with a 16.5m sail area. The oldest sailing is over a 100 years old. Many were indeed built by John MacKenzie of Portree on the Isle of Skye.

A view showing her underwater shape and sections.

The boats are long keeled and do not have a centre board. Within the Plockton small boat pdf are a number of miscellaneous minutes and in a motion of 1937 the question of allowing centre plates is dismissed as irrelevant!

Here we are nigh on 80 years later and they’re still gracing the water’s of Plockton, and other places.

Long live such craft…

Ah well, yes, I have been unfaithful to Whimbrel again!

After my trip with my good Mate sailing in the Western Isles of Scotland last summer, my sister, who followed me into this world as close behind as is almost possible, decided to get a ‘family’ group together to celebrate her 60th year too. So, there we were, just a year and a week after our first jaunt back in Mallaig ready to jon the 48′ gaff cutter Eda Frandsen.

We all met in Mallaig after coming from several directions ‘in the south’ on a glorious afternoon. It looked tropical, the water close by clear beneath a sky ‘littered’ only by the vapour streams of high flying jets. It was perfect. And there was our ship, resplendent upon a sea of such blueness.

The Eda Frandsen.

After the Skipper’s briefing we went below to chuck our gear upon bunks and collect life jackets. We were soon under way, bound for an anchorage close by Arisaig.

My Mate amongst a hauling team … 2 – 6 … and the staysail is set!

On that first afternoon we even had the topsail aloft helping ‘Eda’ along.

The winds for the week were generally from the southerly direction with them supposedly due to be more from the west later. The Skipper had suggested Canna then up the Sound of Sleat to explore the mainland coast inside Skye – who were we to greatly argue. So, on day 2 off we set bound for Canna. It began a little grey… Spirits were not dampened!

Whimbrel’s skipper running between Eigg and Rum.

I was on the wheel a very long time as the crew began to shelter from a fine scotch mist, persistent and annoying to those previously lounging with books! Then there was an exultant shout, ‘Look!’ And yes, the elusive dolphins seen last year from only a distance were all around us, diving, cavorting, rolling their tummies and from off our side, ‘standing’ on their tails swivelling their heads back and forth in an almost human way, all awhile ‘chattering’… Around the ship were ten bodies photographing and exclaiming, leaving me to the solitude of helming this fine vessel…

Eventually I was relieved by a ‘bored’ crew member – my sister, I believe, allowing me a chance to see the wonderful creatures!

A dolphin under Eda’s bowsprit.

Going across the top of Rum I had summoned help to get the main in and head sails for we fell onto a reach. Later, with my sister caressing the ship’s spokes, the ship healed to some strong gusts as we crossed open water towards Canna. Boy didn’t our ship love it! Last year we tacked lazily into this harbour, but on this occasion we reached in hard on the wind dropping the head sails as we went. The drizzle had continued off and on, but the dramatic colours weren’t tarnished and my Mate was in heaven!

A few of us went for a short walk ashore and enjoyed tea or a glass in the wonderful bistro favoured so much by sailing visitors . And yes the honesty shop ‘raided’ by an unscrupulous visitor during summer last year – it hit national news – was still open to trusting purchases. Well done people of Canna…

The next day we were bound for Ornsay on Skye. But before this we all went off for a yomp across Sanday – a little island connected to Canna by a causeway – to go in search of puffins… We found none, although they were spotted far away on Puffin Stack, well out of reach.

Puffin Stack…

During the walk a sickening level of plastic waste was seen along the edges of beaches, up above on storm lines and far ‘inland’ blown by fercious gales. It was a sobering sight and made me quite angry. It has to be said, the majority were plastic drink bottles and paraphenalia of the fishing industry. The Skipper showed us a float he found (His Mate collects them and dots them around their Cornish garden…) which hailed from from Portugal…

Rubbish in a cove on Canna. The sea cannot be seen in the view, however, its cargo can…

We left Canna under broken cloud with sunny spells, bound for the Point of Sleat, sailing serenely beneath the heights of the Cullin ‘hills’ on Skye, thence up the Sound of Sleat to Ornsay. This is a little island which produces a gorgeous natural harbour along the Skye shore. I was helming coming up the sound and James, the skipper, left me to it as he directed the crew to tacking the sails… I sailed the good ship up to her anchorage. Wonderful. My Mate beamed at me as I beamed back!

