August 1979 was not the best choice for a dinghy cruise, but if one was limited to that month, the west coast of Scotland was as likely as most places to provide sailing while the gales raged on exposed shores. This area is beginning to be as well known as it deserves to be to those who charter twenty-five foot cruisers, though there is no sense of overcrowding yet. Dinghy cruisers, however, and the many who trail boats on their holidays, do not seem to have realised how ideal the archipelago of the Inner Hebrides is for them, with its endless variety of sheltered sounds, exciting ventures on voyages outside the main islands in fine weather, and attractive bolt-holes when the gales are forecast.

We reached Kilmelford on August 7th, after a journey lengthened by trailer failure. At Arden Yachts we were assured that it would be quite in order to use their broad and convenient launching slip. They do allow one to leave car and trailer here during a cruise, though they make a charge for this. However, Tony was to drive on in the car to find himself a campsite, so we were only at Kilmelford for one night, at no cost.

August 8th was a blustery day, with alternating rain squalls and sunshine, the weather coming from the southwest, right up the loch. By the time I had tacked to the mouth of Loch Melfort, it was too late to go through Cuan Sound at slack water, so I ran up Seil Sound to Balvicar Bay. This is rather an exposed anchorage. I went ashore, and walked to where I could see the state of the sea in the Firth of Lorne — white horses everywhere — and the view to Lunga and Mull.

In the afternoon I decided to try running up to Clachan Bridge under jib and mizzen. I quickly discovered that in the strength of the tide this gave me too little control, and anchored again at Ard Sheallach while I thought again. It was a poor anchorage, which would dry out rocky, so I set reefed main and jib and went on up the sound. It became narrow and winding, and the gusty wind fell light in patches. I was towing the toy inflatable, though it is too light for this to be advisable in any sort of wind. However, it stayed in the water and caused no trouble. Soon after the turn of the tide I reached Clachan Bridge, which seemed to be only about five feet above the peak of the reefed sail, i.e. about twenty feet above the water at HW springs. This could be inaccurate, of course. Beyond the bridge we soon reached the shallows, marked by kelp, but there was still plenty of water in the middle of the channel. A view of the sound later when it had dried out showed that there are no major hazards — boulders etc. — in the bed of the fairway, so that it would be safe enough to scrape through with a minimum of water at neaps.

Once out of the sound, there was the boat in among the rocky islets which bound the famous lagoon of Puilladobhrain. It really is a lovely anchorage, though no longer solitary, as cruising yachts come in for the night. I put up the tent, and made supper as I watched the arrivals. Then I went ashore and walked by the footpath over the hill to the pub at Clachan Bridge. This is where the phone is, and after a struggle with an indifferent line I made contact with home and learnt that Tony had set up his tent four miles northwest of Lochaline at Fiunary. The Clyde Cruising Club directions mention the Fiunary Rocks as a place to be given a wide berth. No doubt I would find an anchorage among them.

On the morning of August 9th I prepared my two thermoses of hot water so that I would not need to boil a kettle under way, using the camping-gas cooker, as the new Chalwyn pressure-stove is so much more sensitive to impurities in the paraffin than more expensive makes that it becomes more bother constantly pricking the jet than it is worth.

At 11.30 I sailed, greeted by the owner of one of the cruisers as I tacked past him. The wind was northwest, and fell light as soon as I was outside the rocks. I rowed past the seals on Dun Island, and then a breeze from the west took me into Castle Bay on Kerrera. The forecast at 1350 was NW 3-4, becoming 3 or less. I tacked over towards Loch Spelve, and as I neared Mull the wind became suddenly much stronger, and continued to strengthen. I reefed, and held a course for the entrance to the Sound of Mull. The chart shows overfalls before the entrance, but it showed nothing to prepare me for the unbroken line of white water which greeted me, and which was the beginning of an area of confused sea stretching well inside the Sound itself, There was no avoiding it short of turning back into Loch Don, and there was no quick dash through it either. The wind now seemed to be at least a constant five, I should not have thought I was exaggerating to say it was up to six. In a smaller or less stable boat I should certainly have had to turn back. As it was I smashed on through it, tacking over to the Morvern shore and back to Duart point. The tide was not giving me much noticeable push in the right direction, but the Morag kept moving very well and although a good deal came on board it was not enough to be alarming. At one point the anchor, left on the foredeck, fell overboard and had to be recovered. Moral here no doubt.

