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By Mark Hitchin
I'm probably not the only evangelist for Scotland as a cruising ground. Painfully beautiful landscape, deep clear water and countless unspoiled islands add up to an outstanding playground for sailors. Hence last April Louise and I braved another mammoth drive up to the West Coast. Driving overnight and arriving just South of Oban at 4:30am.
We were chartering from a new firm based at Croabh Haven just south of Oban. It was already going very nicely for us. We'd originally chartered a Hunter 26 at the Boat Show but this seemed a little small for a week so in lieu we'd been offered a big discount on an elderly 32-foot Westerly Berwick Bilge keeler. As it happened the Westerly wasn't in the water in time so we were offered 'Crystal', a two-year old Bavaria 36. Although neither of us had heard any good reports about Bavaria yachts we were pretty sure it would be well worth the five hundred quid we were paying!
In fact the Bavaria was not too bad at all. A 36-footer with a wide beam, the pair of us had plenty of space to work with. Everything fitted, everything worked and felt solid enough. It sailed very nicely (although we didn't need to go out in any really big sea states) and the only fault I could find were the large number of power draining and water wasting devices. Having said that, we didn't complain much when we made use of the shower and electric anchor winch! I don't know if it will stand up to the next 40 years the way a Nicholson 38 would but for a week charter it was perfect.
After a luxurious four hours sleep on board we met the owner in the marina cafe. He'd bravely upped sticks and moved from England to build a house on nearby Seil Island and run a charter business. A likeable chap, we had breakfast together and he was more than happy to let us rush on our way promptly. The pair of us paid a quick visit to the fuel pontoon and we were off.
The reason for our haste was the weather. There was a significant gale warning for the following day and as neither of us fancied passing a day in the bright lights of Oban we wanted to sail an extra five hours or so up the Sound of Mull to Tobermoray. Tobermoray is the capital of Mull and has been made famous as Ballymoray on children's television. We hoped it would be a good place if the forecast proved correct and we were stuck there for the day. It also had the advantage of a pontoon, so if it really blew up we wouldn't be stuck on the boat.
The sail from Croabh Haven to Tobermoray typified everything I love about sailing in Scotland. Initially small rugged islands surrounded us and we soon benefited from a fast tidal race through the Sound of Fladda to speed us on the way. At the half way point you're immersed in the mountains of Mull with a clear view up Loch Linnhe, taking in a breathtaking trench of snow capped mountains with Ben Nevis in view in the distance.
Louise and I were like excited school children. The boat was superb, and we really had not dared hope to get away quickly enough to get as far as Tobermoray on the first day. Negotiating the Sound of Mull was straightforward and we arrived at Tobermoray with plenty of daylight spare to have a brief look around and enjoy a shower at the local youth hostel for £1. Bargain!
The evening in Tobermoray was everything we had hoped for. The sound of traditional music wafted over the still evening to us from a nearby pub and we wandered in for food and a little too much beer and wine. By the time we left at one am everyone was dancing in an impromptu Celidh but the 11 hour drive combined with under four hours sleep made our cabin (we had a choice of three) seem very tempting.
Waking up on Sunday morning it was very clear that hiding in the harbour had been the right thing to do. The gale was in full flow pushing the boat hard away from the pontoon towards the shore and even across the limited fetch of the harbour there was enough sea state to make the pontoon and boat repeatedly jerk apart. This made the lines snatch tight so I slackened them to allow the boat more freedom of movement and put extra lines bow and stern. It was quite clear we wouldn't be sailing 'till the afternoon so we trundled off for a walk along the coast patting ourselves on the back for a good decision to find shelter.
When we got back two hours later the situation had deteriorated dramatically. The wind had a whole extra level of venom and hate in it; the extra bow and stern lines I'd used to double up fore and aft had both snapped and the coast guard had issued a new gale warning - force 10 imminent. It became quite clear that we had to move the boat onto a swinging visitor mooring where we could lie to the wind - not least because we had a finite number of mooring lines to play with!
Leaving our pontoon was not simple, though. The wind was blowing from the starboard side of our stern and on shore. I reckoned we could persuade a few locals to handle the string for us (no mean feat with the ropes like iron bars) but to leave we needed to power the stern up through the wind. This was clearly not going to happen before we were blown down on to the rocks downwind of us.
So we were at a bit of an impasse. Caught sideways on to a gale with ropes pinging at a steady rate. Without a tug the only option was to stay put! We resigned ourselves to a busy and unpleasant day. Swapping our frayed rope we had probably had enough mooring rope to last us a few hours but I was not at all sure about the cleats and frankly the whole experience was beginning to unnerve us. To add an extra bit of tension to a pretty fraught situation a local fisherman sagely shouted above the wind in his broad island accent "This storm is going to do some damage". "Yeah. To my £750 deposit", I thought!
I suppose it's always darkest before dawn and sure enough this was the moment our tug materialised in a way we hadn't been expecting. Maroons went off and a little while later the Tobermoray RNLI Life Boat sped across the bay to rescue a yacht in trouble in the storm. Suddenly the world looked a bit rosier. Once their rescue was completed it was fairly simple to get on channel 16 and explain what we wanted. They planed over and the coxswain held his boat rock steady into the wind long enough for me to bung a towrope to our rear starboard cleat. I gave it max revs in reverse then gave a nod to the two helpful locals to let go of the spring and bow line. As we went I used a kitchen knife to cut the stern line which was already frayed past help. Crystal slowly eased backwards. The lifeboat coxswain timed his pull perfectly and with two thirds of the boat clear dragged us out backwards by one corner. The harbour was suddenly a very cheerful place. Big smiles and thumbs up all round between us and the posse of wizened fishermen crewing the lifeboat. (What is Gaelic for bl**dy grockles???) We dropped the towrope off and were able to slowly make our way into the wind and pick up a buoy. With the chain of the mooring safely secured we could tidy up the boat and enjoy a coffee punctuated by some nervous laughter. Ultimately the wind eased and we had a pleasant evening on the boat. We heard the rescued yachtsman and his dog spent the night in a local hotel while his boat sat on a mooring five boat lengths from us.
To be continued…