Author: Mate

Tuesday 4 July

A very wet birthday morning for Mate, which didn’t improve by missing the train into Glasgow by one minute having spent the ten-minute walk to the station dodging puddles and dancing away from big truck splashes. The next train was only 30 minutes’ wait in a warm dry waiting room; shame there was no coffee stall. The journey into the city followed the river amid pleasant scenery.

Mate chose to indulge her passion for the art and architecture of Charles Rennie Mackintosh as her birthday treat, and she selected two exhibits of his work in his home city: the Mackintosh Church and the reconstruction of the main rooms of his home at the Hunterian Art Gallery at Glasgow University. She was thrilled by both as they offered examples of his work in a range of different media, including wood carving, glass, furniture and furnishings. She learned that Mackintosh saw light as feminine and dark as masculine, expressed in simple, elegant lines and depicting elements of nature. She was moved in both buildings by the peaceful and inspiring atmosphere.

They took in one further sight on the tourist trail with a brief visit to the Cathedral to view some stunning windows, before repairing to John Lewis for some irresistible retail therapy. The day was rounded off very happily by a ‘Tapas Tuesday’ bargain supper with a delicious bottle of red wine – she’s such a cheap date.

Monday 3 July

A tricky departure from Kip Marina, waiting on an incoming boat in wind and tide, but we made it out through the narrow channel unscathed and were soon reaching under just the genoa into Holy Loch for lunch. The wind settled behind us and we had a lovely afternoon with the staysail and genoa ‘wing and wing’ down Holy Loch, across the mouth of Loch Long into the majestic River Clyde, once teeming with merchant ships from all over the world. These days most vessels are ferries, cruise liners and yachts, and the dock buildings are gradually being redeveloped into attractive waterside apartments.
James Watt Dock Marina offered us a very sheltered and comfortable alongside berth on a pontoon against the central pier of the original dock, which was cobbled and retained the old tram lines. The facilities, still being developed, were in portacabins hidden inside the old sugar warehouses. I was in good company, as lying alongside the opposite wall of the dock was Drum, a huge 72-foot racing yacht formerly owned by Simon le Bon and Arnold Clark, now belonging to Ocean Youth Trust (OYT) Scotland. I can only imagine how much fun some deserving young people are going to have on her.

Sunday 2 July

A misty, windy day encouraged my crew to spend time taking advantage of harbour wifi to research Antares charts for the Western Isles, Mackintosh highlights in Glasgow, and to update the grocery inventory. I don’t know why they keep going shopping for food – I’m sure my store would feed a family for a month…

Saturday 1 July

It is already the first anniversary of my crew moving aboard permanently – where has the time gone? Kip represents Mate’s very first sailing experience, around 40 years ago, when she spent a wonderful week aboard a Barbary ketch based here, exploring the Kyles of Bute and Arran in a week of warm, sunny flat calm. The village is infamous for witches and smuggling, but neither of these was in evidence through the morning’s rain. This gave the crew the opportunity for some retail therapy in the marina chandlery, as they finally tracked down the Holebrook sweater that Skipper has been seeking for months.

Other celebrations included a big brunch, clean heads and washing me down before refilling my water tanks – boy, they know how to party. Oh, and in a drier afternoon, Skipper was able to properly fix my windlass switch.

Friday 30 June

After a less than restful night, it was decided to take advantage of a lull in the wind to head back to the mainland, and the relative comfort of a marina. Mate helmed a good course at 6-7 knots under a single-reefed-main and staysail, and took me into the attractive Kilchattan Bay on the Southeast side of the Isle of Bute for a calm and peaceful lunch stop.

After an easy afternoon potter past the Cumbraes in the mouth of the Firth of Clyde, Kip Marina welcomed us in with clear instructions about where to berth, and with the offer of a good meal in the Chart Room, the onsite restaurant, with lovely views, of course, over the marina.

Thursday 29 June

Showers punctuated the steadily building wind, keeping my crew inside to knit, complete a book of puzzles and play Scrabble. Supper was not too shabby: gnocchi with a Bolognese sauce, salmon and stir fried leek, courgette and green beans, but tricky to eat with the spare hand hanging onto water and wine glasses. Finally catching an unfavourable weather forecast, we followed the example of the other yacht and moved to anchor in the lee of the island at the North shore of Lamlash Bay, where it was much calmer than the previous day.

