12' 9" x 5' 6" hard chine dinghy, marine ply, Bermudian rig, no motor. For details of equipment see Bulletin HYPERLINK "106-15.doc"106-15 (1985/1)

Why Mull? When studying maps to choose a cruising area, I was looking for a circular tour which would provide a challenge without creating a marathon, give plenty of time to explore, and avoid a difficult land journey to retrieve car and trailer at the end of the fortnight.

I became fascinated by the deeply indented NW coast of Mull and its off-lying islands and determined to sail there; but how to get "Black Swan" round? Could I afford the ferry fare to get car and boat across to the Island, then drive to the far side? I decided I couldn't. But Fingal's Cave, Iona, the Treshnish Isles and Gometra were calling loudly now ... I HAD to sail there ... so ... why not sail round Mull? It was about the right size for a leisurely fortnight's cruise.

A quick glance at a map of Mull will reveal that most of the Island can be encompassed within an equilateral triangle, each side measuring approximately 40 miles; total distance 120 miles. 120 miles ... not an enormous distance for an experienced dinghy cruiser to cover in a fortnight, but look at the map again ... within those 120 miles there is more than three times that distance in coastline, incorporating deep sea lochs, numerous coves and dozens of small islands, all beckoning exploration. It would take a whole Summer and more to see it all.

Mull is a funny shape, rather like a sleeping cat, with the Ross of Mull as its tail, Caliach Point its head, and Lochs Tuath and Loch Na Keal between its paws. At the head of Loch Na Keal on the Atlantic shore, you are only three miles by land from the sheltered Sound of Mull, but to sail there is a journey of 45 miles. In an emergency, however, one could walk to Salen on the Sound of Mull in an hour or so and from there catch a ferry to Lochaline or Oban.

I acquired relevant charts and OS maps, photocopied any useful information I could glean from books and the Clyde Cruising Club Sailing Directions, waterproofed as much as possible with Transpaseal and purchased, very cheaply from a local graphics shop, a useful plastic tube with screw top to help protect the rolled charts and keep them dry. John Quantrell agreed to crew. We were almost ready!

SUNDAY, 6 JULY 1986 At 7 pm after a two day drive from Sussex, we launched "Black Swan" into Loch Etive from a rough, but adequate, slip on its northern shore by the Loch Nell Arms Hotel, just below Connell Bridge, about five miles NE of Oban. It was High Water, so we let her dry out on the beach while we transferred and stowed a mountain of equipment from the car. Then we enjoyed an excellent meal in the Hotel, entertained the while by a local band playing Scottish jigs and reels, including a couple of bagpipe solos - earsplitting when the piper is only two feet from your table! From the window we could study the eddies below Connell Bridge as the tide ebbed swiftly from the Falls of Lora. It was a glorious, starry night when we returned to "Black Swan" and raised her tent.

MONDAY, 7 JULY 1986 Up early Monday morning to catch the tide. It was sunny but the wind was keen, NW F4 gusting 5, and we donned warm clothes and oilies, reefed the mains'l and left Connell at 8.15 am, bound for Mull.

"Plenty of wind for your sail" said a lady on the beach. "There certainly is!" I agreed, secretly wishing there was rather less.

Beating to windward was exhilarating, particularly in the squalls when the horizon was temporarily blotted out by rain. At midday, after beating hard for four hours we felt we deserved a rest, so anchored in the lee of a tiny, H-shaped island called Eilean na Cloiche, just off Lismore, for lunch. Out of the wind the sun was warm. A seal popped up to inspect us and we enjoyed our two hour sojourn peering through the clear water at the marine life beneath us.

Well refreshed, we continued through the sheltered waters between several small islands and the Lismore shore, tacking carefully to avoid the rocks. Throughout our Scottish sailing, both on this holiday and others, we have found rocks easy to see through the calm, clear water. When a swell is running, breaking waves betray their presence. It is also possible to pick out a patch of sand ten feet down on which to anchor.

We passed Lady Rock Lighthouse off the SW tip of Lismore and could see up the Sound of Mull. Decision time! Clockwise or anti-clockwise round Mull? It looked like being a beat whichever way we went. The wind had moderated considerably and the weather was improving; although still a headwind, it seemed prudent to tackle the exposed Ross of Mull while the weather was fine. It was 4 pm and the tide would be with us until 8.30 pm. We could choose between Lochs Don, Spelve or Buie for the night. We were off the entrance to Loch Spelve by 5.30 pm. The wind had freed slightly and we were going so well we decided to carry on to Buie.

