An Update from Isolation Cove

 

A quick update from our isolation anchorage at Courtmacsherry (or Courtmac, as we locals call it). We've had calm weather and, this morning, a beautiful sunrise and we've had time to rest and recover over the past three days. 

Maunie's new home

The anchorage at low tide, looking towards the mouth of the estuary

Sunrise this morning

As we approach spring tides, we have a rise and fall of nearly 3m but our Bahamian mooring has kept us perfectly spaced between the local moorings. The estuary is deceptive, though, and arriving near high water you could easily be fooled into thinking there is deep water where, in reality, shallow sand banks lurk to snag the keels of the unwary. We saw it happen last night when an incoming yacht strayed too far to starboard of the channel and ended up having an uncomfortable few hours on the mud.

The yacht heeling over as the water drains away

Luckily for them there was no wind and the water was completely calm so no damage was done, other than to pride.

Dianne has been feeling pretty groggy but has managed to catch up on sleep so is feeling a lot better, though she's certainly not fully recovered yet. Graham, somehow, is still testing negative for Covid so his being banished to the aft cabin seems to have worked so far.

So we've decided that we'll set off this afternoon for a 40-hour passage to Dartmouth. Di's well enough to keep watch though isn't up to anything too strenuous. Thankfully, the weather looks as good as it's going to get for us - the shipping forecast gives the wind as SW Force 3-5 (which means we'll be reaching, the fastest and most comfortable point of sail) and the sea state is mainly slight.

Departing Courtmac at 15.00 today,  we should reach Land's End around 18.00 tomorrow and, hopefully, a large blue spinnaker will be involved!

Our passage plan is such that the tide will then turn in our favour to take us past Lizard Point and on towards Dartmouth. The next 'tidal gate' (where adverse strong currents would be a challenge if we get the timing wrong) will be Start Point, just west of Dartmouth, so we'll aim to get there around 06.00 on Sunday, just as the tide turns in our favour.

That's the plan, at least. We hope that it'll all work out nicely and we'll be back on our home mooring by mid-morning on Sunday.

It was all going so well, until Covid struck

 

"The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men, Gang aft agley" - Robert Burns

We looked at the shipping forecast yesterday morning and decided that a sea state of 'moderate to rough', combined with the wind directly behind us, would be a recipe for a very uncomfortably rolly sail to the Isles of Scilly. With a much more friendly wind and wave combination forecast for the end of this week, we decided that a few more days in Ireland would be a great idea.

This turned out to be fortuitous decision because Dianne had a very sleepless and feverish night last night and has tested positive for Covid this morning (Graham has tested negative, for the moment at least). Had we been at sea, as originally planned, she just wouldn't have been able to stand a night watch and would have had an even more miserable night.

We have therefore decided that self isolation at anchor rather,  than staying in a busy marina, would be a good idea so this afternoon, while Dianne returned to her bunk, Graham sailed (well, motored, in flat calm) Maunie around the Old Head of Kinsale to Courtmacsherry.

Old Head of Kinsale lighthouse

Courtmacsherry is a little holiday town, approached along a narrow river channel between shallow mud banks.

There is a small visitors' pontoon here but we decided that, in our infectious state,  we should stay away from other yachts so found a fairly small space to anchor amongst the moorings on the south side of the channel. The current runs quite quickly here and the boats all change direction with the incoming and outgoing tide so we've set up what's known as a Bahamian Mooring, using two anchors:

To achieve this, you drop and anchor as normal, then let out extra chain to allow you to lower the second anchor over the stern. You then pull back in on the first anchor chain to position the boat roughly equidistant between the two anchors. Finally, you shackle a block (pulley) to the first anchor chain and run the second anchor rope through it and pull it tight. When the tide changes, the boat swings around but stays pretty much in the same position, rather than drifting down into the neighbouring moorings as would happen if we just relied on one anchor. We're glad to report that it seems to have worked really well.

So our new plan is to hang here for a couple of days to see how we are feeling. Hopefully we'll still be ok to sail back to Dartmouth at the weekend but, of course, social distancing on a 38ft boat is tricky so Graham fully expects to test positive soon and, being a man, will of course have it much worse.

