A cruise from Amble in Northumbria to Aberdour in Fife, single-handed in my son’s 16’ 9” Dockrell Goosander, a heavy open boat based on traditional hull form (see Bulletin article 111/08 for boat description)

The Northumberland Heritage Coast north from Amble has a haunting, austere loveliness and is abundant in wildlife, but one can go all day without sighting another sail. This is partly due to its remoteness, but also because of its hazards. Any strength of wind in the east or north-east builds up a swell all the way from Norway or the Arctic, which on reaching shallow water produces fearful breakers. When the wind is in the south-east another hazard, the haar, a dense and persistent sea fog, is commonly experienced. Nevertheless cruising this uncompromising coast is a great experience for those prepared to accept it on its own terms.

Towards the end of my long train journey from the south, a large notice announced that we were entering ‘Durham — the Land of the Prince-Bishops’. This was later upstaged by a similar notice ‘Northumberland, Land of the Saints’!

This reminded me that I would be sailing where some of these great saints sailed, and landing where they landed, but I was still in doubt over the type of craft they used. They were monks of the Celtic Church, and we know that their Irish counterparts made amazing voyages in hide curraghs, possibly reaching America ahead of the Vikings. However, the Northumbrian monks may well have used the double-ended clinker skiffs of the type the Anglo Saxons used at this time, very much like the boat used by the DCA’s Hugh Clay on his epic Scandinavian cruises (see Bulletin article 97/22). It is known that the Angles, like the Vikings, carried tents on their voyages, and sometimes erected them on board when anchored at night, so these Northumbrian monks might not have looked out of place at a DCA rally!

DAY 1: High-water at Amble was at 05.00, and as Goosander was beached, an early start was necessary. Ed drove us to the Coquet YC and we hurriedly got the boat off the beach and against the club pontoon for loading. As this coast is thinly populated with few shops, stores for a week were loaded. Ed was coming with me for a short day-sail, and at 06.45 we cast off under motor with the ebb, as motoring out of their moorings is a Coquet YC rule. Outside the harbour we hoisted all sail and headed north in a light southerly breeze and slight haze. We passed Alnmouth, an old port now difficult to enter even at high-water, well offshore, in order to clear the reef off Boulmer Haven. Apart from the slight protection offered by this half-tide reef, this ‘haven’ is no more than an open beach from which fishing cobles can be hauled during bad weather. By 08.00 the breeze died, so we started the 5HP Mercury, motoring at just under half throttle, an economical setting which pushes the boat at a useful rate.

The calm conditions encouraged Ed to pilot us into Howick Haven. This ‘haven’ is no more than a break in the rocks (Grid reference NU262168). It can be identified by a lone fisherman’s cottage on the cliff above, and an old ship’s boiler rusting on its northern side. It is too insignificant to be mentioned even in the comprehensive Northumbrian YC pilot-book, but I would highly recommend a brief visit in calm weather for those with a taste for wild romantic beauty. Not having a tender, I was unable to get ashore and, after anchoring for a while, we turned and motored out with a little difficulty, as the outboard motor fouls the rudder when turning to starboard and we had no oars on board.

Incidentally, there are few buoys on this dangerous coast, because shipping is advised to keep well offshore. The dinghy skipper navigating inshore may best use an OS map annotated with the few buoys and lights, plus the excellent RNYC pilot-book information. When the well-buoyed Firth of Forth is reached, the chart again becomes the prime source of information, but the OS map is still valuable.

Soon we reached the tiny fishing port of Craster, with its pretty cottage gardens running down to the sea. Picking our way in past the outlying rocks at 09.40 I nudged up to a fishing boat moored against the wall of the harbour, which had now dried out. Ed boarded it and from it got ashore to catch a bus back to Amble and I carried on alone.

The great ruined coastal castle of Dunstanburgh now came into view and beyond it St. Mary’s or Newton Haven, where at 10.15 I anchored for coffee and a second breakfast. The village of Low Newton consists of two rows of cottages with a green between, where in severe weather the fishing cobles are hauled out. Being fairly sheltered by its off-lying rocks and having a mile or more of sandy beach, Newton Haven is popular for dinghy sailing.

The sun now came out and a south-easterly breeze filled in, so I carried on north. By 11.20 I noticed from the fishing buoys that the tidal stream had turned against me, but inshore of the Farne Islands I picked up an eddy current and carried on at speed. There were fine views of the high cliffs of the Inner Farne and of the 90 foot high Staple Island Pinnacles. It was tempting to spend some time around here, but I wanted to reach at least Dunbar and hopefully the sheltered waters of the Forth for Ed to take over for his cruise the following week. On the Northumbrian coast if you want to make progress you push on whenever conditions allow.

