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- Jour 126–131
- 12 août 2025 - 17 août 2025
- 5 nuits
- ⛅ 22 °C
- Altitude: 16 p
ÉcosseCraobh Haven56°12’40” N 5°33’29” W
Time Flies When There’s Boat Jobs To Do

Wow, where has the last week gone? Time seems to evaporate when you're battling the endless, perplexing, and often hilarious demands of a boat. We’re fast learning that one boat job, no matter how big or small, will inevitably lead to at least two more, each more baffling than the last. It's a universal law of maritime maintenance.
Tracey had naively thought that when she returned from her shopping trip last week to a boat riddled with fresh drill holes, that was it—job done. How wrong she was! That was merely the opening act. The next stage was to completely gut one of the back cabins to enable wires to be run, because, you know, wires don't just appear where you want them. However, before the great cabin purge could begin, a detour to the heads (nautical for toilet/shower room) was required. While running the first set of wires, Nick noticed the bilge pump and fresh water filters needed cleaning. A quick and easy detour, or so we thought. With those jobs done, he got back to the wiring... then came the heads themselves. Just one cupboard to empty, holding a couple of boxes of cleaning products. No biggie. And then... then came the main event.
The Great Boat Dismantling of 2025
The emptying of the cabin was epic. We mean, everything came out. The bikes had their second outing of the trip, making it as far as the saloon seats. The paddleboard and dive kit made a first-time appearance, while spare quilts, clothes, extra packing cubes, and a whole heap of other stuff all migrated into our living space. The table disappeared under a mountain of gear, every chair was occupied, and we could just about shuffle from one end of the boat to the other. Thin bits of "mousing string" (for pulling wires, in case you were wondering) became a tangled web of chaos as Nick tried to push and pull them through impossibly tight spaces. We emptied the lazarette and a deck locker, chasing these wires, old and new, like nautical detectives on a mission.
We finally hit a wall (or, you know, a very small hole). The wire, with its connector already fitted, was too fat to fit. After much deliberation and an urgent consultation with our electrical-guru friend, Nick performed a major surgery, cutting the connector off to feed the wire through. Success! Or so we thought.
When we turned the new chartplotter on to test it, the wind reading was missing. And do you think we could find the wire for the wind vane? Of course not! This now meant emptying our entire bedroom to locate a spare reel of wire that Nick was convinced was under the bed. At this point, Tracey was ready to cry, but there was no other solution. So out came everything from that room, and the wire was swiftly found, as was—yes, you guessed it—another problem. Behind the anchor locker, where a storage compartment should have been, was water. A lot of water. The taste test confirmed it was, in fact, salty. We concluded that during our rougher passages, the bow had been under the waves, possibly causing a small leak. It was now Nick’s turn to feel exasperated. We needed to pump out the water before we could even think about putting our bedroom back together. That night, we ate on deck, because down below was a no-go zone.
A Bravery Test and a Visit from Above
The next part of the install was the old radar dome, which needed to be replaced with the new one. This required Tracey to be hoisted up the mast. Being terrified of heights, this was not something she was particularly looking forward to, but all attempts to find an available rigger had failed. It was just us. Nick prepared the bosun's chair, and Tracey, trembling, bravely stepped in. A rigger working nearby saw what was happening and, while he couldn't help, gave a quick nod of approval after casting his eye over the lines. Tracey had every faith in Nick—she’d been up the mast once before—and soon her feet left the safety of the deck. One of our kind boat neighbors even stood by, just in case Nick needed a hand.
Once Tracey reached the dome, Nick sent up a bucket with a ratchet and socket. These screws had been holding the dome in place for about 24 years, so they were not going to budge easily. Tracey tried and tried, but the screws remained stubbornly in place. After multiple attempts, we had to admit defeat. This was a job that would have to wait until September. Or so we thought.
That evening, Olly, Nick's son, called with a perfectly timed question: could he come visit for the weekend? The next day was spent making the boat look less like a bomb had gone off. Olly arrived late Thursday night and on Friday, he went up the mast for the first time this week. After spraying the rusted screws with WD40, he managed to loosen them and remove the old radar dome, (Tracey insisted that she must have helped by loosening them a little already). But of course, things couldn't be simple. The old radar wire was stuck. No matter what they did, it wouldn’t budge. In the end, they had to cut the wire, something Nick had been advised not to do. Then came the real disaster: all the wires seemed stuck together! They wouldn't move up or down the mast, which meant no way to get the new wire in. After three grueling hours of trying every idea they could think of, they admitted defeat. Olly’s legs were sore from the tiny bosun’s chair, and a good night’s sleep was definitely in order!
A Dream, a Victory, and a Broken Tap
The next day, a breakthrough arrived in the form of a dream. Nick had a vision: by tying some nuts onto a thin string and dropping them through the mast, they could find a new route. With fresh vigor, Olly was hoisted up again, and it worked! The new wires were installed, the new dome was in place, and apart from Nick drilling yet another hole in the mast step (Tracey wisely walked away at this point), the project was completed by mid-afternoon. We now have a new radar system with new, larger screen chartplotters! Woohoo!
But wait, there’s more! While all this was happening, Nick was doing some washing up and managed to break the kitchen tap. Apparently, it had been held together by glue and a zip tie for years. Our temporary, industrial-chic solution? A pair of mole grips, which now serve as our tap's aesthetic-defying but fully functional replacement. Another job for another day!
After all that, we decided to treat ourselves to dinner at Lucy's, the small portacabin café at the marina. The mussels here are divine, and Nick was itching to try the Cullen Skink. The cafe has a "bring your own booze" policy, and as it had been a wonderfully warm day, we opted to sit outside and enjoy the evening sun, some good food, and a well-deserved glass of wine or three. It was a perfect end to an extremely challenging week.
Tomorrow, we leave Craobh for about a month as we make our way to Ardrossan to celebrate the 90th Anniversary of the RNSA (Royal Navy Sailing Association). Unfortunately, we can't take the shortcut through the Crinan Canal as hoped, as there's not enough water for our boat's depth, so we have to take the long way around. Passage planning is underway, but by Wednesday, we should be in Ardrossan. We're both looking forward to being back on the water after almost a month, and the best part? The weather is forecast to be hot and sunny!En savoir plus
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- Jour 119–126
- 5 août 2025 - 12 août 2025
- 7 nuits
- 🌬 15 °C
- Altitude: 20 p
ÉcosseCraobh Haven56°12’40” N 5°33’30” W
Back Onboard for a Week Already!

Wow, where has the last week gone? We've been back on the boat for a week already, and what a difference a week makes. The small space that once felt cramped and challenging has quickly transformed back into our cozy floating sanctuary. While it was absolutely wonderful to see everyone, there is a special kind of bliss that comes with being back in your own environment, a feeling of comfort and familiarity that you can't get anywhere else.
Back to the Boat: Unpacking, Upgrades, and a Splashy Surprise
Our first day back was a gentle re-entry into boat life. We did very little beyond unpacking, airing out the boat, and generally just pottering about. But day two proved to be far more productive! Relishing in the freedom of having a car, Tracey drove to Oban, about 30 minutes away, to tackle some much-needed shopping. Our cupboards had a bit of a "Mother Hubbard" vibe, so Tracey was thrilled to do a proper shop and even created a meal plan to see us through for up to two weeks. This was a new, intentional effort to be less wasteful and more budget-conscious after finding ourselves forgetting food at the bottom of the fridge.
Meanwhile, back on the boat, Nick had already started the serious work of removing our old chartplotter and meticulously prepping wires and cutting holes for the new one. Tracey, ever the worrier, took her time in the shops to minimize the stress of Nick drilling into the boat. She was pleasantly surprised to return and find the boat in a fair state, especially considering the amount of work he'd done. It’s amazing how small things can feel like a real accomplishment these days, a change we've come to appreciate since shifting from a fast-paced life on land to the tranquil rhythm of the sea.
That evening, however, presented its own drama. When Nick took Pepper out for her last walk, Tracey suddenly heard him shouting, "She's in the water!" Rushing up the companionway in a panic, Tracey watched as Nick pulled a very bedraggled Pepper from between the pontoon and the boat. Eager to get on her walk, she had slipped and lost her footing. Fortunately, she was on her lead, so grabbing her had not been too difficult. With her heart pounding, Tracey wrapped her in a towel, took her back inside, and rubbed her vigorously. We then decided a warm shower was in order, as she was shivering, likely from shock. The warm water not only cleaned the salt off but also gently warmed her through. After another vigorous toweling off and a full-boat shake, she seemed to be back to her usual self. The silver lining? Pepper is now a little more nervous of jumping off the boat, preferring to wait for one of us to carry her. We're perfectly happy with that!
Friends, Festivities, and the Next Chapter
Friday brought another trip, this time for Nick to take the car back to Dumbarton for some garage work. Damon and Elaine, who were staying on their boat for the week, kindly brought him back. Tracey had a delicious chicken curry waiting for everyone on their return, a meal so fragrant you could reportedly smell it from the top of the gangway! Saturday, they returned the favor by cooking dinner for us, and it turned into one of those nights that evolves into a bit of a party. It was a great night, although a little bittersweet as we knew our friends on the Isle of Wight were celebrating Nigel's birthday—but we can't be everywhere!
The rest of the week has been filled with more boat jobs, long walks, a couple of movies, and a new Netflix boxset. Our next adventure is already calling. We’ll be heading south to Ardrossan mid-next week, but we still need to decide whether to go through the Crinan Canal or take the longer route around. We're keeping a close eye on the weather and the tides to make our final choice. Either way, we’re incredibly excited to get moving again!En savoir plus
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- Jour 104–119
- 21 juillet 2025 - 5 août 2025
- 15 nuits
- ☁️ 21 °C
- Altitude: 72 p
AngleterreFareham50°51’9” N 1°10’48” W
Back to the Mainland