  

Irish Coastal Cruising - and Going Through the Motions

 

Our time in Howth, waiting for the wind direction to change to a more friendly direction, gave us the opportunity to take the 30-minute DART train into Dublin for a day's sight-seeing. Unfortunately we picked the hottest day in Dublin for 135 years (33.2 degrees C) so a rain-starved city with no shortage of bars but, apparently, not enough toilets smelled chiefly of impatience. There was a lot of litter around, too, and the streets were full of foreign tourists - which included ourselves, we suppose. Anyway, despite this, we enjoyed walking through Trinity College, found a great cafe away from the tourist hot spots for a light lunch, had the obligatory overpriced pint of Guinness in Temple Bar and climbed aboard the Jeanie Johnston.

This is a replica of a famous Famine Ship. According to Wikipedia, "The original made her maiden voyage from Blennerville in Tralee, Co. Kerry to Quebec in Canada in 1848 with 193 passengers on board. She carried 2,500 Irish emigrants on 16 transatlantic voyages to North America throughout the Famine years.

On average, the length of the transatlantic journey was 47 days. The most passengers she ever carried was 254, from Tralee to Quebec on 17 April 1852. To put this number in perspective, the replica ship is only licensed to carry 40 people including crew.

Despite the number of passengers, and the long voyage, no crew or passenger lives were ever lost on board the Jeanie Johnston. This is generally attributed to the captain, James Attridge, not overloading the ship, and the presence of a qualified doctor, Richard Blennerhassett, on board for the passengers."

The replica was commissioned in the 1990's and was designed to meet all the latest safety standards, including watertight bulkheads, fire suppression systems and high-tech engines and generators, but the complex project was dogged by delays and overspends. The original cost had been projected at £4.26m sterling (~€5.8m) in 1993 and the final cost was just under 14 million Euro in 2002, funded by the Government, the EU and various sponsors. The final figure included the seagoing ship, shipyard, workshops and visitor centre at Blennerville, cost of launch, fit out at Fenit and the cost of training in shipbuilding skills to some 50 unemployed young people. 

Her life as a working sail training vessel was very short and by mid-2010 the decision was made to operate the ship as a museum on the river because she was no longer in seagoing condition. In 2011, significant water damage was discovered, but repair work wasn't carried out until three years later due to lack of funding to dry dock the vessel.

According to a valuation obtained by Kerry County Council in 2002, the Jeanie was then worth 1.27 million Euro. In 2015, she was valued at 150,000 Euro, a pretty spectacular rate of depreciation! The tour was interesting, to learn some of the history of the Famine exodus, but it was really sad to see the beautifully built replica slowly falling apart due to lack of funding.

Di at the helm. Note the woodwork crying out for new varnish

On Wednesday, the wind finally moved to the NW so we left Howth at 04.00 to catch the south-bound tide. Along the coast are a series of shallow sandbanks, some with only a couple of metres of water covering them, so we navigated inside them and completed a very easy 41nm passage to the little port of Arklow. 

Arklow was lovely except for two, related, issues. First, there's a huge, 140-million euro project underway to build a new sewage processing plant for the town so the place reverberated to the sound of pile-driving and drilling. Second, and the reason for the project, is that raw sewage is currently just released into the river, with one of the out-falls being just a few metres from our pontoon berth. After days of no rain here, the river flow was very slow so the place just stank. Such a shame as the town itself was quite attractive and the Harbour Master very friendly and welcoming. However, until the sewage works is completed (In September 2025!) you don't so much berth in Arklow, as go through the motions. Another early start the following morning saw us happy to leave.

The northerly breeze allowed us to sail just outside the sandbanks near the busy ferry port of Rosslare but inside Tuskar Rock at the SE tip of Ireland. With strong tidal flows, this corner is a very dangerous place to be in strong south-westerly winds but we flew the spinnaker for a couple of hours and had a very gentle rounding of the corner.

