Tayvallich 2006 œ A story of contrast!

Any opportunity for a trip up to the west coast of Scotland is not to be rejected lightly so I graciously accepted John Mellor‘s invite to join his family and a few other Wayfarer types in a weeks sailing based at Tayvallich. Of course (as I sold it to my ever patient wife) it‘s not really worth driving all that way just for a week, so I planned to stay for a second week. There was though a sequel to this conversation in the form of a text message from my wife sent just as I was going to work after returning from Scotland, —Just eating breakfast in glorious sunshine, sparkling Mediterranean Sea and balmy breezes“. I add this last just in case anyone reading my account starts to feel sorry for her!

To set the scene: Tayvallich is a small village on the edge of an almost enclosed wooded bay near the top of Loch Sween a few miles south of Crinan. Loch Sween is on the Scottish mainland opposite Jura. Carrick House, which was to be our base for a week, is in the middle of the bay and about halfway between the slipway and the pub œ not bad I reckon. As soon as I arrived I could sense the laid back atmosphere of the place. The village was several miles down a single track road and was the sort of place you could leave things lying around and know they would still be there when you came back.

The view from Carrick House

I had caught up with the Mellors on the A1 some miles north of Leeds, having left home in Norfolk at 5.00am. I have to say that I wasn‘t looking forward to seven or eight hours of driving on my own and it was good to continue the journey in company. Scotch Corner is my usual stop if driving north followed by Annandale Services on the A74. We had planned to meet up at the latter Services before continuing north and by then it was good to have a rest.

Our route through Glasgow meant sticking to the motorways before crossing the Erskine Bridge west of the City and heading north past Loch Lomond. Kate Mellor was kindly letting me know that I was about to hit traffic queues just south of Glasgow. Having negotiated the queues and the Erskine Bridge over the Clyde, it was a few miles south of Lomond that I spotted the unmistakable shape of a Wayfarer transom in a garage. At the wheel of his motor home was Rob Wagstaffe with Treacle Too towing behind. Rob and Caroline made up the third member of the Tayvallich group. It was rather pleasant to stop in a lay-by and lunch in the comfort of their van by the Loch.

From Lomond our route took us west on the A83 round the top of Loch Long and Loch Fyne and then all the way south along the Fyne shore to Lochgilphead which had the nearest supermarket to Tayvallich, so just a few more supplies were piled aboard.

The road from Lochgilphead follows the Crinan Canal for much of its length œ it did seem rather odd to see masts of yachts amongst the trees, but the scenery was, as always stunning.

Arrived at last!

Sunday was to be a recovery day œ most welcome as my journey started at 5.00am and finished at 4.15pm. Cedric Clarke and Chris Codling were due to arrive some time late afternoon on Sunday, so an easy sail around the upper Loch Sween was planned by John.

Rigging the boats on the first day on the Sailing Club pontoon Our ”gentle sail‘ started with one reef in the main whilst on the pontoons, well we needed to relax, and quickly resulted in a second reef afloat as some wicked gusts had us planing fast out across the Loch. Never mind, soon be time for lunch. And what a spot for our first al fresco meal œ the Fairy Isles just north of Tayvallich provide an excellent sheltered natural harbour. Here the skipper of Water Witch began to show the first signs of fretting about rocks and paintwork œ a continuing theme of the fortnight! My crew, young Kate Mellor, being an ex-wooden boat sailor clearly understood the importance of paintwork protection though œ I think.

The Fairy Isles œ an idyllic lunch spot.

Late on Sunday afternoon Cedric and Chris arrived and a flurry of boat rigging ensued. John‘s idea from previous visits was to keep the boats on the trolleys below the high water mark on the edge of the bay more or less below the house. This did give me some cause for concern, but in fact proved an excellent arrangement and almost allowed for boats to be sailed straight onto their respective trolleys at the end of a days sailing. The morning routine was for the early risers (usually Kate and I) to collect boats from the trolleys at high tide and motor them down to the pontoon ready for the day. This worked very smoothly the first day, but led to a small ”incident‘ the second time. Motoring gently up to the pontoon in Water Witch with Sea Sprite in tow and Kate at the helm I handed Kate the tow line, cut the engine and stepped smartly onto the pontoon. It would have been a good idea to have taken a mooring line with me because the boats drifted out of reach. Kate‘s face was a picture! However she restarted the engine and motored back round to me, all the while with Sea Sprite‘s tow line and my tiller in her hands. I even recall that at one stage the tow line had to be held in her teeth. A neat piece of work.

