I returned at the end of July, and spent ten days enjoying the surroundings before sailing on north. There are walks in the nearby woods, over the hill to Muncaster Castle, to the Roman fort of Glanaventa, and of course up into the Lake District hills and valleys. It is surprising how little this delightful fishing village has been touched by tourism. A few coach parties visit it, but it really has not changed since I first saw it thirty-five years ago.

The coast to the north is another story. I went by train to have a look at possible harbours. Whitehaven has a corner for yachts, but is a busy commercial port. Harrington has been taken over by the Fishing and Sailing Club, but it is still a narrow little artificial harbour in a mining town, which, though improved of late, still bears the stamp of its depressing history. I decided to stay at Ravenglass until tide and wind were right for a one-day crossing of the Solway to Scotland.

Conditions seemed right for leaving on the early tide on Thursday August 10th. By then I had had ample chance to try out my proofing on the tent - a very different weather pattern from that on my sail from the Dee at Whitsun. However, I was lucky, and this was to be one of the few days which seemed like summer. The 0020 forecast was NW three and high water was about 0400. This meant I would be able to leave Ravenglass with light enough to see - desirable, as I was still not very familiar with the entrance, although I had been through it a few times during my stay in the estuary. I would then have the maximum possible time to make the whole passage and arrive on the Scottish shore in daylight.

I woke up at 0325. I had breakfast, prepared my thermoses with boiling water to make "Pot-noodles", soup and tea on the crossing, and stowed the tent. I sailed at 0435. The sky was clear, as I drifted and rowed out with the tide, and there was hardly any wind. At 0515 a north-easterly breeze came, and I set a course of 320º true. I passed Drigg, with its reef and beacon offshore, and Seascale, and at 0630 was becalmed to seaward of the nuclear power station. The forecast was variable 2 becoming SW 4 or 5. I rowed a good deal from there to St. Bees, which I reached about 0915. A southerly breeze started up and at 0925 I could see the Scottish coast on the far side of the Solway Firth, rather more than twenty miles away. Soon it disappeared in haze, though the English side was clear enough. I was off St Bees Head cliffs at 1010, in a wind-against tide sea, and at 1045 I had a view beyond the cliffs of the headland, to the Workington shore.

At 1100 I was passing the lighthouse, and could see Whitehaven. At 1225, Workington was at 55º mag., which put me five miles out, a quarter of the way across. At 1420 I was peering through the haze for a sight of the Scottish coast, but I could only pretend to see it. The wind picked up, and progress was good - better than I had expected when I decided that the tides would cancel out on the crossing. I had also to worry about entering the danger zone from the Abbeyburnfoot firing range. Altogether too much of this coast is taken over by ranges if various kinds. The one to the east of the entrance to the Dee, which was now approaching, is supposed to have a watch-boat to warn off approaching vessels. I did see various boats at anchor, and possible one in the distance was serving, this purpose. I expected to reach the coast somewhere between the Dee and Abbey Head, and meant to correct for the tide when I was sure of my landfall. From time to time I saw gleams of sunlight on a headland - probably Abbey Head - but it disappeared again in the haze.

At 1610 I altered course to 340º true from 310º which I had been keeping, since if I went too far west I might not see the coast at all, but sail up into Wigtown Bay. On the new course I was sure of closing the coast soon, even with a strong ebb.

It was not until 1700 that at last I clearly saw land - a headland away to port. No features could be made out, but it might be Middle Ross, with Little Ross Island hidden against it, so I set off to tack down-tide towards it. At 1740 suddenly the mist lifted to the east, and away to the north-east I saw an island, clearly this time, with a white lighthouse showing. I named it Little Ross, and turned towards it. There was a lumpy sea, and the ebb was hard against me, so even with a fair wind I made slow progress. It would be late when I arrived, so I made supper of "Hot Noodles". At 1755 the forecast was S 3 becoming 5 or 6. As well to got in somewhere before too long.

At 1940 I reached the sound between the island and the headland I was rounding, its cliffs looked forbidding with their relief shown up in the setting sun. I began to make sense at last of the features of the coast, and of the estuary I was about to enter. Quite clearly it was not Little Ross Island, at the entrance to the Dee, which I was approaching, but Hestan Island, at the entrance to Rough Firth, the Urr estuary. Both have white lighthouses, and nothing in my sailing directions or charts showed that the one on Little Ross is altogether bigger, while that on Hestan looks more like a beacon. The headland I first sighted must have been Abbey Head. The tide had put me well east of it before the ebb started, and from high water onwards I was making slightly up tide on my course of 340º true, so I was still east of it when I sighted it, and mistook it for Middle Ross, seven miles to the west. So here I was at the entrance to Rough Firth, and I had no intention of going back round Abbey Head to the Dee that night. Instead I would first visit the very attractive area round Kippford.

