Ditch-crawler goes astray in the Western Isles of Scotland, again…

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.

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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.

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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.

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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!

 

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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!

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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.

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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…

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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!

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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!

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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.

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

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Eda in Sheildaig harbour.

 

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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.

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Knot training on the way… And crab picking too!

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

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Stowing the mainsail.

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The delightful harbour in all its glory…

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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!

 

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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!

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All up…

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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.

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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…

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

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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…

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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.

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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…

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