During the major refit 2 years ago, I had the opportunity to review the antifouling situation. (the coating on the hull to prevent the growth of weed and barnacles etc) The existing  ‘coppercoat’ treatment was both disappointing (maybe I expected too much) and coming to the end of its effective life, so I thought it was maybe time for an upgrade. A new product by Hempel, called ‘Silic One’ was getting rave reviews in the yachting press and seemed, from the hype, to have all the answers. The antifouling promised to be effective for several years, only ever needing just lightly hosing off (it would be stripped by power washing) and it is, apparently, easy to augment with no additional surface preparation. The principle is that it is very slippery and anything that tries to stick to it will just wash off with the passage of water when underway. The treatment on my propeller works on a similar principle and it is very effective.

What was not to like? I have now found out!

The hull preparation demanded the complete stripping of the existing coppercoat, right back to the epoxy substrate which was an arduous job. There was then a complicated sequence of applications with a final ‘tie coat’ before the actual silic covering could be applied. Additionally, the temperature and humidity is a critical factor and, over the winter, it was necessary to erect a ‘tent’ around the hull to achieve the correct environmental conditions. You will have seen from previous blogs that the launch was frustratingly delayed into more benign climatic conditions and, had I known, the costly ‘tenting’ would actually have been unnecessary. What we had also not properly thought through was the fact that the inaccessible patches where the supporting cradle pads bore on the hull had prevented the complicated preparation and covering process in those areas. In the event, the very craning process when lifting back into the marina, scuffed away the delicate surface where the strops bore against the hull. All in all, the whole exercise was compromised, but by that stage, I was committed and had little choice. Maybe the shortfalls could be corrected at the next ‘lift’ – I thought…

Initial indications were encouraging as we had a fast passage to Dun Laoghaire suggesting that the hull was super clean. We left Hejira in the marina near Dublin for several weeks and observed from other vessels, that the general level of fouling around the marina was pretty bad. Our onward passage should have washed the hull clean, but it became evident that the log impeller was seriously ‘under reading’ despite thoroughly cleaning the paddle wheel which suggested that the hull had some growth. My brief icy dive off Oban cleared the fouling from the hull around the log opening and it subsequently began to read correctly, but it all indicated that the Silic was not performing as well as expected.

The lift on Monday 17^th of February 2025 was to reveal the extent of the problem and I was resigned to making whatever decisions were necessary to ensure several years of easily maintained, fouling free sailing, possibly away from easy access to marina facilities.

Unfortunately, that morning, having moved Hejira to the waiting berth as stipulated by 08.30 for the promised 09.00 lift, by 10.00 there was still no activity apart from the staff debating moving other yachts to make a place for Hejira. Expecting to ‘drive’ Hejira into the crane dock, we were told that they would ‘warp’ her in and our help was not required. With no sign of any imminent activity, we decided to leave the marina to it.

It came as a complete surprise when, late afternoon, I had a call to say that Hejira was still in the slings as she had slipped when they were trying to block her off. The staff blamed the Silic coating as the supporting pads could not make a purchase against the slippery coating on the hull. I had arranged for Chris Murch from Hayling Yacht Services to be in attendance and he set about stripping the Silic from the area of the support pads and abrading the hull. Any notion of retaining and repairing the Silic coating was now abandoned.

The following morning, the yard staff were still not happy and insisting that they put Hejira back into the water as they could not safely ‘block her off’ and there were other yachts with disgruntled owners, scheduled to be lifted. I was not happy as she had been ‘blocked off’ ashore at Northney half a dozen times before, even withstanding over 100mph winds, unattended over Christmas 10 years before. I ended up having to speak to more senior staff, and eventually the Marina Manager, explaining that Southerlies were designed to safely sit on their grounding plates when they dry out on the sand and mud between tides, without supports. I just could not understand their issue when they routinely deal with yachts right up in the air with 6-foot fin keels. I suggested that further areas around the grounding plate would be stripped of the slippery Silic and additional blocks could be used.

They finally relented and she was ‘blocked off’ ashore late morning having spent 24 hours ‘in the slings’, now hopefully safe but with the manager labouring the point that they would have to carry out daily checks…

So, apart from the other jobs like replacing anodes, a seacock and tidying some hull windows, we will be stripping the Silic off the hull and applying the best traditional, hard, antifouling available. We should then be able, in future, to simply lift, wherever we are in the world, and have the hull pressure washed as necessary and returned straight back into the safe embrace of the sea.

