Narrative log of her Summer Cruise, August and September 2022
Introduction
Kingfisher is a 42 ft Silver Leaf motor yacht, designed by John Bain and built at Silvers in the Gareloch in 1935. Apart from a short spell at Rhu in the 1980s she has not revisited her place of origin, or the cruising ground for which she was designed. Since the Western Isles of Scotland have for many years been our favourite cruising ground, and since she does duty as mother-ship to our Fife cutter Mikado, competing in the 2022 Fife Regatta on the Clyde, we thought it was high time for Kingfisher to have a season in Scotland.
So we trucked her up to Largs in May, for a 2 week Whitsun shake-down cruise to Northern Ireland (Cambletown, Belfast and Strangford Lochs, then Glenarm, Rathlin Island and Loch Ranza) before doing her appointed duty at the Fife Regatta in early June.Then she lay at a buoy in the Gareloch off the Royal Northern and Clyde Yacht Club until the end of July, in plain sight of her birthplace across the loch at Rosneath.Silvers is still an active boatyard but ceased building its famous range of wooden motor yachts in 1971.
Doing her mother-ship job at the Fife Regatta
This was our fourth Fife Regatta, at which Fife’s yachts gather from around the world for a week’s racing in the Clyde (where they were all built). Each time we have left Mikado there at the end of the regatta (or nearby at Crinan or Loch Melfort) for a summer cruise. This time Mikado was sent back for events in the Solent, while Kingfisher remained to give us a more comfortable Western Isles cruise, a more suitable cruiser than Mikado for our advancing years and all the vicissitudes of Scottish weather. This log describes that cruise, which ran for a little over five weeks from the end of July. We hesitate to call it a summer cruise, since many would say that North West Scotland just didn’t have a summer in 2022, while the rest of the UK basked (or maybe baked) in the hottest, driest, summer since 1976.
Five weeks is too long to give a strict day by day account of our travels. So this log is arranged by reference to where we went and/or stayed. One of the blessings of having more than a month to cruise is the choice it gives you between moving on and staying put to enjoy a particular place or area in more depth. And you can wait for adverse weather to pass before you move on. In the event we had no full gales to ride out, although the weather was, to say the least, mixed. There were few days without some rain or fog (or that unique mixture of the two which the Scots call ‘smurrin’). And there was a very large range of wind, from force 6-7 to flat calm, all of which Kingfisher took in her stride. Very little of it was on the nose, and there were few occasions when we couldn’t find a sheltering windward shore when necessary to make a planned passage more comfortable. With her enclosed wheelhouse and central heating Kingfisher made sure we never got wet or cold. And with her excellent sea-keeping and steadying sail we never got sea-sick either, or even queasy, and none of her crockery got smashed. We met a number of friends, and made several new ones on the way. But the permanent crew was just the writer (Michael) and my wife and co-owner Beverly. We have come to a comfortable arrangement under which I am the captain (running the ship) but Beverly is the admiral (who tells the captain where to go, and makes all the critical restaurant bookings). We share the watchkeeping, cooking, provisioning and everything else on board. No individual passage took longer than about five hours, so watch-keeping wasn’t really a requirement.
The Admiral and the Captain
Gareloch to Crinan
Trains from London to Glasgow and then Helensburgh, and a short taxi ride after provisioning got us to the Royal Northern by early afternoon on 30 July, to be taken out to the mooring by Douglas the club boatman. Apart from bird droppings Kingfisher looked OK after her six week stay. In fact Douglas and Reay Mackay the club’s moorings officer had kept a careful eye on her during that time, for which we were very grateful. There was a slight moustache of weed on the boot topping, but nothing which couldn’t be cleaned off with a scrubbing brush from the dinghy.
A peaceful late-afternoon passage round to the Kyles of Bute via Hunter’s Quay (where Mikado had been moored from 1904 to 07) revealed however that she was achieving at least a knot less than her expected speed for given cruising revs of 2,200, little more than 6.5 kts rather than the usual 8 kts.But it wasn’t till an exploratory look from the dinghy in the beautiful little Caladh harbour (just west of the Kyle narrows) that badly barnacled screws emerged as a likely culprit.Poking at them with an oar blade scarcely scratched the surface of the problem.