Flying the Parasailor, dead downwind, with two poles for stability in the slightly rolly sea

Our next destination was a fishing village called Kilmore Quay which has a mildly challenging, dredged channel approach but an excellent, sheltered harbour with a small marina.

Most of the big fleet of fishing boats were tied up in port when we arrived, making navigating past them in the narrow entrance a little interesting. Nicky the Harbour Master told us that they are currently being paid up to 82,000 euro per boat for a month to remain ashore due to fishing quotas. 

Our final Irish coastal passage saw another 04.30 start to head west to Kinsale, an 81nm, 13-hour passage in very little wind so the engine ran for most of the way. 

Kinsale will be our final port in Ireland and it's a great place to visit. It's a huge sailing centre and the self-styled Gourmet Capital of Ireland, so is very popular with visiting boats. Too popular, it transpired, because we discovered that all three marinas were fully booked and we were lucky to get a last-minute cancellation in Castlepark Marina. Normally we'd have happily anchored in the river but the weekend weather was forecast to be wet and windy (and the forecast has come true!).

The final approach into Kinsale

Castlepark Marina is a 30-minute walk via the road bridge into town, but we were very glad to have its shelter

The C17 battery of Fort James at the tip of the promontory 

It transpired that we would have very good protection in the marina as our neighbour is an Irish Customs cutter. We were boarded by two Customs officers once we'd tied up so the boat was given a fairly cursory search by one while the other took all of our details in a process that reminded us of our time in New Zealand and Australia.

The most important reason for coming to Kinsale was that our goddaughter Belle is working over here and so we had a lovely long lunch with her in town yesterday.

Tomorrow the brisk south-westerlies swing round to the north-west, a perfect direction for us to sail for Falmouth (with an option to stop in the Isles of Scilly if we feel like it).

The wind direction looks good, we just hope that the sea state isn't too rough after a couple of days of strong winds.

Falmouth is about a 27-hour sail from here and we need to plan our departure to reach Land's End and Lizard Point at the right moment for favourable tides. We'll report on our progess in a couple of days' time.

Into Ireland

 

Howth Marina at Low Water

The passage south from Islay went perfectly, though the 3.30am alarm clock call wasn't greeted with huge enthusiasm. Once we set sail, though, we had excellent beam-reaching sailing and our Orkney Tides Masterclass seems to have paid off; we picked up the fast-flowing, south-going tide off Rathlin Island and carried it all the way south.

The wind began to falter as we came in to the lee of the land but we decided to continue on to Bangor, completing the 63nm passage in just over 9 hours.

After an overnight stop in Bangor, it was another relatively early start for the 89nm passage down to Howth, just north of Dublin. Again we had good tidal assistance but slightly fickle winds so there was a mix of sailing and motor-sailing, with about 15 dolphins coming to join us for 20 minutes on route.

Our 7.00pm arrival in Howth was about 90 minutes before Low Water and we called the Howth Yacht Club on the VHF for advice on water depths. The very helpful chap who responded explained that the harbour has silted up and it'd be marginal as to whether we'd get in. He advised that we should either wait at anchor for about 3 hours (for the rising tide) or else 'have a good run at it!'. The silty mud is very soft so we reckoned that the worst that could happen would be us sliding to an ignominious halt in full view of all the locals watching from the Yacht Club terrace.

We're glad to report that we made it to our marina berth, though for the last 100m the depth-sounder showed only 1.5m of water and Maunie draws 1.8m! We ploughed a neat furrow through the silt thanks to our momentum and a healthy dose of engine power. At full low-tide we could see just how silted the harbour has become:

The entrance to Howth Harbour. The old lighthouse is no longer functional but is still inhabited

The final approach to Howth marina. The Yacht Club is the blue and white roofed building

The marina at Low Water - most of the boats have their keels stuck in the soft mud

Howth is a busy fishing port but also a seaside town for Dubliners, connected to the city by a frequent 30-minute DART train service. The Yacht Club is the largest in Ireland and has a competitive racing fleet. There's a fleet of one-design wooden boats called Howth 17's which race twice a week; most of them are about 110 years old.

