Raasay and Rhum in Lossiemouth

 

Raasay and Rhum in Lossiemouth - I wonder how long it is since they have been parked up together?

Fifty years?

The Complete Trip

 

I'll post more about this in due course. I also have a Flickr album of photos which I will be adding to as I get a bit more organised.

There were some cringy moments:  I think my anchor dragged in Shetland more often than it has in the last five years; an awkward entry and exit from Out Skerries, including two close encounters with grounding (one with a bump or two, one without); clumsily rafting up to Saecwen in Lerwick, after our trip round Bressay.

Somewhere between brushing these off and allowing them to terrify me there is some 'zone of proximal development' which I may live long enough to benefit from.

Portmahomack to Lossiemouth

 

Last hop. If I had left PM earlier, I'd have caught the tide at Lossiemouth - My last chance to get in would have been about 11:30 am.

Instead, I had to anchor off for a few hours and go in a little after five pm.

That's what the notch down towards Covsea is - I got in behind the Skerries near a sandy beach, packed up some stuff, got ready to tie up, and had a snooze. Snoozes rank highly among my sailing pass-times - a fact that is probably related to my failure to properly think about tide times.

The late entry meant that I only had one option for getting home on Friday night - a bus that left Lossiemouth at about 9:00 pm to get a train that arrived in Aberdeen at a quarter to midnight. Which was ten minutes after the last bus that could have taken me home.

A taxi would have been expensive, but acceptable. Except that there weren't any as it was Friday night, so I had to walk home, trailing my wheely bag.

Carrie came to meet me halfway. In case I was wandering aimlessly in a daze ... She would have given me a lift, but the car had a flat battery. A rare event, perfectly timed.

The next morning I spent some time getting the car started - this was a bit of a comedy involving a battery from the cellar that I thought was charged, some jump leads that didn't work (!), a neighbour, a battery charger, a prophylactic purchase of a new battery which had to be returned ... Oh, anyway. A return trip to Lossiemouth brought it all back into service.

Why did I go back to Lossiemouth?

To take the rest of my stuff off the boat. And to bring home the Aries.

I don't think I mentioned this, but early in the trip, I realised that the vertical bearing for the servo-paddle was a bit sticky, rendering the whole unit useless. I stared at it in resentment more than once while trying to fix the tiller pin problem off Fair Isle.

Anyone who has tried to remove an Aries unit from a floating boat will know the level of sheer incoherent bloody-minded determination this requires. This was amply supplied by my sense that the sooner I could get it fixed, the sooner I could forget how annoying it was carrying it around as deadweight for four weeks.

I also dropped one of the mounting bolts in the marina. It could, of course, have been much worse ... 

Sinclair's Bay to Portmahomack

 

Another quite long slog - the straight line says it all - under power until the last couple of hours or so, when the East wind appeared. It was blowing 15-18 knots by the time I anchored in Portmahomack. I was worried about the shelter, but it's fine - less rolly than Sinclair's Bay.

52 miles in about 10 hours.

Kirkwall to Sinclair's Bay

 

I spend two nights in Kirkwall and got showered, clothes washed, groceries, fuel, and water. And slept some more.

Today (Tuesday) I sailed from Kirkwall to Sinclair's Bay. Homeward march.

The weather was good - a little rain early in the day, but bright otherwise. The wind was steady, mostly 12-16 knots from the NW.

Unfortunately, there is still some residual swell from the NE weather a few days ago (the wind that took me from Fair Isle to Kirkwall). Sinlcair's Bay is a bit rolly as a consequence. It should reduce overnight. It won't stop me from sleeping.

I may go to Portmahomack tomorrow, and visit Tain on Thursday. Then I'll head back to Lossiemouth on Friday.

Fair Isle to Kirkwall

The long straight line makes this look very straightforward, but if you could Zoom in on the first hour or so, you would see this:

This is what is called a 'bad start'. As I left North Haven in Fair Isle the autohelm actuator suddenly jumped off the tiller - I thought at first that I must have knocked it off, but then I realised that the little pin on the tiller that it engaged with had disappeared. I didn't stop to take a picture, but here is what it looked like after my jury-rigged repair:

There wasn't a lot of wind, but there was an awkward complex wave pattern that made the boat roll heavily and pitch a lot. I was sure that the original pin must have fallen somewhere I could find it, so I spent half an hour in those conditions getting everything off the floor of the cockpit so that I could lift the grating and look under it. It wasn't there. I'm also not sure now whether I could have re-used it if I had found it, but ...

