The west coast of Scotland is by far the most tempting cruising ground I have yet seen. One day, when the children are nearly grown up and make a strong crew, perhaps we shall spend a long summer in sailing there in our eighteen-footer Eolet. In the meantime we go there by car, and the children are young enough to find the two day car journey very boring. To trail a seaworthy boat would make it an even larger ordeal: the only answer seemed to be a car-top dinghy. A Gull, a Heron or a Mirror would be the ideal boat in these circumstances, but to buy one specially seemed a great extravagance. Eolet has a plywood pram dinghy, 7 foot 6 long, 4 foot in the beam, which sits easily on the car roof, and which I can carry on my back single handed. Julian, aged 7, persuaded me to convert this dinghy, which he has named Stray Duck, to sail. Mast and spars were made from some lengths of 2” and 1½” square timber. I had kept the parts of an old mainsail which used to belong to my 14-footer Widsith, and from this I made a 20 square foot junker lugsail. We bought some lengths of terylene line for halyard and shrouds and a nylon mainsheet, and some very pretty (and expensive) Tufnol blocks. My father made a rudder and we added a 4 pound Danforth-type anchor and ten fathoms of ex-RAF target towing rope. We also bought two buoyancy bags. We experimented with lee-boards, but decided that they were a nuisance and made no difference to the boat’s inability to sail into the wind. A larger rudder is really needed; in the meantime we run and reach quite nicely, and have a good pair of oars.

We were staying at Laga, on the south shore of the Ardnamurchan peninsula. The first advantage of Stray Duck was that she could be launched from any beach onto which we could easily walk. There was not room in her under sail for the entire family, and it was also an extra safety precaution to take our Campari inflatable as well. Both dinghies were launched first from Doirlinn on Loch Moidart, There is a smooth beach here, and a low-tide causeway over to Castle Tioram. Just across the channel lies the wooded islet of Riska. The sea was as flat as a mirror in these sheltered waters, and the breeze was gentle: too gentle really for Stray Duck’s tiny sail. We set off with Julian at the helm and Frances aged 4 in the bows. Judith, aged 9, was rowing my father in the inflatable. We landed on Riska, it was duly explored, and we continued to circumnavigate it. When the tide was against us we rowed hard in Stray Duck and towed the inflatable, which her rather short paddles used as oars.

Our next expedition was slightly more ambitious. We took Stray Duck to Glenborrodale Bay at high tide, and anchored her out beyond the low tide line. This would allow us to set off at low water and sail up with the tide to Salen, seven miles up Loch Sunart. The tides in Loch Sunart are not very fierce, nothing compared with those we are used to on the Dee, but still make a considerable difference if one has to row a long way in a tiny boat. So did the wind, and we counted on a westerly. In fact in varied from south east to south west, about force 2, which meant a start under oars out of Glenborrodale Bay, into the channel between the wooded shore of Eilean an Fheidh and Risga, a high rocky island where terns flew down to fish in the water beneath the cliffs, We made good progress past the northern point of Carna and across Laga Bay. We wondered if the rest of the family, left ashore, was watching from the house there. As we reached the rock of Dun Ghallain the breeze strengthened against us. It took a very long time to get past, but after that the loch runs in a north-easterly direction, so that we were able to sail properly. This shore, just south west of Salen, is a good place for a camping holiday with a light boat. Cars can be run off the road on the shoreward side at many places. We saw that one family with Dormobile and tent had a Mirror dinghy, but we never saw them venture very far with it. We were glad to make good progress along this shore, as we had unwisely arranged a time for Tony, my husband, to bring the car to meet us with my mother and Judith and Frances, who had chosen to stay ashore. We had lost time in rounding Dun Ghallain, but now we made it up. As we ran into Salen Bay we tried to pick out the jetty on the shore and were nearly there before we saw it. I gybed quickly — off flew my father’s best hat! (What was his best hat doing in the boat anyhow?). He rowed away in the inflatable which we were towing but did not recover it. Meanwhile Julian and I landed at the jetty. The wind was dead astern, so I partly lowered the sail but kept the halyard in my hand — this was a very handy arrangement. The stone jetty at Salen is the only launching place we used which is suitable for fairly heavy boats. A car and trailer can be run down it, and it can be used at all states of the tide. There is a winch beside the jetty, though we did not try it to see if it is in working order. Another advantage of Salen as the starting point for a more serious cruise is that there is a shop selling nearly everything at the head of the jetty, and another in the village.

Our next expedition was a landing on Risga. The fishing terns had encouraged Julian’s idea that the channel there was a place for his home-made spinner. Unfortunately he was far less successful than the terns — he never did catch a fish that holiday — but we climbed all over Risga.

One day we sailed up Loch Shiel. This is where Stray Duck showed to advantage, for there is no launching place for larger boats on the part of the loch we wanted to see. We carried the dinghies down to the water at Dalelia, on the north shore. Beyond this point the loch stretches into lonely hills with never a road and very few houses. These days one has to leave the tarmac to escape the other visitors, even in the Western Highlands, but this is very easily done. A camping holiday with a boat which could be man-handled could well be spent on Loch Shiel. Frances took her usual place in the bows (lifeline made fast to the mast thwart, my father and I took turns at the oars when rowing was needed, and Julian towed his spinner from the inflatable dinghy astern on a tow-line. We rowed and sailed by turns through the narrows round the island where the ruins of St. Finan’s church and its burial ground stand, and then had to row hard against the wind to Eilean Camas Drollaman. This is a thickly wooded island where many of the trees have been uprooted in gales. We landed for lunch and explored it before setting off back. The wind was freshening and gave us a real sail for the last two miles to Dalelia, but the sky warned us that our days of calm waters were ending. On this return trip Frances was tied in the inflatable and practised rowing — unfortunately she found it more natural to back water.

We had one or two further short sails, and used the dinghy to cross to the Morvern shore of Loch Sunart where we could walk into the deserted hills, but we had to give up our intended voyage into Loch Teacuis because threatening weather made it look too risky for a cockleshell with children on board. This leads me to the warning to any who wish to spend a holiday in this way, that we were very lucky with the weather. The sea-Iochs are very sheltered, but a tiny dinghy is only suitable for lengthy trips with children in very calm weather indeed. For two years running we have had perfect conditions, but I must admit that this is not reputed to be the usual weather of the area. Given the weather, though, I think a family with children too young for extended cruising would find a camping holiday with a boat an ideal form of sailing in this part of the world. The water is deep enough for landing on such a variety of bays and islets that even the youngest need not be bored.