And so the real business began. Our mission was to explore Loch Sween and the coast and islands nearby. In furtherance of this objective the four boats were set off south down the Loch. The wind a trifle chilly was from the north and moderate to fresh, but certainly not uncomfortable. Kate decided that a lie down on the floorboards was on the cards and I decided to join her (purely in the interests of keeping the crew amused of course). The resulting picture of the event was entitled œ Mary Celeste!

John‘s suggestion was that we head out of the Loch to the Cormac Isles, a pair of uninhabited islands about a mile and a half southwest of the entrance to Sween.

The Mary Celeste

The larger of the Isles has a fine natural harbour that provided excellent shelter even though its entrance faces north, a factor that was partly to blame for our failure to notice the wind increasing.

Day Two The islands get their name from Saint Cormac who is reputed to have been buried there and the ruins of St Cormac‘s Chapel remain.

The ”harbour‘ sports a useful, but rough stone quay to which four Wayfarers managed to tie up so that their crews could lie about in comfort and eat lunch. An exploration party visited the Chapel and Celtic cross on the highest point of the island.

Deceptive calm in the harbour on Eilean Mor

It was here, with a magnificent view back across the water to Sween that we first realised that the wind had increased considerably, enough to make standing upright awkward. Also the tide had well and truly turned north kicking up a fearsome looking tide rip between us and the entrance to the Loch. Further exploration north to the tip of the island revealed that there was little or no safe passage close inshore that would have allowed the fleet to sail south of Corr Eilean and then east towards Kilmory Bay thus avoiding the rip, before venturing back north.

The barest of facilities being put to good use

Council of war œ Corr Eilean can just be seen centre top

The result of our explorations and discussions was that we had no choice other than to brave the tide rip. Preparations were made. Everything was tied into the boats and second reefs were taken in. With the wind as strong as it was I was extremely glad of my roller reefing genoa. I was able to set a very small foresail, just enough to help the boat through the eye of the wind when tacking. Kate and I were first off and tacked smartly north out of the harbour before bearing away on to a close reach towards Sween. Very shortly we hit the edge of the breaking water and the wild ride took us into the thick of it. I erred slightly in allowing the boat to be set too far north, lured by a patch of calmer water that proved to be shallow. Forced to bear away onto a beam reach I was keen to avoid surfing and losing control. Waves dumped water over the transom and both sides of the boat as well as the foredeck. I made encouraging remarks like, ”Oh this is fun isn‘t‘, ”Not too bad after all‘. Had I a free hand I think I would have been wiping cold sweat from my forehead!

Breaking out of the far side of the rip gave us the chance to look back œ no other boats in sight, and I was sure others had set off immediately after us. It turned out that others had problems tacking out of the harbour, necessitating a lee shore shove off. Kate and I enjoyed some magnificent planing to a fro in the relative calm south of Danna amongst the seals whilst awaiting the arrival of the rest of the fleet. All boats made the journey without incident and there followed a memorable beat up Loch Sween. The waves in the middle of the Loch were short steep and vicious. Water Witch pounded rather more than I would have liked and I tried where possible to hug the edges, but the gust were so strong, with no warning whatsoever that the slightly cleaner wind and waves in the middle had to be braved.

It was cold too. Kate sensibly owned up to feeling decidedly chilly and we hove to for more fleeces and a pair of my 5mm neoprene gloves for Kate. She had great difficulty getting them on, but I was happy that she at least wasn‘t going to freeze œ what would her mum have to say! Mind you looking at things logically, her mum was still in sight and therefore I mused must still be responsible instead of me. Quite a good idea this, ”in sight of parents rule‘.

Back at Carrick House the garden was turned into a drying area and tales of daring told before Olwen‘s specially pre-prepared supper and a few beers.

Drying off back at Carrick House

Gluttons for punishment though were us lot œ so Tuesday found three of the fleet heading south down Loch Sween again. This time boats were rather more laden as we planned a night or so camping out. The island of Gigha was our destination, about 15 miles south of the Loch entrance.

Destination Gigha As usual I was surprised by the amount of gear that Water Witch managed to stow even though I had pared things down to a minimum. However it didn‘t seem to overly affect her performance as she crept steadily away from the other two boats.

A few things ready to pack for camping

It was another pleasant sail south down the Loch with the wind behind us and yet again fine weather. The wind was just enough for us to need a single reef.