Caladh Harbour
Some say that a foul bottom or screws isn’t a problem to worry about on a motor yacht. You just pile on a few more revs to make up for it. But the thought of burning unnecessary fuel offends my abhorrence of global warming or just plain parsimonious instincts, so something had to be done about it.
But first we wanted to get North into our real cruising ground, and that meant traversing the lovely Crinan Canal.We had an uneventful, mainly sunny passage the next morning against a light to moderate headwind, arriving at the Ardrishaig sea-lock by 1115, and reaching the half-way point in the canal at Cairnbaan by 1500.There, coming the other way, we met Kenny and Sonia Smyth in their pretty 1962 Holman 31 footer Casino.Kenny runs a boatyard in Strangford Loch (NI) where he also races a River class wooden dayboat.He remembered Mikado being based there in the 1970s.We had a convivial supper with them at the Cairnbaan Hotel, watching the Lionesses beat Germany in the football final, to everyone’s great joy.
The Admiral with Kenny and Sonia
Ardfern
We had planned to meet our great friend Sally Bergius at some convenient place en route.She and her husband Frank have a farm on the banks of Loch Awe, so Ardfern seemed an ideal meeting point. 1st August started sunny, as we climbed the stair of locks above Cairnbaan, arriving in Crinan Basin just in time for a delicious lunch of local halibut , and to watch the famous puffer Vic 32 getting up steam.
Vic 32 raising steam at Crinan Basin
The descent from the top reach, with increasing amounts of Loch Crinan in sight, always raises the spirits as it reduces our altitude, and this time was no exception. We locked out at 1410, in a rising wind, with black clouds forming to windward. It’s only a few miles to Ardfern, but the rain had started in earnest by the time we arrived at 1530, initially having to moor outside the breakwater because all the visitor berths were full. Luckily an available space later saved us a lot of wet dinghy-work in the rain, and Sally was able to come to supper on board dry-shod.This was the first of 3 days at Ardfern.
On the following day (2nd August) we took another friend Louise Robertson for a day trip.She had come all the way from Perth to see us.It was windy (from the South West) and initially wet as well, but we had a cracking passage over to Jura via the Dorus Mor, to Port an Tiobart,a tiny bay just south-east from the infamous Gulf of Corryvreckan, where we anchored very close in to escape the roaring tide and most of the swell.We returned to Ardfern via the Ruadh Sgeir ledges, a supposedly calmer route than the Dorus Mor, but the angry wind-over-tide sea didn’t seem much less forbidding.A tea-break inside Eilan Nan Gabhar on the way back was interrupted by the surprise arrival a flotilla of school training yachts.
Overfalls and gulls at the Ruadh Sgeir Ledges
By this time we had booked a haul-out on 3rd August to deal with the foul bottom and/or screws, which Ardfern duly did in under 2 hours using their amazing completely submersible boat-lift. When in operation all you can see is the radio ariel, air intake and exhaust pipe. All the rest is under water, and the whole contraption is radio controlled. The screws and shafts proved to be completely covered with a crust of large barnacles, worse than I have ever seen, whereas the hull itself was almost clean. Barnacle removal completely restored Kingfisher’s performance, as was demonstrated by our passage to Loch Aline (off the Sound of Mull) between 1130 and 1615, mainly against the tide. Rounding Duart Point revealed the famous Duart Castle disappointingly disfigured by scaffolding.
Duart Castle, Sound of Mull
Loch Aline, Loch Sunart and Tobermory
Loch Aline is a favourite of ours mainly because of the White House restaurant, only recently re-opened under new ownership after the pandemic, and serving lovely dinners in a tiny space from mainly local produce, including venison from the Aline Estate. This was after we met (for tea with us and drinks with them) John and Catherine, the owners of Fortuna II, a Fred Parker wooden motor yacht built in 1959, slightly longer and much more beamy than Kingfisher, with a beautifully finished, open plan and quite modern layout down below.
We had originally planned to miss out Tobermory, but to use Kingfisher’s engines to explore much further up lochs than we have done before. We have found that few lochs have reliable wind in their upper reaches, which was always a disincentive to exploring far up them when cruising under sail. Loch Sunart seemed a good one to start with, and we motored in sunshine and showers most of the way up the loch, past Salen, to an anchorage behind Garbh Eilan on the North shore, where we rowed ashore for rock scrambling along the beach in a rather fruitless search for the promised wildlife. Sunart is one of the loveliest Scottish lochs, with very little habitation apart from Salen, mountain streams gushing down on either side, and a wonderful combination of peace and beauty.
