Eyemouth to Arbroath

Eyemouth to Arbroath: Scenic Delights, and a Precision Landing!

Our plan was unfolding beautifully, a testament to Nick’s planning being as accurate as it could be. We woke to a truly glorious sight in Eyemouth: radiant sunshine and seas as calm as a millpond, confirming our departure for Arbroath. The tide was high, allowing us a safe exit from the harbour, though it cleverly concealed the ring of rocks that guarded the bay. Sticking rigidly to our planned track was paramount to avoid any unintended underwater encounters. Eyemouth had been a fantastic stopover – small, quaint, and utterly charming. While we were sad to leave its narrow embrace, we were keen to press on, seizing the fleeting good weather to push as far north as possible.

Once safely out at sea, we quickly settled into Halcyon Sea's familiar rhythm. There was barely a whisper of wind, but the air was cool and invigorating. We raised the mainsail and unfurled the Genoa, simply plodding along, content with our steady pace. The scenery had undergone another dramatic shift. Now, we were running alongside rugged, brown cliffs that dramatically fronted rolling green hills. Small, inviting sandy coves punctuated the coastline, yet they seemed desolate, with no obvious path down from the towering cliffs. We kept the engine ticking over to maintain a consistent speed, as our window for entering Arbroath was incredibly narrow. Missing it would mean an additional six hours on the water, a fate we absolutely did not want to inflict upon Pepper.

Coastal Giants, Avian Acrobatics, and a Jellyfish Bloom

In the distance, the imposing white buildings of Torness Nuclear Power Station and Visitor Centre stood out like a beacon atop the green hills, a striking modern landmark on the ancient coast. We passed the Isle of May and the wide entrance to the Firth of Forth. We would have loved to stop at Port Edgar, sailing majestically beneath the iconic Forth road and rail bridges, but our July deadline for a function further along our route has imposed some minor restrictions. For now, we're content to soldier on, knowing the West Coast beckons ever closer. We even caught up with and smoothly overtook a German-flagged yacht that had also departed Eyemouth, clearly bound for the same destination. A vast bloom of moon jellyfish drifted by, their ethereal, translucent forms bringing back vivid memories of our first trip together to Beaulieu, where the river seemed to shimmer with their collective presence.

Above us, big flocks of Northern Gannets, easily identified by their striking yellow heads and black wingtips, put on a spectacular aerial display. They took turns dive-bombing into the sea for their dinner, a breathtaking spectacle of power and precision. One even flew so incredibly close to Halcyon Sea that its wingtip almost brushed Nick's face; the whooshing sound of its powerful wings and the feel of the wind it created were indescribable. Tracey, with her camera poised for action, finally managed to capture a picture of a puffin – a triumph given their tiny size and their naturally shy nature around lenses. We passed the entrance to the Firth of Tay, a potential bolt-hole should our Arbroath entry prove elusive.

We had been warned about the hundreds of fishing buoys that sat outside Arbroath, but the reality was far beyond anything we could have imagined. From a considerable distance off, we began the intricate process of picking our way through them. Some were traditional balls, others thin flags, but with the sea state having picked up slightly, we were threading through this minefield with extreme caution. For the last hour or so of our journey, we purposefully reduced our speed. The cill (a submerged barrier at the entrance) to the inner harbour was only open from 6 pm to 7:45 pm today, and we had made excellent time. One boat was already bobbing around at the harbour entrance, then us, and then the German boat behind, all patiently waiting their turn. We called the harbour master, who informed us we had about 40 minutes to wait and instructed us to remain outside until he called us in. Inside the harbour wall, submerged rocks presented a hazard, and two leading lights – one high, one lower – had to be perfectly aligned for safe passage. We gently bobbed, dodging the ubiquitous fishing buoys, awaiting our turn. The first boat went in, and as it did, three powerboats zoomed out, clearly locals, expertly weaving through the dangers. Then, it was our turn.

Arbroath's Tight Embrace and Historic Echoes

The harbour master, a welcoming figure, stated he would be waiting on the pontoon to show us our berth. We had already requested which side our fenders and lines should be on and had prepared them whilst at sea. As you enter the harbour, you execute a sharp 90-degree turn to the right into the outer harbour area, then another sharp 90-degree left turn to cross the cill and enter the inner harbour. Then, to reach our designated berth, we had to perform a final loop. It was incredibly tight. Nick took his time, with just a few revs to maintain steerage, bringing Halcyon Sea safely to a standstill. The harbour master was wonderfully friendly, providing us with a wealth of information and a key to the gate so Tracey could get Pepper ashore. Unfortunately, the two closest places selling the famous Arbroath Smokies had already closed for the day, so indulging in this local delicacy would have to wait until tomorrow.

Tracey took Pepper down onto the beach, passing the famous Signal Tower. This striking landmark, built in 1813, was part of a chain of signal stations connecting the Bell Rock Lighthouse (one of the world's oldest surviving lighthouses, located 11 miles offshore) to the mainland. Its primary purpose was to relay messages between the lighthouse keepers and the shore, especially crucial for communicating distress signals or supply needs. It played a vital role in ensuring the safety of mariners navigating these treacherous waters.

Arbroath also boasts a rich industrial past, having once been a significant centre for the flax industry. In the 18th and 19th centuries, Arbroath was renowned for its production of linen, with numerous mills processing flax into cloth. This thriving industry was particularly important for the maritime sector, as the robust linen fabric produced here was ideal for making durable sails for ships – a wonderful historical connection for a boat like Halcyon Sea!

Olly, Nick's son, had even found a webcam positioned atop the Signal Tower and had spied Halcyon Sea in her berth within the harbour! Later, the three powerboats that had zoomed out earlier returned. They explained they'd been watching the webcam all day, ready to leave when the cill gates opened, but hadn't seen what they were looking for and had returned early. When asked what they were hoping to see, they revealed that dolphins had been playing around the area recently – though we hadn't seen any on this particular journey. Nick had planned our next stop to Stonehaven, and the timings allowed us a welcomed lay-in the next morning. After a take out dinner and bottle of wine, we retired for the night. How much sleep Tracey will get is debatable as tomorrow she meets her nemesis! Czytaj więcej