In the 16 foot Suffolk Beach Punt (Gaff Yawl), Peregrine. Crew: Paul Harrison & Ian Page: July 1997

Monday — We arrived at Arisaig (just south of Mallaig) at about 10:00pm to a rather damp and still scene. Not the most inviting weather for starting a cruise. As it was late and the tide was falling, we decided to observe the scene at low water for any hazards and launch at high water the following morning. It was quite amazing what was revealed, including a submerged wreck!

Tuesday — We woke to a glorious sunny morning with a steady F2 from the southwest, so with eager anticipation of a good day’s sail we set about rigging and storing provisions and launching Peregrine over the beach. After making sure everything was shipshape and car and trailer safely parked out of harm’s way, we set off under motor on the start of the ebb tide.

Once clear of the pier, you are actually in a loch called Loch Nan Ceall which in Gaelic means a monastic cell. One could describe this small loch as a very safe and sheltered refuge. To get out into the Sound of Arisaig, one has to follow a very narrow and twisty channel with the usual crop of submerged rocks for your entertainment. For this reason we decided it was prudent to motor through the channel as we had never been there before. It’s quite entertaining navigating through these waters using the pilot for the area, counting off buoys and perches, knowing that rocks are only a few feet away. Eventually we cleared the last perch and set about raising sail and started sailing on a close reach for Eigg.

The wind was still a steady F2 with occasional gusts to F3 from the south-west. We had blue skies and glorious sunshine, ideal sailing weather for this part of Scotland. We decided to head for the Isle of Eigg to spend the night at Galmisdale, with its very sheltered sandy bay, to allow the boat to dry out if required. Again, with all places in this part of the world, the entrance is through a narrow rocky channel, but as we expected to arrive towards low tide, we would be able to spot the channel very easily.

So, with a fair breeze, a moderate swell and the sun on our backs we stomped across the six mile passage. As the wind was slightly against us, we decided to put a tack in half way across to regain some of the leeway we had lost. As we approached Eigg, the wind had come more southerly and freshened, thus pushing us further away from our target. We decided to tuck in a reef and close the shore before tacking along the coast to Galmisdale. This last stretch turned out to be quite an exciting sail with short tacks and soon we reached the entrance. Again, for safety, we dropped sails and motored in to land on a white sandy beach near the pier. One could easily imagine being in the Bahamas!

We explored the locality and had some home made refreshments in the local tourist café on the pier. Eventually we returned to our boat to set the boom tent and have our evening meal, afloat, with a setting sun and a seagull perched on the engine cover accepting the odd morsel from one’s hand. This is dinghy cruising!

Wednesday — The following morning we woke to a warm but misty day with a very light southerly wind. We had breakfast and then visited the local amenities before deciding our course of action. We decided we would leave on the ebb again, which would be about mid morning. As it was a very light wind we decided to go to Muck which was a five mile passage.

We hoisted sail on our anchor and then sailed out of Galmisdale, albeit very slowly. This was more of a drift than a sail, but even on days like this, what’s the rush. It gives you more time to see the wildlife and scenery. Unfortunately the mist prevented us from seeing much, so about a third of the way across the Sound of Eigg I decided to bring out the wind making machine. Now this is a very top class, secret, dinghy cruising weapon, which eight out of ten times will bring wind within twenty minutes. You guessed it, the hand fishing line! I never caught a fish yet. As soon as the line is over the side, the wind picks up and the boat speed increases, causing the line to rise. Without fail the mist cleared, the sun shone, the wind veered to the northwest increasing to a F2. This now meant we were on a beam reach to our target. Yippee! We were aiming to spend the night at Gallanach Bay on the north coast of Muck, which normally does not give much shelter,

but with the weather we were having we decided it would be okay. We had the inevitable rock strewn entrance to negotiate, but as it was heading for low water when we arrived and the wind in our favour we sailed into the bay. For once we weren’t the only boat. The yachties had come to play on the sandy beach. However, when you sail in and land on the beach in an open boat you cause some interest and soon we were chatting with other skippers, who looked on in amazement that we had sailed from Arisaig, in that!

We decided to have our evening meal on the beach, in what was now glorious, hot, sunny weather. So there we were watching the tide coming in with a panoramic view of Rum and its high mountains, eating dinner. We decided that we wanted to leave early tomorrow, as we had a sixteen mile passage to get to Canna if we wanted a day of rest before proceeding to Loch Boisdale. With this in mind, we rowed out and anchored in the bay and hoisted our boom tent and went to sleep with the restful gentle lapping of water against the hull singing in our ears.

Thursday — We woke to another glorious sunny day at about 7am, with a light easterly wind. Within the hour we had broken camp, had breakfast and hoisted sails . We gently coasted out of the bay heading for Rum and only sailed a couple of miles before the wind died and we were bobbing around in the middle. Now at times like this one can turn on the engine and motor, but, as the day was young and the weather fine, we decided to exercise ourselves with some gentle rowing.