Back to the Mainland: A Whirlwind Tour of Friends and Family
We took a break from our sailing adventure to reconnect with friends and family across the country, and it was anything but dull. As mentioned in our last blog, our journey began on Monday, July 21st, with a packed day of travel. Thanks to Elaine's kindness, we had a two-hour car ride from Craobh to Helensburgh before boarding our train. Arriving in Whittlesey at 8 pm, we were greeted with a delicious dinner and the promise of a much-needed early night.
Our time with Teresa and Martin was a welcome start, allowing us to see Tracey's Mum and giving Tracey a valuable hour to catch up with her friend Nikki—a precious moment when time is so scarce. On Thursday, we moved on to Essex to see Tracey's boys. We'd booked an Air BnB in Sible Hedingham, just a few miles from Scott’s place. After a wonderful evening showing them photos of our trip (we’re sure we bored them to death, but they were very polite about it!), we headed back to our lodging. The house was quite eerie, set back from a fir-lined driveway on a single-track road, its nighttime lighting giving it the feel of a 1970s sci-fi movie. Our room was just as odd, with blinds hidden behind nets, mismatched console tables holding art deco books, and an uncomfortable super-king bed that felt like two singles pushed together. The whole atmosphere made us feel so uncomfortable that we made a swift exit the next morning.
A Weekend of Celebration and Shared Memories
By Friday, we had gratefully made our way to Fareham for an amazing weekend with Nigel and Sarah. When Anne and Mike came over that evening, it felt like no time had passed at all as we caught up over an Indian takeaway, cards, and dice.
Saturday was the big event: Fareham Sailing and Motorboat Club's summer event, a country/barn dance with a fancy dress theme. The evening began with drinks at the Commodore’s in-house bar, The Slipway. While at The Slipway, we had a conversation with Richard, the Commodore, about a replacement dinghy for our one that had bitten the dust. Richard had spotted our "Dinghy Disaster" post on Facebook and had a solution in mind. The next day, we went to take a look and came away with a new-to-us dinghy. Our car was already starting to fill up from the single holdall and rucksack we had started with! While most people were dressed as cowboys and cowgirls, Nick stood out in a hilariously brilliant inflatable horse costume, which made it look like he was riding a horse. Tracey completed the look with a red polo top decorated with four sixes and a pink cowboy hat. He was a sight to behold! The club was spectacular, thanks to the social team’s incredible effort in decorating it. The barbecue was amazing, and the evening was one of those you never want to end. We partied back at the house until 4:30 am, a testament to how much we miss the club and its people. Sunday was a quieter day, a much-needed reprieve after Saturday's celebrations, and on Monday, Sarah cooked us the most incredible roast dinner.
Family Time and a New Beginning
On Monday, we arranged to meet Nick's daughter, Lauren, for lunch, allowing us to spend valuable time with them and our granddaughter, who is growing so fast. We had a wonderful few hours at Queen Elizabeth Country Park before heading to the Hampshire Hog pub for lunch. On Tuesday, before moving on, we met Lauren and Matt again for breakfast at Port Solent, which allowed for a quick pit stop at Nick's favorite shop, Marine Superstore. We then carried on to Andover to see Mike and Sarah. Despite them working during the day, we still managed to have some real quality time. Sarah and Nick built their new barbecue together (Mike confessed he’s not a DIY person), and Sarah cooked some incredible meals that made us feel utterly spoiled. We’re already looking forward to seeing them again in the autumn/winter, and not just for their amazing hospitality!
On Thursday, our plan to head to Eastbourne was unexpectedly altered when we got word that our new radar system was ready for collection. We made a quick detour back to Fareham, where we picked everything up. Suddenly, the car was full, and we had no idea how we were going to get it all back to Scotland! With the car packed, we got back on track and headed to Nick’s mum's place. After a Thursday night takeaway and the obligatory Friday lunch at The Bull, we had a very chilled evening chatting and catching up. Pepper, who adores Val, wouldn't leave her side. Saturday saw Lauren and Matt pop over with Elsie, and we spent the morning playing before heading to Nick’s brother, Andy, and his wife Marie’s, for a barbecue.
Sunday, we packed the car once more and headed back to Whittlesey for an overnight stop and another delicious roast dinner with Teresa and Martin. We were grateful for them allowing us to store our new dinghy with them until the end of the month. This will make our onward journey much more comfortable. Monday morning brought the devastating news that Tracey’s oldest friend had lost her father. Without a moment's hesitation, Tracey went to offer a hug and support, ensuring her friend was as okay as she could be under the circumstances. We then made our way to Liverpool for an evening with Nick’s son, Olly, and his partner, Jess.
We were utterly exhausted but had managed to visit all of our close family and spend time with as many friends as our tight schedule would allow. We feel incredibly blessed to have so many wonderful people in our lives.
We’re now finally back on the boat and have some work to do installing our new system before we can head back out to sea. It feels great to be home again, even if, for now, our home is the floating kind.En savoir plus

VoyageurYour friends in Andover, who are Sarah and Mike…..😂😂😂😂 so looking forward to catching up again….. safe travels you 3 xxxxx
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- Jour 102–104
- 19 juillet 2025 - 21 juillet 2025
- 2 nuits
- ☁️ 19 °C
- Altitude: 13 p
ÉcosseCraobh Haven56°12’39” N 5°33’29” W
Salen to Craobh, Tidal Challenges

Salen to Craobh: Glassy Waters, Tidal Challenges, and a Well-Earned Rest!
We left early, filled with the anticipation of an eight-hour day ahead, journeying from Salen, Acharacle, to Craobh Haven Marina, our planned berth for a few weeks. The sea lay before us like a perfectly polished glass mirror, beautifully reflecting the clouds and the sun, seamlessly blending land and sky into a breathtaking piece of natural art. Our passage out of Loch Sunart was wonderfully peaceful, and it wasn't until we reached the very entrance of the Loch that small wavelets began to appear. The forecast rain thankfully stayed away, and although we kept our foul weather gear at hand, they remained unneeded. All was going well; we knew we had to navigate the Cuan Sound with the correct tidal window, aiming to be through by approximately 5:30 pm.
The Cuan Sound: A Tidal Gauntlet
The Cuan Sound is a narrow, half-mile-long strait located between the islands of Luing and Seil in the Inner Hebrides of Scotland. Despite its short length, it is infamous among mariners for its powerful and complex tidal currents, making it one of the most challenging stretches of water in the region.
The reason for its turbulent nature lies in the significant difference in tidal ranges between the Firth of Lorn to the north and the Sound of Jura to the south. As the tide ebbs and flows, vast volumes of water are forced through this constricted channel, creating a veritable aquatic obstacle course. The currents can reach speeds of up to 9 knots (over 10 mph), generating a highly confused sea state. This rapid movement of water over an uneven seabed creates numerous mini-whirlpools, eddies, and standing waves, particularly at peak flow. These swirling phenomena can be quite dramatic, capable of spinning a boat around or pushing it off course if not handled with precision.
Consequently, passing through the Cuan Sound requires careful planning and precise timing. Mariners must aim to transit at or very close to slack water – the brief period when the tide is turning and the current is at its weakest. Attempting to navigate the Sound against a strong current, or even during significant flow, can be dangerous, potentially leading to loss of control, damage to the vessel, or being swept onto rocks. It's a passage that demands respect and a keen eye on the tidal charts!
We made it through the Cuan Sound, but not without a few frayed nerves and whispered prayers to whoever wanted to listen. Halcyon Sea was momentarily caught in a whirlpool, pulling us slightly off course. Fortunately, Nick was acutely aware of the difficulty of this passage and remained intensely focused, but due to the sheer nature of the sea state, we still surged through the Sound at an exhilarating 10.4 knots. While it was certainly a thrilling experience, we were profoundly grateful to be through and in calmer waters, with not much further to go to our destination.
We arrived at the marina earlier than expected, which proved lucky for us, as the berth initially allocated to us was simply too small for Halcyon Sea. We called the office, who promptly assigned us another berth, but upon arrival there, we were told we had to move again, this time to the other side of the pontoon, as the owner of that berth was due back before our planned departure. We eventually tied up alongside and finally turned the engine off. A subtle sadness settled over us, knowing that we would soon be leaving the boat for a few weeks and heading back south. It felt as though our journey on the West Coast had only just begun, yet it was already pausing. Even though we know this isn't the end, it felt undeniably odd.
We spent the next few days diligently catching up on all our washing, meticulously cleaning the boat, and carefully stowing everything away so we could comfortably leave her. We packed light for our journey, carrying just one holdall and one rucksack, as we were due to catch the train from Helensburgh to Whittlesey. Our first stop there would be a much-anticipated catch-up with Teresa, Martin and Tracey's mum, Kathy. Damon and Elaine had kindly offered us a lift from Craobh to Helensburgh, for which we were extremely grateful. As we departed, looking back at Halcyon Sea, we knew we were leaving the quiet rhythm of our adventure for the bustling pace of normal life – trading the 5-knot speed of our current journey for cars and fast trains. Yes, we were looking forward to seeing many of our friends and family, but the question lingered: was this going to be a complete sensory overload for us?En savoir plus
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- Jour 100–101
- 17 juillet 2025 - 18 juillet 2025
- 1 nuit
- ☁️ 21 °C
- Altitude: Niveau de la mer
ÉcosseSalen56°42’44” N 5°46’40” W
From Arinagour to Salen

From Arinagour to Salen: A Dinghy's Demise and the Serenity of Loch Sunart!
Wow, what a busy morning we had! Nick made one last journey ashore with Pepper in our trusty dinghy, which, after years of loyal service, has finally given up the ghost. We still had the task of removing its engine and hoisting the deflated carcass back on board. With that done, we tidied up Halcyon Sea, completing our preparations for what we hoped would be a glorious sailing day. We slipped from our mooring buoy, expertly navigated through the surrounding rocks, and emerged back into the Inner Seas. Our destination today: Salen, nestled deep within the tranquil waters of Loch Sunart.
We sailed with just our genoa up, effortlessly eating up the miles in the good wind that accompanied us. Having departed early, Nick, ever the thoughtful chef, whipped up some delicious bacon sandwiches on the move – a very welcome treat! With the wind and the lack of direct sun, the sea looked far darker than it had when the dolphins graced us with their presence just a few days ago, and today, they were nowhere to be spotted. To our right, the familiar colourful houses of Tobermory receded into the distance, but this time, we were heading into Loch Sunart, a new and unexplored territory for us both.
Loch Sunart's Charms and Historic Shores
The loch was relatively narrow, and the surrounding hills and rocky islands each looked unique, adorned with their own distinct flora and varying shades of green. On our left, we passed Glenborrodale Castle, an imposing red sandstone baronial mansion built in 1902. This grand residence was originally constructed as accommodation for the guests of Mr. C.D. Rudd, the wealthy owner of the entire Ardnamurchan peninsula. Mr. Rudd, a significant figure in the area, also built most of the stone Victorian buildings on the peninsula, including the Salen Hotel. He was also the proud owner of the 600-ton steam yacht Mingary, which was famously moored in Salen Bay and was said to cost more to run than the entire estate itself!
On our right, we passed the Isle of Carna. This beautiful island now has no permanent residents, though it once supported a community of eighteen families. Today, you can even rent holiday accommodation on the island, offering a unique escape. It took us about two hours, meandering through the loch's winding passages, before we turned into Salen to moor up at Salen Jetty. The jetty itself has a history, built in 1832 at a cost of £464. In its heyday, steam puffers used the jetty to bring in goods and transport livestock. During the Second World War, Salen Bay was utilized for warships and Special Operations training. A poignant reminder of this history is a large steel buoy in the jetty car park, visibly marked with bullet holes from an American Catalina seaplane. There aren't many berths here, and the jetty is now run by Jan and Mark, who also own the charming little shop in the carpark, which doubles as a cafe. For such a remote location, the shop was incredibly well-stocked, and the prices were surprisingly good too!
It was wonderful to be back on a berth with electric and water; it certainly made cooking far easier.
Woodland Walks, Emotional Moments, and a Dinghy Farewell
The wind picked up during the night, and the next morning, we had the inevitable discussion: should we leave for Loch Spelve or stay put? We opted to stay put, as going to Loch Spelve would mean a night at anchor, and without a functioning dinghy, getting Pepper ashore would be impossible.
Today, July 18th, marked what would have been Jack's 15th birthday, and Tracey was feeling a little emotional. She decided to take Pepper for a walk on one of the trails kindly provided by Jan when we paid for our berth. They walked up past the hotel and out onto the main road. The road to the hotel was a single-track lane with no pathway, so keeping an eager Pepper under control was a little challenging; there were so many new smells tickling her senses! A short way up the main road, Tracey spotted the little woodland track indicated on the paper. They crossed the road and headed up the hills, winding through the trees. The towering trees created a canopy above the mossy floor, and huge rocks shaped the side of the pathway. They reached a small bridge that sat over a large pond – the opening was truly picturesque. However, various paths led off in different directions, and Tracey felt a surge of concern that she might get lost. Being afraid of the dark and finding herself in what felt like the wilderness alone, Tracey felt her heart rate quicken and realised she had to get out of there before having a full-blown panic attack. It seems so irrational, but in the heat of the moment, Tracey's imagination can run riot. (That and the fact she kept hearing Salem instead of Salen in her head didn’t help)! She quickly found the route back to the main road, practically dragging Pepper along, who was most miffed as she was in her element, snuffling through the undergrowth.
They made their way back to the boat, where Nick had rolled up the dead dinghy and returned the bikes to their cabin to be stowed. Just then, Tracey spotted something crawling on Pepper – she had collected her first tick! Fortunately, after what felt like a major operation trying to keep Pepper still, we managed to extract the pesky bugger. We had a relaxing evening, cooking onboard and watching a movie. Our next stop is Craobh Haven. This will take us about eight hours to reach, and we need to get the tides through the Cuan Sound right. Loch Sunart and Salen had been beautiful, and we will definitely return to explore the loch further.En savoir plus
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- Jour 99
- mercredi 16 juillet 2025
- ☁️ 16 °C
- Altitude: Niveau de la mer
ÉcosseArinagour56°37’3” N 6°31’13” W
Sunshine and a Dinghy Disaster

