The final cruise for the Good Ship began late on the Friday evening in Edinburgh, with the Skipper joining Seamen Finnigan and Farago outside Drouthy Neebors pub on their way to collect Seaman Sewera from domestic bliss in his flat. Helping Seaman Sewera carry the provisions from his flat, the skipper wasted no time in banning him from taking his lobster pots and other fishing miscellanea on the trip...indeed having been glued to the most recent series of 'The Dealiest Catch', it seemed that he might try to stow a whole Alaskan crab fishing boat aboard given half a chance! After an uneventful drive to Kip Marina, we arrived to find the Good Ship tucked up safe in her usual berth, beneath a dark sky and sitting in water as black as oil. We soon had the brass cabin lamps glowing cheerily, and a warm dinner of filled pasta was served complete with sauce courtesy of Seaman Finnigan. A dram or 2 of whiskey and the crew settled in for an early night, keen to maximise the shorter hours of daylight the next day that sailing at the tail end of the season dictates.
Saturday 2nd October
The day dawned cold and quiet, and after a quick shower we were on our way out of the marina for the final time this year. Motoring into a stiffening breeze from the south-west, the engine felt very smooth compared to previously - this had been traced to loose engine mounts, indeed the engine had latterly been held by only 2 of the 4 mountings! Off Innellan, we hoisted a single reefed main, full jib and partly rolled yankee, fetching off at speed into the Kyles of Bute in a lumpy sea and driving rain. The sailing was fast, but for Seaman Finnigan it was bumpy enough to lead to a bout of 'mal-de-mer', his colour changing an a trice from pink to white to green, and his usual banterous mouth being silenced at once...
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| Mal-de-mer... |
Meanwhile, on entering the East Kyle the waves had subsided and the sun had come out, and with the wind easing and backing into the East we enjoyed a reach into the heart of the Argyle hills in the company of a larger, modern craft. Seaman Sewera took the opportunity at this point to crack open the first of a number of bottles of Jakey quality cider, and proceeded to finish it by the narrows at the Burnt Islands.
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| Seagoing Jakey |
Coming round into the West Kyle, we short-tacked our way through some gusts and lulls until abreast of Tighnabruach, at which point the wind came back into the South and rose to a steady Force 6. The Good Ship ploughed her way through the gray, white capped seas with no remorse all the way to Ardlamont Point, at which she just squeezed past the red buoy before we could ease sheets for the run up Loch Fyne.
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| Warp 9.5... |
The sun was shining again, and the boat sailing fast in the breeze with a rejuvenated Seaman Finnigan at the helm. The wind was soon abaft, and we gybed our way from the shore near Tarbert over to the fish farm North of Portavadie, and back again towards the end of the Otter Spit (which extends over half way across the Loch) and the small village of Port Anne, nestling behind a small island at the narrows. We considered heading into Otter Ferry for a look, but with the afternoon drawing to a close the Good Ship instead pointed her prow Northwards towards the entrance to tiny Loch Gair, our haven for the night.
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| Goosewinging up Loch Fyne |
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| Entrance to Loch Gair, White Sentinel Tower |
The entrance to the loch is a narrow channel, perhaps only a cable and a half wide, with the loch itself being a horseshoe shape less than half a mile across. This makes it a very snug anchorage, and we were able to anchor clear of the moorings in 6 metres, with just empty shoreline and a stately but abandoned house just above the foreshore. Seamen Finnigan and Sewera wasted no time in purtting out all fishing gear, whilst the Skipper and Seaman Farago headed ashore, under the trusty power of the Seagull outboard, to sample the delights of the Loch Gair Hotel. Being out of season, the hotel was quiet, but a pint of one of the local Fyne Ales went down well and, after a short wait to avoid a passing shower, we headed back to the boat for dinner, the dark windows and stark profile of the abandoned Manor an eerie sight against a blackening sky.
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| Rain in Loch Gair |
The fayre of the evening was once again filled pasta, and with darkness falling rapidly we retired to the cabin to eat under the light of the oil lamps. Outside, the wind was moaning in the rigging and the rain was drumming mercilessly down on the cabin roof, but we were snug and safe, and Robbie Shepherd was on Radio Scotland to add flavour to the ambience. Much drink was then consumed, and sea shanties sung, before we turned in for a well-deserved sleep whilst the storm raged outside.
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| FLAPS |
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| Ahem... |
Sunday 3rd October
It was a quiet start to the day, with the mist hanging limply in the trees and hills around us, the waters of Loch Gair a wavering mercury-like mirror after the speckled surface caused by the rain the night before. After raising anchor, and a quick circle or 2 to pick up a bucket which had gone overboard, we motored out into Loch Fyne, pointing South again towards Otter Spit. The hills on both sides had the last remains of the morning mist hanging about them as we motored through stunning scenery, eating breakfast under way as we went.
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| The Motley Crew, morning, Loch Gair |
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| Leaving Loch Gair |
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| Still nae fish... |
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| Sun's out |
Presently, the sun came out and a light breeze sprung up from ahead, and we slowly tacked our way back down the loch in glorious sunshine and warmth that could have been the middle of summer. Heading close by Skate Island, we bore off past Inchmarnock (one day we WILL stop to see everything that island has to offer!) down towards the south end of the island, the crew in high spirits (and filthy drunk) in the sunshine. Reaching along close into the shore, we had a great close-up of the unique geology along this part of the island's coast, rounding the rocky tip of the island around 4pm.
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| Tangfastics induced grimace... |
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| The skipper inspects the rigging |
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| Another rum, me hearty? Don't mind if I do! |
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| The beginnings of a new sea shanty... |
Easing off into the gap between Bute and the Cumbraes, we set a course between Greater and Little Cumbrae, reaching across towards Millport in the fading afternoon light. A large scale Naval operation was in progress as we entered the Tan, and we watched several Destroyers, Frigates and Minesweepers sail in formation down the Clyde behind us.
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| In the Naa-vyyy... |
It was getting dark by the time we reached Largs Marina, and with the marina full for the night we were lucky to get any berth at all. The berth allocated was for a much smaller boat, and so it was with a good deal of careful manouvering astern that we backed into a berth that was just wide enough and nowhere near long enough, but safe enough for the night. A nice gentleman came down to welcome us in, saying that he had been admiring us as we had come into the marina. Conversation revealed him to be the first mate (and soon to be skipper) of S.Y. Eos, until recently the largest (and most expensive) privately owned yacht in the world at 300 feet...praise indeed for the Good Ship. This being the end of our voyage, the crew disembarked after tidying ship, whilst the skipper left for Skelmorlie, skin glowing from the sun and the wind and heart warm from a glorious weekend afloat. What better way to cap a wonderful season of sailing with friends...
(All photographs courtesy of Seaman T. Farago)