I thought about taking the boat back into North Haven, but decided instead to attempt a repair where I was. I couldn't keep the boat on a course, so let it meander round in circles with the engine at low revs. I had to dig out some potential bolts from a deep repository of spares in the fo'c'sle, but then discovered that the hole had a sharp edge - possibly the remains of a thread (whose failure explained the loss of the pin?) and I had to open it up a bit before I could reuse it. Finding tools and doing this was nasty, in the conditions.

Unpleasant motion can be tiring, and while there is more risk of injury or exhaustion (or perhaps sea-sickness), the motion itself is not intrinsically dangerous. It can be hard to convince your amygdala of this, however ..

The final arrangement worked, but it took me an hour or more to arrive at it. I'll have to refashion it properly while I'm in Kirkwall. The rest of the trip went fairly well.

The early part was less windy than I'd hoped, and the wind moved up to a beam reach part way through. I'd hoped to run down to Kirkwall, or at least to Bay of Holland (on Stronsay) under the headsail. Once the wind moved forward, though, I had to raise the main. Then the wind rose a bit, sometimes to 16-18 knots, which made the sailing a bit more aggressive but also speeded me up a lot. The extra speed put Kirkwall within reach, and the prospect of showers, laundry, and shopping drew me on.

Overall, I did about 60 miles in almost exactly twelve hours, including the messing around off Fair Isle, which is fairly creditable. Much of it was reaching, and then close-reaching, at five and a half to six and a half knots, which translated to more than seven over the ground (with the help of the tide).

I was glad to get here, though.

Aith Voe to Fair Isle

 

On Friday I sailed from Aith Voe to Fair Isle. It was a slow start with very ligth winds until I got south of Bressay, and then things picked up and I had a long run at 7 knots over the ground. Overall (including the start) I did about 48  miles in 9 hours.

Today (Saturday) I took advantage of the good weather and light winds (which wouldn't have taken me anywhere fast) to explore Fair Isle again. I'll post photos presently.

Tomorrow I'm heading for Pierowall - another 40 mile sail, but with brisk winds throughout from the NE at first, and more Northerly later. I'll stay in Pierowall (or environs) for a day and then start heading south. Wind directions are looking changeable, which will affect progress. The tides through Orkney are also very strong, so I'll need to time moves carefully.

Fair Isle is physically stunning. This is the third time I've been here, but I could easily stand another visit. I had my bike with me this time, which made a big difference.

Aith Voe, Basta Voe, Out Skerries, Aith Voe ...

 

On Sunday night I went back round to Aith Voe, after Edan had gone for the ferry.

On Monday, I headed north. I planned to go through the Sound of Yell, and head back down the West coast, but the wind was kind of against me - 15-20 knots from the NW, and little prospect of it changing. I was fore-reaching all day, and would have had to motor through the sound. Instead, I had the wizard idea of continuing on my best course up the East side of Yell and find somewhere to anchor, then head down the West side of Yell and onwards. Sort of doing a long tack around Yell.

Quite late on Monday I anchored at the top of Basta Voe, above a number of mussel farms.

Between 12 midnight and 1am, the anchor alarm went off, warning me that I was dragging back down the Voe. (The handheld gps was off, so the drag is missing from the track - it's the gap between where I anchored and where I switched it back on again, just north of the first mussel farm.)

I first tried letting out some more chain, but this didn't help. Then I started lifting the anchor, but by this time I was perilously close to the mussel farm area. This was an unpleasant business - the NW wind was still strong, and it was pitch dark. I was watching the tablet chart, shining the torch into the darkness at the mussel farm bouys and running back and forth between the engine controls and the anchor winch ...

I shortened in the chain, and then couldn't get the anchor up - I think it had snagged on some part of the mussel farm mooring. This was a miserable moment, but it did mean that I wasn't moving any more. I tried lifting it with the marker boy line (which is attached to the front of the anchor to make this possible, but got nowhere with it. In the end, I decided to wait until the morning in case things looked clearer in the daylight. I left the engine ticking over in case I needed it in a hurry and snoozed fitfully thinking about how to solve the problem.

I looked up the mussel farm company and the price of a new anchor online. I had the tools to cut the chain if I needed to, and I would have left the anchor bouy for someone else to recover it. It seemed possible that the mussel farmers might have some insight into how to free it from their mooring...