Sunshine, Serenity, and a Dinghy Disaster!
We made it back to Loch Eatharna, and thankfully, there were a few mooring buoys available. This time, we had opted to tow the dinghy behind us, saving the effort of hoisting it back onto the deck and then redeploying it. The trip was only about an hour long. We picked up our mooring buoy on the first attempt, much to our relief, especially Tracey's, who was not keen on the jellyfish floating around us! We then settled ourselves down in the glorious sunshine – another wonderfully bright day. The water here was incredibly clear and blue, a stunning contrast to the often-barren landscape of the island itself.
We had a reservation at the Coll Hotel for lunch at 1 pm, and Ionara was busy trying to get their dinghy ready to go ashore. Unfortunately, they experienced some engine issues, so we agreed to tow them, not trusting our own dinghy to take four adults and two dogs. We managed to get ashore and tied the dinghies up alongside Arinagour Pier, then walked along what the locals call "the high street" to the hotel. This is certainly not like the bustling high streets we know; it's a small, narrow lane lined with a few charming cottages, some converted into Air BnBs. There's a small cafe, a fuel station and a shop that are open at odd hours, a fire station housing a really old fire truck, and the hotel itself. The island only has about 250 permanent residents.
Coll: A Dark Sky Sanctuary and Avian Haven
Coll is a truly special island in the Inner Hebrides, renowned for its remote beauty and commitment to preserving its natural environment. It holds the distinction of being Scotland's first Dark Sky Island, accredited by the International Dark-Sky Association. This means its minimal light pollution offers exceptionally clear views of the night sky, making it a paradise for stargazers. Its relatively flat, low-lying topography, compared to its mountainous neighbours, contributes to these open skies.
The island is also a significant haven for wildlife, particularly birds. It's home to a large population of corncrakes, one of the rarest and most elusive birds in the UK, whose distinctive "crex-crex" call can be heard in the summer months. Large areas of Coll are designated as Sites of Special Scientific Interest (SSSI) due to their unique machair grasslands – a fertile, shell-sand plain found only on the west coasts of Scotland and Ireland – and its importance for breeding waders and other ground-nesting birds. The island's tranquil atmosphere, stunning beaches, and rich biodiversity make it a truly unique destination.
We enjoyed a wonderful lunch before returning to Halcyon Sea to soak up the day's remaining sun. What a wonderfully chilled day we were having!
Then came the time to take Pepper ashore again, only the floor in the dinghy seemed to have deflated. Nick got in anyway, but by the time he had returned, the dinghy had started to deflate again on the repair side. Another pair of shoes was soaked, and Tracey had lost all faith in the tender, vowing not to use it again. It was at this point that Nick informed Tracey that the dinghy had come with the boat and was over 15 years old, having been second-hand when he purchased the boat. Time for a new one!
We had a rolly night on the buoy and were woken at about 3 am by the buoy banging on the side of the boat as it turned with the tide and went slack for a short time. We had an early start tomorrow as we were moving onto Salen in Loch Sunart, and we have to lift the dinghy out of the water and stow it for the journey. So, our alarm was set for 6:30 am. We are really looking forward to seeing what delights this new location holds for us!En savoir plus
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- Jour 98
- mardi 15 juillet 2025
- ⛅ 16 °C
- Altitude: Niveau de la mer
ÉcosseArgyll and Bute56°35’16” N 6°37’29” W
Dolphin Dances & Anchoring Adventures

From Tobermory to Coll: Dolphin Dances, Anchoring Adventures, and Island Castles!
"Yeah, the sun is back, and we are on the move!" Today's journey was taking us from Tobermory, around Mull, with the plan to pick up a mooring buoy in Loch Eatharna on Coll. Once again, we needed fuel before departing, and we also needed to top up the boat with water, as we wouldn't be alongside or plugged in for a few days. After sorting Halcyon Sea out, we departed Tobermory, having, to our slight chagrin, forgotten to spread Jack's ashes (our dearly departed Jack Russell, who sadly went over the rainbow bridge last year). I'm sure subconsciously, it just wasn't the right time. For the first time since we left Portsmouth in April, the waters were teeming with boats – what an amazing sight to behold! We turned left into the Inner Seas and pointed our bow towards Coll. The sails were up, and we were doing a very gentle 3 knots, but we were in no real hurry. We spotted a few splashes in the distance, but they were too far for us to determine what they were.
Damon and Elaine, on Ionara, caught up with us and led the way. As they overtook, a splash appeared, much closer this time. We kept watching, and there it was – yes, once again, we were being accompanied by a pod of dolphins! The difference this time was that the water was so incredibly clear, we could see them perfectly. They played on our bow, switching from side to side, one even performing somersaults in the water, flashing his white belly. It was a truly beautiful sight, and we won't apologize for saying it again, but one can never tire of this experience. When they swim with you, it brings a calm, peace, and reassurance that is simply indescribable. Elated, we continued, the wind had picked up nicely, and we were now sailing along at a brisk 6.5 to 7.3 knots. The previous few months of effort had all been worth it; this was truly magnificent and everything we had imagined this adventure would be.
Breachacha Bay: A First Anchorage and Historic Strongholds
Ionara, Damon and Elaine's boat, reached our intended destination, Loch Eatharna, ahead of us, but unfortunately, it was full. We were going to have to continue. We carried on around Coll for about another hour until we reached a stunning anchorage called Breachacha. Ionara set its anchor, and we shortly followed alongside them. This was to be our very first experience of anchoring overnight together. Was it going to bring us a sleepless night?
Nick inflated our recently repaired dinghy and placed the engine on the back. Pepper was desperate to be on land and do her business. We all went ashore, landing on a vast, unspoiled beach that we had entirely to ourselves. Pepper took full advantage, running all over the place with boundless energy. Nick waded into the water, knee-deep, and put Pepper in. She did a few tentative doggy paddles before bounding back to the beach – we're not sure she was that impressed! While we were on the beach, seven more boats had joined us in the anchorage; they were all vessels from the Royal Highland Yacht Club, continuing their "cruising in company" since leaving Loch Aline.
Breachacha Bay on the Isle of Coll is not only a beautiful anchorage but also a site of significant historical interest, dominated by two castles of the same name. Breachacha Castle (Old), a ruined 15th-century tower house, stands prominently near the shore. It was the ancestral seat of the Macleans of Coll and played a role in the island's clan history. Further inland, overlooking the bay, is Breachacha Castle (New), a more modern, imposing mansion built in the 18th century. This newer castle, still privately owned, offers a striking contrast to the ancient ruins, symbolizing the evolving architectural styles and fortunes of the island's landowners.
After a while, we headed back to Halcyon Sea, making a quick stop on Ionara for a refreshing drink on the way. We returned to our boat and cooked dinner. Nick took Pepper ashore again before bedtime, but this time, she showed a remarkable new confidence: she jumped out of the dinghy into the shallow water at the shoreline and, once ready to come back, jumped back into the dinghy herself! This was a fantastic sign; she was clearly becoming more confident in the water. We had a fairly restless night, with Nick rising a couple of times to check that we had not drifted. He had also wisely set an anchor alarm and a tracker, so we had done everything we could to stay safe. All was fine, though, and our anchor was holding well.
The next morning, Pepper woke early, shaking – she needed a wee, but Tracey wasn't keen on taking the dinghy by herself in the early morning chill. Instead, we paced up and down the deck with Pepper on her lead, trying to encourage her to go. Just as we were about to give in, she did it! Yay, finally! This will make anchoring so much easier for us in the future. The plan for today is to go back to Loch Eatharna to see if we can get a mooring buoy there. Fingers crossed we make it!En savoir plus
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- Jour 97
- lundi 14 juillet 2025
- 🌧 17 °C
- Altitude: Niveau de la mer
ÉcosseTobermory56°37’11” N 6°3’56” W
Tobermory: A special Return

Tobermory: A Special Return and West Coast Charms!
It was good to be back in Tobermory, a place that holds immense significance for us – it's where we first met 11 years ago! Returning here today on our very own boat felt truly special. The marina operates on a first-come, first-served basis, and as we approached, it looked incredibly busy, with many boats opting for swinging moorings. However, to our delight, there were quite a few berths available, and we were able to come in alongside on a finger pontoon. We spent a wonderfully chilled evening at MacGoghans, enjoying a fabulous meal out.
The next day, the weather took a turn for the worse; it was teaming down again, a stark contrast to the glorious, sun-filled weekend we'd just enjoyed. Nick set about patching up the dinghy, which had unfortunately deflated due to an obvious leak. Other than that, we took the short walk into town for a hot chocolate at The Gallery. By the end of the day, the rain had subsided, and Tracey took Pepper for a walk up the coastal path, which winds up the hill and through a heavily wooded area. They passed a couple of small waterfalls, and just as Tracey was about to get her phone out to capture some photos, she realized she had left it on the boat. She could have kicked herself, missing the opportunity to capture some of the stunning views over the harbour that were afforded to her.
Tobermory: A Colourful History and Legendary Tales
Tobermory, the vibrant capital of the Isle of Mull, is renowned for its iconic, brightly painted buildings that curve around its picturesque harbour. Founded as a fishing port in 1788 based on designs by the famous engineer Thomas Telford, its name comes from the Gaelic Tobar Mhoire, meaning "Mary's Well," referring to an ancient holy well dedicated to the Virgin Mary.
Beyond its charming facade, Tobermory is steeped in legend, most notably the tale of a Spanish galleon laden with gold, said to have sunk in Tobermory Bay in 1588. According to folklore, the Florencia (or Florida), part of the defeated Spanish Armada, anchored here for provisions. A dispute over payment (or perhaps a witch's curse!) led to the ship catching fire, its gunpowder magazine exploding and sending the vessel, and reputedly £300,000 worth of gold, to the bottom. While numerous attempts have been made over centuries to find this treasure, no significant gold has ever been recovered, though the mystery continues to captivate. More recently, Tobermory gained global fame as the setting for the beloved BBC children's programme Balamory (2002-2005), turning its colourful houses into a pilgrimage site for young fans. The town is also home to the Tobermory Distillery, established in 1798, making it one of Scotland's oldest commercial distilleries.
As the evening settled, we enjoyed a few drinks on Halcyon Sea, planning our trip for tomorrow. Damon and Elaine were showing us the way to Coll. We were excited to be seeing new places. All we needed was the weather to be as predicted: a much nicer day, and with no rain.En savoir plus
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- Jour 92–96
- 9 juillet 2025 - 13 juillet 2025
- 4 nuits
- ☁️ 16 °C
- Altitude: Niveau de la mer
ÉcosseLochaline56°32’34” N 5°46’16” W
Loch Aline: West Coast Wonders