The Hempel Silic One may be a fabulous product and the antifouling Nirvana for power boats which travel fast enough to purge their hulls of growth, but for a sailing yacht, particularly one as sedate as portly old Hejira, it is probably not the answer.

Little wonder that I am ‘Sick of Silic’!

It has always seemed a good idea to catch fish from the yacht, why not… but my previous experiences have been mixed, at best.

Over the years, I have spent fortunes on fishing gear but my sporadic efforts at fishing have amounted to little, not that I have actually invested much time or energy in it… We did catch dorado and tuna on the first Trans-Atlantic and these ate well, but I think this was more by luck than judgement and it was achieved with little effort on my part.

The basic problem is that I had no idea what I was doing, and this ignorance made me reluctant to invest much time or effort in the quest.

I know a local chap, John Rose, who is a keen sea fisherman and conversations in the pub led to a day out, specifically for fishing.

November the 5th & 6th were chosen as the weather was to be calm and dry. The colder weather, I was told, should mean that there might be cod which was an additional attraction.

Arriving at the bait shop on Hayling Island at 08.30, on John’s advice, I parted with nearly £40 for some squid and live rag worms.

Joined by Richard and his friend, Dave (also a fisherman) at the marina, we set off, full of hope and expectation – John had guaranteed fish, so I had brought along three large buckets for our substantial ‘catch’ !

So, we motored out in very light winds and with a spring tide under us. We paused at the Nab Tower and  drifted west as suggested.

No fish, or even a hint of a fish. This was apparently because we were not anchored – so we anchored… still no fish. With dusk approaching, we picked up a mooring buoy off Seaview for the night.

The ‘enthusiastic three’  proceeded to fish in the gloom and dark, convinced by fisherman John, that this was the best time to hunt our prey.

I must accept that fish were caught, but none that would supplement our rations.

Richard writes:

Oh dear, it was all going so well.

We started with high hopes and great expectations with dreams of huge cod by the dozen. But John warned that the waters may not be cold enough for cod at the moment but said that we could expect to catch different species, which indeed we did.

The two fishermen were enthusiastic, I was keen to learn and Nick, as we were to find out, has the patience of a gnat! If a fish didn’t bite within three minutes of getting his bait in the water, he would wind it back in and declare, “spinning, that’s what we need to do, spinning”.

And so, spinners were found, tied to his line and off he went, merrily casting with his new, brightly coloured casting rod trying not to take anyone’s eye out. But, three minutes later, “this is a bloody waste of time and what you lot have caught wouldn’t feed anyone, they’re all inedible and far too small”.

Well, the numbers don’t lie. The final tally was;

John                      5 conger eel, 1 smooth hound and 2 dog fish

Dave                     1 dog fish, 2 lovely sea bream and four eels

Richard               1 beautiful and quite enormous sea bass and 3 eels

Nick                      Nothing. Nada, Niet, Zero. SFA. Not even a tiddler.

(Editors note: all of the fish were returned to the sea, alive, but probably with sore lips)

But, all of this pales into insignificance because, this morning, Trump is in the lead and Nick is seriously grumpy! Breakfast was had in stoney silence, nobody dared say anything for fear of eruption. What’s Nick going to be like if Trump actually wins? It will be like Brexit part II ………… OMG

Having returned to Torquay by train, it was prudent to ‘sit out’ the next day while another weather front passed through. I confess to regrets at maligning Torquay in my last blog because, substantial walks contradicted my previous assessment. Initial impressions were tainted by the semi derelict Pavilion building adjacent to the marina which is now under redevelopment; the disruption while a new pedestrian area is under construction and the depressing aftermath of the demise of Debenhams, whose neglected, empty store commands the epicentre of the town. Our morning walk to the east took us through smart areas of impressive villas, lovely cliff and woodland paths and stunning views.

Our afternoon walk in the west of the town did reveal empty shops and run down houses, but it all seems eminently affordable and probably on the ‘up’ as they tend to say in property circles. The town could boom again if global warming and expensive air travel results in more people holidaying at home.

