A False Start.... and a Mini Break

We started the week with that early‑season optimism that really should come with a warning label. Bags packed, snacks loaded, spirits high — this was it. This was the week we were finally going to leave the harbour and actually go somewhere. Not just poke our nose out past the breakwater like a pair of nervous meerkats.

Naturally, the weather took one look at our enthusiasm and said: absolutely not.

Still determined to stay aboard, Tracey tackled the V‑berth. Within minutes the usual soundtrack began: swearing, grunting, sheets refusing to behave. Pepper, sensing an opportunity for chaos, launched herself onto the half‑made bed like a furry missile. At one point she was wrapped in the duvet like a small, judgemental burrito. Not quite the serene nautical moment we’d imagined.

Once the bed was finally subdued, we unpacked. Tracey tried to connect her laptop to her phone hotspot. It refused. Another sigh. Nick, deciding this was the perfect moment for technological heroics, began setting up our Starlink. Cue his turn for muttering and wrestling with technology. Miraculously, it worked.

The fridge, however, did not. Nor did the weather. Nor did our mood.

We stayed aboard that night, but it was freezing. Not “ooh it’s a bit chilly” cold — more “why are we doing this voluntarily?” cold. We tried to stay upbeat, but morale was somewhere near the bilge. With our warm house only a short drive away, it would have been very easy to abandon ship. Instead, we spent another day tackling those final little jobs that had been quietly judging us.

By the end of the day, we admitted defeat. We weren’t going anywhere. Besides, we had a delivery due on Friday.

Except… we didn’t. We’d written down the wrong day. It was actually arriving Monday. At this point we started to wonder if Season 2 was ever going to begin or if we were destined to live out our days in Ardrossan Marina like two particularly salty hermits.

After one night at home, we repacked (again) and returned to the boat. The weather had finally improved, and we were determined to get out — even if it was just a short hop to Arran.

Nick changed his mind about our destination roughly every ten minutes. Arran? The Kyles? Back to Arran? Eventually we settled on heading towards Bute, with no firm plan of where to anchor. The wind was unhelpful, so we motored between the Cumbraes and considered Millport. One look through the binoculars showed it was absolutely rammed.

Tracey suggested Rothesay — a recommendation from our friend Dee at FSMBC — so off we went. We took a berth in the outer harbour and Tracey took Pepper for a walk along the front. Beautiful manicured lawns… all with signs saying keep dogs off the grass. Pepper was bursting, so we kept walking until we found a patch that didn’t come with rules.

Nick returned with fish and chips from Zavaroni’s — not the best, but it saved us cooking — and then we wandered over to the Black Bull for a drink before heading back to our floating home.

Tracey dug out the hot water bottles, filled them, and tucked them under the duvet so the bed would be warm when we climbed in. The wind had picked up by then, and the slap on the stern was loud enough to make us question our life choices. Tracey slept. Nick didn’t.

Sunday arrived, and with our actual delivery due the next day, we had to head home. We decided to take the scenic route around Bute, and it was absolutely the right call. It was cold — Tracey was in full foul‑weather gear, looking like she was about to cross the Southern Ocean — but the sun was out and the shadows on the hills were breathtaking. We raised the main but kept the engine running; the wind was still stubbornly on the nose.

We passed Burnt Islands,Port Driseach and Tighnabruaich, and the whole place felt peaceful and untouched. As we approached Inchmarnock, the wind died completely. The sea turned to glass, and the horizon disappeared. It was impossible to tell where sky ended and water began. We tried to spot the Sleeping Warrior on Arran — we think we got it, although it might also have been a hill that looked vaguely horizontal.

Near Ardrossan we saw a couple of dolphins off the port side, distant but still magical. They weren’t interested in the boat this time, but we were grateful for the sighting all the same.

We berthed back in Ardrossan feeling elated. It was only a mini‑break, but we’d done it — we’d gone somewhere, stayed out overnight, and shaken off the winter cobwebs. We put the boat to bed again, ready to head south for a family wedding, and already planning our next adventures.

In other news, Tracey’s article for the RNSA Journal has now been published and sent out to members. We’ve had so many lovely messages about it. Retracing our journey and writing it all down was emotional, funny, and occasionally painful — but absolutely worth it.Read more