These waters are abundant with wildlife. There were flocks of eider duck diving for mussels, great rafts of puffins and guillemots, gannets flying in from Bass Rock, and kittiwakes nesting on the cliffs. There are now also many fulmars, never seen in Britain until a century ago. Surprisingly, I had seen no seals, although I had heard distant seal-song in Embleton Bay.

At 12.30 the Shoreston Buoy was abeam and the flood-stream had eased. The breeze had increased to F4, ample to push me fast over the slack current. In all this time only one sail was seen, far offshore, probably heading to Scotland for their East Coast Week. I saw no other that day, nor for several days. Passing under the walls of Bamburgh Castle, which was rebuilt by an arms-baron, I would have entered the shallow Budle Bay if I could, but this is only possible around high water. Now Lindisfarne castle, high on a great rock, was visible in the haze. I sailed on until I was in line with the two great spires marking the Holy Island’s entrance channel. At 14.00 I anchored just inside Old Law, a massive sand-dune on the mainland side of the harbour entrance. Despite it being a sunny day at the height of the season, there were only three people on this lovely beach. One of them had a large clinker dinghy with a bowsprit. I wondered whether it could be the one shown on the cover of the RNYC pilot book.

Although Northumbrian coastal waters are the coldest in Britain, receiving the least Gulf Stream effect, the shallow waters within the harbour had been warmed by rising over the hot sands and I was able to enjoy a comfortable swim. Then, when the rising tide permitted it, I sailed over past the entrance shoals to The Ouse, Lindisfarne’s small boat haven, and found a spot to anchor.

DAY 2: I awoke to warm sun but poor visibility, so, unaware that even worse conditions were to come, I decided to have a day ashore. The Holy Island of Lindisfarne is no longer the remote place beloved of travel writers, since carloads and coach-loads of trippers flood over the causeway when the tide recedes, but it can still provide a great experience for those who get away from the crowds, in the right frame of mind. Visiting the island by open boat as the early monks did is the best way.

I decided to walk round the island. Although I lack the botanical knowledge to appreciate the island’s botanical diversity properly, I did at least recognise the carpet of creeping willow, a ‘tree’ only six inches high. Notices warned of Piri Piri burrs, presumably an exotic that has somehow naturalised here. Reaching the north end of the island, visibility was about 300 metres, so I ventured on to Goswick Sands looking for the northern entrance channel, negotiable around high water. There are said to be both quicksands and unexploded nasties here, so recalling an old soldier’s tip for crossing minefields, I walked only in the tracks left by the warden’s 4WD vehicles. Finding no channel, I followed other tracks leading back towards the bridge refuge on the motor causeway. Although the sun was shining above all this time, the haar was now far too thick for further exploration. I had no wish to return on the causeway with the constant motor traffic, so took the old pilgrim route over the sands, which was marked by poles every twenty double-paces. It was an eerie experience, because the mist had now reduced visibility to the extent that as I left each pole I could see nothing ahead, but had to carry on in line until the next pole loomed up. With the tide rising unseen, I was quite glad to sight the Holy Island shore when the mist thinned temporarily. Following the shoreline I scrambled over the rocks to St Cuthbert’s islet, the one place where I get the ‘Lindisfarne Experience’, for me a feeling of one-ness with nature, which is perhaps why back in the 7th century, the saint chose it as his hermitage. Returning to the boat the mist cleared at 19.00, but it was too late to carry on to Berwick. Later I walked to the furthest of Lindisfarne’s two pubs, where the locals were interested in my cruise and encouraging about my plan to sail north out of the harbour. Unfortunately they were less than explicit about the route to take once over the causeway. I formed the strong impression that they had never actually done it themselves! There is probably not much depth anywhere on the north side of the island.

DAY 3: I woke at 05.00 to clear weather, but fifteen minutes later the haar moved in again, reducing visibility down to 100 metres. It later became even denser, but at 09.00 I decided to motor by compass the short distance over to the Old Law beach on the other side of the harbour. With only sand ahead, I reckoned that it was a fail-safe decision. As expected, I passed close to the western edge of the Stoneridge shoal, but then saw nothing until I heard the roar of a fierce tide-rip and then the Triton Buoy, seemingly coming up fast on my port beam! The strong ebb current had taken me unknowingly out of the harbour and I was in danger of being lost out at sea. I hurriedly turned the boat against the current and opened the throttle to full speed until the Stoneridge shoal came back into view, when I anchored by it duly chastened. It was very cold in the mist. While I was waiting at anchor a smallish dark brown thrush-like bird that I couldn’t identify landed on my stern and stayed some time; like me, lost in the mist? Towards low water I deemed it safe enough to set a new course and motor on, but was quite relieved when the ghostly shape of a tiny islet appeared to port. I nosed the boat ashore, anchored, and walked in over the sands on a marching compass-course to ensure that I could find my way back, to confirm my position. The inner of the two great entrance beacons loomed up and I knew that I was at last where I intended to be.