One of the issues to be remembered with sailing yachts, particularly with an aft master cabin, is the noise made by even small ripples under the stern. I have often turned the yacht to moor bows to the wind but in marinas this is not always possible. In the big winds in Torquay and a fetch from the breakwater directly to our transom, it was likely to be a challenge sleeping. Mindful that we had suffered from some noisy nights in Scotland, I have made a gizmo to minimise the ‘slapping’.

Threading floating rope through sections of ‘noodles’ (tubular swimming aids), to make a floating ‘snake’, it is pulled loosely under the counter to float before the water surface meets the hull and eliminate the ripples before they hit what is effectively, a drum. I have to say that this was largely successful in reducing the noise and only the larger wavelets troubled the hull. We slept well!

Negotiating Portland Bill, over 40 miles from Torbay, is all about timing as the race must be taken on the flood and optimised for favourable tidal streams. It was not popular that this necessitated a 4am reveille, in the dark, and heavy rain – again, but it had to be done. The passage was not enjoyable, with a lumpy sea and the torrential rain driving into the cabin through the main hatch, not the sailing experience to convince anyone of the pleasures of yacht ownership.

Thankfully, our timing and positioning at the Bill was ‘dead on’ and the rounding was as smooth as it could be in the spring tide and fresh wind.  Our destination was Weymouth, it being a pretty and vibrant place to spend a ‘lay’ day while another weather system passed over us.

We were rewarded on our long walk along the coast path to Portland and back, by a spectacular display of wind and kite surfers, taking advantage of the very fresh winds in the smooth protected water of Portland Harbour.

Although there were big seas crashing onto Chesil Beach, the Cove Inn, was not experiencing the conditions from 2014, or we would not have been sat outside on the terrace!

Weymouth was heaving and had a lot going on with live music on the quay, a little too close to our mooring. We managed to take in an accomplished and entertaining  Amy Winehouse tribute band concert at the Pavilion Theatre which provided a welcome diversion. The immense crowds on the Bank Holiday Sunday resulted in queues outside the restaurants which was off-putting until we discovered we could order fish and chips on-line and have them delivered to the yacht!

We helped a similar sized yacht raft alongside us, this is quite normal in Weymouth Harbour. It turned out that they had three dogs on board, and they had liberally defecated on the deck, where we were handling the mooring warps. I am not a dog or cat lover having been allergic to them all my life, but I really can’t understand their presence on an offshore cruising yacht.

The sail to Yarmouth via the Needles Channel in fresh westerly winds resulted in an enjoyable romp and we secured an alongside, walk ashore, pontoon berth in the harbour, with sufficient time to take the 4 mile walk to Freshwater and back.

This is a lovely route following the old railway line alongside the river Yar heading south and through woods and farmland on the way back. It is handsomely rewarded at half distance by libation at the delightful Red Lion pub, next to Freshwater church.

Our intention had been to transit up to Newport in the centre of the Isle of Wight and ‘dry out’ when the tide receded, spending the day chillin’ and maybe using our free bus passes to casually get around the Island.

Unfortunately, our plans were aborted when Richard, woke up with an ear infection inducing vertigo and nausea. Richard has a malformed cochlea in his left ear which limits the frequencies he can hear (although it seems it’s mainly female voices that are the problem!),  so issues with his one functioning ear are more serious than in a binaural individual. I was also thinking that a dizzy crew on deck might be less than optimum or safe, and with the ladies insisting that he book the soonest doctor appointment, we decided to carry the tide straight back to our home berth in Northney Marina.

This turned out to be one of the best sails of the whole adventure with the tide under us, blue skies and a warm, fresh south/south westerly giving us a sprightly beam reach, we flew up the Solent, into Chichester Harbour and up the Emsworth Channel to Northney Marina and our home berth.

Our sailing adventure was over. We had travelled nearly 2000 miles since the second of April with various crew and several punctuations. We have negotiated some sailing landmarks, the Crinan and Caledonian Canals, Orkney, and the Hebrides. Despite awful weather, particularly in the North, it has been a rewarding and memorable, if taxing itinerary. There is now an extensive list of jobs to be done, some emanating from the recent refit, but Hejira should be in tip top shape for next year’s adventure, whatever that may turn out to be. I will be taking modest local trips for the rest of the year which will probably not merit a blog before ‘lifting’ in mid-winter.