Loch Aline: West Coast Wonders, Wonderful Welcomes, and a Tobermory Triumph!
Our alarm, or rather, Pepper's internal clock, chirped us awake at 6:30 am. After a restless night due to yesterday’s shenanigans, we scrambled to cook up some sausages for journey sandwiches and slipped our lines. The familiar embrace of saltwater enveloped Halcyon Sea once more, a stark contrast to the relative calm of the canal. It felt like an age since we'd been passage planning and sailing on the open sea, but the excitement was palpable. Our destination: Loch Aline (pronounced Loch Allan), where we planned a luxurious five-night stay. This extended break was a much-needed respite for us, and especially for Pepper, allowing us to truly celebrate this significant milestone in our journey. Adding to the excitement, our friends Damon and Elaine were joining us, and we had a coveted invitation to a Royal Highland Yacht Club (RHYC) muster!
Our first stop was Oban, a necessary detour to restock the boat. Larger shops there promised better prices than the smaller community stores we'd find in Loch Aline. The morning was misty, with an occasional whisper of drizzle. The Polish and German boats that had shared the sea lock with us also emerged, trailing behind. We glided through the majestic Loch Linhe, passing the imposing silhouette of Fort William, then navigated the tight embrace of the Corran Narrows, cut through just past Shuna Island, and finally entered the expansive Firth of Lorn. We passed the entrance to Dunstaffnage and, thanks to an AIS alert signaling a potential collision course, recognized Blue Orchid, a boat belonging to an old acquaintance – a friendly wave exchanged as we passed. We then made our way into Oban Bay, tying up in Oban Marina for a few hours, just enough time to complete our shopping mission. This slight delay proved fortuitous, as it meant we would be entering Loch Aline on a rising tide, neatly avoiding its shallow entrance. We had strategically worked out that if we headed straight into a berth, without the usual turning manoeuvre, we would capture any available sun in the cockpit. Fortuitously, a perfect, sun-kissed berth seemed to have our name written all over it!
Loch Aline's Tranquil Beauty and RHYC Revelry
The next afternoon, the marina burst into life with the arrival of Damon and Elaine, swiftly followed by a delightful flotilla of boats gathering for the RHYC muster. After heartfelt catch-ups, we gathered our BBQ meat and headed to the designated BBQ area. There, amidst the sizzle and laughter, we cooked our dinner, enjoyed refreshing drinks, and had the pleasure of meeting some of the RHYC's Flag Officers. This weekend was clearly destined to be a fun-filled one! It had been a while since we'd been able to socialise on this scale, and while our friends from FSMBC were off on their own rally to Warsash (and we missed being with them!), this was undoubtedly the next best thing.
Friday dawned in a blaze of sunshine – absolutely glorious! For the first time in what felt like an age, we walked out without needing a coat. The Loch itself was a picture of serenity, its peace only occasionally punctuated by the distant hum of the Silica sand mine close by.
The Lochaline Silica Sand Mine is a unique and fascinating operation, being Europe's only underground silica sand mine. Located on the remote Morvern Peninsula, it has been in continuous production since 1940. Its origins are deeply tied to World War II, when the UK urgently needed a source of high-quality silica for optical glass used in periscopes and gun sights, as traditional imports were cut off. The mine extracts exceptionally pure, white silica sand (99.8% quartz) from a five-meter-thick seam, which is then processed on-site. Unlike surface quarries, its underground operation minimizes environmental impact, preserving the stunning Highland landscape. The processed sand is primarily shipped directly from a dedicated pier on Loch Aline, playing a vital, yet often unseen, role in industries from high-quality glass manufacturing (producing about one-third of all UK window glass) to ceramics and even movie sets.
There were beautiful woodland walks to take Pepper on, which kept her in the shade, and Tracey enjoyed the tranquillity of strolling through nature with a gentle breeze and the soft, rhythmic lapping of water against the shoreline.
Saturday, the main event day, arrived with a festive buzz. A magnificent hog roast, generously provided by the club, was laid out for all attending members and guests. Many more boats arrived, swelling the numbers to a lively 40-50 vessels. Some boats were "dressed ship" with flags flying, and we enthusiastically joined in, even if our colours weren't in the perfectly correct order – it's the taking part that counts! The club had catered for an impressive 150 people, with wine flowing freely alongside the delicious food. Each attendee received a badge bearing their name and boat name, making it incredibly easy to strike up conversations. We chatted with a wonderful array of people; some already knew about our journey and planned to be at a rally we're attending in August, while others were ex-military and shared mutual acquaintances with Nick. It was an interesting and thoroughly enjoyable evening. We had a nightcap with Damon and Elaine, then headed back to Halcyon Sea. No sooner had Tracey slipped into her pyjamas than an invitation arrived from the Rear Commodore, whose boat was berthed next to ours! Tracey, apologising for her attire, quickly joined the impromptu gathering. We spent the next few hours laughing, "spinning dits" (telling sea stories), and sharing truly terrible jokes until about 1:30 am. It was a perfect, convivial ending to a fantastic few days.
Tobermory Beckons: Sunshine, Stunning Scenery, and a Dream Realised
Sunday brought with it even more glorious sunshine. Damon, ever the adventurer, suggested we make the leap for Tobermory today. So, we packed up the boat and made our way out, through the beautiful Sound of Mull, and into the vibrant harbour of Tobermory. The heat was delightful (absolutely no complaints here!), and the scenery, once again, was breathtakingly stunning. We had to pinch ourselves – we really had made it! Never in our wildest dreams did we think we would be sailing these iconic Scottish waters on our own boat. We felt incredibly lucky, living a dream we once only imagined.En savoir plus

VoyageurOmgoodness you two 🤩 this one (voyage) sounds the exact opposite of your previous horrendous journey. Sounds absolutely fabulous & we are both really jealous of you guys being in Tobermory such a lovely place 🩷 xx
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- Jour 91
- mardi 8 juillet 2025
- ☁️ 16 °C
- Altitude: 39 p
ÉcosseBanavie56°50’40” N 5°5’44” W
Neptune’s Staircase: A descent into Dram

Neptune's Staircase: A Descent into Drama and a West Coast Welcome!
It was Day 7, our penultimate night on the canal, and the grand descent of Neptune's Staircase awaited. We had opted for the 1:00 pm passage, bypassing the earlier 8:30 am slot. Tracey, however, was up bright and early, making her way to the bottom of the locks by 10:20 am to witness the majestic Jacobite Express, affectionately known as the Hogwarts Express, steam by. She also managed to say another farewell to John and Mandy, kindly offering to take some mail for them as she planned a post office visit in Corpach.
As lunchtime approached, we found ourselves surrounded by an increasing number of boats, all clearly eager to descend the staircase. "That's fine," we thought, "we've booked our slot and confirmed our preferred side with the lock keeper." It's worth noting that our entire canal experience thus far had been made incredibly easy by the helpful and efficient lock keepers along the route, so we had no reason to expect anything different.
At precisely 1:00 pm, a call crackled over the radio: "Any boats wanting the lock, make your way now!" It was as if a starting gun had fired; suddenly, all the boats around us sprang into action, most with additional crew on board. We were trying to slip our lines from the wall, simultaneously avoiding collisions with other boats that were shooting past, blocking our exit. For a moment, we genuinely thought we'd miss our slot entirely. But then, we were in! In all previous locks, there had only ever been four boats per chamber, making for a pleasant experience and allowing the lock keepers to assist everyone. Here, however, we had six boats crammed into the chamber, and it felt incredibly cramped. The lock keepers had to move the two boats in front of us further up to make us fit, and even then, it looked like Halcyon Sea was sitting over the cill. We were concerned about our rudder, though the lock keeper assured us we'd be fine. We were not impressed and felt distinctly nervous.
Tracey was asked to leave the boat to walk the lines through, a task she had performed many times throughout this canal transit without issue. Only this time, there was no hook on which to place our bow line. The single available hook had been taken by the Polish boat in front for their stern, creating an impossible angle for our bow. One of the lock keepers instructed Tracey to wrap her line around a railing, which she did. This, however, meant she was trying to hold the boat while standing precariously on a slope in front of the railing, with very little space. We managed two further locks like this until another lock keeper approached and told Tracey she shouldn't be using the railings. She explained she had been told to do so, to which the reply was a rather unhelpful, "Ah well, I've seen railings been pulled off, but it's your boat, your responsibility." Tracey did not take kindly to this attitude and asked where else she should put her bow line, to which they could not provide an answer. So, she continued down the locks, now genuinely worried that every squeak of the railings meant they were about to pull from their fixings, potentially taking her with them into the lock.
A Desperate Leap and a Chaotic Finale
Upon reaching the bottom lock, the lock keepers began to drain the water. Tracey found herself too high on the sloped wall to get back on Halcyon Sea, and there was no one there to help her with the line anyway. Another lock keeper arrived and told Tracey she had to get back on the boat. Tracey asked how she was meant to achieve this, to which the woman replied, "I don't know, but you need to get back on." Tracey asked what others did in this situation, and again, the woman replied, "I don't know, but you need to get back on." The water continued to drop, making the jump larger; Tracey now faced an eight-foot leap into the boat. The woman then suggested the Polish boat let their stern swing out to the middle of the lock, with the intent of Nick wedging our bow between the other boat's stern and the wall – a manoeuvre he was not keen to attempt. Even if he did, Tracey was not prepared to jump that far down into the boat. The woman handed Tracey her line back and simply walked off, leaving Tracey with no idea how she was going to get back on the boat.
A few tense minutes passed, and the lady returned. Tracey suggested that once the other boats left the lock, Nick could move forward, and she could climb down the ladder into the boat. The woman stated this would not be possible, as we would have to move quickly through the road and rail bridges, which were being held open. The only solution, she declared, was for Tracey to walk around to the other side of the lock, cross the road and rail bridges, and wait for Nick to pick her up on the other side. Bearing in mind Nick was now on his own, and all our fenders were on the starboard side, while the pontoon to collect Tracey from was on the port side, this was an absolute clusterf***. Tracey was fuming, and Nick was equally so. At that moment, we felt that our entire canal experience had been marred by the disorganization at this final stage.
Corpach Chaos and a West Coast Welcome
Anyhow, Nick did retrieve Tracey from the other side, and we made our way down the canal to the last lock before the sea lock. Would you believe it, a boat that had gone into Neptune's Staircase on the port side had decided to go in on the starboard side this time – probably because he wanted to race to get alongside the wall in Corpach. We shouted to them that they should keep to the port side. They were a Sadler 29 with three tiny fenders on each side; we had significantly more protection for Halcyon Sea with a couple of ball fenders and four large fenders, plus our fender boards. They were not moving. This lock keeper then told us to come in on the port side, for which we were not set up. We were both furious. The lock keeper sympathized and told us to take our time and he would not move anything until we were ready. Tracey could no longer hold back the tears. This had been horrendous, and she would do anything now to be out of the canal.
We had planned to stay within the basin for our last night, but now we were set up on the wrong side and did not fancy rafting. Tracey probably would have pushed the guy in the Sadler into the water given half a chance, so it was best to leave. We quickly booked a berth in the Corpach Marina, which sits just outside the sea lock. We had to wait a while for some movements to take place in the basin and sea lock before we could enter. One of the boats going in was the German boat Heimkehr, whom we had shared the lock with in Fort Augustus. The wind had picked up, and all of his fenders had popped outside of the wall, so the lock staff were desperately trying to push this heavy steel boat off the wall so they could reposition the fenders. In the meantime, they sent the lad (who had been the one to tell Tracey in Neptune's Staircase that she shouldn't put her line around the railing) to come around and take our line. We were being pushed off the wall, and the lad dropped the line the first time Tracey threw it, so she had to quickly reel it in and try again. This time he caught it and managed to wrap it around the hook. We had no one to take the stern line and were too far off the wall for Tracey to throw it. Nick told the lad to put another couple of turns on the hook so he could reverse off the bow line to bring the stern in. The lad, thinking he knew better, insisted that he could hold the line. As Nick put the engine in reverse, he almost pulled the lad into the water, so he decided that he should put an extra couple of turns on. Eventually, we were alongside. We were quite relieved that another boat behind us, with four crew and a bow thruster, also really struggled.
We were all in, thank goodness; it had been a trying afternoon so far. There was more to come. Once out of the sea lock, we were going in behind Heimkehr in the marina, and once again, they were struggling to get their heavy boat alongside in the strong, windy conditions. We circled outside for about 25 minutes and then made our own attempt. Nick had to come in against the pontoon really hard, and the harbourmaster was a little concerned we would pop our fenders. Tired, emotional, worn out, and simply had enough for the day, we had a quick tea and went to bed. We had an early start tomorrow to get to Oban, and we needed to get the tides right. We hadn't had to think about tides for a week, so it felt strange getting back into it. But, we had made it, another milestone. We were now on the West Coast of Scotland!En savoir plus

VoyageurWow a very frustrating experience dealing with these f@@@wits….. hope you are both ok xx

VoyageurIt’s the reason I’ve not posted for a few days. I was so angry and didn’t want to write something bad! We’ve had a few relaxing days in Loch Aline and are now heading towards Tobermory 😊

VoyageurOmg Tracey f@@@etyf@@@wits indeed poor you must have been abs terrifying esp for you but also for you both 🩷💙 sending lots of love & stay safe both of you xx

VoyageurThanks Sue, it really was a nightmare and such a shame. We survived though and are currently enjoying some warmer weather on the west coast xx
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- Jour 89–90
- 6 juillet 2025 - 7 juillet 2025
- 1 nuit
- ☁️ 16 °C
- Altitude: 135 p
ÉcosseBanavie56°50’55” N 5°5’25” W
Should We Stay or Should We Go?

