Cruising the Forth estuary between Edinburgh and the Kincardine Bridge in a 16’‑9” Dockrell dayboat

My son’s Dockrell 17 is based on a traditional navy launch so has a long keel a couple of inches deep but with a centreboard. It is something like a much smaller version of the open boat in which Captain Bligh made his epic voyage. In previous years Ed and I have sailed from Northumbria to the Forth and back, each taking a stage single-handed, but this is difficult because of the hazardous nature of the coast between the Tyne and Dunbar. This time Ed trailed up to the Forth for a week of sailing with his partner, and then left the boat for me to have my week’s sailing before trailing back. The Upper Forth estuary offers miles of semi-sheltered sailing with many attractive little havens, each with welcoming sailing clubs. Some of these havens have good bus or train connections with Edinburgh, an exiting capital city, not to be missed. The only disadvantage in sailing the Forth is that apart from Granton and Port Edgar, these little ports are all tidal.

The Dockrell had been left on the pontoon at Cranton, the yacht harbour for Edinburgh, which is jointly managed by the Royal Forth and the Royal Corinthian Yacht Clubs. When I called in at the RFYC’s salubrious clubhouse (ancient half-models and paintings on oak-panelled walls) I did so with a little trepidation, but I need not have worried, as with all the yacht and boat clubs in this area they were very friendly and helpful. The only snag is that the RFYC bar closes at 9pm and the RCYC’s at 8pm! The steward was quite surprised when I explained who I was. From what Ed had said of my aging problems he had expected a slobbering old wreck to shuffle in on a Zimmer frame!

Next to my berth on the pontoon was a fine sleek yacht, bound for the West Indies. Surprisingly it was a DIY concrete job, finished in resin, giving it a very high quality finish. She slipped out during the night, not waking me. Also on the same pontoon was a Loch Fyne Scaffie in fine condition, and in a fishing haven along the road were a couple of Fifies or Zulus. (All of these Scottish fishing boat types have huge unstayed pole masts and balance-lug mainsails).

Sunday Sept 11th. After a quiet night on board in the Granton yacht harbour, I cast off in very light airs, sailing with the flood-stream. Heading up the firth, I left the rocky islets known as the Cow and Calves to port, with the Oxcars Lighthouse very conspicuous in the starboard distance. I had to keep a careful look-out when crossing the shipping lane, and be ready to drop the motor and start it if necessary, until eventually I inched up against the now ebbing tide into Inchcolm’s southern bay, where I anchored. This island was once a monastic retreat and is now a bird sanctuary, and my anchorage gave a splendid view of the abbey, built in golden sandstone in the simple early Norman style, very much to my taste. After having a leisurely late lunch while watching and being watched by grey seals, I weighed anchor and sailed on with a new easterly breeze. Although I was sailing through the water at a fair speed, the strong ebb was pushing me back towards Inchcolm’s outlying westerly reef, so I had to start the motor. Closely passing one of the main channel buoys, which are mounted on catamaran floats because of the speed of the ebb current, I found a seal had hauled out on it. It gave me a good look and then dozed off again as I passed. Using Ed’s Dinghy Guide to the Forth* as a pilot, I nosed into Dalgetty Bay, and took a club mooring. A member kindly ferried me ashore and bought me a drink in the clubhouse. He showed me Dalgetty’s tiny harbour, which consists of only a few yards of wall, but unfortunately this ideal berth had already dried out. I was offered the use of a vacant buoy for the night, but felt that it might be bumpy out on the exposed moorings, so picked my way through the rocks to a dinghy anchorage on the other side of the bay, recommended in Ed’s guide. As it turned out it was a good choice since it blew hard during the night.

Monday 11th Sept. I woke up to wind and heavy rain, and rang the coastguard who forecast wind F5-6 easterly, becoming north-easterly, with rain for most of the day. At 11.00 the rain eased for a time, so I double-reefed the mainsail and set off up the Forth, unfurling the genoa but furling it again during the squalls, which were severe at times. The visibility was poor in the driving rain and mist, but passing under the mighty Forth Rail Bridge was nevertheless an impressive experience. This famous cantilever bridge was built in 1890, just after the Tay Bridge disaster, so it had not only to be strong but also to look strong! It is probably greatly over-engineered, because the authorities were not unduly concerned when there were complaints of large lumps of rust falling from the 100 year-old bridge on to Queensferry village below. They simply switched from the traditional red lead paint to a rust-coloured glass powder coating (something like Hammerite I reckon). I carried on with the flood past Port Edgar Marina, dimly making out Blackness Castle in the murk, then on past Bo’ness and further on the Grangemouth refineries and industrial complex. (From Grangemouth it will again be possible to sail to the west coast when the Forth-Clyde canal is reopened at Easter 2001. The distance to the Clyde is a mere 35 miles, but there are many locks, a boatlift and the Glasgow ‘badlands’ to be negotiated). To starboard a huge power station dominated everything, and ahead the Kincardine Bridge came into view. Then the mist cleared giving a view of the mountains beyond Stirling. This made me think of Edward 1 who used this river to bring up the iron and timber to build his mighty trebuchet weapon in the siege of Stirling. (The Scots wanted to surrender when they realised what devastation of this terrible machine would cause, but Edward would have none of it. He had spent a lot of money and effort on this weapon, and wanted the pleasure of seeing it in action. After pounding the castle very satisfactorily for three days he got bored and accepted the surrender).