Water Witch leading the fleet south down the Loch

Lunch being always just around the corner, thoughts had already dwelt on exactly where we could stop for a break. John‘s choice was Kilmory Bay that we had seen the previous day from the Cormacs. This was what I find attractive about Scotland œ the beautiful fine white sand beaches with crystal clear water and this bay was no exception. Lunch sat at the foot of the dunes was followed by a walk up to the village (about three houses) and a visit to the partly restored chapel.

Kilmory bay with Jura in the background

Our southward journey began comfortably in moderate northerlies, but as the tide again turned against us and the wind gradually increased the following waves grew in size and the boats began to surf down the leading faces of the bigger ones. Thoughts of reefing further or even dropping mainsails and continuing under genoas were put to one side as Gigha really wasn‘t that far off now. I always tell people to turn round when running down wind, just to see how strong the wind really is. Did we do this though? Definitely a mistake. Partly because our destination was so close by now and partly because lulls in the wind encouraged us to press on we didn‘t do the sensible thing and reduce sail.

At one point Water Witch was tracking along behind and just to leeward of Sea Sprite when she caught a larger than usual wave and surfed like a rocket, ending up a couple of boat lengths in front within a matter of a few seconds. I found that helming was taking a great deal of concentration.

By late afternoon we had passed the northern tip of Gigha and were approaching the entrance to a fine natural harbour that leads into the southern part of Twin Beaches. In effect this was a sand spit that has formed and joined an off-lying island to the main part of Gigha and provided shelter to the north in southerlies and to the south in northerlies. Gybing into the entrance was out of the question in the conditions so I rounded up to drop the main. Kate chose this moment to scare me silly by falling backwards over the thwart hard onto her back. After a while she hauled herself upright again (rather bravely I suspect) fought past the pain and the main was soon down in the boat. The genoa was ample to push us into the shelter before iron wind had us heading up to the beach. Once again I was grateful for my new ”parents in sight rule‘.

Water Witch astern of Sea Sprite

The bay leading up to the beach was surrounded by gently sloping hills and the bottom was clean flat sand. What a contrast to the North Sea where if the water is ankle deep you cannot see your toes. As you can see from the photo below œ the weather was superb.

The three boats anchored at Twin Beaches, Gigha Kate and I decided to remain aboard and put the boat tent up while the others had land tents. It was interesting to walk the few yards across the sand spit to see the difference a stiff onshore breeze made to conditions. Landing would certainly have been possible, but boats would have to be rolled quickly up out of the surf if there had not been the choice of a weather shore.

We spent a very pleasant evening and the following day with northerly winds forecast an easy decision was made to stay put. The fact that the tide, against all predictions, had ebbed and was already 50m from the boats contributed to the decision.

With time on our hands a bit of exploring was called for and of course a camp fire. Following a bit of rock climbing (parents still in sight of course), firewood parties were sent out. Cedric easily won the prize by bringing back a tree!

Cedric and a little firewood

It is amazing just how much time there is in a day when there is nothing to do so late afternoon found the group off around the east side of the bay beachcombing. Chris had already made his artistic mark here by the careful placing of a baulk of timber and a hard hat. Tate Modern eat your heart out. Chris also suggested that the piles of plastic rubbish on the shoreline were more environmentally unfriendly than plastic burning. So our party became environmentalists and collected plastic that Chris later set fire to. At least the place would look a bit better for our stay there.

John also made a collection of buoys found washed up. What possible use could they be?

Our post dinner gathering was around the campfire on seating made especially for the occasion. Beers were drunk and then it was time for sport œ specifically bowls. Know I see what the buoys were for.

Bowls on the beach and evening campfire

Our explorations had revealed a narrow deep water inlet close to the beach and boats were moved round and anchored there for the night. The wind had eased, but veered south during the evening, which meant that our sheltered anchorage now had a slight well running into it. Sleep was fitful for us boat tenters and we didn‘t wake up until 9.15am.

The wind change did however allow an easy sail back north to the Cormacs. This time the seas were decidedly friendlier and a very relaxed lunch was had. On leaving the island I made radio contact with Treacle Too. The gist of the messages were, where are you, so are we, but I can‘t see you, where are you? We found them in Kilmory Bay and regrouped for another night of camping on the beach there.

Water Witch being rolled above the high water mark.