Having returned by train to Plymouth, there was only a modest target for the next 5 days, to transfer Hejira from the oversubscribed, QAB Marina in Plymouth, to the sister MDL Marina in Torquay for another period of ‘free’ berthing.

It was a pleasure to welcome old friends, Peter Hoade and Jem Vercoe as crew for the brief cruise, both of whom, having retired to Devon, live relatively locally.

Jem used to work for Atom and has sailed with me since my first ‘cruising’ yacht, the 18-foot Sailfish, ‘Mowglee’ in the  ‘80’s. We upgraded  to the 23-foot Dufour, ‘La Premiere’, which was a Trailer Sailer and was, in retrospect, a pretty crap yacht.  We took her across the English Channel several times to Brittany and the Channel Islands, with a noisy, smelly, 9hp Johnson 2-stroke outboard mounted in the centre cockpit! This was replaced by the larger lift keel, Parker 31, ‘Karisma’, which was a  good yacht although our attempts to race her were hampered (quite apart from our lack of skill…) by a punitive handicap as she had a wing keel (designed for sitting on), fractional rig and long waterline length, all of which counted against her. We took her on some very memorable cruises including around the UK (but cutting through the Caledonian Canal), Normandy on the 50^th anniversary of the D-Day Landings, a stormy crossing to Ireland to (only just) meet my son arriving in Cork as an unaccompanied 8-year-old, and across Biscay to Northern Spain. All of these adventures were with Jem who is now 74 and in remission from cancer, so it is a real treat to reprise our sailing relationship following his 20 years spent living in France.

Peter, at 77 is also a long-time sailing companion and friend, who becomes more ponderous as his years advance.

Fowey is my favourite destination on the English South Coast, so it was compelling that we should take the 22-mile detour, west, to visit this jewel. Leaving QAB early with the favourable current and wind, we hoped that there would be mooring buoys vacated by yachts heading west, taking advantage of the easterly wind and favourable tide towards the Scillies, then, with the wind veering westerly and the tide turning, there should be another exodus to the east. It was a good theory and it ‘played out’ as there was a choice of empty visitors mooring buoys on our arrival.

I remembered Jem and Peter in their more vigorous years and, maybe, the 4-mile, hilly and rugged, ‘Hall Walk’ from Boddinick to Polruan, that I recommended for pre-pub exercise proved to be a little too much for their ageing bodies. They were probably more used to a strenuous afternoon in front of the telly, but they were game and so we set off, with an initial spring in our steps.

As the walk went on, and the repeated inclines and descents took their toll, I became so frustrated with the lack of progress and the stopping at every available bench for a rest, that I pressed on to Polruan for a pint and to await their arrival.

One pint led to two and three as time passed and I became concerned that something had befallen the pair of septuagenarians  and I actually worried that I should not have left them behind. When they finally arrived at the Russell Inn, Peter was in a terrible state, he had taken a tumble down the precipitous bank at the side of the track, into an impenetrable thicket of brambles. It seems that gravity got the better of him on a steep downhill section and he couldn’t slow down, so when the track turned left, he carried on over the edge. They maintain that it took 25 minutes to extract him from the prickly embrace of the brambles and climb back up to the track. His arms were a mass of bleeding scratches and he looked thoroughly dishevelled.

I felt bad for having abandoned them – but it didn’t last long…

Our passage the next day, turned out to be a romp, with the log registering over 7 knots on a close reach for the duration. The river Yealm is another magical destination with the picture postcard villages of Newton Ferrers and Noss Mayo on opposite sides of the creek. We had stayed in front of the rain expected in Fowey in the morning, but it arrived in the afternoon, just as we embarked on the walk around the head of the inlet between the two villages.

Unfortunately, this time, it was Jem who struggled, limping along at a snails pace, repeatedly pausing and grasping every available hand hold with his knee giving him a lot of pain – I suggested he ‘walk it off’ but this didn’t go down well and it didn’t happen.

The ferry service in the Yealm is now shared between two enterprises. From 10am to 4pm it is run by, Billy, an old boy who has clearly been doing it for years judging by the state of his boat and who inconveniently stops for lunch. He doesn’t have a VHF radio any more, and with no mobile signal, getting a lift is a bit hit and miss. He has little time for the upstart electric water taxi, which is a new, very smart, wheelchair and environmentally friendly service. They can be called on VHF and run first thing but only up to 09.45 and then after 16.00 presumably in some sort of accommodation with the incumbent. They are a not-for-profit organisation who are, very tactfully, polite about their more expensive rival, and sanguine about the situation.