Anyhow, a better idea (as it turned out) formed in my mind. I wondered if, instead of pulling straight up on the marker buoy line, I should attach a rope to it to make it longer, and then use the boat to pull the anchor back in the opposite direction to the way it was going when it got snagged. It seemed a long shot, and involved the risk of running over the line and having it snag on the prop. But it worked.

About 5am I was pulling the anchor back on board and wondering what to do next. I didn't want to re-anchor in the same place.

There was another possibility about six miles away on the south side of Fetlar, also sheltered from the NW, and with a sandy bottom. I headed towards it.

Then I saw that by carrying on for a couple of hours (or a little more) I could go, instead, to Out Skerries. So I did.

I'd been tempted by them on the way north, but they were too far downwind. If I was heading south again, they were an obvious stopping-off point.

And I was heading south again. I'd used up the energy I would need to face a NW 5-6 in the North Atlantic to get to the west side. Going down the east side, mostly on a beam reach or downwind, looked a lot more civilised.

Out Skerries was interesting, but it's an awkward little place to get into and out of. Also, despite glowing reviews, anchors also drag there ... and after an attempt at anchoring, I tied up alongside the pier. An expensive business as it turned out - it cost more than a night in Lerwick.

During my anchoring attempt, I also managed to grind the keel along a rock in a shallow bit of the bay. No water is coming in but I'll be interested to see the damage when the boat is lifted out in October.

Being tied up at the quay was at least fairly secure and restful - I was suffering from lack of sleep and some physical exhaustion.

Getting off the quay on Wednesday morning was horrible. The wind was blowing me forward and Raasay will only turn to starboard going astern. We were tied up starboard side to. I ended up having to go forward into the shallower part of the harbour and turn the boat around there, with almost no water under the keel. Another unhappy moment.

I spend the next half hour manoeuvering around the little bay getting the mainsail up - this involved several episodes of going downwind a couple of hundred yards and then motoring up while hoisting the sail and organising it's various ropes and controls. And trying not to hit any moored local boats. Or any more rocks.

Finally, exiting the south entrance to the harbor I had to do a 360 turn because I realised I'd misidentified one of the markers and wasn't which side I should leave it on.

The rest was almost straightforward. A brisk sail to Aith Voe, three hours or so away. Fore-reaching, again, reefed. 20-25 knots with occasional gusts in the high 20s. At least we were going fast - mostly over six knots through the water and more than seven over the ground. With a little help from the south-going tide.

One minor drama - the outboard motor for the dinghy, which is mounted on the starboard (upwind) side of the boat tilted itself up because of the angle of heel, and started to waggle around in a disturbing way. I was able to get it down and lash it. Another thing that won't move unless it's required to. The list grows with time ...

Sailing in these conditions is hard work. Even moving around the cockpit requires planning - finding hand-holds and timing the big changes of position to avoid violent boat movements. Getting below is like trying to negotiate a climbing frame that someone has hung from a bungee cord.

And there is the constant worry that something might break. The little 6mm rigging wires on the windward side of the boat, for instance ...

Video: Fore-reaching, 20-25 knots of wind

Coming into Aith Voe I had an old problem with the engine overheat alarm, and had to sail in under the main to let it cool. It happens when there has been a lot of motion - air gets into the cooling water seacock somehow and creates an airlock. I can sometimes 'prime' it by pumping the salt water tap at the sink (which is plumbed into the same intake). This didn't work this time, perhaps because we were heeled over too hard to port. The intake is on the starboard side.

And so here I am back in Aith Voe ... I'll be here for two nights because I have some meetings tomorrow and early Friday. Then I will head south again ...

The boat is bobbing peacefully, and it is not dragging. Still pretty breezy.

Round Bressay

Edan and I did a counter-clockwise circumnavigation of Bressay on Friday and part of Saturday. We had a look at going through Noss Sound, but it was too shallow - we'd have been OK at high tide, but we were quite near low water when we looked.

Which is just as well as we'd have missed Noss Head and the gannets.

On Saturday morning we went back round to Lerwick. It was miserable and wet and we didn't gain much by the move ...

After some mooching around Lerwick, fish and chips, lunch on Sunday at The Great Wall, and a visit to the Shetland museum, Edan took the ferry back on Sunday night ...

I moved back round to Aith Voe, and thought about where to go next.

Scalloway to Lerwick

This was probably a daft idea. Certainly the most difficult way of saving a five-mile bus journey I could have come up with ...