Friday saw us yet again beating north up Loch Sween, but this time in somewhat more benign conditions. This was Kate‘s sad day as she and her Mum were due back home and so had to leave us lot to endure hardship and deprivation for a second week. An uncharacteristically glum face stared out of the window of the car as John shot off to Oban and the station.

The five day forecast was for light winds and we really wanted to get out to the islands. A solution to the sail south out of the Loch presented itself though. Only about a mile away across the peninsular from Tayvallich was Carsaig Bay with a (sort of) slipway. Boats were de-rigged, recovered and towed across in quick time. Surprisingly John returned in the middle of all this having made a rather rapid return trip to Oban. I gather there was no lingering goodbye at the station.

The wind now was from a generally southerly direction as the two boats headed of north. Treacle Too had continued ahead the previous day and we were expecting to meet them in Loch Craignish.

I again made radio contact with Treacle Too as we sailed north towards Ardfern. The gist of the conversation was, where are you, so are we, but I can‘t see you, where are you? It turned out that as we sailed north up the main part of the Loch, Treacle Too was sailing south the other side of a line of islands. Beating is not my favourite point of sailing, but our sail back down the other side of the islands to meet Rob and Caroline was very pleasurable in the late afternoon sunshine. They had anchored the previous night in a sheltered bay on Goat Island near the Loch entrance and the three of us joined up for a night there.

Week two‘s wanderings

Anchored Loch Craignish

Sunday saw the fleet split again. The crew of Treacle Too had less time available than the rest of us and John and I were keen to get out through Corryvreckan to Colonsay. Not all of the party were so keen, having heard of the rather fearsome reputation of the Gulf. Pilots were consulted and an optimum time to pass through was agreed as the short slack water period. This meant an early start as again the forecast was for light winds. Sea Sprite and water Witch motor sailed out of Craignish and northwest through Dorus Mor where we achieved a respectable 7.9 knots with the engine on little more than tickover. Clearly the tide was still flooding here.

Good progress was made across the sound of Jura and we approached the Gulf from the south, intending to stick to the Jura shore on the way through. A little early, we carried on as conditions were so benign. In fact the whole thing was a real anti-climax as the most we got were a few small whirlpools and some reasonable upwellings of water that pushed the boats sideways and made the tiller kick a bit.

Visibility was not good and what wind there was blew directly from Colonsay œ clearly we were not going to make it there. Alternatives were discussed and the decision made to head further north to Mull. Our intended destination was Loch Buie that gave no shelter from the southwest, but was acceptable as winds were so light and there were sandy beaches to roll boats onto.

It was a tedious journey across the Firth of Lorne and Mull just never seemed to get any closer. Also because of the angle at which we approached Buie it was impossible to make out exactly where the entrance was until quite close.

The Gulf of Corryvreckan looking decidedly calm

Cedric, Chris and I had stayed in Buie on our last trip to Scotland so knew of a sandy beach in the northwest corner. Last time we had landed at high tide, whereas this time at low water the sandy beach was inaccessible through a line of rocks. Engines on again and motor across to the northeast corner. Here Cedric had seen a wide sandy beach before and it proved to be an excellent landing.

Loch Buie in fog œ not a crowded anchorage

As you can see from the picture œ we weren‘t exactly short of space, but when we woke the next morning we were somewhat short of visibility. From the beach it was impossible to see the Loch entrance so crossing the Firth of Lorne was out of the question. Also we could not get a mobile signal, even after climbing the nearest hill so couldn‘t get a forecast. There was a Post Office in Buie village and a phone box so we tramped the mile into the ”centre‘ of the village. ”Centre‘ is a bit of a misnomer as the whole place consists of no more than 20 properties scattered around the head of the Loch. Phoning home produced a five day forecast that wasn‘t too encouraging for sailing, but definitely for sunbathing and by the time we had bought an ice cream at the Post Office that looks very much like a large garden shed the fog had cleared.

There we were, sunshine again and a gentle onshore breeze. Boats were lightened and rolled into the water before setting off back across towards the mainland, by which time the gentle breeze had become even gentler. We decided on a crew swap and John joined Water Witch for the trip back (this was part of Kate‘s plan to get her Dad to buy back their old woodie and it has to be said it worked a treat).

Despite the light breeze Water Witch was able to make 4.1 knots with the spinnaker set, at least for some of the way. The breeze however wasn‘t going to last and in the end we had to resort to iron wind as we wound our way between tiny islands at the northern end of the Garvellachs and across to the Sound of Luing.