Peaceful anchorage in Loch Stuart
But all this was rudely interrupted when Beverly suffered a nasty fall when the cockpit to galley steps gave way. We put her to bed to see how she would feel in the morning, and the answer was that she needed to be checked out by a doctor. So it was off to Tobermory after all on 5th August, just in time for a miraculously vacant 0930 appointment with the local GP. The diagnosis mercifully revealed nothing which needed treatment beyond careful nursing on board, but lots of bruising and possibly a couple of cracked ribs. She was just able bravely to hobble around very slowly, on board and ashore, and managed to enjoy Tobermory in some rare sunshine, including an early supper at the famous Café Fish on the ferry pier.
Adnamurchan Point Lighthouse
Round Ardnamurchan to Arisaig, Loch Nevis and Loch Hourn
Having a badly bruised patient on board meant avoiding too much motion at sea, and rolling in particular. 6th August started drizzly again, but with only 10-15 kts from the South West. Hugging the Mull shore after an 0630 departure before bearing away for Ardnamurchan Point minimised any rolling, and the rest of the passage to Arisaig was almost a run, with the kindest of motion in the SW swell. Arisaig is one of Beverly’s favourites, particularly the outer reefs where at low tide you can anchor just inside the beautiful rocks and tiny sandy beaches. We arrived when the tide was half-way up at 1000, just as the sun came out. Later we anchored in Stewart’s Bay, out of the wind and swell.
But going ashore was out of the question, so after lunch we pushed on past Mallaig into Loch Nevis (meaning heaven) to pursue again our ambition to go all the way to the top. We were through the narrows by 1700 and anchored at the very head of the loch half an hour later. The passage up the loch towards huge hills with their tops shrouded in cloud was spectacular, but the anchorage at the head was a disappointment. The wind was howling up the upper loch, so we were anchored on a dead lee shore. There was one gloomy empty house to look at, and nothing to assuage the gnawing fear of dragging onto the strand.
So at 1830 we weighed and thrust our way back up to the narrows, then turning to port into the delightful little Tarbet Bay, nicely out of the wind for the night.
Next morning (7th August) revealed the beautiful Danish working gaff cutter Eda Frandsen anchored nearby, with her charter crew enjoying an early swim. To my surprise we were greeted by a stentorian “Michael Briggs” by her skipper, who turned out to be none other than Mungo Watson, who we had introduced to serious sailing as a teenager at the 2003 Fife Regatta in when he literally strode along the pontoon and demanded to go sailing in a Fife. He graduated from Mikado (by then doing Med classic regattas) straight into Adix, and his professional career has gone from strength to strength. He and his partner Stella now own Eda Frandsen and offer charters in the Western Isles and in Cornwall.
As if that wasn’t enough, on the way back down the loch we came across the lovely Fife gaff ketch Kentra, which had been part of the Fife Regatta fleet in June, and turned out to be the only RYS yacht we encountered on the whole cruise.Sadly Ernst and Doris Klaus, her long term owners, weren’t on board, and she was headed South.
The lovely Kentra in Loch Nevis
All that was early in the morning. By 1030 we were entering Loch Hourn (meaning hell) after a short rolly reach from Loch Nevis, passing Doune where Eda Frandsen had been restored.
To get to the top of Loch Hourn you have to pass through no less than four sets of narrows, each narrower and more difficult than the last, with the top set impassable below half tide. But by contrast with the previous day it was well worth it. Having sunshine for most of the morning certainly helped, and we had a peaceful lunch in light wind at the very head of the loch, surrounded by uninhabited, roadless, mountainous wilds. But then the rain set in, with mist and fog threatening to follow, so it was back down the loch and a quick passage over to the Isle Ornsay anchorage on the Skye side of the Sound of Sleat, arriving at 1530 with the viz down to 1/3 mile. Now there are some very good restaurants thereabouts, but Beverly was still too sore for dinghy work, so we just anchored out of the SW swell, to await our tide through Kyle Rhea the next morning, while the writer tried to put together some reasonable substitute for the missed cordon bleu dinner which we might have got ashore.