In September last year I had the chance of a week or so to go sailing, and decided to take Sea Thrift once again up to the west coast. I had no very firm plans in mind, but three previous trips to the west had left me with plenty of ideas for exploration of this inexhaustible sailing area.

Plocton

I left Manchester in late afternoon, and, after camping in the boat overnight near Loch Lomond, arrived at Plocton, near Kyle of Lochalsh, at around 9am the following day. I had heard favourable reports of the village, but it exceeded my expectations: a trim and pretty place, its perfect natural shelter evidenced by rows of near-tropical foliage. A rough slip formed from an area of foreshore at the far end of the village provided the means of launching the boat. After checking with the local harbourmaster that this use was permitted and that I could leave the car and trailer there for the week, I pottered around during the morning doing the usual rigging and loading jobs. My efforts were accompanied from time to time by the cheerful clatter of the trains on the Inverness to Kyle rail line, one of the great railway journeys of the world.

Conditions were overcast, with occasional light rain and a gale forecast for Hebrides that left me a bit apprehensive.

Crowlin Islands

Launch at 1330, hang about for the midday forecast, then away down Loch Carron on a light quartering breeze towards our first night’s stop at the Crowlin Islands.

Lying a couple of miles off the SW tip of the Applecross peninsula, the group form a fine sheltered anchorage, full of seals. Tent up just as the rain started, and soon the paraffin lamp was hissing away, transforming the boat’s interior into a uniquely cosy environment.

Rona

The early forecast suggested continuing strong winds, but by mid-morning the heavy rain had eased and the sky soon cleared. A leisurely bacon and egg breakfast before preparation for what was likely to be an exciting run on to our next island of Rona, at the N end of Inner Sound.

A glimpse of the sound through the glasses confirmed that this was the time to fit up for the third reef, so I put away the tent, got out some spare blocks and cleats, and riveted the necessary bits to the boom. I then pulled down all three reefs, got the anchor up, and sailed due N out of the lagoon accompanied by some of the Crowlin seals.

A mile or so out into the sound and we were swooping along in fine style. Even with such reduced canvas, the gusts were enough to get Sea Thrift up on to the plane for several hundred yards at a time. Not a sensation a heavyweight cruising boat experiences very often!

Rona has several anchorages that would have served: I chose Acairseid Mhòr (‘Big Harbour’) at the SW end and nudged the boat up a completely sheltered finger before mooring up in a foot or so of water. An evening walk up the hill gave fine views of the sun setting over the precipitous E coast of Skye.

Loch Gairloch

Up early to take in the shore lines so as to avoid being set down again on the morning ebb, then out onto the W coast of the island for a few miles before striking off NE towards the mainland at Loch Gairloch. Wind still S, but down to a comfortable 4 or so. An unstable airstream, though, and early morning clarity soon gives way to heavy shower clouds. As we approach the loch outer entrance, one of these monsters breaks over us and treats us to the kind of torrent that flattens the seas and reduces visibility to less than a mile: conditions known in Scotland, I believe, as a ‘wee mist’.

Tucked up at the anchorage off Badachro by about midday. I inflate the rubber Campari dinghy (now becoming more or less standard kit for dinghy cruisers) and row ashore for a walk around the village and the surrounding countryside. Later, a meal in the pub on the harbour side and a chat with the young bloke who runs the local West Highland Marine Centre, where boats and canoes can be hired.

I took my tide tables to the pub and realised that an early start next day was imperative if we were to make the right tide for Rubha Rèidh; so back to Sea Thrift before closing time, not bothering with the late forecast.

Rubha Rèidh

I guessed the next stage was where the sailing really started. The Clyde CC Pilot, with chilling economy, says it much better that I can:

‘Between Rubha Rèidh and the N end of Skye, the Inner Sound opened out into the North Minch… the coast consists of wide bays… between prominent headlands, and is completely exposed to the W. Any strong winds from N through W to S can produce big and dangerous seas.

Off the headlands of Rubha Rèidh and Rubha Stoer… accelerated tidal streams… in heavy weather very high and breaking seas occur.

The coast N of Rubha Rèidh is extremely remote and beautiful, and well repays the effort of sailing there. In general, there is little in the way of facilities and stores, and not much help is available for repairs. It is essential that a yacht be well-equipped…’

That is the essence of Scottish cruising: more carrot and more stick.

I was still lucky with my weather, good winds pushing me along and nothing so far too extreme. The key to the next two or three days would be judging the tide right at these two great headlands.

Up therefore at 0500 and, after making a stack of sandwiches and other accessible nibbles, I was beating gently out of the loch by 0730. Cold weather and cloudy, but the good visibility giving me a succession of marvellous mountain views back towards the Torridon giants.

Even with a good offing, the seas around Rubha Rèidh were big enough, with Sea Thrift needing all my attention. Around the point, Loch Ewe looked pitch black and distinctly uninviting, with a strong wind pouring out of the loch mouth. On, then, past Gruinard Bay, with its still-polluted and forbidden island, the coast just as wild and remote as the pilot describes. All the small bays seemed too rocky, or lacked the shelter for a lunch stop, so I eventually came in towards the coast and hove-to, using the roller reefing foresail to make the boat lie comfortably in the swell while I took a much needed break from the helm.

