Day 10 - Salen to North Harbour (Gometra) - Tobermory - Sharks AND whales!

We set off from Salen early the next morning, bound for Tobermory and it's brightly painted houses. It was a grey and dank sort of a day, but on arrival at Mull's capital we were able to have showers and do laundry at the excellent facility set up by the Crown Estate for yachtsmen. A foray into the town followed, the Skipper noting with pleasure that many of the establishments (including the redoubtable 'Mishnish' pub) were still there since his last visit during West Highland Yachting Week in 1999. The ship was re-provisioned, and petrol for the outboard bought at the local gas station. We also had a good 'swatch' at the only hardware shop in town, and came away dumbfounded as to how expensive it was. Everything, and I mean everything, was at least 2 times and often 3 or even 4 times the price it is on the mainland. Looking for some yacht varnish, the Skipper could only locate exterior (inferior!) varnish for £30 for a litre!!!! Gas cannisters were also £6 each...strangely enough, a litre of proper yacht varnish was found in the chandlers next door for £12, along with gas for £2 each...hmmm.

With the Good Ship re-watered and foodstocks replenished, we set off mid-afternoon into a light breeze, the plan being to aim for Bunessan for the night all the way down the other side of Mull. It was slow going at first, but the monotony was soon broken by cries from Seaman Finnegan - SHARK!!!

Surely enough, first one and then another basking shark hove into view, their dorsal fins glinting in the afternoon light. We watched them for a while, before turning our attention back to the sailing. The Skipper retired below for a nap when a few minutes later the next call rang out - WHALE!!!! A small whale was in the water off the port bow, although it kept its distance as we approached (no doubt it heard Seaman Finnigan's plans for it's participation in our evening meal), and before long was gone beneath the waves. Given the cost and considerable risk of disappointment associated with the whale watching boats on hire from Tobermory, we felt blessed to see such things from the deck of the Good Ship.

As we rounded the top of Mull, the sky and the sea grew grey, and the breeze freshened. Large swells from the Atlantic began to roll in, and we knew we had left the relative safety of the Inner Isles and were now exposed to the potential full force of the Atlantic Ocean. The boat heeled over and bashed her way to windward, sending spray flying and keeping the crew on their toes. With a southerly wind, the trip down the inhospitable West Coast of Mull was going to be a brutal beat, and as the rain came down the visibility worsened considerably. As we tacked between the ragged cliffs of Mull and the Treshnish Isles, the visibility reduced to the point that we could hear the breakers crashing on the dangerous lee shores well before we saw them looming out of the mist, making for eerie sailing indeed. The Skipper kept a close eye on the GPS, plotting courses whilst all the time aware that if the weather worsened, there were few places to run to.

As darkness began to fall, the Good Ship was barely a third of the way down the West Coast of Mull and the Skipper made the decision to find an alternative destination for the night, before the light went completely. The pilot book suggested North Harbour on Gometra as being a very snug and sheltered anchorage, being a natural bay almost completely protected by a large islet to the North. The only problem was that, in common with most places on this side of Mull, the entrance was very tricky, with a submarine ledge to negotiate and numerous submerged rocks. In the low twilight, we lined ourselves up for the entrance, keeping disoncertingly close to the rocky shore of boulders on the Port side, whilst watching big boulders loom out of the darkness beneath the boat in the shallow and narrow entrance. Once inside, we located the various rocks and reefs and pitched the anchor very carefully with only 3 times scope - any more and as the boat swung to her anchor in the night we would be in danger of hitting the reef, the boulders on the shore, or both. The light of the oil lamps in the cabin were a homely comfort as the wind whistled outside - for all we knew our bleak and barren haven could have been the end of the world, perhaps a final haven for lost souls before being carried across the Styx to Hades by Charon, the boatman...