Should We Stay or Should We Go? Laggan to Banavie!
The morning dawned with rain teaming down – a truly miserable sight. We found ourselves in a classic cruising dilemma: neither wanting to stay put in this dismal weather, nor particularly keen to move. We mooched around for a while, eventually pulling out our well-thumbed copy of the Skippers Guide to the Caledonian Canal to review our remaining potential stopping places. That settled it. As much as we loved the tranquil beauty of Laggan, we had to move on. There was still so much more of the canal to see, and we were eager to discover what lay ahead.
Around 1 pm, we slipped our lines from Laggan and headed towards Loch Lochy and our next overnight stop in Gairlochy. Laggan marks the highest point of the canal, so this was our first lock taking us down. We had two chambers to descend before entering Loch Lochy itself. This loch is the third deepest in Scotland, plunging to 162 meters (531 feet), surpassed only by Loch Morar (310 meters) and, of course, Loch Ness (227 meters). Given its proximity to Loch Ness, Loch Lochy has its own alleged history of monster sightings – perhaps Nessie has cousins!
The area around Laggan also holds a fascinating historical footnote: the Battle of the Shirts, fought here in July 1544. This skirmish was a brutal clash between two powerful Scottish clans, Clan Donald and Clan Fraser. Legend has it that the day was so exceptionally hot that many warriors shed their heavy armour, fighting instead in just their shirts – hence the rather evocative name!
Gairlochy's Charm and Ben Nevis's Majesty
As we approached the end of Loch Lochy, it appeared as though the water simply ran out. But in the distance, we spotted the second of the canal's three distinctive Pepperpot Lighthouses, highlighting the way into Gairlochy. Once through the small, narrow waterway, a compact basin opened up, with inviting pontoons on the port side. We executed a neat 180-degree turn with Halcyon Sea; we didn't want (or couldn't be bothered!) to swap all our fenders over.
Behind us, the magnificent Ben Nevis created a stunning backdrop, its summit shrouded in a mystical veil of mist. Ben Nevis, standing at 1,345 meters (4,413 feet), is the highest mountain in the British Isles. It's the eroded remnant of an ancient volcano, and its imposing presence dominates the landscape of the Scottish Highlands. While its peak is often cloud-capped, on clear days, it offers breathtaking panoramic views.
There was only one other boat in the basin, though a few others were clearly permanent residents. One of them, "Rosie," is owned by one of our Facebook followers, who had kindly asked us to check on his boat – or at least ensure it was still there and not just a mast sticking out of the water! We spent a peaceful night, and the next day, we moved on to Banavie. Our guide stated we had two locks to go through, but in fact, there was only one, followed by a swing bridge. The second swing bridge is conveniently open all day, one less obstacle to contend with. We meandered through the canal, enjoying the tranquil passage. We passed a very large vessel, the Bessie Ellen, a majestic tall ship listed on the national historic ships register as an important vessel to conserve. Built entirely of wood and 116 years old, she was coming towards us, and we had to slow down and move close to the bank to allow her to pass.
Banavie Buzz and a Marvellous Reunion
We reached Banavie, which was by far the busiest spot we had seen in the entire canal, and it initially seemed there was nowhere to berth. We pulled up alongside a wall normally reserved for much larger vessels. It wasn't long before a gentleman approached to chat. He had recognized Halcyon Sea, having followed our journey on Facebook – the power of social media never ceases to amaze us! We chatted for a while, and he very kindly offered to drive us to the supermarket.
A bit later, Nick spotted a motor cruiser coming alongside the same wall. He recognized the boat name: Marvellous! This was a boat we had been following on AIS since Chatham. We knew they were also circumnavigating the UK, but being a power vessel, they were well ahead of us. They had passed us further down the canal, heading towards Inverness, and we had thought we wouldn't actually get to meet them. It turned out they had gone through the canal and back again, just to say they had done it! Nick invited John and Mandy aboard Halcyon Sea for drinks that evening, and they readily accepted. It was fantastic hearing about their plans and where they had been, and a truly enjoyable evening was spent reminiscing about our own trip. They were taking the first run down Neptune's Staircase the next morning; we, being decidedly not early morning people, had opted for the later run. At the end of a wonderful evening, we bid farewell after asking them to sign our guest book, a growing collection of memories from our journey.En savoir plus

VoyageurLoved meeting you guys and thank you for taking my mail to be posted! We are now in the outer Hebrides and enjoying the long awaited sunshine! Hope to see you again
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- Jour 88
- samedi 5 juillet 2025
- ☁️ 14 °C
- Altitude: 108 p
ÉcosseHighland57°1’39” N 4°49’29” W
Day 4 - Leaving Fort Augustus for Laggan

Day 4 - Fort Augustus: Locks, Laughter, and the Lure of The Eagle Barge!
"Yeah – we're moving today!" Despite the dismal, showery weather, we simply couldn't afford another night in Fort Augustus; our precious 7-day canal license was ticking away. We set ourselves up for the locks, carefully arranging all our lines on the starboard side. We were slated to go through with two other boats – one of them a German vessel, significantly larger than Halcyon Sea. Everything seemed perfectly aligned until, just as we were about to slip our mooring, the lock keeper requested us to move everything over to the port side. Nick, with a sigh of practiced resignation, set about relocating all the lines and fenders to the other side. And then, finally, we were off – through the swing bridge and into the first chamber, the initial step of the daunting five-lock flight.
As with Muirtown, once you reach the top of the first chamber, one of us steps off the boat to assist in pulling Halcyon Sea through the remaining locks. Today, that honour fell to Tracey. The intermittent sun had brought the tourists out in droves, and we found ourselves with quite an audience as we ascended the locks. Many people stopped to ask questions about the boat, our journey, and the intricate workings of the locks. Tracey even had requests for photos with her, which she graciously obliged, holding up the queue (much to the lock keeper's amusement!). The German boat, however, encountered a few difficulties. First, they lost their stern line, causing their massive vessel to swing perilously close to ours. Nick, ever the calm voice of reason, firmly advised them to put out some fenders on their port side. Later, as we were about to enter the fourth chamber, we had to pause between locks because the German boat's stern line had snapped, necessitating a quick rigging of another line. Despite these minor dramas, we made it through without incident, feeling a growing sense of accomplishment. Practice, as they say, makes perfect!
Loch Oich, Tranquil Woodlands, and The Eagle Barge's Embrace
We continued our journey, passing through both Kytra and Cullochy locks, and then through the Aberchalder swing bridge before entering Loch Oich. This is a small, narrow loch, and we had been forewarned at Cullochy that the Lord of the Highlands, a large cruiser whose beam fills the entire width of the lock chambers, would be passing us. Halfway across, sure enough, we saw this impressive vessel bearing down on us. We were in a shallow part of the loch and had to move slightly outside of the buoyed area to create enough room for the cruiser to pass safely.
We carried on through Loch Oich and made our way through Laggan swing bridge, the last obstacle of the day. Once on the other side of the bridge, we travelled through a narrow, tree-lined corridor that was simply breathtaking. We were stopping on the other side, before Laggan Loch, for the evening. It was incredibly peaceful; only a few other boats had stopped here, and the only sounds were the gentle hum of insects, the chirping of birds, and the soft whisper of the wind through the trees. We took Pepper for a walk along the opposite bank to where we were berthed, and the bank led into a beautiful wooded walkway, its floor carpeted with fallen pine needles and leaves. We were the only ones there. It's difficult to describe the profound sense of peace and serenity we felt. Just watching Pepper running along, not a care in the world, simply exploring her new surroundings, was utterly captivating.
On our way back, we popped into The Eagle Barge. Tracey had seen this unique floating pub on a YouTube video and it came highly recommended. We stopped in for a drink and were immediately surprised by how spacious it felt inside. It was absolutely heaving; goodness knows where all the people had come from! The decor was a delightful collection of maritime memorabilia, all arranged in a wonderfully quaint and charming way. The bar had absolutely everything you could imagine, their bar food menu looked delicious, and they even offered fine dining for fourteen seats per night (though these were, of course, fully booked in advance, and we had food onboard anyway). We finished our drinks and returned to the boat to cook dinner. Once eaten, we ventured back out to the barge for a nightcap. There were now only a few people left, and we struck up a conversation with the owner, who kindly allowed Pepper to be off the lead to play with their dogs, Zena and Penny. Pepper was in her absolute element! The owners now live on the barge full-time, and it's open to customers from April to October, five days a week (closed Mondays and Tuesdays). It was truly one of those hidden gem moments. We returned to Halcyon Sea, a little worse for wear but profoundly content, already wondering whether to stay another night. This has, so far, been our absolute favourite place on the canal.En savoir plus

VoyageurGosh, this looks and sounds so peaceful, and Pepper looks so happy in the videos exploring the tow paths. I wait to see if you stay another night.......Xx

VoyageurYou are definitely showing us “look what you could have won!”. We missed the floating pub and most of the great adventures the three of you are having.😢
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- Jour 87
- vendredi 4 juillet 2025
- 🌧 15 °C
- Altitude: 105 p
ÉcosseFort Augustus57°8’44” N 4°40’42” W
Day 3 - Fort Augustus

Day 3 - Fort Augustus: Weather Woes, Hidden Gems, and a Card Game Comeback!
The weather, as grimly predicted, was utterly dismal. Cold, wet, and relentlessly windy – in a word, miserable. Movement was clearly off the cards for us, and indeed, for everyone else in the marina. We resigned ourselves to a day of playing tourists in Fort Augustus, albeit damp ones.
Our morning began with a wonderfully lazy start, simply pottering around on Halcyon Sea. As we were pottering, we heard a shout from the pontoon. A guy from a hire cruiser boat, berthed just in front of us, was requesting some assistance. It transpired that they had arrived from Muirtown two days previously and had required help from four other people just to get alongside here. While the challenging weather had been a factor, they admitted they hadn't moved for two days because they were simply too terrified. The hire company required their boat back by the end of the day, meaning they had to turn the boat around and head back across Loch Ness. Nick went up and calmly explained to them how they could use the elements – specifically the wind – to turn the boat around. They were about to let go of all the wrong lines, which would have made their situation far more difficult.
Their story corroborated what we had already been told about these hire cruisers: people pick up a boat, watch a 20-minute video, are taken to a lock for a brief practice session on coming alongside, and then they are essentially let loose. They aren't provided with a radio, which, while understandable given they have no qualifications, makes it incredibly difficult for them to call ahead for advice when approaching a lock or swing bridge. To be honest, the start of the canal was terrifying for Tracey, so the thought of embarking on this journey with absolutely no prior experience seems quite ludicrous.
Fort Augustus Abbey, Pepperpot Lighthouses, and a Canine "Oops!"
After this unexpected interlude, we ventured out during a brief lull in the rain. We walked down to the spit of land where Loch Ness dramatically opened up before us. A charming family of ducks dabbled near the shoreline, and Pepper, ever the enthusiast, was desperate to join their aquatic games. This walk led us in a loop back to our mooring. We discovered a wonderful vantage point to capture a picture of the impressive Fort Augustus Abbey. We then passed a dilapidated bridge, adorned with a very obvious warning sign (a picture of which we'll share – it certainly got our attention!).
Next, we braved a walk up the towpath alongside the five locks we hoped to ascend tomorrow, before ducking into a welcoming cafe for a much-needed hot chocolate and cake, waiting for the next downpour to subside. We then walked back along the opposite side of the canal from where our boat was berthed, and to our delight, finally found the elusive green light! If you recall from yesterday's entry, we couldn't locate it. The reason? It's charmingly housed within a miniature lighthouse, known as a Pepperpot Lighthouse, nestled near the bottom of the path. This is one of three such distinctive Pepperpot Lighthouses along the Caledonian Canal. We paused to capture another moody picture of Loch Ness, its vast waters still shrouded in mystery.
We had delved into some of the Abbey's history and read about a cemetery where former monks were laid to rest. Following a walking trail, we soon stumbled upon the very cemetery. The trail led us through a beautifully wooded area, a perfect spot to let Pepper run off-lead. She had an absolute ball, sniffing every nook and cranny with joyous abandon. The trail eventually came to an end, and as we opened the gate that led back to the main road, we noticed a sign: "Dogs should be kept on a lead." Oops! Ah well, no harm done, and Pepper had certainly enjoyed her freedom.
Takeaway Treats and a Card Game Comeback!
We circled back towards the boat, picking up a Chinese takeaway menu on the way. Our onboard meal plan suggested pasta with sauce, a dish that, due to its ease of preparation on the boat, had featured a fair bit lately. Tracey, however, simply couldn't face it. The thought of another pasta dish was just too much. We ordered our takeaway, which proved to be absolutely delicious, and then settled in for a few games of Five Crowns, a card game. What started as a casual few rounds quickly escalated into a full-blown tournament, with Tracey, for once, emerging as the triumphant victor!
We eventually went to bed, silently praying for better weather tomorrow. We truly needed to move; our seven-day canal license was ticking away faster than we'd hoped, and although the sheer length of Loch Ness meant we'd completed more than half the canal's distance, we still had plenty more to explore. Despite the dreary weather, it had been an unexpectedly interesting day, filled with small discoveries and a well-deserved win for Tracey!En savoir plus

