Back to the Boat... and Straight Into the Deep End

After a single night at home — just long enough to dump the wedding clothes and repack the sailing gear — it was time to get back to Halcyon Sea. We had a very busy week ahead: we needed to get from Ardrossan to Loch Spelve in time for the Royal Highland Yacht Club Mussel Muster on the 9th of May.

We loaded the car (again) and headed for Ardrossan. There were still plenty of boat jobs and a mountain of shopping to do before we could leave, so we agreed a night in the marina was sensible. Nick was excited to try out his new Aferiy portable power station — our first step towards removing gas from the boat — and Tracey stocked up with enough food for a couple of weeks. With the freezer at home emptied, we now had a fully loaded boat and, more importantly, choice. After a quick takeaway pizza, we got our heads down, ready for our first big sail of the season: Ardrossan to Gigha.

It was a chilly morning as we slipped our berth and headed south. Tracey questioned whether we were mad — a standard part of her departure routine — but the sun was shining and we were well wrapped up. Ailsa Craig was clear, and as we passed Pladda a pod of dolphins joined us. The water was so clear we could see the scars on their skin as they glided and breached right beside the boat. Pepper spotted them first and barked her excitement. Spirits lifted instantly.

Then Nick pointed out that, at our current pace, we wouldn’t reach Gigha until about 10pm — far too long for Pepper. We agreed to continue anyway, knowing we could stop in Campbeltown or anchor at Sanda Island if needed. Friends who had done the trip many times had advised us to reach Sanda Sound at High Water Campbeltown and to stay within shouting distance of the shore when rounding the Mull of Kintyre.

We hit Sanda Sound bang on time. As the tide turned to sweep us along, the wind joined in and picked up sharply. Suddenly we were flying. The boat heeled, Tracey and Pepper were unimpressed, and the saloon — which we had not secured properly — looked like Beirut. But we were doing 10 knots under sail and it was exhilarating. Northern Ireland looked close enough to touch; far clearer than the last time we’d passed this way.

With the wind behind us, we continued up the coast, passing our contingency stops and heading straight for Gigha. The sea state calmed and we made good progress. As we approached the island, we kept an eye out for the northerly cardinal marking the turn into the pontoon and mooring area. Luckily, there was space on the pontoon — far easier for Pepper than waiting for the dinghy. Gigha was pretty and peaceful. The Boathouse Inn was open but we’d missed food service, so we stayed aboard. The menu looked tempting though… maybe on the way back.

The next morning we needed to leave by 10am to get away before low water. We had just 0.6m under the keel as we slipped the lines. The plan had been to head for Tayvallich, until we realised the anchorage brochure map had it in the wrong place. Instead, we turned for Croabh Haven — familiar territory after spending a month there last year.

It was a six‑hour, lumpy, freezing passage and by the time we arrived our energy was gone. Pepper was delighted to be on solid ground and enjoyed a long walk. Tracey, meanwhile, had started to ache and feel a bit flu‑ish — not ideal with the busiest week of the season still ahead.

Loch Spelve and the Mussel Muster

Friday morning arrived and, like a trooper, Tracey still agreed we should continue to Loch Spelve, despite Nick suggesting we wait a day. Tracey was more concerned about not getting a good anchoring spot. We haven’t done much anchoring at all, so we were both a little nervous — but with our new Raymarine system giving us clear depth, swing, and holding information, we felt far more confident than last season.

It was only a few hours across to the loch, but it was bitterly cold. We were glad we’d left when we did. Once anchored, we watched the boat settle and made sure we weren’t dragging before getting the dinghy in the water to take Pepper ashore.

There was a BBQ on the beach, and although we’d already eaten, Tracey insisted Nick should go over and say hello while she tried to sleep off whatever bug she’d picked up. Nick left one radio behind and took the other — “just in case”. What could possibly go wrong?

Quite a lot, as it turned out.

While Tracey was resting, an almighty bang shook the boat. It sounded like the rigging was coming down. Heart racing, she peered out of the hatch to find another yacht had dragged its anchor and was now pressed right up against our bow.

At first she couldn’t see anyone onboard, so she dashed below, shoved boots over her pyjama bottoms, and grabbed the radio — promptly forgetting all her training in a complete panic. Nick didn’t answer. She tried again on Channel 72, hoping someone from the Royal Highland Yacht Club would hear and fetch him.

Just then she spotted a couple on the other boat, now drifting down our port side. They were trying to push their boat clear, and Tracey joined in. After what felt like an eternity, the boats separated. Nick, having been alerted by others on shore, was already heading back in the dinghy with Pepper.

A quick inspection showed we’d lost our starboard nav light, but otherwise Halcyon Sea seemed fine. Once Tracey’s blood pressure returned to something resembling normal, we crawled into bed and attempted to sleep through a symphony of rope stretching, halyards clanging, and the boat swinging on her anchor. Neither of us slept much.

The next morning Nick replaced the anchor bridle with a more suitable rope to reduce the noise. We spent a quiet day onboard before heading ashore for the Mussel Muster. Around 120 people attended, and there were mountains of mussels and plenty of wine. The mussels were incredibly fresh — not a grain of grit — and it was lovely catching up with friends and chatting about plans for the season.

After bacon butties ashore the next morning, it was time to head back to Croabh for a night. The only issue was Tracey’s eye, which had begun to swell painfully after a fly flew into it days earlier. She now looked like she’d gone a round with Mike Tyson.

We made it back via the Cuan Sound — not every sailor’s favourite route due to its shallow, unpredictable waters — but we slipped through without incident. That evening we enjoyed drinks aboard Ionara with friends who hadn’t made it to the muster. It was the perfect end to a fantastic week on the water.Read more