Day 6: Tobermory to Loch Ailort, round Ardnamurchan

Tobermory Harbour, Mull

The sun was shining and the sea was very, very blue the morning we set off for Ardnamurchan, the westernmost point of the British mainland and a major turning point for anyone leaving the relative comfort and safety of the southern islands. The Clyde Cruising Club pilot book describes the area north of Ardnamurchan thus: "Except for the Sound of Sleat and the Inner Sound and within most lochs, the waters north of Ardmanurchan are very exposed, with strong tides and overfalls off most headlands. Many of the Lochs are subject to severe squalls, and in the narrow passages between Skye and the mainland tidal streams run very strongly...As there is little commercial traffic there are relatively few (navigational) marks, and many dangers are completely unmarked". What it failed to mention was the stunning natural beauty of the area, or that the best way to experience such delights would be from the deck of a classic sailing yacht - but more of this anon.

A stroll through the town was followed by another excellent fried breakfast courtesy of Seaman Wagstaff, and with the Good Ship refuelled we motored out into the mirror-calm waters of the Sound of Mull in the company of a very small fibreglass cruiser.
 

Rubha nan Gall lighthouse

We were soon abeam of the Rubha nan Gall lighthouse, with a family of dolphins for sporadic company. As the wind filled in from the west, the Good Ship was able to lay off from the Mull shore and steer a comfortable course for Ardnamurchan peninsula. In a building breeze and sparkling sunshine, the boat came alive with a 'bone in her teeth' steaming back from the bow. It was one of those halcyon summer days, with the boat going like a train and the islands of the west shrouded in a lazy summer haze.

Ardamurchan Lighthouse, westernmost point of mainland Britain

The stunning but lonely sentinel that is Ardnamurchan lighthouse was soon abeam, and the unforgiving coastline made the Skipper glad that he was experiencing the headland in such benign conditions. The fearsome reputation of the Point is well-deserved, being exposed to the full force of swells making their way in from the Atlantic, and one can imagine the bleakness and austerity of a storm-ridden night for the lighthouse keepers of old tending the light. Passing the sandy expanse of Sanna Bay, the wind began to drop away and before long the sails were hanging limp, slatting back and forth in the leftover swell. The magnificent cliffs and caves in this part of the coast boomed eerily with each breaking swell, and we passed a couple of hamlets on the shore, nestled into whatever shelter the land could provide. Needing to meet a deadline at Loch Ailort, we motored into the Sound of Arisaig and into the mouth of Loch Ailort, the mountains of the west towering over the scene in serene majesty. Our destination was a small bay north of Glenuig, next to the caravan park where Seaman Wagstaff keeps a caravan. The scale of the chart meant that the Good Ship was shepherded gingerly into the bay with lookouts on the bow peering into the clear waters for any submerged rocks, and it was a relief to get safely anchored up in 10 metres of depth, not far from the shore.

At anchor, Loch Ailort

 The crew disembarked and made their way up to the caravan, and before long the 'crowd' who we were meeting arrived and dinner was served with more than a dram or two. The dreaded midge had his claymore out in vengeance as the Skipper rowed back out to the boat for the night (the anchorage was very eposed to the West and so the boat would need supervision in case the wind swung round from its current easterly direction). It had been a long but fruitful day.