Wednesday 28 June

We motored to the North of the bay to pick up a visitor’s mooring off Lamlash. It was dry so visibility was better, but windy so the sea was very bouncy. The mooring had no pick-up buoy, so Mate had to reverse me right up to it so Skipper could hang off my rear side deck to feed a warp (mooring rope) through the ring, and then walk it forward to secure at my bow so I lay into the wind. Cleverly, he realised it would be easier to fit the outboard engine to the transom of the tender while it was still on my back step, but she still tried to slide under my stern while my poor crew were trying to board, and they had a bumpy ride to tuck in behind the sailing club jetty where they climbed a short ladder to go ashore.

After all that, it was half day closing, and the only place still open was the Pier Head Tavern, good for a warming coffee and enough wifi to obtain a weather forecast. There was frustratingly little mobile phone signal.

Regaining the relative comfort of my solidity was not easy for Skipper, whose back was bumped against the step as he tried to slide up out of the tender, and then Mate let the lid of the engine locker go, against the side of his face. Fortunately he wasn’t permanently damaged from either incident, but Mate was shaken, and glad to slip to find better shelter in the lee of Holy Island, where she made amends by cooking him steak and jewelled rice.

Tuesday 27 June

It continued to rain, all day, often from such thick mist or low cloud that all land was obscured – what a contrast from yesterday. Skipper spent the day on the computer dealing with admin following the sale of their house (at last), while Mate busied herself in the galley: regular and gluten free sourdough loaves – the latter is known as ‘hit-and-miss bread’ because the sea was bouncing me around so much the electronic scales refused to read accurately and she had to best guess quantities; parkin, stewed gooseberries and baking apples with elderflower cordial, and lunch of puff pastry pizza topped with spinach, feta and green pesto at one end, and red pesto, toasted pine nuts and roast cherry tomatoes at the other end. Supper was long (Romano) peppers stuffed with savoury Quorn mince, with stir fried leek and savoy cabbage.

Monday 26 June

A calm day of hazy sunshine saw us motor thankfully away from Girvan and across to Ailsa Craig. We paused in a temporary, kelp-strewn anchorage off the East side for a tasty lunch of halloumi dipped in sesame seeds and griddled with red pepper, red chilli and garlic, piled into a warmed pitta bread with houmous, cucumber and sweet Spanish cherry tomatoes. It not being quite warm enough for a siesta, we were amused by the performing seal colony near the lighthouse, and then slid under the gannet granite: thousands of them, sharing this amazing natural formation of columns with guillemots and gulls, and wheeling overhead in the thermals. While not exactly peaceful, the sound was deep and gravelly, not cacophanous, and even the gulls’ calls seem less raucous in their natural environment than when heard in towns.

Finally Mate has ticked off one of her bucket list items, in seeing puffins off the Western side of the rock. They were absolutely adorable, much smaller than she expected and quite shy. We were able to drift among them as the sea was so calm, taking the opportunity for as many photos as possible.

This is not original, but is how she recorded in her journal those minutes with the puffins:

“Life is not about how many breaths you take, but about the moments that take your breath away.

This is the sort of experience we hoped for in embarking on this new way of life…after days of wind and cold in miserable little towns with unwelcoming harbours…this is what it’s all about.”

A kindly fellow sailor in Girvan had invited us to borrow his permanent mooring when we arrived in Lamlash Bay, between Arran and Holy Island, that evening. It proved a struggle as the rope was heavily encrusted with small mussels, but Skipper persevered and eventually I was securely tied on. Mate got on with supper, and afterwards they sat in my cockpit enjoying a stunning sunset and (in Mate’s case) a bit of knitting, until it started to rain.

Sunday 25 June

In Mate’s opinion, one of the best features of Girvan was the brand new Quay Zone, a leisure complex incorporating a 25-metre swimming pool, gym, café and kids’ play zone. Although this is a private facility, she enjoyed a one-kilometre swim, thorough shower and hair wash, and treated herself to a cappuccino for her efforts, all for £5.60. She went on to earn yet more crew merits by taking Bertha the mile walk to Asda – Sunday opening hours are different North of the border, and she found she could have provisioned any time between 0800-2200. I can tell you it’s not her favourite supermarket, but she seemed to find enough to sustain them for a few more days, judging by how much Bertha was carrying back.

Meanwhile Skipper filled up my water tanks after de-birding my decks, again, and fixed a drawer in the galley that had temporarily vacated its designated position on passage one day recently. Mate rounded off the day with yet more laundry, in preparation for a few days ‘off grid’.