VoyageurWhat a joy that every day bring new experiences. I wish we'd had more time to explore more when going through the canal. You'll soon be in Loch Linhe!!!! xx
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- Jour 87
- vendredi 4 juillet 2025
- 🌧 15 °C
- Altitude: 105 p
ÉcosseInverfarigaig57°16’46” N 4°28’44” W
Loch Ness

Day 2 - Loch Ness: A Battle with the Elements and a Poetic Pursuit of Nessie!
We slipped our lines from Dochgarroch and headed towards the legendary Loch Ness. When you purchase a Caledonian Canal ticket, you receive a 7-day license allowing transit from one end to the other. This time constraint meant that while we might have preferred to wait out the winds for another day, we simply didn't have the luxury. Adding to the urgency, the wind forecast for the following day was even worse. The winds were coming directly from the South West – a headwind, right on the nose – and predicted to gust up to 30 knots, typically not our preferred sailing conditions. Believing we'd find some shelter within the Loch compared to the open sea, we departed.
It was not pleasant. The first few hundred meters offered a deceptive calm, still within a very sheltered section. It felt surreal, gliding along the water while vehicles whizzed by on the adjacent road. But as we rounded a bend, and Loch Ness opened up before us, nature truly showed her raw power. Due to the immense length of the Loch and the wind blowing directly towards us, a significant fetch had been created. In nautical terms, fetch refers to the uninterrupted distance over which wind can blow across open water. The longer the fetch, the more energy the wind can impart to the water, resulting in larger and more powerful waves building up. Here, the vast expanse of Loch Ness allowed the waves to build to an impressive size. Halcyon Sea was relentlessly slamming into the waves, each one breaking over the bow, sending cascades of water down the side deck. The scenery was moody, the water looking angry, and heavy grey clouds shrouded the tops of the hills in mist and fog. Yet, despite the challenging conditions, it still looked mystically stunning.
Loch Ness: Depths, Legends, and a Castle's Gaze
Loch Ness is Scotland's most voluminous body of freshwater, famously holding more water than all the lakes of England and Wales combined. It stretches approximately 23 miles (37 km) long and reaches an astonishing depth of 745 feet (227 meters), making it the second deepest loch in Scotland. Its vast, dark waters are, of course, synonymous with the legend of the Loch Ness Monster, Nessie, a creature whose elusive nature has captivated the world for centuries.
We hugged the coastline, eager to catch sight of Urquhart Castle. The dramatic ruins came into view at the end of a peninsula, and for a few fleeting minutes, the clouds parted, revealing a patch of brilliant blue sky. Urquhart Castle boasts a rich and turbulent history spanning over 500 years. Strategically positioned on a rocky promontory overlooking Loch Ness, it was once one of Scotland's largest castles. Its past is filled with tales of conflict, including battles during the Wars of Scottish Independence and its eventual destruction in 1692 to prevent its use by Jacobite forces. Today, its ruins offer a poignant glimpse into Scotland's past and remain a popular tourist attraction, drawing countless visitors hoping to soak in its history and, perhaps, catch a glimpse of Nessie.
Nessie's Elusive Nature and a Poetic Tribute
We continued our journey towards Fort Augustus. The rain came and went, the fog swirled in and out, and our search for Nessie continued, but she proved as elusive today as she has for centuries. It's worth noting that we're also following the journey of Martin and Stefan on their boat, Adele, whom we met in Whitby. They've raced ahead, weeks ahead of us now, also circumnavigating. Something about the Canal seems to ignite the creative spark in people, and Martin, in particular, began writing stories and limericks during their transit. One such story involved fishing for Nessie with a Bockwurst. So, in true Tracey style, she penned her own poem – Martin and Stefan, we hope you appreciate it!
The Ballad of Halcyon Sea (and the Sausage of Suspense)
Through Scotland's locks and highland gleam,
We chased a whisper, chased a dream.
A beast beneath the Nessie tide,
Where mist and monsters often hide.
Our friends had charted this bizarre:
On Adele, with a sausage jar.
Martin, Stefan - hearty souls,
Had dangled meat in monster holes.
Their bait? A wurst, both bold and plump,
Grey-flecked, spiced and slightly... dumped.
It bobbed about the inky foam,
A siren song to call her home.
Now Tracey steers, while Nick keeps watch,
With charts and rum (no need for scotch),
And Pepper stands with noble pride,
Our lookout pup, small tail held wide.
Halcyon Sea in their wake did sail,
A few weeks late, but right on tale.
With Nessie lore and hope to lure,
We stowed a bockwurst, firm and pure.
The loch grew still. A Tremble. Thunk!
A shadow loomed, then swiftly sunk.
We dropped the sausage with great care,
One sniff could spark a maritime scare.
But Nessie, shy, gave just a swirl,
A ripple, splash, a soggy twirl,
Then vanished deep, like dreams at dawn,
While Pepper barked: "She's nearly gone!"
So now we dock with tales well spun,
The sausage tossed, the voyage done.
No monster caught, yet joy immense,
A journey rich in lore and sense.
With engine off, we raise a toast,
To Nessie, our elusive ghost.
Halcyon Sea shall rest awhile,
With Pepper dreaming, curled in style.
Poetry done, we carried on down Loch Ness towards Fort Augustus. At first, we struggled to see the red and green buoys marking the route, and then Nick spotted the red can at the end of the spit – we never did find the green one! We came alongside the pontoon before the next set of locks and tied up for the night. We have no electricity here, so we're relying on the boat battery for lights and phone charging, and gas for cooking. The bikes have been stowed in the saloon for now, patiently waiting for a better day for an outing.
That night, we decided that as we hadn't eaten out for a while, we would treat ourselves. The challenge was that not many places allowed dogs inside, and it was too cold to sit and eat a meal in a garden. The Lock Inn, however, did allow dogs and provided typical bar meals, which suited us perfectly. As we finished our meal, an Australian lady named Nicole came over to fuss Pepper, and we struck up a conversation. She then made her way to her waiting friend upstairs, but it wasn't long before she and Anne came down, eager to ask us questions about our journey, specifically about Pepper's role. We spent the next hour or so swapping stories about how we had all arrived at Fort Augustus and what our future plans entailed. It turned out to be a captivating evening, and we returned to the boat content.En savoir plus
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- Jour 85
- mercredi 2 juillet 2025
- ☁️ 18 °C
- Altitude: 33 p
ÉcosseInverness57°29’26” N 4°15’48” W
First Day on the Caledonian Canal

We Made It: Our First Day on the Caledonian Canal!
BEEP BEEP BEEP! The 6:30 am alarm blared, dragging us abruptly from the depths of a Netflix-induced coma. We'd definitely stayed up far later than we should have, but there was no time for regrets – a flurry of activity awaited before our 8 am appointment at the fuel pontoon. It felt good to be moving again; a week in one place, especially one as... functional as Inverness Marina, was quite enough! After topping up Halcyon Sea's tank, we eased her over to a spare pontoon. Our slot to enter the sea lock at Clachnaharry wasn't until 9:30 am, a mere 20-minute cruise away. For once, the weather forecast was spot on: glorious sunshine and light winds, absolutely perfect for our inaugural steps into the canal.
As we exited the marina, we crossed to the other side of the water, rounding the Northerly cardinal to port, and wow, what a view! The water lay flat calm, a perfect mirror reflecting the fluffy clouds and the majestic hills that cradled it. We spotted a vessel departing the sea lock – our cue! Tracey, taking the helm of the radio for the first time (usually Nick's domain!), confidently hailed on Channel 74, requesting permission to enter. Permission granted! The water in the lock was low, signaling that this first section of the canal would involve a series of ascents. Tracey, ever wary of her throwing arm (a skill that, even in school, remained stubbornly elusive), used the boat hook to hand our bow line to the lock keeper, who deftly secured it to the shore cleat. Nick, with his practiced aim, threw the stern line up, and just like that, we were ready. Another boat entered behind us, and the lock keeper repeated the process for them. Without further delay, the chamber began to fill, and Halcyon Sea started her gentle rise, both of us diligently taking up the slack on our respective lines.
As we reached the top, the lock keeper retreated to his "office" and returned, not with a bill, but with our official canal license, a paper copy of the Skippers Guide to the Caledonian Canal, and our all-important key for the toilets and showers along the route. This vital piece of kit was handed directly to Tracey, "the sensible one" (haha!). The gates then swung open, revealing the narrow, tree-lined banks of the canal stretching before us like a verdant ribbon. The first lock was done, the first of eight we would conquer today!
Bridges, Bargains, and Brawn at the Muirtown Flight
Next came the Railway swing bridge, leading directly into the Clachnaharry Works Lock. This second lock was a breeze, and as we reached the top, a number of locals were out walking their dogs. Everyone offered a cheerful "good morning," and Pepper, not to be outdone, made her presence known with a series of enthusiastic barks. She was behaving impeccably, peering over the side of the seat at Tracey, ensuring her human hadn't mysteriously vanished from the bow.
After the second lock, a short distance brought us to Seaport Marina. We pulled onto the waiting pontoons and radioed for the bridge timings – this was our designated stop to pick up the week's groceries. The first bridge opening was at 11:40 am, with the next at 1:20 pm. It was a tight squeeze for the earlier slot, and getting the shopping was essential, so we opted for the latter, taking the pressure off.
Tracey set off, armed with bags and the trusty shopping trolley. It was only a five-minute walk from the marina to the retail park, so not far at all. She zipped around Lidl, gathering items from her list, but once paid, a familiar dread set in: there was no way she could get all this back to the boat alone, and she still had to visit the Co-Op for the remaining items! A quick call to Nick, who, with Pepper in tow, walked round to assist. After reaching the boat, we had about an hour before the bridge opening, so we stowed the groceries and enjoyed a leisurely lunch. The boat that had shared the first locks with us had already gone ahead, and now a Dutch boat would be joining us for the next set.
We called the lock keeper, confirming our readiness, and it wasn't long before the familiar beeping sirens heralded the stopping of traffic. We were about to enter another swing bridge that led straight into the Muirtown Flight – a magnificent set of five locks. And then we were off! Through the bridge and into the first chamber. The action here was the same as the previous locks, but as we reached the top, we were informed that one of us needed to get off the boat and pull Halcyon Sea through the next four chambers. Nick bravely volunteered, jumping off and pulling the boat into Chamber 2 while Tracey kept a watchful eye on the lines and steered to keep her away from the wall. After Chamber 2, Tracey and Nick swapped places, and Tracey took her turn helping to pull the boat through the remaining chambers. This arrangement worked better, at least for Tracey, and Nick was happy to go with whatever was easiest. We had made it through the flight, with only one more lock to go today, though a couple of swing bridges still lay ahead.
Bridge Malfunctions and Highland Cows
Tomnahurich and Torvean swing bridges are positioned close together. The operators are already alerted to your approach by the previous lock keepers, and you then call them as you draw near so they can close the roads. The procedure involves entering the first bridge, waiting in the area, and then proceeding through the next. We were the lead boat and cleared the first bridge without issue. However, as the Dutch boat followed us in, they clearly weren't close enough, and the bridge began to swing shut while they were only halfway through! We waited in the designated area, expecting the second bridge to open almost immediately, but it seemed to be experiencing a malfunction. Although the barriers had come down to prevent cars, and we could see the bridge had been released, it simply refused to open, emitting all sorts of clunking noises. The wind, as is customary for us, had picked up, and we began to be pushed towards the bank. Nick had to apply a little reverse thrust to prevent us from getting too close to the bridge. Finally, and to much relief, it swung open, and we zipped through as quickly as possible.
We continued through the narrow canal, reaching Dochgarroch Lock, our last of the day. Once we had passed through, we decided to moor up on the available pontoons here. Conveniently, toilet and shower facilities, along with electricity, were available. Once alongside, Tracey got Pepper off the boat for a well-deserved walk while Nick secured Halcyon Sea for the evening. The Dutch boat, having more miles to cover, continued onwards into Loch Ness.
Dochgarroch itself is a small, charming spot, offering a cafe, an ice-cream parlour, and a gift shop. However, its true highlight is a field containing three magnificent Highland cows. It was amusing to watch busloads of tourists literally running up the hill just to catch a glimpse of them. It served as a wonderful reminder of how privileged we are to experience all of this at our own pace.
Tomorrow promises a day free of swing bridges or locks as we finally enter Loch Ness. We have no exact plan yet, though the weather forecast suggests rain. Our canal license grants us seven days to travel from Inverness to Corpach. During that time, we will navigate through 29 locks and 11 swing bridges. Today, we completed eight locks and four swing bridges, yet we haven't travelled very far at all. Most people complete the canal in about 4-5 days, but with no time restrictions, we intend to make full use of our seven-day license.En savoir plus
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- Jour 78–84
- 25 juin 2025 - 1 juillet 2025
- 6 nuits
- ☁️ 18 °C
- Altitude: 79 p
ÉcosseInverness57°29’40” N 4°14’2” W
Inverness: A Long Week