When the tide began flooding again I decided to explore the low-water channel which wends its way over the Holy Island Sands from the causeway bridge. Visibility was still only 20 to 30 metres, but I had nothing to hit except sandbanks, so with a fair light breeze I sailed under mainsail only with the centreplate half down to warn of shallowing water. At first I could only see one bank at a time, but as the channel narrowed both banks were faintly in view. I passed a group of cormorants or shags, then a flock of ducks, widgeon perhaps, visibility was too poor for identification. Then, just as the channel was becoming too narrow to tack back out, I came upon a large herd of seals, resting on the sandbank. After staring at me for some moments they all took to the water, charging around me in their excitement churning up really large waves. I have never seen anything like it! They were not afraid, but kept coming up close for a better look at me. Having run out of water I had to turn and tack back, some of the seals following for a considerable distance. These were not the grey seals of the Farnes, but an isolated colony of common seals living on the Lindisfarne Sands. Incidentally, some say that the Dockrell 17 has poor sailing performance, but I was impressed with its ability to tack back out of the narrow channel, in light airs, mainsail only, against the flood stream. Anchoring again under the lee of Old Law to gain some shelter from the chill breeze, with the fog as thick as ever, I raised the boat’s hood and turned in to catch up with some sleep.

I woke to find the fog had cleared, so immediately stowed my gear and set sail at 17.55. As I was still uncertain of the course to sail north from inside the island, I sailed out by the marked channel, having to motor to make progress against the flood. Holy Island’s Emmanuel Head beacon was abeam by 18.30, but later the breeze died and I had to motor to make progress. Several times the breeze filled in again and died again. Visibility remained good for some time, but I could see an ominous fog bank towards Berwick. By 21.00 hours I was in thick fog, and being without GPS, motored on within faint sight of the shore, but when I found rocks dangerously close I had no option but to anchor. A swell from the east made even the stable Dockrell roll uncomfortably and I prepared for an uncomfortable watch in the cold and dark. To make matters worse my butane stove developed a severe leak, so I was without hot food or drink. I turned in with a relaxing book, but finishing a chapter, I looked out and to my relief found the fog had completely cleared and that the Berwick harbour light was only a mile distant. I motored up in calm conditions, rounding the great mud spit, and after fighting the ebb that was pouring out of the Tweed, found a vacant buoy. I had a quiet night.

DAY 4: The fog was thick again and I could barely see the nearside bank some 30 metres away and nothing else at all. It was also very cold and I still had no hot drink. However, at 11.30 the fog cleared, so I motored over to the opposite side of the river where I anchored against a shingle bank under the town walls. Building these massive ‘state of the art’ defences against the Scots took up most of England’s defence budget in Tudor times. Ironically, before the fortifications were finished, James VI of Scotland inherited the English throne, so the costly fortifications became redundant! Berwick is a fascinating little town, but my priority was to replenish my stores. Getting petrol required a three mile round trip walk to what was said to be the nearest garage. Fortunately I found an ‘outdoor’ shop, where I was able to purchase a replacement stove, also some ex army mess-tins, needed because Ed had inadvertently left his cooking pans at home. By this time the sun had burnt through the mist and from being chilly it became scorching hot. Getting back to the boat I found it had grounded, but my priority was to make my first hot drink for 24 hours and to have lunch.

By 14.50 the tide had risen sufficiently to push the boat off and motor out against the flood. Once clear of the harbour I set full sail in a south-easterly F3, heading up the Scottish coast.

The old Anglo-Saxon kingdom of Northumbria once extended to Edinburgh, King Edwin’s borough, but in those days the Scots who had colonised the west were on excellent terms with the Northumbrians. However, after conquering the Picts of Fife, the Scots gradually gained control of Lothian, the Borders and Berwickshire, except for Berwick itself which remains in England. On these northern cruises of mine I meet people who must be descended from the Northumbrian English and/or from the Celtic Scots and/or from the aboriginal Picts, but there is no way of telling which! In all the coastal villages the people are friendly and helpful, so who cares?