My view of the Point of Sleat from the helm, not given up until we anchored… My sister had been ‘hovering’ so I gave up my camera to give her a job!

The Eda Frandsen in Ornsay Harbour. We were off to the pub!

There was more wind on the morning of day four but sail wasn’t set until past what are termed as the ‘narrows’ between the Sound of Sleat and the Kyle of Loch Alsh. Clearing, this fast flowing point at slack ‘tide’ a reef was put in the mainsail. We were bound for Sheildaig in Loch Torridon, up under the Bridge to Skye, past the islands of Rasay and Rona. Rona looks like a chunk of space rock floating upon the sea… It looks desolate, yet once had a sizeable population.

With scuppers awash we tramped across Loch Alsh and under the bridge…

Eda in Sheildaig harbour.

Day five dawned with a little sadness for we were nearing our week’s end … but with two days of sailing before us, spirits regained heights…

Crab pots had been set by our crew and before leaving Sheildaig we motored Eda over to them and did a bit of fishing … hooking the float and bringing aboard our catch. Several crabs were thrown back to live on for another day! A cluster of good sized ones later made a gorgeous fresh starter to dinner – the food cooked by the ship’s able cook was superb throughout!

We sailed until close into the bottom of  Rona and then dropped head sails to motor sail down Rona until a slant could be obtained for a reach into Loch Carron past the Crowlin Islands. It was a glorious day, eventually.

Knot training on the way… And crab picking too!

My view from the helm (again) sailing into Plocton Harbour, just before rounding up to anchor.

Stowing the mainsail.

The delightful harbour in all its glory…

Sunset…

Day six, our last full day and last sailing day! We set the mainsail and motor sailed into Loch Alsh under the bridge again. The skipper was catching the southwards flow through the narrows where we hit 11.2 knots!

Approaching the bridge…

Clearing the narrows all sail was set in a lovely breeze. This ws the first time we had the main, topsail, staysail, jib and jib topsail set – wonderful! Various of us had turns at the helm. We were tacking too and James our skipper talked at first about the order: with the jib topsail up, this was the important sail!

All up…

A view from the water…

We tacked south, tack after tack, out lasting all the sprightly plastic craft around us, showing what  well sailed old timer could do! James pointed out the yard where the Eda Frandsen was rebuilt after a disastrous fire at the yard, burning out the inside of the ship.

The yard run by the Robertson family, rescuers of our ship.

It was with a touch of sadness the sails came down as we approached Inverie, in Loch Nevis, under power for the wind had evaporated out in the sound. The sails were bagged up for the last time. The mainsail was dressed with her cover and lovingly patted… Below, bags were tidied and sorted… Then the skipper called, ‘all ashore…’ Dinner was in the oven, slowly cooking, gorgeous juices mingling and marinading…

The whole crew ashore enjoying a sun basked ale… The pub is the remotest pub in mainland Britain.

Champagne on deck before supper – to celebrate my kid sister’s 60th!

The last day dawned. The Skipper and the mate, a lovely young man who had recently completed a training course aboard the Reminder with the Sea-change Trust. training, got us under-way, whilst we got on with breakfast and completed final sorting … by 0930 we were alongside and it was time to depart…

Leaving Inverie and Loch Nevis behind…

It was a wonderful sailing holiday. My Mate and I were off to Northumberland for four days of pampering and pottering… All the ‘crew’ were doing something on the way home, extending a taste of Scotland.

Map taken from Western Isles info sheet with our route pecked in…

We covered 182 miles, largely under sail. James, said, ‘It was a privilege to have had us aboard. He’d never had so little to do and never been able to leave his crew alone for so long or sailed so much. I enjoyed it…’

I felt humbled…