In which Sid and Doris go over the sea to Skye and hang off a mooring by the Talisker distillery.
Dawn implies sun rise. In Mallaig this morning we had rain fall so perfectly drumming on the coach roof that we stayed inside to enjoy it. The world doesn’t look quite as appealing as it did last night:
It softens off and we go into town for showers, local paper and breakfast with Sid in his foulies. Mallaig is the destination of the Jacobite Express a steam hauled train from Fort William that has earned fame for being the Hogwarts Express and the lovely Glenfinnan viaduct (an early use of mass concrete, not reinforced.) The ride is so expensive that one cafe has worked out they can charge London prices for sourdough, home made marmalade and coffee. They can; however it means that no locals use the cafe, which is sitting poised for the 11:45 train to arrive. It is quite good and has the metropolitan comfort of Polish waiting staff. Sid considers what their home town can be like.
Anyway deviod of other delaying tactics we cast off only to find the harbour traffic lights red as a ferry coming in has priority. Oh joy, as Sid stooges around in the fishing pool we see a harbour seal being fed on by-catch. Then out to sea which is all a bit bouncy but this is spring and all the birds we didn’t see on our Not the Thistle trip are here. We are not very adept birders, and seabirds tend to be black and white, but we are sure that we have seen several different sorts. One little fat black and white bird comes whirring busily past with bright red feet stuck out behind, and for a few seconds we are convinced we have seen a puffin until the bird book tells us it is definitely a Black Guillemot.
We may not have seen a submarine yet – despite the shags doing their best impressions of periscopes – but are making do with a flotilla of six of Her Majesty’s finest naval patrol boats. In fact, these are the most boats we have seen so far.
The wind dropped and we decided to take out a reef, using the famous Voice Activated Remote Control Reefing System – “Sid, can you take a reef out please”. Yes, it was Sid’s turn to deal with the single line reefing, hauling the lines out of the boom at both ends. This system has so much friction in it that even keen winching of the main halyard will not pull the reefing lines through. A tin of Silicone spray next time we see a hardware shop. Not a chandlery because there is fierce boat tax levied. 400 ml in Halfords £6 but in Force 4 chandlery £7.40.
The Skye coast on this side is full of fierce cliffs, interspersed with waterfalls which catch the sunlight and produce rainbows.
The day clears, the clouds lift, and on the distant horizon we can see Barrasay in the Outer Hebrides. It doesn’t look that far. Maybe we could try getting there…
It is about 35 nms from Mallaig to the Talisker distillery of which about four nms is winding down Loch Harport. On arrival we find none of the promised pontoons or visitor moorings. We are camped on a local’s mooring and have not gone ashore. The distillery does tours but as neither of us particularly enjoys whisky we will not be blowing up the dinghy and rowing over. In fact Sid is unsure what delights would have to await to have him go through such faff, though he has been using the phrase “a languid afternoon among the scented cushions” which sounds rather Ottoman Empire.
In the meantime we add to the nature haul of seal, dolphin and guillemots, a fleet of jellyfish that are around the boat.
It is warm enough to sit in the cockpit, relish the view, listen to the cuckoos, and plot Towards North Uist, in the Outer Hebrides.
We have gone Over The Seas, but purists may say that we have not technically reached Skye. Fortunately our gentle and only reader is not a purist.
Purity is over-rated.