At 16.00 the breeze died and I had to motor to maintain progress against the flood stream, but by 17.00 I had passed the tiny haven of Burnmouth nestling under the high cliffs, rounded the point and Eyemouth was abeam. The busy fishing port of Eyemouth is excellent for a brief stop, but too noisy and crowded for overnight, so I decided to push on. Another factor limiting my choice of overnight berth was that the fenders had also been left at Ed’s! Under sail again I tacked into Coldingham Bay to dodge the flood then headed for the rockbound harbour of St Abbs. I have entered St Abbs several times, but have never been able to find the leading marks!

On entering what in previous years had been a half empty harbour, I was surprised to find it was now full of boats, mainly RIBs, rafted wall to wall! The sub-aqua diving here is about the best in Britain. The harbourmaster appeared and directed me to make fast to the outer end of the raft of boats, and secured my long fore and aft lines to bollards on each of the harbour walls. I was charged £10 for my one night’s stay, yet the only harbour facilities were a water tap with a public toilet nearby! I had a superb walk along the cliffs to the nearest pub on the cliffs above Coldingham Bay.

DAY 5: Bright sunshine early on. As I had not had a shower since leaving home, a quick dip in Coldingham Bay seemed appropriate. It was a very quick dip — Coldingham is aptly named! Incidentally this is where Cuddy, St Cuthbert, was ‘seen preaching to otters’! I suspect that the otters simply sensed that the saintly Cuddy would not harm them and that their curiosity was aroused by his presence.

Returning to my boat, the assault course of rafted boats had to be negotiated again. A tourist had his camera at the ready hoping to snap me falling in, but I made it. I had presumed that the tidal stream at St Abbs Head would not change in my favour until 13.00 hours, but the harbourmaster told me that it would be fair from 11.00. Accordingly I cast off at 10.30 with the HM helping with the long lines. The current was strong against me at first, but once the head was actually abeam it was with me as the harbourmaster had predicted. Although keen to push on into the safer waters of the Firth of Forth, I couldn’t resist first motoring into the tiny haven of Pettico Wick, which is immediately round St Abbs Head. It is only suitable for a lunch-stop in calm weather, when it would be possible to get ashore by scrambling up a ruined ramp. Turning to motor out in the restricted space between the rocks, at the most critical point, my prop caught on an unmarked fish net.

By 11.15 the wind had picked up to easterly F2, so with a fair tide too I was bowling along. At 12.00 the mist was increasing, but not causing a serious problem. Fast Castle Head and then a holiday village were soon passed, then the tiny harbour of Cove, by Cockburnspath, came abeam. Ed had entered Cove with Goosander during his 1998 cruise and the harbour’s private owner told him that his was the first ‘yacht’ to enter in two years. As it was now low water I decided to give this difficult little haven a miss.

The huge nuclear power station at Torness had been in dim view through the haze for some time and in passing it I decided to check whether in fact a haven remained there. The pilot book was ambiguous on this point. Motoring in I found that behind the outer wall there was indeed a tiny all-tide sheltered area with one vessel moored there. She was of RNLI type and colours, but had no identification letters on her. I may be a wimp but did not care to hang around, so went on my way.

The breeze had been temperamental all day, but at 14.00 it filled in from the north. A conspicuous cement works was soon abeam, and at 15.00 I entered Dunbar Harbour. I expected it to be crowded as in previous years, but surprisingly there was now ample room to moor. I purchased Forth tide-tables at the exorbitant price of £1.75, and to my annoyance found that they did not state tide heights above datum, only above the sill at Leith Docks. Their reference to tidal streams ‘seven leagues off’ a certain point did not impress me favourably either!

If I had been sensible I would have stayed the night in the safety and comfort of Dunbar Harbour, but the tide was right to enter the Lothian Tyne three miles further on. The entrance to this little estuary is only suitable for dinghies, and then only around high-water and in calm conditions, but once inside the scenery is superb. The estuary forms the main feature of the John Muir Nature reserve, named after a remarkable local man who emigrated to America and there became a founding father of both the Yosemite and Alaskan nature reserves. Like Cuddy, who was born not far away twelve centuries earlier, Muir was a saintly man in love with all creation. The Tyne reserve is a fitting memorial to him.

Giving the concealed rocks in the middle of the entrance a wide berth by skimming over the eastern sandbanks, I then followed the deep water channel which winds its way within a broad expanse of shallow water and anchored in the area known as Heckie’s Hole. Here I was sheltered by the tip of Sandy Hirst, but just outside a long straight line of rocks. I had presumed that these rocks were a training wall, but have since been told they are part of an ancient failed land reclamation. In a walk along the strand I kept a lookout for material from which to improvise fenders. Normally the beaches are littered with such stuff, but the fresh tracks of 4WD vehicles showed that the wardens had cleared up earlier that day!

