Some more time in Scotland

[Kyle]Since I’d exhausted myself by working that one day, Maryanne and I decided to take a little (actually not so little) sailing tour of the area. Our first order of business was to top up with much needed fuel. Dunstaffnage once again disappointed us. They had managed to rent out all of the docks from which they dispense fuel, so we had no way to get any (It was not even possible to raft up given the boats they had on the fuel docks!). We had planned to tie up, fuel and then go in to settle our bill. Instead, we headed back to our old dock in rising winds and difficult handling conditions and grumpily settled up. In the week before, we discovered that their travel lift had been twisted by lifting a boat that was too heavy. They had twisted and welded the thing back together but it was not in the best of shape. Maryanne and I took measurements and found the width in spots to be 1½ feet narrower than advertised and too narrow for Footprint. The staff thought it was worth trying anyway. Uh, no thanks, we’ll take a pass on that.

Since we still needed fuel and since I was mad at them for not being the least bit helpful in that respect either, we headed over to Oban Marina. We got fuel there by rafting up to this behemoth of a sail training boat that must have been 80 feet overall. We had a look at Oban’s nice, big Travel Lift. It was not bent or patched together in any way and should be able to lift little ol’ Footprint with its pinky finger. Footprint will be spending the winter there now. The only downside is that Oban Marina is on the island Of Kerrera, requiring a ferry ride to the mainland. The ferries don’t run very early so now I’ll have to leave for work two days early and get a hotel in order to get there on time.

After fueling, we left Oban and headed into increasing headwinds to Loch Aline via the Sound of Mull. We needed to get through the Sound of Mull in order to reach the islands beyond. With the strong headwinds, it seemed prudent to break it into two parts with a quick overnight stop in Loch Aline. We found or old anchoring spot but, try as we might, we could not get the anchor to set. We’d try again and again. Every time, we’d drag. We’d pull everything up and find a ball of slippery seaweed with an anchor buried somewhere in the middle. Of course, since it was Scotland, it was also raining buckets and we were both completely drenched. Eventually, we decided the hell with it and anchored in the middle of the loch where it was too deep for any weed (seaweed needs light). This meant we had to have tons of anchor rode out but we were all by ourselves out there anyway.


This whole trip was in drenching rain, so no point in taking pictures, but I did find this hardy crew out fishing - 10 points for effort eh?
After a short, rough night, we returned to the Sound of Mull. When we came out of the protection of the loch and turned the corner into the Sound, it was even worse than the day before. Oh, this was good Scottish sailing all right. We were pounding into 30 knot headwinds. A couple of other boats passed us going the opposite direction, headed for the safety of the loch. One of them was the behemoth we tied up next to the day before, flying just a scrap of storm jib. I was getting pretty nervous and was seriously considering throwing in the towel myself. A look at the chart showed that the sound took a bend to the north in about four miles. This would offer us some protection from the wind and waves. We just had to get there. After that, we had about six miles of open sea to cross before we could make a nice, downwind turn to the northeast. Things would get better then.

Those six miles were pretty bad. Since we had been slowed down by winds and chop in the Sound of Mull, we were a little behind schedule. The tide was now running against the wind and the waves were short and scary steep. We were counting down every foot to the turn.

We made the downwind turn past the Ardnamurchan peninsula and into the Sea of the Hebrides. Even though the wind and seas increased slightly, it felt a lot better on that point of sail. Our destination for the day was Port Mor on the little island of Muck. Sunset was fast approaching. We knew if we could not make it there in daylight, we would have no choice but to stand out to sea for the night – something neither of us was in the mood for. We made it just in time.

The small harbor at Port Mor faces southeast and offers only marginal protection from strong southwest winds. The entrance is the eye of a needle between two sets of rocks. When we arrived, the waves were running about 12 – 15 feet, creating huge rollers that crashed against the rocks on either side of us. We had to get way too close to them to get in. I steered between the waves while Maryanne kept her eyes on the radar, chart plotter and fish finder (for depth trace) and called out the turns.

Once inside, the surf decreased to a mild swell. All the good spots were taken by the three fishing boats in the harbor. We anchored in deep water by the entrance and, again, put out all (250’/75m) of our primary rode.