We've been here for a few days while the winds have blown steadily from the south and the temperatures have risen. Our trip into Dublin yesterday coincided with the hottest day recorded in 135 years - 33.1 degrees in the city - but nevertheless we enjoyed seeing the place. It was, however, crowded with foreign tourists (that category includes us, we suppose), it seemed strewn with litter and, after several days of no rain, a city with thousands of bars and not enough public toilets smelt chiefly of impatience.

Talking of which, we're impatient to get moving again. The heatwave will end today with the welcome (for us) switch to northerly winds so we'll head off tomorrow morning for the little harbour in Arklow, about 40nm further south. After that we'll probably head on to Kilmore Quay, at the very SE corner of Ireland to plan the 130nm crossing to the Isles of Scilly.

Completing the Scottish Loop

 

Craighouse, Jura. The community provides moorings (£12 per night) as kelp on the seabed can make anchoring tricky

Yesterday we arrived in Craighouse, the only village on the island of Jura. It was an 05.30 start from the anchorage in Puilladobhrain to catch the south-going tide through the Sound of Luing (where we had over four knots of current behind us, causing the water to swirl and boil impressively), we then passed the fearsome Corryvreckan, where dangerous whirlpools form, and hugged the east coast of Jura as we headed south. All of this happened in drizzle and less than 500m visibility, so it was wonderful to have the skies clear and the warm sun appear in the afternoon. 

The route down the east coast of of Jura and on to Islay

A visit ashore allowed Graham to sample some excellent Jura whisky at the distillery and we had a good pub supper in the Jura Hotel. The availability of food at the hotel wasn’t a given – like a lot of places up here, Brexit has been very bad news for the hospitality industry, with too few locals available to fill roles that used to be done by Europeans coming over to work.  At the moment the hotel can’t provide lunchtime meals and evening meals are only available five nights a week.  One can only hope that Jacob Rees-Mogg might come up here with his family on holiday to experience the reality!

The Paps of Jura in the background - they are often shrouded in cloud!

Today was another early start to gain tidal assistance for the passage down to Port Ellen on Islay. We had great sailing in gusty Force 5-6 conditions. Our arrival in Port Ellen marks a milestone for this cruise – we crossed our incoming track to complete our Scottish Loop – we’ve sailed 822nm since we were last here on the 16th of May. 

Our clockwise route in red

We’re now contemplating the crossing of the North Channel back to Northern Ireland to start picking our way down the Irish Sea. We’ll be sad to leave this amazing part of the world but yesterday’s glimpse of warm sunshine has made us realise that we’ve had really poor weather for most of the trip and we look forward to wearing the shorts and t-shirts that have remained packed in our lockers!  There’s another hideously early start (about 04.30) on the cards tomorrow to use the westerly wind and the strong tides to send us south – to Glenarm or maybe further to Bangor if we make good time.

Back to Salt Water

The canal to the left, the sea to the right

 After a week in fresh water, Maunie enjoyed the return to the salty stuff yesterday afternoon as we locked out of the Caledonian Canal and into Loch Linnhe.

Our descent of Neptune’s Staircase went very smoothly on Saturday afternoon, we’re glad to report. There wasn’t room to moor up in the Corpach Basin (the last section before the sea lock) but that suited us quite well as we had a very quiet pontoon on the Corpach Reach, just above the final locks, for Saturday night. Sunday was (at last!) warm and sunny so we had a relaxing time waiting for the next group of boats to come down the staircase so that we could join them for the final locks out to sea. Geoff, meanwhile, took a taxi into Fort William at lunchtime to catch his bus to Glasgow and then onwards to Dumfries and home. We really enjoyed his company aboard and were delighted to see him return to top form after a fairly prolonged period of illness. He says that a week on Maunie should be prescribed on the NHS!