Buie was not recommended as a good anchorage, but we thought we should find somewhere good enough for a dinghy. This proved a mistake, because from then on the wind headed us more and more, pushing us out into the middle of the Firth of Lorne. We held this tack almost to Insh Island, hoping the next leg would take us clear round the big bluff at the entrance to Loch Buie. Here "Black Swan" felt the big Atlantic swell for the first time. It didn't worry her at all, but her skipper returned a cup of coffee to the deep. The view was terrific, islands, mountains, blue sea and sky, golden sunlight ... but the wind was dropping ... "we must tack and try and regain the Mull shore before we lost the tide".

At 8 pm we sailed into a small cove on Mull called Port Ohirnie with thoughts of stopping there the night, but I felt it was too exposed to the SE. Even though the wind was NW and not expected to change, I was still worried about being caught on a lee shore with the tent up in the middle of the night. Here the deceptiveness of distance caused by the height of the mountains was brought home to me. When we were, as I thought, only a few yards from the beach, I was puzzled by the sight of a lot of little animals about the size of small dogs apparently grazing on the grass. What ever were they? The answer was cows, and we were of course a lot further out than we realised!

A brief increase in wind and some short sharp tacking took us between Frank Lockwood's Island and the shore, or Eilean Sneth Dian to give it its Gaelic name. We kept carefully clear of the suck and surge of the swell round its base. A bare, round, flat topped rock, about 4 miles across; Frank Lockwood was welcome to it, I decided. By the time we had negotiated the big rounded bluff at the entrance to Loch Buie, the sun had sunk behind the mountains and clouds were gathering, obscuring the heights. Lord Lovat's Cave, right on the point, looked a wild and frightening place, and Loch Buie dark and unwelcoming. With tide under us again, and a light following wind, we ghosted quietly up the Loch, but in the dark it was impossible to select a safe anchorage, and there were no lights to guide us. The chart showed a small island off the village and I had hoped to find shelter behind it, but the tide was out and it had become a peninsular. Eventually at Midnight we anchored in five fathoms a couple of cables off the shore, had a quick cuppa and a bite to eat and bivvy'd in our oilies till morning, which in July in Scotland is not long coming.

We had covered 26 miles, all to windward, which was good going for our first day out.

5 am TUESDAY, 8 JULY 1986 A quick cuppa, a yawn and a stretch while we surveyed our surroundings. It was a beautiful morning. Wind was N F3 and the tide was up, turning last night's peninsular into our elusive island. We sailed over to the NW corner of the Loch where a small stream ran out, and two fishermen appeared as if from nowhere and helped haul "Black Swan" onto a patch of beautiful, soft green grass strewn with wild flowers. A perfect place to camp. We pitched our shore tent, intending to catch up on lost sleep, but somehow in such beautiful surroundings on such a morning, all thoughts of sleep deserted us. We ate a hearty breakfast and spent a lazy day exploring. The Post Office was located in a small, wooden hut, and the Postmistress told us the population was 20 in the Summer months, and falling. There was no shop. Our fishermen friends warned us not to drink from the stream, which was polluted, but let us have water from their house.

We re-launched on the evening tide, and at the invitation of our new friends, tied up alongside their big fishing boat and slept under its cuddy for the night. It appeared to be used for taking holiday-makers for day trips. Here we watched with amusement a flock of sheep queuing up on the beach waiting for the tide to ebb so they could cross over to the island.

WEDNESDAY, 9 JULY 1986 Forecast W-SW 3-4.

Slept well, but woke to heavy rain, which continued all day. Breakfasted on board the fishing boat, then rowed "Black Swan" inshore to photograph Buie Castle in the rain.

At 9.30 am we set off, followed by a seal and still rowing as no wind at all, and very poor visibility till half way to Rubha Dubh (Gaelic for Dark Point - and dark it was that day!) at the entrance to the Loch. There the wind came up F3 from SW. We beat round the headland and into Carsaig Bay. Carefully avoiding the rocks, we anchored in the shelter of the Gamnash Islands, a line of rocky islets strung across the entrance to the bay, and thankfully erected the tent. It was only midday, but we were so wet we'd had enough and my fingers were like a washer-woman's.