My son, Edan, was getting off a ferry on Friday morning, and I was going to meet him. My initial plan was to sail around near Scalloway for a couple of days exploring the firths, and then cycle over to Lerwick early on Friday morning.

Then I thought that maybe sailing from Scalloway to Lerwick might also be interesting, and would bring the boat into the place that he would like better. I thought, also, that I could take a couple of days about it - there was St. Ninian's Isle, for one thing, and also some attractive bays sheltered from the NE weather on the other side.

But they weren't ... by the time I rounded Sumburgh Head, I realised that the swell was coming from the south east, right into the bays I thought I might anchor in. ('Windy' would have shown this, if I had been paying attention to anything but the wind ...)

Then I looked up the almanac entry for Lerwick and discovered that the marina doesn't really handle visiting yachts - the Port Authority has a few spaces on pontoons and alongside. There are also a few anchorages. It was all a bit messy for the end of a long tiring day, so I was happy to take the PA advice and anchor in Aith Voe on the north side of Bressay. I'd noticed this on the chart, but it looked as though it was full of a 'marine farm'. It wasn't. Unless this is something going on on the seabed ...

I went round to a Pontoon in Lerwick on Wednesday morning.

Video: Sumburgh Head

This interesting vessel ('Trinovante') was also in Aith Voe:

Bay of Ireland to Sandquoy Bay, Sanday; and on to Scalloway

On Friday I sailed from Bay of Ireland to Bay of Sandquoy on Sanday, via the west side of Mainland and Weatherness Sound. The steady south easterlies looked fair for Shetland.

I didn't really try to do a proper tidal plan for the trip to Shetland - given my timing, I kind of expected the initial west-going current near North Ronaldsay would roughly cancel out the later east-going current on the other side. This set me quite a bit north of the course I had meant to take, so that instead of ending up anchoring behind St. Ninian's Isle (I have to save that for the way back, now) I went to Scalloway.

I tried anchoring overnight off Ayre of Sandwick in West Burra Firth, but this was a bad idea. Despite the wind remaining light, I dragged in the night and ended up nearly on the other side of the firth. I'd been relying on an anchor watch app that had worked in the past, but somehow I had switched off its notifications (probably while trying to kill off a host of annoying reminders and nudges from other apps ...). Its little warning sign was flashing vigorously, but the beep had gone.

So I ended up motoring round to Scalloway at 4am, feeling a bit lucky.

Scalloway was delightful. The boat club has great facilities and berthing is cheap. It's also only five miles from Lerwick. By road ...

Sinclair's Bay to Stromness, Scapa Flow and Bay of Ireland

Angus and I rested up on Monday and then did an overnight passage to Stromness - timing dictated by the tides in the Firth. We arrived about 5:30 on Tuesday morning, just in time for him to take the ferry to Scrabster and buses home ...

We forgot that there wouldn't be a direct ferry from Kirkwall on a Tuesday.

I spent a couple of days in Stromness and its environs, including two nights anchored in Bay of Ireland so that I could have some Zoom meetings.

Video: Sailing in Scapa Flow

I don't know who the old bugger in the funny hat is. He must be one of the crew.

Portsoy to Sinclair's Bay

Orkney wasn't realistic on Sunday.

There were steady 20-knot easterlies as we left Portsoy, and a swell had built up over the previous day or two. Leaving the harbour and getting set up was hard work. The attentive audience didn't help:

Here's an uncut and rather long video (I may get round to creating an edited version!):

Video: Leaving Portsoy

In the end, we crossed from Portsoy to Sinclair's Bay, arriving about 2am. The weather was cold and wet, and we were close-reaching the whole way. We had to cross the most Southern parts of the Moray Bank and Beatrice wind farms, and discussed this with the watch vessel. I'm not sure what the fundamental rules are, but it seemed appropriate to let them know our plans.

We passed between some of the turbines. They're well spaced out and it's easy to navigate through them. It's a bit harder not to feel like you've wandered onto a 'War of the Worlds' set. They are huge:

Video: Beatrice Wind Farm

Anchoring at 2am:

 

Raasay rafted up alongside the 'Reaper' in Portsoy.

After some head-scratching over changing wind forecasts, my son (Angus) and I decided to leave here today (Sunday 2nd July) and head for Orkney (over night sail), where we think we'll rest up in Holland Bay for a night before heading to Lerwick early Tuesday.

High winds and occasional deluges made Portsoy a bit damp - the crowds were well down.