Our final night's pontoon with Ben Nevis behind us

The Corpach Double Lock, the basin and the sea lock

The upper reaches of Loch Linnhe are shallow in places

The canal team is very short of staff at the moment so Angus, the Corpach lock keeper, had to help his colleague manage the Neptune’s Staircase operation which meant we couldn’t lock out into the sea until just after 4.00pm. However, an earlier departure would have seen us battling adverse tide, so it worked out pretty well for the 18nm passage down to a lovely anchorage called Port Ramsay at the north end of Lismore Island. 

The Swiss crew of the racy Sea Magix (an X-37) left with us and did a great job beating out of the narrow Loch Linnhe, giving us the chance to get some good action photos for them.

Maunie, on the other hand, had a dinner date to meet so we motor-sailed for best speed to anchor at Lismore just before 8.00pm. In the process we were delighted to discover that a week in fresh water, aided no doubt by the thrash to windward up Loch Ness, had killed the fine layer of furry weed that had started to adhere to the hull and propeller, so our boat speed is now restored to normal; we’d noticed it being a few tenths of a knot slower than usual as we came down from Orkney.  

Already in the anchorage were Colin and Ana in their new boat Celtic Spirit, a Rustler 36. They came over for supper on Maunie and it was wonderful to see them, albeit briefly. Family duties meant they left the anchorage early this morning to return home so we’ve missed out on cruising in company at least for this year.

We motored south in another flat calm to anchor in Puilladobhrain, arriving at 11.00am; last time we were here was a year ago with Adam & Cindi and Bravo. As predicted, a brisk southerly wind has now arrived but the anchorage is well sheltered and the holding is soft mud. We’re hoping that the breeze will reduce a little and veer to the west tomorrow to allow us to sail south.

We have about three weeks left of this cruise so, although we really don’t want to leave this beautiful part of Britain, we need to start planning the trip back down the Irish Sea. We certainly don’t want to repeat last year’s experience of motoring most of the way, so we’ll be watching for any signs of west or northwest winds to make some good progress back towards Dartmouth. The trip might involve a stop in the Republic of Ireland so we need to brush up on the post-Brexit regulations on clearing out of the UK and into Ireland. What a bloody palaver; thanks, Boris, for nothing!

A Technical Hitch on the Caledonian Canal

 

Looking up Neptune's Staircase at Banavie

We are getting towards the end of our canal adventure but there's been a bit of a problem. We arrived at Banavie basin, above the 8-lock set known as Neptune's Staircase, just after lunch and had the option to join a cohort of boats locking down that afternoon.

Maunie in the foreground

Looking towards Neptune's Staircase and the sea beyond it

Thankfully, as it turned out, we decided that we'd go through the following day so had a relaxed afternoon watching the boats work down the locks.

A multi-cultural group - two Swiss, two Norwegian and a Swedish boat

The process took nearly two hours and all went very smoothly until the bottom lock. The lock gates opened, the road traffic stopped but the swing bridge decided not to swing. Alarms sounded as the hydraulic system overloaded and tripped out, leaving the boats trapped while the lock keepers tried to get the bridge to move. After about 15 minutes they managed to get the hydraulic jacks that support the roadway back into the locked position to allow cars to cross but it was clear that the boats were going nowhere, even though they were so tantalisingly close to the exit to the canal.

Looking past the road and rail bridges to the Corpach sea lock.

With the engineer having to drive up from Glasgow (and no guarantee that he'd be able to fix the fault quickly), the lock keepers told the crews that unfortunately they would have to go back the way they had come. Apparently it's not safe to leave boats in the lock chambers overnight due to the turbulent water that has to flow through them continuously when not in use. Meanwhile the keepers had to juggle with the sluice gates as the delayed exit meant that water started to pour over the top of the lock gate above the boats.

So the poor yachts had to reverse up, lock by lock, at a much slower pace - the incoming water buffeted the rudders of the upstream boats so the sluices had to be opened an inch at a time. It took almost four hours to get back to the upper canal. The crews were remarkably good humoured about it all and the lock keepers did a great job, so there was no damage to the yachts.

The good news is that the bridge has now been repaired so boats will be able to move today. We'll wait to see what that means for our own timings to head west to return to salt water.