We got about three quarters across the Sound of Eigg to Rum, when the wind picked up from the north-east through the Sound of Rum, so that we could continue to sail. This wind allowed us to sail across the sound and to close on Rum. However, on days like this, the inevitable happened, as soon as we cleared the sound the wind died and it was back to the rowing. For the rest of the afternoon we baked in the hot sunshine, each taking an hour to row, hoping for a sea breeze to appear. Occasionally a puff of wind would appear from the south-west and we would quietly coast along for ten to fifteen minutes until it died.

The reader may ask why we didn’t just motor? To us the joy is trying to get from A to B without using the engine. The engine is for emergencies, or for entering and navigating in a tight restricted anchorage that we have never visited before. We like to try to sail even on the lightest of zephyrs, that you wouldn’t notice if the engine were running. One also has to remember that obtaining fuel for an outboard in this part of the world is not easy and therefore one has to conserve it.

While we plodded along the south-west coast of Rum looking at the magnificent coastline with its high cliffs we could observe the local wildlife. In the sea one could see seals and porpoises; in the air you could see puffins, skuas, razorbills, shags, cormorants and a multitude of other birds. We even started trying to estimate how far off the coast we were. Half a mile to a mile were our guesses, but I think we were over two miles off as we watched a yacht motor along the coast and one could swear it was on the rocks!

We eventually reached the western point of Rum that would turn us into the Sound of Canna. We could easily see Hyskeir Lighthouse, which was over seven miles away. As we turned into the sound with the tide in our favour a sea breeze appeared from the south‑west at about F2, giving us an excellent broad reach down the sound. We rounded Sanday, which is an island attached by footbridge to Canna, to enter Canna Harbour. We sailed into the bay and poked around to decide if there was somewhere suitable to anchor and to camp on land. On the way in, we noticed a sandy bay just outside the harbour and thought it was possible to anchor the boat safely off the beach and camp on the shore. So, finding nothing suitable within the harbour, we decided to go to the previously sighted bay. This bay was very sheltered from the prevailing weather, but was exposed to any weather from the east. By this time it was about 6pm and, after looking for somewhere to pitch a tent, only to find that it was a bit of a trek, we decided to moor off and camp under the boom tent and find somewhere else tomorrow. So after a long and tiring day, we soon fell into a deep slumber dreaming of things to come.

Friday — We woke to quite a choppy morning, albeit the weather was sunny. The wind had swung to the east and a swell had developed. My crew was not feeling too good, so we decided to motor around into the harbour and head to the top end of the bay to dry out, as it was high water. So, with boom tent still up, anchor was raised and we motored to our chosen destination to re-anchor and to wait for the tide to drop. With nothing else to do we both retired to bed.

Once we had dried out, the sun was shining strongly. I decided to explore Canna. The island was teeming with all sorts of wildlife, which made fascinating watching as I meandered around the cliff tops. I continued to explore Canna by walking down Canna’s ‘main street’, noting toilets and water were available at the local farm. I reached the pier to find a shop, which was open for a couple of hours each day!

Saturday — The following morning we woke to a cloudy but dry day. The wind was blowing from the southwest at about a F2 gusting F3. Crew was feeling much better and with a fair wind he was keen to push on to South Uist. This leg of the journey was going to be about thirty miles across open and unprotected water, so it was important to do as much preparation in the navigation as possible before setting off. So, with a bearing in hand we set sail and sailed out of Canna to sail along the north side of the island. The sun was shining by now, but visibility was poor due to very hazy conditions. Normally one would be able to see South Uist, but today we could not. So with a steady F2, we set off on our track, fast leaving Canna behind. There was quite a moderate swell, but nothing to concern us. Occasionally a wave would break just as it hit the side, giving the crew a wetting.

We took turns at the helm, each having an hour on. Soon Canna disappeared from view, no land could be sighted and we were all alone, except for the flock of seagulls that followed us. It’s quite a scary moment when you are all alone and cannot see land. Eventually a valley appeared. Yippee, we’re spot on course. Hmmm… I cannot see a buoy! OK, let’s try a fix on the mountains. Oh dear, does not fit where I expect to be. So, as we were not sure where we were, I decided to head into the wind and alter my course more to the south-west to give us more sea room if needed. In the meantime both crew and skipper tried to interpret both the land and the chart, eventually the crew worked it out and with a fix to prove it, we were looking up Loch Eynort, which was three miles further north than we anticipated, oops! So, fairly sure of where we were, we hardened up even more to make Loch Boisdale. To confirm this inlet, I was looking for both a starboard mark and a lighthouse.