DAY 6: Woke at 06.30 to very misty weather, but with the edges of the channel just visible. High water was about 07.50, so it was time to depart. I delayed just long enough to swallow a cup of coffee, by which time the haar had closed in completely. As it was likely to be 24 hours before I had another chance, with no certainty of better conditions then, I motored out under compass course. Judging by the distant sound of the breakers that I had cleared the entrance and was on the Bellhaven sands, I anchored in 6 metres at 07.30 and had breakfast. Although it varied from light airs to calm, the boat was rolling badly in the swell, and I felt a bit sick. As the tide fell, isolated breakers appeared quite close inshore of me, then a rock emerged and eventually a whole reef became exposed. However there was no point in moving. I was safe where I was, but only just! At 12.00 the mist cleared to show that I was not on the Bellhaven Sands, but just off St. Baldred’s Cradle, an area of flat rocks immediately to the west. I motored off with visibility improving but no wind. The precipitous cliffs of Bass Rock, nesting site of the gannets, were now in view.

At 13.15 the breeze filled in and by 14.00 North Berwick, a charming little resort, was abeam. The rocky islands of Craig and Lamb were passed close to and as I neared the island of Fidra, a sailing dory was sighted, going well in Force 3. At 15.00 I sailed in to check Fidra’s east landing and then round to the west where there is an anchorage with the possibility of landing on the beach in calm weather. I carried on, taking a course which would eventually close the Fife shore. Both young puffins and young guillemots were seen swimming with their parents. The easterly breeze was now strengthening although some mist remained. The Lothian shore to the south had disappeared as I passed Eyebroughty Point, and the Fife coast was still way off and out of sight, but at 16.30 the great power station at Fisherow was just discernible on my port bow. Then at 16.45 the large island of Inchkeith came into view ahead. Steering north of the island the main shipping channel buoy No. 5 was passed at 17.40. It was good to get a definite position in case the visibility deteriorated again. By 18.05 I had passed Kinghorn to starboard and was close in to the Fife coast, so I sailed in for a brief look at the tiny harbour of Pettycur, its prettiness now spoiled by a caravan site. Sailing on past the unlovely industrial port of Burntisland, I entered Aberdour’s little harbour at 19.15, shortly before high-water. Having no fenders I could not go against the stone harbour wall, but fortunately I found a vacant berth with some rubber tyres on a plank. Aberdour is an attractive little village and with its half hourly train service to Edinburgh via the Forth Bridge, it was a good place to stay for my hand-over to Ed in three day’s time. I could have gone day-sailing to the many little ports in the sheltered waters of the Forth, but the cruise up from Amble had been hard and stressful, so I decided to remain ashore.

Aberdour rhymes with hour, rather than dour as one would expect. The name is of course Celtic, meaning the confluence of the Dour Burn. The Aberdour boat club, like most along these coasts, is very hospitable and its clubhouse is always open to visiting yachtsmen. I spent much time sitting reading old copies of PBO in front of the picture window overlooking the Forth. The clubhouse, built right on the harbour wall, was converted from old buildings dating from the time when Aberdour was a busy port for collier brigs. Part of the clubhouse used to be a coal store and the gear store was originally a mortuary for corpses washed ashore in the Forth. The marble mortuary slab still remains. Unfortunately the clubhouse has no showers, but I took the train to Edinburgh for a swim in the baths and toured the many art exhibitions open during the Festival period. On the debit side the harbour loos are now closed, as has the village delicatessen and no petrol is available within walking distance. Furthermore the station is no longer the wonderful horticultural showhouse it was during a previous visit when it won the title of the Best in Britain, but is still very pleasant. However an old fashioned baker remains in business, there is a restaurant and several pubs doing meals and a small mini-market at East Aberdour. Furthermore there is a castle and the coastal walk takes one past a rock-climbing cliff to a fine beach with a children’s playground, restaurant and cycle hire. Aberdour can be warmly recommended for a family holiday with safe daysailing.

Pilot Information

Sailing Directions, Humber to Rattray Head. (Royal Northumbrian YC) Pilot Handbook, East Coast of Scotland. (Forth Yacht Clubs Association) plus Imray C27 chart. New! Firth of Forth Dinghy Cruising Pilot DCA Library or ed_wingfield@yahoo.co.uk (This is supplementary to the above information and does not replace it.)