I could have sailed under the Kincardine Bridge, since even at high water there would probably be just enough clearance, but decided to find a good berth for the night while the tide was still high enough to enter a haven. I therefore returned with the ebb to Bo’ness, and using Ed’s guide entered the derelict outer harbour and moored with some difficulty to the broken ladder, hoping that it would hold my weight as I climbed out. The inner dock, which is closed, is huge and its stonework is still in fine condition, and the surrounding area has been landscaped with flowering shrubs. Alongside the dock the old railhead has been restored as a tourist attraction with passenger services at weekends. One would have therefore expected this harbour to be a thriving marina or at least a base for the local boat club, but instead it lies deserted and full of mud, certainly five feet deep, some say ten feet. I subsequently heard various rumours, restoration money ‘disappearing’ and so on. I visited the local boat club in a bay to the east. They were well barricaded in against thieves and vandals, with the gate kept locked even with members working inside, but they could not have been more welcoming. They offered the use of one their moorings, but my boat was firmly stuck in the harbour mud by then. Back in the town I went into a pub, The Thistle, and asked if they could do me a coffee. This surprised them a bit, but the landlady thought and then said she could, and went to her kitchen and made one, refusing payment. The east coast Scots are like this!

Tuesday 12 Sept. With my boat on the mud I had to wait for the rising tide to float off, not getting away until 12.30. In light airs and with both breeze and the flood tide against me I tried to sail but gave up after gaining only half a mile in over half an hour, and motored downstream to Blackness, making fast to the pier at about high water. This pier is simply constructed from rocks stacked up on each other, as in dry-stone-walling, with a layer of rough concrete on top. The tiny village is charming, and is dominated by a huge castle on the point. In England castles are castles and forts are forts i.e. built for gunnery warfare, but this one was built as a castle, and then converted to a fort under Mary Queen of Scots. Its immensely thick walls were however no match for Oliver Cromwell’s guns mounted on a hillock nearby. Charles II had the fort restored and it continued in military use to World War II, finishing up as an explosives store.

By now the tide was falling, so I had to either move or take the ground and stay the night, so I sailed then motored to Brucehaven on the north bank of the Firth. Motoring in between the entrance rocks to the pier, at the entrance a sailing club-member hailed me and advised me to moor on a quayside pontoon, and then showed how to gain entry to the clubhouse and all its facilities. Brucehaven, Limekilns and Charlestown can be regarded as a single linear seafront village. Charlestown has an enclosed harbour which would certainly be the best haven in heavy weather, at Limekilns Quay the bottom is too rocky for a dinghy to take the ground but it has the best beach, but I agree with Ed, Brucehaven would be my preference in reasonable conditions. Admittedly, The Ship Inn at Limekilns has more character than The Bruce Inn at Brucehaven, but The Ship is only a further five minutes walk. Incidentally, the old limekilns you see from the Forth are not at Limekilns but at Charlestown. Charlestown is named after Charles Earl of Elgin who founded it for the workers in his lime industry, and the old village was laid out to form his initials, CE. Although its cottages originally had only beaten-earth floors, and bucket privies at the bottom of the gardens, it was nevertheless a model village in its time. At the time when I lived in Scotland there were still two-room tenements, which shared one loo between six families! The Charlesville management was extremely autocratic by today’s standards, the workers did not even own the contents of their own loo buckets, it was compulsorily carted away to fertilise his Lordship’s fields! Nevertheless this rudimentary level of hygiene probably saved these villages from several plagues that swept this part of Scotland.

It is hard to believe it now, but a considerable tonnage of ships could be housed within Charlesville harbour, and where is now grass and shrubs was not long ago a complex of railway sidings. Coal was exported not only to northern Europe but to the USA too, and ballast unloaded onto the harbour sides in the old days still sprouts with non-indigenous plants. It is hard to believe that a hundred years ago these desirable residential villages were a hell of yellow smoke and lime-dust. After the coal and limestone was worked out, ship breaking continued into modern times. Famous ships ending their days here include the square-rigger Grace Harwar, and HMS George V. Many of the German ships that were scuttled at Scapa Flow were subsequently raised and towed to the Forth, still upside-down! I could not at first believe that such huge ships had been brought into Charlestown’s shallow harbour, but apparently their machinery and most of their superstructures were first removed at Rosyth, reducing their draught to a few feet.

A few minutes walk from Brucehaven is the waterside ruin of Old Rosyth churchyard, which was a target for the notorious grave robbers, Burke and Hare. They would sneak up in their dinghy late at night, snatch a corpse from a new grave and be off!