Not being very keen on going all the way into Loch Broom as far as the busy fishing port of Ullapool, I made a halt at the convenient sheltered hamlet of Ardmair in Loch Kanaird, about three miles NW of the town. We arrived at about 1330, having covered about 35 miles that morning. Ardmair is a useful stopover, with a telephone booth by the roadside and a discreet, small, shore-side caravan site providing a water tap and well-stocked shop. There is a usable slip into sheltered water, and this would make a good jumping-off spot for anyone wanting to cruise in the area, or northwards.

The Summer Isles

Awoke to the boat rolling about in a bit of a swell caused by high wind and more rain from the SW. Not planning to go far that day, so I turned in again for a few more hours sleep, then a leisurely morning ashore before leaving out of the S end of the loch through the (very) narrows in the late afternoon. For the first time on the trip I needed to beat, but the wind had by now fallen away to no more than f3. With the sky clearing from the W, we picked our way out of the outer reaches of Loch Broom towards the Summer Isles.

The name has always conjured up images of tranquillity, and on this visit I was not to be disappointed. There are a number of lovely anchorages to choose from: after coasting gently up the W shore of Tannara Mòr, I wriggled into a small pool on the NW end, Eilean na Saille, and dropped anchor in a few feet of water. The sunset was spectacular, the night sky completely clear. It would be difficult to imagine a more peaceful place.

During the evening, a school of weird-looking jellyfish swam under the boat. Soon after dark there was a single loud splash as an unseen seal slid off a rock.

Rubha Stoer

It was tempting to stay at the Summer Isles, but the next obstacle to northwards progress, Rubha Stoer, would, I knew, be our sternest test yet, and without the right tide and wind conditions would be impassable. The early forecast indicated a veer from W to N, 4/5. Our nearest weather report, Butt of Lewis, was W5, 1014 falling. It was clear I had to go now before the wind got into the N and gave impossible wind over tide conditions.

A bright clear dawn and a brisk beat westwards to clear Isle Ristol, then able to bear away onto a fast reach up the coast towards Rubha Mòr, the first minor headland, as the cloud began to build in the W over the outer isles. Past Rubha Mòr, the whole of Enard Bay opened up to starboard, showing a wonderful mountain landscape. All the Sutherland peaks — Ben More, Stac Pollaidh, Suilven and Canisp — could be seen, interacting with cloud and shafts of light. Vast areas of shower clouds began to roll over the Minch, all fortunately missing us as we sped on. Approaching Rubha Stoer, the wind notched up a point to 5, with a bit more in the gusty patches. I pulled down the third reef as the hunched figure of the Old Man of Stoer, a huge detached pillar of rock, became visible. It was too rough to risk sailing up close under this craggy fellow, as I would have liked to do, and I had to be content with a wide offing. We were early at the point, on the last hour or two of a big spring tide, and were flung around the headland in exciting fashion.

Around Stoer, and we were in Eddrachillis Bay, a vast indentation in the coastline which would need a month to explore properly. The first useable shelter was Loch Dhrombaig, where I had lunch and a short kip. This was not sheltered enough for a northerly blow, so after a while I went on a mile or two further into Loch Nedd, an immediately attractive place with some small boat moorings beyond the narrows.

Loch Nedd

There was no real landing place, but some kelpy rocks and a huddle of upturned boats on the shore; then a climb up the cliff and across some fields onto the road into the village of Drumbeg a mile or two away. A picturesque Highland landscape here: patches of purple heather, little reeded lochans, and fine views of mountains and the sea, all bright and washed squeaky clean, like the nicely renovated cottages dotted along the road.

A meal at the pub, then back to the boat in increasing rain as the forecast bad weather moved in. High winds and heavy rain all night. Strong (6/8) northerly winds and temperatures down almost to freezing at night kept me in Loch Nedd for the next couple of days. When eventually the wind started to abate, I was able to enjoy a long walk up the valley and up onto the ridge of the nearest Sutherland giant, Quinag.

Loch Laxford

I had now been away for a week and a bit, and time available was running short. I had a reasonable forecast at last (SW, backing NW, 4-5/6) but time only for one more day’s sailing.

Out into Eddrachillis Bay, past the W coast of the island of Handa, a bird sanctuary with fine sea cliffs, and on upwards to the entrances to Lochs Laxford and Inchard. The latter is the last real shelter before you run out of Scotland at Cape Wrath, a mere ten miles or so further N.

I stopped and anchored just out of the surf off the big white sands at Oldshoremore Bay. Sutherland has a number of such magnificent beaches, and I was determined to get to at least one of them. With the wind forecast to back into the SW and freshen, I felt, reluctantly, that going on to the cape so late on the last sailing day available to me was too risky. (I was probably wrong in this, as the wind stayed in the NW at much the same strength for the next day or so). Back, then, to Laxford, where I planned to haul out, near the adventure centre run by John Ridgeway.

This plan turned out, in part, to be a mistake. The inner loch (Loch a’ Chad-Fi) offers perfect landlocked shelter, suitable for leaving the boat while away for a day, but the haul-out was fearsome, and it turned out there was no one around after all to give me a hand.

A day was then needed to hitch back to Kyle to pick up the car and trailer, an overnight drive back up to Laxford, and a long day’s packing up. Then an overnight drive back down to Manchester, leaving at about 1630 on Friday afternoon and arriving at 0800 the following morning.

A satisfying trip, giving exciting sailing in wild and beautiful surroundings. I have no doubt that a return to the areas covered all too perfunctorily during this brief week would be more than rewarding. Coming back again, I think I would launch further N — say at Loch Kanaird near Ullapool. Two, or better three, weeks to explore the whole of the coast between the Summer Isles and Cape Wrath would indeed be a journey to plan and dream about.