Inverness: A Week of Recharge, Realisations, and Readying for the Canal!
The last week had taken its toll. We had, in a single week, navigated the East Coast of Scotland, tackled some of the trickiest marinas we'd encountered, and endured multiple consecutive days of sailing. We'd faced dense fog and very windy weather, and to put it bluntly, we were utterly knackered. A quick glance at Inverness Marina's pricing structure, noting the slightly cheaper weekly rate, combined with a check of the weather forecast, solidified our decision: a full week's stay was the best option. This would grant us much-needed time to recharge and tackle those essential boat jobs before entering the mighty Caledonian Canal. Had we made the right choice? Only time would tell.
Here's how our week unfolded:
Wednesday (Arrival Day)
Arrival & First Impressions: We arrived into the marina on Wednesday, June 25th. The first thing that struck us was the delightful, fresh scent of cut wood, a lovely pine aroma filling the air. This, we soon discovered, emanated from the large area adjacent to the marina occupied by Scot Bark, where freshly cut logs and ornamental bark were piled high.
Late Night Fuel: It was late, and our food supplies had dwindled to critical levels. A quick decision was made: pizza delivery! Our order arrived within a speedy 25 minutes, providing a much-needed end to our travel day.
Thursday (The Great Grocery Trek)
Shopping Expedition: Thursday was designated as shopping day. We had attempted to order a Tesco delivery, but the earliest available slot was two days away, and we desperately needed daily essentials like milk and bread. Tracey embarked on the 30-minute walk into town, which took her through the marina's somewhat industrial surroundings.
Tesco Truths: While it proudly bore the name "Tesco Superstore," it didn't quite live up to the grandeur we were accustomed to down South; it was a relatively small store. Prices weren't exactly a bargain either, but Tracey managed to buy enough provisions for the entire week, knowing we'd need another trip before the canal.
Taxi Rescue: A taxi was called to ferry the shopping back to the marina; even our trusty shopping trolley wouldn't have coped with the sheer volume of bags Tracey had amassed!
Friday (Laundry, Laughter, and Long-Distance Calls)
Chore Time: Friday meant laundry day! This most mundane of chores provided Tracey with a welcome opportunity to spend a couple of hours away from the boat, catching up on the blog and editing photos.
Unexpected Encounter: While sitting there, an older gentleman entered and struck up a conversation. He offered ideas on places to visit, but then, quite unexpectedly, launched into his entire life history! Tracey found herself subtly trying to message Nick, a silent plea for rescue.
Telepathic Rescue: Luckily, her telepathic thoughts (or perhaps just excellent timing) clearly got through, as Nick and Pepper arrived, bearing welcome refreshments. Just like that, the little man scurried off. How bizarre!
Virtual Dice Game: Friday night, we caught up with Mike and Anne, Nigel and Sarah, who were all out on their boats and in Emsworth for the night. We managed to play a lively game of dice over FaceTime, which, after a few "bevvies" on both ends, became quite hilarious. It was the first time we had all seen each other simultaneously since we left, and we genuinely wished we could have been there in person. We truly miss our friends and family, so we always cherish any opportunity to catch up.
Saturday (Canal Glimpse and Cromwell's Legacy)
Canal Preview: Saturday's adventure involved a walk to the very start of the canal, eager to glimpse what the initial steps of our next big challenge looked like. The walk took about 40 minutes, and despite being incredibly windy, it was a warm breeze.
Retail Reconnaissance: On the way, we passed a large retail area, complete with a Lidl, Aldi, Co-op, and the usual array of shops found in such locations. It was right next to another marina, one we'll actually transit through as part of our canal journey. We briefly wished we'd booked here instead, but no matter, we were managing fine.
Lunch & History: After a delicious lunch at Jammy Piece (a charming cafe), we made our way back to our marina. It seemed to take forever! Nick had noticed a monument with a blue plaque on it on the way out, so we decided to investigate on the return. It turned out to be a clock tower, now the sole remaining structure of Cromwell's Fort in Inverness.
More Virtual Connections: Back on the boat, we had arranged another catch-up FaceTime call with friends Mike and Sarah. It was so good to see more familiar faces, though it brought with it that familiar tinge of homesickness. Unfortunately, both our phones died mid-call, so we arranged to finish our catch-up on Sunday.
Sunday (Bikes Unleashed!)
Bike Resurrection: The excitement for Sunday was palpable: we actually got the bikes out of their long-term storage in the back cabin and brought them up on deck! Tracey's tires were flat, so we spent some time checking them over.
Pepper's Pedals: We tried Pepper in her basket, and while she didn't seem overly keen, we're optimistic she'll adapt. We then took Tracey's bike up the road for a test spin, with Pepper running energetically alongside her. When they turned around and Nick called Pepper back, she easily outpaced Tracey – she was incredibly fast!
Monday (Weather Woes & Canal Booking)
Dull Day: Monday was a rather uninspiring day. While everyone down South was basking in glorious sunshine, we endured persistent wind and rain. We know this is Scotland, but it did nothing to improve Tracey's mood.
Engine Maintenance: Nick also carried out essential engine checks, changing the oil and oil filter, and inspecting the fuel filter and impeller.
Tech Troubles: Adding to her frustration, the Wi-Fi here was unreliable, and she was having technical difficulties downloading photos and videos from the GoPro, further dampening her spirits.
Canal Excitement: However, the day ended on a slightly better note: we successfully booked our transit through the canal (how exciting!), enjoyed a lovely steak dinner, and watched the final two episodes of "Waterfront."
Tuesday (Final Preparations & Lock Keeper Kindness)
Boat Prep: Today (Tuesday), Nick spent time cleaning the decks and unpacking the dinghy, inflating it and getting it ready for next week.
Lock Keeper's Lifeline: He called the sea lock, as requested on the Scottish Canal's website, to arrange our lock-in time for tomorrow. He explained our predicament regarding shopping, and Matt, the lock keeper, was incredibly understanding. He assured us it wouldn't be a problem and arranged for us to have a couple of hours alongside in the other marina tomorrow morning so we can nip off and grab our essential supplies.
Optimistic Outlook: The weather here today is sunny, and the winds have died down. It's likely to be light winds for the start of our transit tomorrow. Everything is working out as planned, and we are both incredibly excited for this next highlight of our journey!En savoir plus

VoyageurSo impressed you managed to get a pizza delivery……… hopefully to Halcyon Seas 😂😂😂…. As always lovely to catch up on FaceTime…. Our butcher has confirmed he can get two big Tomahawks when I need them... 👍👍
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- Jour 77–78
- 24 juin 2025 - 25 juin 2025
- 1 nuit
- ☁️ 14 °C
- Altitude: 33 p
ÉcosseWhitehills57°40’38” N 2°35’4” W
Peterhead to Inverness Via Whitehills