The fog cleared and boats were readied for rolling

Our plan was to sail south into the Sound of Luing and then to explore the possibility of overnighting in one of two tiny inlets on Lunga shown on the OS map. The most northerly of the two marked a small building of some sort and it was to our great surprise that on scraping through the tiny entrance we found two wet-suited figures swimming inside. Being polite fellows we introduced ourselves and explained our presence to be told that in fact the inlet went right through forming what was a private island that wasn‘t actually Lunga. Lunga Island was in fact the second island south from where we were. Their suggestion was that we may wish to try the southerly inlet for peace and quiet as there were about 50 children at the activity centre there. They assured us the other inlet was a superb spot to camp, which indeed it proved to be.

Anchorage north of Lunga This really was a superb place to spend the night. Chris was temporarily marooned with everyone‘s cameras and set off to climb to the peak of the island to get some shots. The photos show what the weather was like œ with glorious cloudless skies the late evening sun was setting over the Paps of Jura as we were putting the back of the tent up and preparing for bed. It was impossible not to sit and gaze around at the wonderful scenery and take in the absolute peace and quiet. There really wasn‘t another human sound except for the odd ”ssshhhh‘ of a can of beer being opened. I doubt I will ever spend a more magical evening afloat.

Wonderful natural harbour - Lunga

Sea Sprite and Water Witch rafted at anchor œ Lunga

Knowing that the wind was likely to be light the following day we planned for an early start so we could make some distance south out of the Sound of Luing before the tide turned against us. In fact the morning gave us a gentle south-westerly force 2 and a pleasant beat. Chris (who by now had taken his turn as Water Witch‘s crew) and I decided to beat into every bay on the east side of the Sound hoping to pick up tidal eddies round the points. John on the other hand decided to stay with the best wind and beat out to the Scarba shore, which proved to be the best option as he ended up half a mile ahead of us. From south of Luing we headed off across to the mainland shore and civilisation. In the mean time we had to find a way through Dorus Mor again, only this time the tide would be against us. With Chris at the helm we crept slowly down close to the shore out of the worst of the northerly flow, hoping to pick up an eddy on the point of land that forms the entrance to Loch Craignish. In the end light winds and some unlucky wind shifts just defeated us and 2 horse power was whipped into action to help us round into the Loch.

As usual lunch time was again imminent so we pulled into a small sheltered bay on the south west corner of the Loch for more picnics in the sunshine.

Another lunchtime basking in the sunshine

It was whilst tied up to the pontoon at Crinan and chatting to the skipper of a motor cruiser, who had just made a very neat job of coming along side, we realised how the locals were aware of our activities. The man told us he assumed we were the two Wayfarers that had gone out through the Gulf a couple of days before. Interested in what his attitude was to lunatic dinghy sailors out at sea we probed further, asking what he thought about our trip. The reply was, ”Good luck to you, wish I could join you‘. It was nice to know that our ability was recognised at least by one local seafarer, even if he was slightly biased as a former Wayfarer sailor.

There not being much doing in the wind department, the lure of the café by the Crinan Canal lock was too much so the boats were left to fend for themselves as the crews indulged in tea and cakes (taken on the outside seats as several days without washing were beginning to bear fruit). John suggested Crinan Ferry, just upstream of Crinan for our anchorage that night. The inner Loch Crinan is characterised by sand flats and at low tide a meandering stream. This enabled us to get out for a walk which was very welcome. I was surprised that the few midges about weren‘t put off by the BO!

Crinan Ferry looking west

Our guide John took us to see a couple of local landmarks. One was an old ice house and was bordered by an unusually constructed fence and the other was the worlds poshest shed that actually sported stained glass windows.

Ice house at Crinan Ferry The following morning it was clear that we were going nowhere fast under sail. The wind allowed us to ghost out of the Loch, but once in the Sound of Jura the tide was too strong. Chris manfully rowed for a mile before the outboard was again stirred into action and we motored south as far as Craignish. It was fascinating edging along close to this rocky forested shoreline with its many small indentations and varied rock formations.

Sea Sprite under power Sound of Jura

It was clear from the weather that there was no real prospect of wind and with relatives nearby for me to visit we decided to recover the boats at Craignish and head off.

The two weeks of our visit to Scotland really were a contrast, with some definitely ”interesting‘ conditions during the first half and ending with such superb settled sunny weather at the end of the second. It certainly rekindled my desire to explore a bit further north of the border.

Some hard work with the spinnaker œ Firth of Lorne

Matthew Sharman W 773