Adventures of the Good Ship Maragay: Summer 2011, the Concrete Caravan heads Norf

With apologies to Deacon Blue :

"And I'll sail her up the west coast

Through villages and towns
I'll be on my holidays
They'll be doing their rounds
They'll ask me how I got her I'll say "I saved my money"
They'll say isn't she pretty that ship called Maragay"

Sitting on a mirror-like sea

Now if only it was that simple. The 22nd July 2011 dawned bright and sunny over the placid waters of the Firth, and the Skipper was up early and down to the yacht club with the usual piles of cruising crap in tow, plus a slightly bemused crewman in the form of Trevor. The club boatman, 'Phil the Chill' was nowhere in sight, and a quick phonecall revealed that he had indeed chilled out a little too much the night before. An hour or so later, he appeared with his monster beard and the launch was loaded up and we were on our way out to the Good Ship, bobbing happily at her mooring, anticipating the adventures to come. As we set off down the Firth, storm clouds were gathering ominously on the horizon, but the quiet motor to Kip Marina passed quickly and after filling up fuel and water we were off, bound for the entrance to the Crinan Canal at Ardrishaig.

With little wind, we motored past Wemyss Bay and down through the gap between Bute and Cumbrae, before setting sail briefly in a gentle Nor'easter. The stunning rock formations at the south end of Bute slid by, and we were off the top end of Arran when Trevor yelled 'Whale!' . A large Minkie whale surfaced momentarily and then dove under the mirror-like sea, slapping it's tail on the sea as it went. A few minutes later, another Minkie surfaced, blew its spout indignantly and vanished in a similar manner. Pretty awesome start to the wildlife tour...

As the afternoon drew on and the sun came back out, the breeze dropped away completely leaving us to motor all the way up Loch Fyne to Ardrishaig, sometimes in the company of porpoises which were playing in the clear waters and following the boat. We reached Ardrishaig in time to lock into the canal for the night, and were docked in the canal basin by 7pm. Trevor cooked up a storm in the galley whilst we waited for salty Seamen Farago, Finnigan and Janus to arrive. The ever lovely Emma from the canal popped in for a quick drink, and finally the drunken slabbards arrived from Edinburgh at about 11pm, claiming some nonsense about diversions on the roads or something. After some rowdiness, we settled down for the night, Trevor sleeping as far from the madding crew as possible up in the forecabin.