To make things a little more awkward, as we started to close on South Uist, the wind was dying, but eventually I managed to sight the buoy, so we were correct in our observations. The lighthouse turned out to be a white hut on stilts! Unfortunately the wind died, we rowed for a few minutes and then decided to motor on in. As we entered the loch, the wind picked up from the south-east, so we sailed the rest of the way into Loch Boisdale on a flooding tide. The passage had taken eight hours in total.

We spent the next hour motoring around Loch Boisdale looking for somewhere to camp. Now this loch had lots of islands and reefs, but we could not find anything suitable. The problem was, we had a lovely sandy bottom, but steep rocky shores, so we were having difficulty in finding somewhere to keep the boat afloat and sheltered giving us access to the land to pitch a tent. Eventually we chose an island just off the pier, which had a very sheltered bay to anchor our boat in, with us camping on the island. As it was starting to rain, we quickly set camp and rigged the anchor. So with a push of the boat and a pull on the tripping line at the precise moment, we anchored Peregrine offshore. We retired to our tent for a well-deserved meal and some sleep. We had done it! But the tale for the day is not yet done. In the middle of the night the wind increased to a F6/F7 from the south-east and we were wakened to the tent losing a peg or two. Crew went to sort out the tent (crew thing!), only for him to summon me about the boat (skipper thing!). The boat had swung on its anchor and was up against the rocks.

Now, you have to picture the scene — pitch black, blowing a gale, two blokes in shorts/underpants and T-shirts wrestling with a boat, trying to re-anchor her away from the rocks. In the end I decided we needed to beach her in the lee of the island, so I jumped in the boat and started the engine and shouted to the crew to cast me off. At this point I had no room to steer and the wind was too powerful for me to turn her around under the engine, so I fast departed the bay under windage, backwards and alone, until I had more room to gain control. I motored to the lee side of the island, where my crew directed me to what looked like a landing place that the locals used. So I beached her and anchored her to the shore before retiring to the tent to get some well-deserved sleep.

Sunday — The following morning I rose to a dry, calm and cloudy morning. Crew was not feeling too good again, so I left him to sleep while I popped my head out to see what joys were waiting for me today. Horror of horrors, the mast was horizontal, this did not look good. I dived out of the tent and raced down to the beach to see Peregrine had dried out on the largest rock I could have found and toppled over, filling the stern with water. Oh my God, all the bad things rush through your mind, she’s holed, etc. On investigating, I was pleased to discover no damage had occurred. At this point I informed the crew of the situation and would like his assistance. So, while the crew dressed, I began bailing her out. When the crew joined me, we put our backs against the side and pushed the boat upright and waited for the tide to come in to refloat her. While we were standing there, passing the time of day, one of the locals came by and kindly offered some assistance. We thanked him and said we had everything in control. Eventually Peregrine floated and we repositioned her using two stern lines one to either side, and two bow lines to hold her precisely over the only safe spot she could dry out in. The rest of the day was spent on the island resting and watching to make sure Peregrine dried out safely this time. Eventually we were satisfied and went to bed early as we were both feeling tired.

Monday — The next morning we decided it was about time we landed on South Uist. We had been on this island for over a day within a stone’s throw of Lochboisdale village, but we hadn’t officially arrived. So we had breakfast and dropped camp to motor into the harbour to moor. I have to say the locals are extremely friendly. I’ve never sailed anywhere since and met such extremely helpful and polite people.

Epilogue

As it turned out, this was the end of our cruise. The following morning we woke to driving rain and F6 westerly winds. On contacting Stornoway Weather Centre they asked me what the weather was where I was. I said a F6 and they replied, “A light breeze, then!” The weather was not due to improve for another three days. We discussed our options. If the weather improved when they expected, then we could just make it back. If not, we couldn’t. To get back using the ferry, allowing for me to go and get the car and trailer, I would have to catch that night’s ferry. Otherwise it could not be done in the time we had left. So, with this in mind, the ferry option was chosen and Peregrine went home on a big boat; certainly an advantage of dinghy cruising.

The cruise may have ended on a bit of a downer, but on reflection I felt we achieved the goal of getting to South Uist, which was quite an adventurous challenge for us at that time. We certainly learned that our basic navigation, albeit correct in principle, still suffered from various unknowns, such as the speed of the boat, leeway and compass error. We also learned to be prepared to change our goals. With the crew not being too well, we shouldn’t have pushed for South Uist, but stayed on Canna and sailed to Skye for example. We also believe that the crew’s illness and the illness I felt on arrival at Canna was due to tiredness and dehydration. On a long passage in hot sunny weather with no cover in an open boat, dehydration occurs very easily. From these lessons we now make sure we drink plenty, get plenty of rest, make shorter passages, or if we do a long passage, we have somewhere to rest for a couple of days and be prepared to change our goals for the benefit of the crew and the cruise.

I do believe that we will sail again in the Outer Hebrides, but it may be by taking the ferry across so that we can explore more of the islands.