Day 3 - Carradale to Crinan, or the skipper takes the soft option...

It was an early start for the crew, not least for the skipper who had spent part of the night on deck checking the anchor. The only pleasure in an otherwise cold and lumpy night had been the amount of phosphorescence which made its way aboard. The dinghy painter had glowed like a glowstick, and everywhere the boat had sparkled as if covered by a sort of luminous confetti. but the morning brought stiffening southerly winds, and an ebbing tide made the decision to forgo the tumult of the Mull in such conditions for the more sedate historical shortcut of the Crinan canal.

A brisk sail with the tide up to Ardrishaig on Loch Fyne saw the good ship arrive shortly after midday, as the torrential downpours which had accompanied us up the sound melted away to warm sunshine. We were greeted not by the anticipated hoary old seadog lockkeeper, but by a couple of very attractive and competent female student lockkeepers, much to the relief of the crew. Some paperwork and a map of the canal and we were on our way through the first of 14 locks and 4 opening bridges, traversing what many describe as the most beautiful short cut in the world. It had been built originally in the early 19th century to avoid the perils of rounding the Mull, and is now the favored choice of yachts and fishermen heading up West. We would be accompanied by Frank and his most bodacious niece Tanya on Dannsa na Mara, Frank and boat having recently returned from a circumnavigation lasting 12 years. Frank is a small and wiry man who was in the SAS before succumbing to the call of the sea. We would get to know him well over the following days,the first of many interesting characters we would encounter on our voyage.

 Frank. What a legend.

The journey to Cairnbaan at the summit where we would spent the night was relatively uneventful, save for the skipper receiving a dose of karma after having some banter with some very slow cyclists...moments after the first jibe a large branch suddenly appeared in the cockpit. Nowhere in the skippers canal guide did it say look up in case you hit an overhanging tree, but somehow both mast and dignity survived the ordeal. The canal itself was stunning, weaving its way through picturesque hamlets, wooded watery glades like those from Tolkien's Lorien, with the river banks home to many of the Water Rat's brethren from Wind in the Willows. The only disturbance came from the crews as they got to grips with the torrents of water created by open sluice gates and struggled to open and close the locks.

The top of the tree that the Skipper 'bonsai-ed' with the mast ...

At around 5pm, we reached the small pontoon at Cairnbaan, the hamlet and hotel being less than a mile from Dunadd, the ancient capital of Dalriada, the first kingdom of modern Scotland. A quick visit to the shower block and the crew retired to the hotel for a meal courtesy of seaman Farago. Frank and Tanya joined us for a drink afterwards, during which Frank related the details of his epic 12 year round the world voyage. His wife apparently left the boat half way through in Singapore, although happily it seems that it was only the trip and not Frank himself that she left... after the tales had been told, we retired to the lounge where the skipper discovered a decent grand piano, upon which musical carnage ensued. It was probably just as well that the entertainments moved back to the boat with the guitars under the cockpit tent, and so it was that our first day on the canal ended with the gentle sound of guitar strings floating over the still waters.