At 1800 I anchored at Craignure on Mull, got the tent up, and pumped the water out. This is not a particularly attractive-looking anchorage with the main road close to the shore, but it is sheltered from the west, and there is a store and telephone.

On August 10th I sailed at midday with a fair but fluky wind up the sound. I reached the Fiunary Rocks at 1500, and found that a cruiser has a mooring in one of the bays among them. I could see the bright yellow pyramid of Tony’s tent a little further on, so I rowed in to find an anchorage. He had found a small and uncrowded campsite right by the shore — a good spot for a combined boating and camping holiday. There we stayed for the next fortnight. I discovered that I had dunked the radio on the way through the overfalls, so waited to go into Fort William on the Monday to buy another. The first thing we heard on it was the forecast which has since become famous for the warning it gave to the Fastnet fleet. The gale came to us rather later, and stayed intermittently for the best part of the next fortnight. I put boulders on both anchors, and anxiously watched the direction of the wind. Fortunately the run of the shore just there gave us a little shelter most of the time. At the worst we had trouble with a broken tent-pole. During this time I sailed over to Salen and had one or two other short excursions, but had to abandon my idea of a cruise north of Ardnamurchan, as there would not be time.

At last on August 23rd I made a start. It was still blowing quite hard from the northwest, and I made a quick passage over to Salen, past the group of rocks with a light on them known as Eilean Glas. The pier marked on the chart at Salen is now a ruin, and there is another on the outer side of the southern entrance to the bay. There was a small clinker-built ketch named Pega moored to the piles of the ruined pier — we later saw her on her way home through the Crinan canal. One recommended anchorage is inside the rocks to the north of the village, but this seemed to be full of moored boats. I anchored in the other suggested spot to the west of the piles of the old pier. Here my anchor dragged steadily towards the rocky shore. It was wrapped in seaweed. Perhaps my 18 lb fisherman would have held, but it is such a nuisance to live with that this year I had only brought my CQRs. After an hour or so I set sail back to Fiunary for another night.

On August 24th I set off again. This time I had a long, slow row to Tobermory. The most interesting part of the day was the passage through Doirlinn narrows in behind Calve Island to Tobermory itself. I anchored just outside the harbour for the night, paying a short visit ashore to civilisation.

I rowed outside Calve Island next morning, and later a wind came giving me a fairly gentle tack back to Fiunary. On the 26th I rowed among the Fiunary rocks, photographing the seals, and then on out down the sound. The wind remained light, and I reached Duart Castle at slack water, but even then there was a confused jobble all the way out to Lismore and Lady’s Rock. In a strengthening NE wind, I sailed past Kerrera and found Barnacaryn Bay at the entrance to Loch Feochan. There was an unpleasant jobble as the wind blew right into the bay during the evening.

Next day there was slow progress up the Sound of Kerrera. I looked at Little Horseshoe Bay, but the corrugated iron sheds and apparently abandoned boats by the cottage did not make it the most appealing of anchorages, so I went on to Horseshoe Bay. Here it is a short stroll to the phone by the ferry (always a consideration). There was a Drascombe Lugger pulled up on the beach. I watched a beautifully varnished ketch come in, teaching one of the crew how to pick up a mooring.

August 28th was my last day. I had a good southerly wind through the sound past Oban, and did a reach out towards Lismore. As the seas became larger, I could see that with wind against tide they would be unpleasant, so I sailed back to the agreed meeting place at Ganavan Bay, where there is a very convenient slip and large car park. It was a pity not to be able to stay longer and explore the shores of Lismore and Appin, but our time was up, and I took the boat into the slip ready to be loaded onto the trailer.