At 2000 I ran in up the sound, and round the wooded headland where an old tower left no doubt where I was. I entered Balcary Bay and ran onto the edge of the soft mud to dry out. I got the tent up. It was a pity I could not set foot on Scottish ground yet, as the mud was too soft to be walked over, but I celebrated my arrival in Scotch whisky. That was the end of celebrating, for when I tried to light the primus, I found that the pump had died completely. I wasted a good deal of time trying to make a rubber washer, and then failed even to change the used-up gas cartridge on my emergency Unigas cooker, which had corroded with long disuse. So I had a cold supper.

Next morning, starting with a cold breakfast, I heard that the forecast was variable 3 becoming 6 - 7 south. I sailed at 0730, tacking against a force 4 south-easterly, giving quite rough water out round Hestan Isle, whose low white square tower I could see from close up, as I tacked close in by the rocks. Then I crossed the mouth of Rough Firth to Castle Point, where I dried out on flat sand not far from the channel, at 0935. I went ashore to look at some ancient earthworks, and to see the view of this lovely estuary, with its many bays and wooded islands and headlands. Then I managed to change the Unigas cartridge, and had a hot meal at last.

At 1300 I floated, and close-reached across up the channel to Horse Island. There I got the main off, as I was running far too fast with the tide into an unknown channel. A Mirror which had been tacking about at the entrance at low tide now ran in, and so did a motor boat, so I was able to follow them up the winding channel under jib and mizzen. At 1420 I came to Kippford. Salmon fishermen were wading, along the edge of the channel with their nets. I wanted to run in between the moorings and the shore as soon as I had water, but while I waited I was in the way of one of the fishermen. He was not really as crusty as at first I feared, and he took my anchor ashore for me.

Kippford was the yachtiest place I visited. There is a good deal of dinghy racing, a rather posh looking Yacht Club, which produces the very useful sailing directions for the Solway which I was using, and a yard and chandler's shop. There are also a good many classy houses in a well-kept village. The village shop was not a patch on the one at Ravenglass. I went to the chandler's to see about a replacement for my primus pump. It was impossible to get spare parts, and the best I could do was to spend a ridiculous amount of money on a camping-gas stove with refillable gas bottle. This was at any rate an efficient replacement. While I was ashore I phoned the gunnery range to see if they were firing at the weekend, but there was no reply. This suggested that they weren't around, so I thought I could risk it.

That evening, as I was returning over the mud to the boat, two girls came out from the shore, and asked where I'd sailed from, and where I hoped to get to. They seemed very interested in the boat. Saturday 12th August was a day of wind and rain. The forecast was southerly 5 or 6, becoming westerly 3 to 4. That would have meant a beat in a wind against tide sea. It seemed to be blowing about 5, so I stayed where I was, and went for a walk to the coast beyond Rockcliffe.

Sunday 13th August was more promising. The forecast was West 3, becoming 4 - 5 and backing SW. Actually, I awoke at 0530 to a north wind and mist. This persisted on the water, although overhead the sky was blue. I sailed at 0645, though I could see nothing. I sailed first due south, then went west to sea where I was by the shore. Horse Island appeared on the port bow - a delightful cove in the woods, with a sandy beach. I decided I had better stop messing about blind - I had been lucky not to land on the stake-nets near the island. So I anchored for a while. The mist lifted at 0755, and I sailed again. At 0825 I was almost past Hestan Island, and becalmed. I rowed for a while, until at 0920 the wind came from the south-west. I tacked out to sea, and at 1000 the coast beyond Abbey Head came into sight. At last I could see Little Ross Island, and although the wind was fluky, it backed a little and I could lay a course on the port tack which would take me round Abbey Head. The tide was carrying me along quite fast.

At 1045 I saw boats coming from Kippford clearly bound for the Dee - probably a favourite day sail when the range is not in action. I passed Abbeyburnfoot at 1100, and obviously there was no firing going on. The wind improved as I passed Abbey Head, and at 1150 I was off Gipsy point at the entrance to the Dee. I sailed across to get a photo of Little Ross, whose lighthouse is a tall white tower, a much more impressive one than that on Hestan Island. There is a good landing at the northern end of the island, but the weather seemed to be deteriorating, and I carried on into the river close by the lifeboat slip on the eastern shore. I ran up as far as St. Mary's Isle before I grounded, and stopped to wait for water. Wind increased, and rain came with it, so I put the tent up. I stayed there until 1445, when I folded the tent without fastening it down very firmly, and used it as a sail as I blew up with the tide in a force 5 or 6 southerly. A mile before Kirkcudbright on the west bank is Gibhill Sawmill, with a slip. I anchored on the mud out of the channel just before reaching it.

There my voyage ended. I spent the rest of my holiday around Kirkcudbright, which is a very pleasant unpretentious town, set in unspoilt countryside. There were gale warnings and strong winds continually, until Tony brought the trailer, and we pulled Hronrad out at the Gibhill slip, ready to trail her back home.

The trip had shown that I can accomplish more single-handed in a dinghy than I could in a bigger boat. Two reasons can be given. I am more mobile in a boat I can row efficiently than with an engine I do not trust; and one can progress twice as far if one can trail back.