Day 2 - Colintraive to Carradale

Sunday began with an early start under clear skies motoring down the West Kyle, the skipper dropping the moorings while the crew slept off the minor excesses of the previous night. A fried breakfast was followed by a gentle sail over to Lochranza Iat the top of Arran, a picturesque highland style village complete with whiskey distillery and ruined 13th century castle keep which once housed Robert the Bruce. The castle occupies a commanding position on a spit which almost closes the inner basin off from the main bay. Having picked up a mooring, the crew sat drinking in blazing sunshine and mirror-like waters whilst the skipper did his level best to chase the local seagull population across the bay with the microgay, a boys toys version of her bigger sistership.

The dramatic and craggy peaks of the mountains of the north end of the island plunge mercilessly into the deep waters of Kilbrannan sound between Arran and Kintyre, and with Lochranza as the last safe haven on the West side of Arran, and the crew having satisfied the skipper that they could indeed perform a man overboard recovery procedure (self preservation being of primary importance to the captain...) we set off down the kilbrannan sound with a notion that we might aim at campbeltown, it being a good starting place for a potential rounding of the mull of Kintyre...

The Mull of Kintyre has a deserved fearsome reputation, where tides from the Atlantic ocean and Irish sea meet in a narrow stretch of water which has claimed the lives of many people and the boats on which they sailed. Indeed a car ferry was once torn apart by the ferocity of the waves created by wind against tide. The usual tactic for rounding the mull is to wait in either Campbeltown or Sanda island (the only island with a population of zero which boasts a pub, the Byron Darnton Tavern after a ship which sank there). But even as the good ship pounded her way through the steep waves of kilbrannan sound, the turning tide and the rapidly approaching twilight had us scurrying for Carradale as a safe haven for a dark and blustery night.

Carradale has a tiny harbour which is home to a rusting fishing fleet, and with a lack of space and night drawing in we decided to anchor outside the harbour. A friendly seal came over to help guide us in, swimming around the boat and peering up from the dark waters with puppy dog eyes. He stayed with us for a good 15 minutes, before snorting a farewell and disappearing off to some comfortable rock for the night. It was a comforting beginning to what would end up being a rather bleak night, in spite of the presence of the ever watchful stars.The danger of the Mull sat heavily on the skippers mind as he finally doused the oil lamp which had dimly illuminated the warnings written in the Clyde Cruising Club Sailing Directions and turned in for the night...