The rest of the day was spent pleasantly enough watching and photographing the birds, and drying over the hurricane lamp those charts which I hadn't Transpasealed and which were rapidly turning into papier mache. John made a shelf for my radio under the foredeck using a bit of driftwood we'd picked up, and wedges to hold the floorboards far enough away from the c/b case to facilitate insertion of the pump; there was a hole for it, but it was a bit too small.

Total run for day - 4 miles in 4 hours! THURSDAY, 10 JULY 1986 Better weather, higher cloud and even some sun. Wind W F3.

11.30 am: Rowed ashore to jetty in search of shop, PO and water. No shop, no P0, and no water. Locals (probably holiday-makers from the towns) unfriendly and unhelpful. Obtained water from stream at other side of bay. We had adequate food, but were short of bread.

1 pm: Left Carsaig, beating as usual, but with the tide under us. Gradually as we progressed westward, the high mountains fell away and the scenery became lower and more gentle. The high cliffs gave way to sandy coves and heather covered hill-sides which reminded me very much of the West Coast of Ireland. On this leg we met a cruising catamaran and were photographed by the crew, and a MacBrayne steamer.

We were searching for an anchorage described in the Clyde Cruising Club Sailing Directions as, "not in Ardalanish Bay, but behind the headland immediately to the Westward". The bay in which we eventually anchored was the wrong one, so we subsequently named it "Not Not Ardalanish"!

We beat well out to sea to give a long inshore tack, and with the flattening effect headlands have when viewed from seaward, we failed to realise we'd already rounded it. When we eventually felt our way, cautiously, into a bay that seemed the right shape, a compass bearing taken on a beacon on one of the Torran Rocks was not what it should have been. In the vicinity of Lochs Buie and Spelve the chart warns of "Local Magnetic Anomalies". As we were not clear how far these "anomalies" extended, we didn't know whether to believe the compass or not. However, the bay was a beautiful one even if wrong, and perfectly adequate for us. We anchored in an almost landlocked corner, near a sandy beach, dropping our anchor carefully onto a patch of sand. It was too beautiful to erect the tent before dark, so we cooked supper in the open while enjoying a superb sunset. Harbour Master Seal came over to inspect us. I counted his whiskers as he swam round the boat. Satisfied that we were anchored correctly, he returned to his vantage point on a neighbouring rock.

FRIDAY, 11 JULY 1986 We woke to a warm, sunny morning, and were in such a beautiful anchorage that we didn't want to leave. Instead we rowed ashore, explored the surrounding hillside, took photos; John dug for bait, and we had a picnic lunch on the beach. Consequently when we decided to move off, "Black Swan" was high and dry on the sand, which necessitated unloading a large portion of her gear in order to lighten her enough to roll her on her inflatable rollers down to the water.

Still in doubt about our precise location, we proceeded cautiously, looking out for definite landmarks; one small island looks very much like another on that stretch of coast. We hadn't been sailing more than half-an-hour when I realised I was looking up the Sound of Iona and could clearly see the Cathedral on Iona itself. In spite of our late start, we were destined for a short sail today. It was sunbathing weather and for the first time on our cruise we had a following wind, a light SW F2.

About 5 pm, with the help of the chart, we carefully negotiated some rocks to land on a sandy beach about a mile SE of Martyr's (or St Ronan's) Bay on Iona. I leapt ashore and asked the first person I met if there was a shop anywhere near, and learned that there was one in the village, about a mile away, open until six. Leaving John to attend to the boat, I set off at a gallop and returned later, heavily loaded. Iona is of course equipped to cater for the droves of people who make pilgrimages here every day. In spite of its popularity, I found Iona a peaceful and very beautiful little island; it's not difficult to get away from the crowds.

SATURDAY, 12 JULY 1986 The weather was perfect for visiting Fingal's Cave and the Treshnish Isles, our next planned destination. Instead, we spent the day exploring Iona. First we visited the Cathedral, which was bustling with people and activity. It was actually rebuilt comparatively recently. I found a much more ecclesiastical atmosphere in the little chapel next door. We also discovered a well equipped second-hand book-shop with a very low lintel over the door. I went through that door four times, and each time I bumped my head so hard I saw stars! Then we walked to the northern end of the Island from where we had our first glimpse of the west coast of Mull and the islands we hoped to visit next. We could see a bevvy of little boats around Staffa, and through binoculars I could just make out the entrance to the cave. We could also see clearly the Treshnish Isles - the two "Dutchmen", Lunga with its hill, and the flatter Fladda, ranged along the horizon.

To be continued……… HYPERLINK "123-09.doc"123-09