Wednesday 14th Sept. As I have mentioned before, the only disadvantage of these lovely little tidal ports is that one can only leave an hour or two before high-water, giving only a few hours sailing before entering the next. I cast off at 14.30, heading for South Queensferry, which lies between the Forth Road Bridge and Rail Bridge. Again I was sailing against the flood-stream and so had to motor part of the way in the light airs, entering the little harbour at about high water. The berth recommended in Ed’s guide was unoccupied, so I moored and asked one of the berth-holders whether I would be allowed to stay for an hour. He said the berth was reserved, but as the boat concerned was still on the west coast with an engine breakdown I should be OK! Queensferry gets its name from a saintly medieval Scottish queen who organised the ferry service across the narrows for the benefit of pilgrims. The quaint little town gives a feeling of being back in the ‘Killing Time’ of the 17th century, with dragoons chasing Covenanters down its narrow streets, Alan Breck and all that. I walked as far as the Hawkes Pier, so had to hurry back if I was to sail on and be able to enter Cramond before its entrance channel dried. Passing again under the massive arches of the Forth Rail Bridge I sailed inside the Hounds Point Oil Terminal and perhaps rather too close to the outlying rocks. At high-water there is a direct route to Cramond across the mudflats, but it was now rather late, and when I saw uncharted rocks just inshore of me, I decided not to take the risk. By heading for Cramond Island I would have the option of the good anchorage there if I were too late to get in to Cramond quay. The channel markings had changed since Ed’s visit the previous year, and in the poor light it was not obvious that all the poles had green bands and were therefore all starboard markers. However the channel had not changed much, and when the post with spherical yellow top-mark was abeam I knew I was close to the low weir that keeps the yachts in the harbour afloat at low water. Despite my boat leaving very little space between the quay wall and the moored yachts I was made very welcome to berth alongside the quay, where I would be in reach of a ladder yet remain afloat all night. I was loaned keys to the clubhouse, but warned to be very careful about security. (Cramond is a lovely village, but close to a ‘housing estate from hell’!)

Thursday 15th Sept. The morning started with rain, so I took the bus into Edinburgh. In the old city were reminders of the body-snatcher’s Burk and Hare’s associations with local inns, and also of the respected local worthy who became a thief and murderer at night, providing the inspiration for the Doctor Jeckyll and Mr Hyde book. The new National Museum building is very impressive if austere to the point of brutality, but is saved by the natural patterning of the smooth sandstone finish. Forget any ideas about museums being boring, this one, like many other new museums and art galleries, is lovely, challenging and disturbing. The Millennium Clock with its moving figures is rather shocking, women giving birth to devils etc.

Friday 16th Sept. The morning again started with ‘Scots Mist’ (fine rain), and in any case the tide would not cover the sill until mid-afternoon, so I took an early bus back to Edinburgh. Returning after lunch, I cast off from the quay just before high water, sailing up the Forth with the following breeze, bound for North Queensferry. In the distance I saw a schooner with its main topsail set tacking down, but failed to close with it. The ebb set in strongly before I reached the Forth Rail Bridge and was flowing at over three knots through the narrows, so again I had to motor. (The ebb can reach 6 knots here!) North Queensferry, like South Queensferry, is a fascinating old village. Some of the cottages were traditional Fife dwellings with the living accommodation on the upper floor reached by stone steps on the outside, the ground floor being originally reserved for animals or fishing gear. A glance at the fast-falling tide level sent me scurrying back to the boat before it grounded. I motored over to Port Edgar, which is just above the new Forth Road Bridge.

Port Edgar is the major yacht port for the Forth, accessible at all states of tide and virtually any weather. It was my first visit, so I motored round the pontoons and took a vacant inshore berth. I wondered at its massive fenders until I was told that it belonged to Brunhilda, the schooner I had seen with topsail set, and furthermore she had sail and oars only — no engine! I lost no time in leaving that berth clear!

In the morning Ed drove up from the Tyne with his massive 4-wheel trailer. Loading the heavy Dockrell without immersing the trailer wheel bearings was not too difficult, but the combined tow-weight must have been 2000 lbs or more, and Ed’s Micra has only a 1000cc engine! A couple of volunteers helped with a push to start us up the ramp, and once on the level I got in and we were away. Taking the most picturesque route, over the mighty Lammermuir hills and round the Cheviots without the little engine ever labouring said something for Ed’s driving skills and a lot for Nissan engineering. The week of un-ambitious cruising lacked the drama of my previous adventures, but was fascinating nevertheless. Anyway I am becoming too old for epics!

References: Imray Chart C27 and relevant OS maps. Pilot Handbook to the East Coast of Scotland. (Forth Yacht Clubs Association). Dinghy Cruising Guide to the Forth. <edwingfield@hotmail.com> (For use afloat take your own colour prints and mount in a transparent folder). Charlestown — Built on Lime, Norman Fotheringham. Carnegie Dunfermline Trust.

Ed’s Internet dinghy cruising guide naturally lacks the detail and quality of the Forth yacht pilot, which is the result of a great deal of effort over many years. However Ed’s guide is specifically aimed at dinghy needs, and unlike pilot books can be constantly updated. I also found Ed’s simple colour chartlets and large print easier to read than the pilot book when single-handed, wet and tired, in bad conditions.