Just before our departure, I was stood on the mid-stream pontoon, passing the time of day with another yacht crew, when there was a gurgle from Hejira next to where we were standing. Imagine my embarrassment at the brown cloud that appeared. Peter had not switched the toilet to the holding tank and was discharging his waste straight into the river – I was very annoyed!

What a re-affirming passage to Dartmouth, the only thing missing as we creamed along under sail alone, was the presence of sunshine and maybe dolphins.

Securing a visitors berth in Kingswear, opposite Dartmouth, we could walk ashore but ventured no further than the Steampacket Inn, which was within the scope of the other two.

With the moorings in both Fowey and the River Yealm costing £31, the Darthaven Marina fee was an eye watering £78.39 – we ate on board!

We set off early for Torquay as the weather was set to deteriorate and, although we had to stem an unfavourable current and lumpy wind over tide conditions at Start Point, the blow sped us the short distance to Torquay where a downwind pontoon berth was thankfully, easy to negotiate.

The ‘Hole in the Wall’ pub dating from 1540 was a rare gem in what, in our opinion is a pretty seedy seaside town but it is a safe place to leave Hejira for a week back home.

Jem writes (Peter is still banned from writing):

The ferry lady on the way back to the yacht from Polruan after the ‘Hall Walk’, said it was 5 miles not the 3 on the signposts, and no-one mentioned that it was up a hill then back down then up another steep climb and so on before finally returning to sea level, nice little walk my arse!!!!

As one gets older, inevitably, one accrues more experience and certain niceties fall away in favour of expediencies.

So it is with sailing, gone are the days when I am prepared to sail close hauled to windward for hours on end, beating into a lumpy sea, tacking back and forth, barely making any progress, getting covered in spray, uncomfortable and cold. Now I tend to haul the main sail in tight, bear away, just enough to fill the sail, and use the engine. No shame in that…

Our 156-mile overnight passage from Islay to Dun Laoghaire fell into this category, but this had the further complication of persistent rain. So, we adjusted and softened the philosophy still further. We retained the ‘conservatory’ that we had erected over the cockpit, rolled up the sides and stayed in the dry until we needed the visibility (and ‘street cred’) for our harbour entry. Pragmatist, not purist…

Sitting out a period of strong head winds for 24 hours in Dun Laoghaire, I took the bus to surprise my granddaughters (and what a reaction when I jumped out at them from behind some bushes!) while the other two took the train to walk from Bray to Greystones again.

They didn’t have the nutter to ‘show them the way’ this time, so they got lost – physically, not spiritually.

Our 278m mile passage all the way back to Plymouth was going to take two days and two nights and after another torrential downpour, we had a very pleasant sail through the first night.

The blow that we had avoided while moored in Dun Laoghaire, had left a lumpy sea and when the wind died away and we were unable to carry any sail for stability, we wallowed uncomfortably as we pressed on under engine – again. It is a testament to the Scopoderm sea sickness patches, that John breezed through this period without succumbing to ‘mal de mer’, particularly as he didn’t have the benefit of a mobile signal to distract him.

We were blessed again by the arrival of dolphins as we crossed the Bristol Channel, dozens of them, some quite small, so they must have been whole families. (I have had the ultra sonic anti fouling system turned off) There are clearly quite a lot of ‘pods’ in the Bristol Channel as I seem to always have encounters in the area.

As we have travelled south, the weather and temperature has gradually improved and the crew wistfully, speculated about how much nicer a summer sailing cruise in France or Spain might have been… The sea temperature in Orkney had been ten degrees, whereas, on the south coast of England, it is a balmy 15 degrees. I had packed three pairs of shorts and it was a complete waste of time.

Queen Annes’s Battery Marina in Plymouth is one of the 19  MDL (Marina Developments Limited)  stable of marinas and, followers of this blog, will know that I have had my issues with MDL. I pay over £13,000 a year for the right to have an annual berth in Northney Marina. This is the supposedly all encompassing ‘Platinum Otium Plus’ package which includes free berthing in other marinas in the group. It was therefore disappointing to be told that my stay in QAB marina was limited as they had to ‘make room for a visiting rally’.

