In which Sid and Doris sail past Benbecula to Loch Boisdale, only an hour’s walk from quite a large shop.
Leaving Lochmaddy was not difficult emotionally but after reversing off it did take a blast of power to come through the wind and get away. They specced Flyer with the big engine, a fine choice. We head south with the wind at a friendly 120 degrees, and add “big engine” to our growing list of “things we’d want on an ideal boat”.
When we set out we expected to see more sea birds but our dread of a lee shore keeps us well out from the cliffs. We have on board The Seabird’s cry by Adam Nicholson (yes, grandson of Vita Sackville West and carrying on many of the Bloomsbury traditions). Sid has just read the gannet chapter. It is a life of fratricidal horror, in competition for space in the colonies where they live so as to learn where food is. It makes life at Accenture seem rather genteel.
With little to do, and a rather flat coastline to go past, Doris continues her collection of Interesting Clouds.
Sid is monitoring progress using the tablet with Navionix software that Alba have provided. “If you carry on in this direction you will get a guided tour of Ushenish Lighthouse, accompanied by several verses of Eternal Father Strong To Save.” “Are you saying you’d like me to aim a bit more left?” “That’s what I meant.”
The sea state is not moderating as quickly as the wind. Doris sorts out a gybe preventer so the boom will not flick around over the waves. This makes steering much less fraught. Generally Sid and Doris take the view that they are on a sail boat and will sail it. Unfortunately all the articles on light airs sailing assume a flat sea such that your light airs sheets (non-sailing term: strings) will gently urge many tons of boat over the water.
These are not those conditions and eventually Sid is dispatched to the cockpit floor where the designers have put the engine’s control panel, presumably on the theory that it prevents people pushing any buttons by accident, or indeed on purpose.
Push first button, await glow plug beep, push starter then nothing. This is not good because it will be an awkward bit of sailing to get around some rocky islands into the Loch and marina. Sid goes again and it fires. We assume user error.
The mighty voyage continues with only one sighting of Her Majesties helicopters, though we can hear planes that are certainly not Easy Jet 737s.
Doris calls in to the new Loch Boisdale Marina Facility to book a pontoon. There are plenty, are you alone, shall I take your lines? How kind, there are two of us. Not much wind now and we gently dock bows to. There are showers, loos, laundry with power and water on the pontoon.
We walk round the loch to the black and white hotel in search of coffee on the terrace. It’s not yet open – the country is not yet ready for staycationers.
By the hotel Sid gets talking to four birders up from The Borders, the raiders’ side of the border. Sid claims his Northumbrian background and we are away. They have seen a rare corncrake and a sea eagle. They are from Duns, ah says Sid, the land of the Aitken Walkers – aye, he has the garage- and the Jim Clark rooms – yes, they’ve bought a cafe so the museum goers can get something to eat on a Sunday. And what about the Jim Clark rally? Yes, Sid’s done that. Perhaps it will run in 2022. They offer to give us a lift to the shop which is a few miles away but we are staying tomorrow and don’t want to exhaust the possibilities for entertainment.
To have the diesel cabin heating we are recommended to put the engine on in order to power the start up phase. Sid prostrates himself by the panel and the engine will not start. Being tied up is the very time for this to happen. We have shore power to start the heater, we are in a harbour with electricians working on the hard, we have phone/wifi reception to ask Alba for advice and we are staying tomorrow anyway. Everyone is very cool. And pleased it didn’t fail at sea.
Then the wind got up again from a direction that brought small waves onto the transom with a regular slapping but we were so tired even Doris slept.