Working my future plans around the restricted berth availability, we will return to Sunningdale on the train after a truncated but satisfying cruise ‘over the top’. We didn’t visit many of the places we intended to, partly due to the awful weather but mainly because of crew pressures to return home. Since Inverness, we have logged a total of 883 miles in only two weeks which is a ridiculously punishing schedule of passage making. I have  vowed in the past to slow down and enjoy the sailing and the destinations along the way but, once again, I have found myself suckered into pressing on and I must REALLY try to avoid this in future.

I will return to Plymouth before I overstay my welcome, and resume in a more leisurely fashion with another crew.

Richard writes:

“I’m going to cook dinner”, said Nick, with a wistful look on his face and a wry smile. “Corned beef hash, it’s one of my signature dishes”. Again, that strange twinkle in his eyes. Now, in normal circumstances, when you’re not worn down by days of a punishing watch schedule, your mind would be more alert. You’d realise that something is not quite right.

As it turned out, the hash was surprisingly good; onions, peppers and chillies of course, but also corned beef, potatoes and peas. All washed down with a cup of tea.

“Ah ha” he says, after we had eaten, grinning from ear to ear, “I can show you now, look at this” and produced the box from which the potatoes (Waitrose Rosti) had been extracted. Best Before Nov 2020!

So, if Nick says he’s going to cook you dinner, be afraid, very afraid!

Firstly, I have to say that Richard’s contribution to the last blog was rather exaggerated and mostly ‘out of context’. I didn’t edit it as this would be rather akin to censorship and we are not in Putin’s Russia, so it remains as a tribute to the freedom and integrity of the blog, for what it’s worth.

Bodily functions would appear to be a sensitive subject though, especially between men and women. A good friend of mine who I will not name but who has the nickname of a warty amphibian (very apt), has what, to me, seems to be an overly sensitive attitude. He claims never to have flatulated in front of his wife and always uses a different toilet to their en-suite which is the preserve of his wife. When they were courting, if he needed the loo and they were in an hotel, he would go down to the lobby to use the toilet there, so as not to be overheard abluting (well, it is his third marriage…). This seems perverse to me, but he claims that it is my apparently reckless abandon that is abnormal…

While we are (marginally) on the subject of toilets, those unfamiliar with yachts might like to know what happens in this regard on board… Hejira has two toilets or ‘heads’ as they are known on yachts, one in my master cabin and one shared by the crew up front. They double as showers and have extract fans and everything you would expect in a compact but very adequate facility. The contents are pumped straight out to sea when well offshore but into holding tanks when in harbours, anchorages and marinas, for later discharge to sea, which is more than can be said of our water companies.

Having bought fresh croissants, pan au chocolate and bread in the excellent bakery in Mallaig, we headed off towards Tobermory on the island of Mull. This took us  down the Sound of Sleat (this is the actual name not a description of the weather – but not far off), past the islands of Rum, Eigg and Muck (no comment) and it was a relatively short 33 mile passage. It would have been nice to have seen the islands around us but once again the Scottish weather continued to punish us with persistent drizzle and very poor visibility.

We intended to make Tobermory a lunch stop on the way to Oban but we were ‘spooked’ by the presence of the Clipper Round the World fleet in Oban and thought that mooring places would be in short supply. A call to the Port Authority allayed our fears and we restored our aspirations accordingly, so we only popped into Tobermory to do a ‘drive past’ then continued down the Sound of Mull to Oban

We were fortunate to secure a berth in the Transit Marina in the heart of a bustling Oban town and we walked ashore for a beer and took fish and chips back on board. An early night was called for in preparation for our 04.20 departure to ensure we made the tidal races with a favourable ‘flush’ on our 60 mile passage to our final destination in Scotland.

Full oilies were required for another miserable day of rain and poor visibility although the temperature had improved slightly. The wind was just not free enough to allow us to sail unaided but we flew at nearly 10 knots through the Sound of Luing race and with the Sound of Jura giving us a lumpy passage, we were pleased to make the quiet of Port Ellen at the southern tip of Islay.

The following day was not inviting for an attempt on the North Channel with fresh southerly winds, so we decided to take the day off and explore what Port Ellen and Islay have to offer. The answer to this is – DISTILLERIES !

While John went for a run, Richard and I took the 4 mile ‘three distilleries walk’ with a reward at the end in the Ardbeg distillery.

The distillery tours were fully booked, so we had to make do with a tasting and lunch. The bus back was curious as it stopped in the middle of nowhere and an old chap and his dog got on. He chatted with the driver for some time then got back off and we carried on, it is clearly a different pace of life on Islay!

So, plans are fluid but it is looking as though we sit out the rain and southerly winds tomorrow morning and leave with the second tide in the evening and sail overnight towards Ireland with an acceptable wind forecast. Our destination will depend on progress, our appetite to continue, and the prospects offered by what we can see of the future weather systems for the impending crossing around Land’s End.

Richard writes:

Crikey, I didn’t expect that! To be accused of distorting the truth? I know that there are many that will support my corner and will testify that life aboard Hejira is actually much worse than Putin’s Russia; perhaps more akin to Stalin’s Russia, perhaps? No doubt, this will also be edited or redacted or deleted altogether. You, dear reader, will never know!

If I offended anyone’s sensibilities when talking about on board toilet practice, I apologise. But it is nice to sometimes use the facilities ashore when you know your pull of the toilet roll is not attracting attention.

Apart from garlic, onion and chilli the catering on board has been pretty good. Tonight, would you believe, we had fresh cabbage. Now, I know this will backfire on us later, but at least it was a healthy option. John has an aversion to cooking. He claims he poisoned his wife cooking an omelette, but I suspect that was just a diversionary tactic? But he is a great washer-upper. Nick has an amazing repertoire, including; corn beef hash with tinned mince, a packet of potato rosti, beans and chilli. Mmmm? He has tins of produce stowed everywhere. Even Paula hasn’t found all of his out-of-date stock yet (but she might now! – unless this is censored, of course).

Arriving in Stornoway after lunch on a Sunday proved to be  something of a challenge when intending to victual. It is a very pleasant place but closed on a Sunday. We did manage to establish that a basic shop, part of a petrol station on the edge of town, would be open until 4pm so we strode off, arrived at 3.45 and successfully replenished the fresh essentials. Tired after our exertions, we chose to have a beer ashore and then a Chinese take-away on board while watching the football final. Disappointing on both counts!

While in Stornoway we were privileged to meet Derek Lumb, President of the Cruising Association who had seen our CA burgee and paid us a visit. The CA is an august institution of which I have been a member for a number of years. They have a clubhouse in Limehouse with ‘cabins’ which members can use when in London. They also have an app. called CAptain’s Mate and we have been using it extensively during our cruise for nuggets of useful information, not published in the pilot books. Derek is a massive contributor, and his name keeps cropping up, so it was interesting to meet him in person and chat over our experiences. What an impressive and knowledgeable chap!

Our destinations have tended to be fishing harbours and it has been interesting to watch the commotion when the returning boats are sorting/gutting their catch and discarding the chaff (there is probably a more nautical term for this) as it not only attracts a melee of squawking gulls but also seals, all competing for the scraps.

We have seen a lot of guillemots which dive as we approach. We didn’t spot the puffins because they are clearly more timid and dive sooner meaning that we do not identify them as, on the surface, from a distance they look very similar to the guillemots given my non-twitcher eyes.

It was only using Richards (better than mine – soon to be mine, but he doesn’t know this yet) binoculars followed by John’s long camera lens that we were able to identify and photograph them.

Our 43-mile passage south to Acairseid Mhor on the island of Rona between Skye and the mainland was in a northerly wind of 6 knots which was our boat speed under engine so we experienced an aggregate wind speed of zero. With a flat sea and some sunshine, we had a very leisurely passage, we even dispensed with the heating! Acarseid Mhor is billed as the second-best anchorage in the World but, given that the best is also listed as being in the Scottish Islands, I think this might be a misprint or written by a Scot. It was actually, delightful, well sheltered and a real treat.

We even found ourselves whispering so as not to break the silent magic of the place.

The lack of a phone signal could also be considered a bonus, but not for one of the crew as it meant that he had to communicate with us – he (no names but his name starts with Jo and ends with ohn) keeps fidgeting and doesn’t know what to do with himself.

Having plenty of time before the tide turned in our favour at the Skye bridge narrows, we popped into Portree on Skye at lunch time, where we moored against a tripper boat while the Hejira crew did some shopping.

The remainder of our passage was taken in drizzle, under grey skies and in the cold, with the heating on.

We had no great expectations of Mallaig from gossip picked up en-route, so we were pleasantly surprised. We arrived late but with a helpful and hearty welcome from the marina manager. The facilities were top class, modern, warm, clean and even with a hair dryer in the gents! What we saw of the town was charming with a handy Co-Op so, thumbs up and I will be reporting this on the CAptain‘s Mate app.

Richard writes:

Our Skipper. Now, for all his great attributes; his charm, whit, generosity, good humour, positivity and being a general ‘tour de force’, he does have one or two tiny idiosyncrasies. Hardly worth mentioning, but I will!

Cuppa Soup, that mainstay of the sailing community, must be taken with garlic powder, chilli flakes and a good teaspoonful of Bovril.

How many sheets of toilet paper do you use? (Yes, he really asked this question) and how many times do you wipe? (Yes, he really did ask this too!)

A ‘dirty beer’ (Nick’s note: I cannot claim this as my own, I adopted the practice from ‘Captain’ Cooke who sailed with me. He had been a Merchant Navy skipper and it was a tradition apparently, to take a beer at the end of a passage before washing or changing.) is the first thing to have when making landfall, regardless.

Fenders! You’d better get it right. Two long white ones in the middle, a round blue at either end, spaced just so and stowed away again, the lines coiled, in exactly the right way. I could go on, so I will.

Jazz. I was surprised and delighted on our last trip to be given a brief moment in control of the musical output one evening. It was great, the collection on Nicks’ computer is eclectic and wide ranging, taking in most musical tastes. But, with Nick in charge, it always reverts to jazz. Not the easy listening, background music that is just about bearable but the weird, discordant stuff that has you shuffling off to bed early, feigning a headache. There are other things I could mention, so I will.

Food and Farting. Onions, garlic and chilli in everything! Tins of Fray Bentos pies that went out of date in 1984. Cans of lager from 2001 (he doesn’t drink lager and promised me it would be fine). Tea; a mixture of breakfast and green with a bag of turmeric. No wonder he farts so much and with such gay abandon, but that doesn’t explain the pleasure he clearly gets from it!

Hoy Sound lived up to its reputation and gave us a rollercoaster through the overfalls as we left Stromness bound for Cape Wrath.

We made the small diversion to take a look at ‘The Old Man of Hoy’ and we were pleased we took the trouble, although the passage  along the coast was a gauntlet of semi submerged fishing pot markers.

Our target was Stornoway on the island of Lewis in the Outer Hebrides, a 111mile passage, but we had a dilemma. Never having been to Stornoway before, and unable to make a booking to receive a berth allocation, I was reluctant to arrive on spec, in the dark. An alternative was to sail through the night at a reduced speed to arrive after dawn. This option was unattractive as the reduced canvas would leave us wallowing uncomfortably in the big Atlantic swells. We tried to contact Kinlockbervie,15 miles ‘round the corner’ from Cape Wrath on the mainland as we could make an early evening entry.  It is a small fishing harbour with a recently installed pontoon for yachts, but we only received a text saying, ‘probably, there might be space’. This wasn’t very encouraging but with the alternative of an adjacent anchorage as a fall back, we decided that this was the best option. Thankfully we won the potluck jackpot and there was space for Hejira alongside the pontoon.

Desperate for a beer, we phoned the Kinlockbervie  hotel which was the only likely establishment. The reception made it very clear that the public bar entrance was ‘round the back’, they presumably didn’t want our type offending the hotel residents. It was buzzing with locals and had a very dated atmosphere with a juke box, pool table and dart board. The beer was good (for Scotland) and the homemade steak and ale pie was stuffed with  meat. Happy and replete, on Richard’s suggestion, we successfully took a welcome shortcut through a field of sheep back to the harbour.

Another early start took us across the North Minch, 48 miles to Stornoway under a poled-out jib with the Force 4 wind directly behind us. It was such a pleasure to spend a leisurely morning, quietly under sail, with no tidal gate deadlines to meet and with the sun making a rare appearance.