Peterhead to Inverness via Whitehills: A Northern Scottish Odyssey!
Our late evening arrival into Whitehills meant a wonderfully late start was afforded to us, allowing plenty of time to dismantle the cockpit tent and prepare Halcyon Sea for departure. It was yet another eight-hour day stretching ahead, but the weather looked exceptionally favourable, and the sea was calm – a welcome contrast to our eventful arrival in Peterhead. We set off in high spirits, feeling rested and genuinely excited as our ultimate goal, the Caledonian Canal, drew ever closer.
We left Peterhead under bright blue skies, but the minute we exited the harbour walls, a thick bank of fog rolled in, behind us, thankfully. Ahead, the air was misty, but visibility remained good. Looking back towards Peterhead, it was undeniably "dreach," a wonderfully apt Scottish term often used to describe dull, dreary, and bleak weather conditions. Along the coastline, a refinery of some sort blazed, its chimney emitting an orange glow. We passed Rattray Head, renowned as one of the most wild and secluded places on the coast of Aberdeenshire. The beach here stretches for seventeen miles from Peterhead to St. Combs, punctuated by wind-sculpted dunes that reach a staggering 100 feet in height. Remnants of several shipwrecks can still be seen on the beach, and legend tells of shipowners deliberately grounding their vessels on the rocks as part of a primitive insurance fraud. On calm days, the turquoise waters gently lap at the unspoilt golden sands, but Rattray Head Beach has always posed a hidden danger to passing ships. Today, we were in no such peril and passed by easily. Fraserburgh came and went without incident. Tracey felt a lingering nervousness about this stretch of water, having many times sat up on the sea wall looking out to turbulent seas.
Rounding Kinnaird Head and a Tight Whitehills Entry
We then rounded Kinnaird Head. The original lighthouse here was ingeniously built within a converted castle, with its modern replacement constructed in 1991. Kinnaird Head holds the distinction of being the first operational lighthouse built in Scotland by the Northern Lighthouse Board. Here, the coastline turns a dramatic 90 degrees, and we found ourselves heading west again. We arrived near Whitehills a little early, so we spent some time circling offshore until we were able to enter the Marina. We even gave it a little extra time, just to be sure. The entrance to the harbour was difficult to discern; it requires taking a wide berth to avoid rocks, then turning sharply back on oneself. Two tall stick posts and a large white splodge of paint on the outer wall marked the narrow entry point. My goodness, this was tight! With only 20cm under our keel, we were profoundly grateful for that additional buffer time as we inched forward. A sharp 90-degree left turn took us into the outer harbour, where the visitor berths are situated. A sharp right turn and then a 180-degree pivot brought us alongside the pontoon, facing the correct direction for an easier exit. The wind, as always, kept us on our toes, first gusting to push us into the harbour entrance faster than we wanted, and then pushing us off the pontoon, making our docking procedure far more challenging. Tracey has learned to keep quiet during these moments, allowing Nick to work his magic and placing all her trust in him. A bow thruster would have been a handy tool to have here, though! It was late, and the pub had stopped serving food at 7 pm, leaving us no option other than to cook onboard. Opting for something quick and easy, sausage, egg, and chips was as much as we could muster. We needed to leave by 9:30 am for Inverness, and with a 12-hour day ahead, sleep called.
Departing Whitehills and the Moray Firth Beckons
Waking with the thought of exiting this tight little marina was a little daunting, but what comes in, must go out! A Dutch boat had followed us in and was also leaving that morning. We had all decided to push for Inverness, as Lossiemouth, our preferred interim stop, had put out a notice to mariners stating there was dredging activity going on, and they might be able to make alternative arrangements. It was once again not worth the bother, and although a 12-hour day, we knew we would be passing some truly spectacular scenery. As the weather was good (we have been so incredibly lucky!), it made perfect sense to push on through. Inverness Marina could be accessed at any state of tide; we just had to contend with some shallow waters before Kessock Bridge and watch out for the current running under the bridge that could pose some difficulties.
We left Whitehills with no wind and plenty of water beneath us; it seemed much easier to navigate in these conditions. We passed so many picturesque coves and charming small towns, far too many to mention individually. However, we managed to get a lovely picture of the viaduct at Cullen. As we approached Lossiemouth, a couple of Eurofighters roared over the top of us, the noise of their engines deafening before they quickly vanished through the cloud cover. Lossiemouth is probably the most northerly point we will reach this season. We passed Findhorn, a place we would have loved to visit but that was too shallow for us to enter.
The Majesty of the Scottish Coastline
Here, for the first time since Grimsby, land embraced us on both sides. The green hills rolled into each other, a magnificent tapestry of verdant slopes cascading towards the water's edge. These are the ancient, timeless contours of the Scottish coastline, where the land meets the sea in a breathtaking display of nature's artistry. The hills undulate with a soft, inviting grace, each curve and hollow cloaked in a rich palette of greens, from the bright, fresh hues of new growth to the deep, heather-laden tones of the uplands. They seem to flow with an inherent rhythm, a silent dance against the expansive sky, creating vistas that are both grand and intimately beautiful. This landscape speaks of quiet majesty, of resilience, and of an untamed beauty that has shaped by the elements for millennia.
Inverness Achieved: Dolphins, Seals, and a Milestone Marked
We were now well into the Moray Firth. A playful pod of dolphins came close to Halcyon Sea, as if to welcome us, their sleek forms effortlessly slicing through the water. On the sandy banks near Ardersier, colonies of seals were basking in the sun, their dark forms stretched out in peaceful repose. We zigzagged our way into Rosemarkie Bay, hugging the edge to avoid the shallow waters in the centre of the bay. This also gave us our first clear view of Kessock Bridge, a sign that the end of our day was truly in sight. We only had to pass under the bridge and then turn left into Inverness Marina. The views that unfolded were utterly spectacular, filling us with a profound sense of serenity as we approached our destination.
We entered the marina and easily found our berth. We had made it. Another significant milestone accomplished on our journey. We were now only a mile away from the entrance to the Caledonian Canal.
This last week has tested us both mentally and physically, pushing our resolve. And we have triumphed. What an achievement. Neither of us can quite believe we've made it this far – from leaving Cowes on April 9th, 2025, to reaching the top of the Caledonian Canal on June 25th, 2025. We plan to take a well-deserved week's break here, aiming to be fully ready for the delights of the canal. There are some essential boat jobs to tackle, including an engine service, oil, and filter changes, as our trusty engine has accumulated many hours. We also have shopping to do to replenish supplies. Our plan is to enter the Canal on Wednesday, July 2nd. Fingers crossed the weather is kind to us.En savoir plus
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- Jour 74–77
- 21 juin 2025 - 24 juin 2025
- 3 nuits
- ☁️ 15 °C
- Altitude: 23 p
ÉcossePeterhead57°29’46” N 1°47’26” W
Peterhead: Rest, Recharge and Where Next

Peterhead: Rest, Recharge, and the Quest for the Next Scottish Haven!
Peterhead was earmarked for a crucial couple of days' stopover, a chance to recover from the previous few, rather demanding, days at sea. Nick's mind, a whirlwind of weather forecasts, tidal charts, and passage plans, was starting to show signs of overload; he was even getting muddled about our past stops when talking to people! We had certainly experienced some challenging days on the water (for us, anyway), whether it was battling confused sea states or navigating the trickier entries of new marinas, a far cry from the comparatively sedate sailing of the Solent. The weather forecast for the coming days offered little encouragement to move, providing a perfect excuse to stay put and recharge.
As mentioned previously, Peterhead is primarily a commercial port, but its western corner hosts a pleasant marina and a sailing school. The small, gently sloping sandy beach nearby is a popular spot for wild swimming, and we often saw enthusiastic locals taking advantage of its sheltered waters early in the mornings. Crucially for us, Pepper had ample safe space to run off-lead, dig in the sand, and paddle in the sea – a true canine paradise. The harbour itself is vast, giving us plenty of room to set our fenders and lines within its protective walls before even approaching the marina. Not long after our arrival, Mutsch turned up, and a little while later, Kismet also arrived safely. Kismet had a young couple onboard, and we give full credit to Heather, the female crew member, who had bravely taken to sailing with no prior experience.
The marina facilities were a bit of a trek (a good five-minute walk), navigating a somewhat maze-like configuration of pontoons. However, the marina manager was incredibly helpful, and the berthing fees were refreshingly cheap. At just £26 per night for Halcyon Sea, it was the least we've paid since our journey began. Needing to replenish our food supplies, we discovered an Aldi about a 25-minute walk away. This time, the trusty shopping trolley was resurrected from its stowed position, and all three of us set off for a combined shopping trip and walk.
Bloo Toon Bliss and the Next Nautical Puzzle
Peterhead is a historic fishing port and holds the distinction of being the largest town in Aberdeenshire. It's affectionately nicknamed the "Bloo Toon," a nod to the traditional blue clothing worn by its local fishermen. The town proudly sits on the most easterly point of mainland Scotland. Its former prison has even been converted into a museum, though, regrettably, we didn't get a chance to visit. In truth, we did very little here, consciously dedicating our time to simply recharging our batteries.
Soon, it was time for us, or perhaps more accurately, Nick, to begin planning our next stop. However, indecision reigned. We considered a short hop to Fraserburgh, but a friend's blog, detailing their stop there, suggested the harbour wasn't particularly yacht-friendly, being another predominantly commercial port. Was the potential hassle worth the minimal progress along the coastline? We thought not. Our goal was to find a suitable midway point between Peterhead and Inverness, with the possibility of one additional stop if needed. We explored Banff, but the pilot information regrettably indicated that, at 12 meters, Halcyon Sea would exceed the maximum length of 10 meters for entry. Next, we looked at Buckie, but this involved coming alongside a wall again – an experience Tracey was distinctly unenthusiastic about repeating. This left us with Whitehills, situated between the two. Its entrance looked challenging, and, as usual, required us to enter two hours after low water to avoid lurking rocks. This was the one. Nick duly prepared our passage plan, and our departure from Peterhead was set for Tuesday, June 24th.En savoir plus
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- Jour 74
- samedi 21 juin 2025
- ☁️ 15 °C
- Altitude: Niveau de la mer
Écosse57°8’14” N 2°0’45” W
Stonehaven to Peterhead

Stonehaven to Peterhead: A Foggy Departure, Naval Encounters, and Tracey's Triumphant Return to Dry Land!
Our night in Stonehaven had been one of broken sleep, punctuated by incessant line checks and mysterious noises that kept us both on edge. Neither of us relished the thought of another such night, and despite our profound tiredness, we were absolutely determined to leave. Mother Nature, however, had a different idea. We woke, full of resolve, only to peep out of the hatch and be greeted by… absolutely nothing. Just a thick, impenetrable blanket of fog. Departure was impossible. Ah well, nothing for it but to accept the inevitable.
Nick took Pepper for her morning constitutional and returned with a brilliant suggestion: a trip to the charming little patisserie on the harbour for coffee and pastries (or a bacon sandwich, depending on one's preference!). With high water approaching, the ladder only had a couple of rungs to conquer, so off we went. We checked the forecast – a glimmer of hope! The fog might lift around 2 pm. Peterhead, our destination, was a seven-hour journey, meaning a 9 pm arrival. No problem there, given the gloriously long Scottish summer nights. We returned to the boat, Nick attempting to snatch a few more hours of sleep while Tracey settled on deck, catching up with the blog.
Her writing was abruptly interrupted by the unexpected appearance of a RIB coming alongside. The lady aboard explained that due to the pea-souper, the local kids wouldn't be able to sail outside the harbour wall; instead, they were setting up their races inside the harbour. She cheerfully assured us she'd place another RIB near Halcyon Sea to fend off any overly enthusiastic novice "Topper" sailors. Moments later, the water was alive with about fifteen kids in their tiny Toppers and a couple of Fevas, most frantically pumping their tillers to gain some momentum in the still, misty conditions. Parents watched from atop the harbour wall, their shouts of encouragement echoing through the fog.
Nick was abruptly roused by the cacophony of horns signaling the race starts, cutting short his much-needed rest. One particular boy, Chris, with a remarkably enthusiastic parent, seemed utterly nonplussed by the whole affair. His mum (at least, we think it was!) was loudly praising his efforts, despite him finishing almost last in the first race. "I know! You've already said that!" Chris yelled back, prompting a stifled giggle from Tracey. Moments later, the same intrepid young sailor was drifting dangerously close to Halcyon Sea, seemingly unnoticed by anyone else. Chris looked up at Tracey, bluntly asking, "You have insurance, right?" Tracey, stifling another laugh, quickly gave him some pointers to steer clear just before one of the support RIBs bounced him away like a pinball. The morning had been unexpectedly entertaining. However, the fog showed no sign of lifting.
A Leap of Faith into the Unknown
Nick went to chat with the owners of Kismet, a smaller boat also hoping to leave. They were going to chance it, prepping for a 1:30 pm departure. Nick checked AIS and saw that Mutsch, the German boat we'd met in Arbroath, had left there that morning and was now trucking along the coast at an impressive 6 knots, despite the fog and the added challenge of fishing buoys. If the young ones could sail their 23-foot boat and the Germans were making such good progress, surely we could too.
We pulled on our "big girl pants" (and big boy waterproofs!) and readied Halcyon Sea. The lines were released from the harbour wall, and we slipped away from our berth slowly, carefully navigating the unseen rocks. The fog was unbelievably thick. We followed our electronic track meticulously, but took a wider line than usual, hoping to avoid Kismet, presuming they'd hug the shoreline. Our eyes played tricks on us, and we were profoundly grateful when what we thought were looming fishing buoys either harmlessly dived into the water or fluttered away as startled seabirds.
After about three hours, a faint thinning appeared in the fog. In the distance, a strange, tall framework structure began to pierce through the mist, rising impossibly high out of the sea. We couldn't discern what it was. It looked like a rocket launcher, perhaps an oil rig, or even a bridge? Tracey managed to snap a photo of its summit through the swirling fog and quickly turned to Google. It turned out to be the Noble Intrepid.
Noble Intrepid: A Drilling Giant
The Noble Intrepid is a state-of-the-art, harsh-environment jack-up drilling rig. These massive, self-elevating platforms are designed for offshore oil and gas drilling in challenging conditions. The "jack-up" refers to its ability to lower legs to the seabed and then "jack up" its hull above the waves, providing a stable platform for drilling operations. The Noble Intrepid, like others in its class, is equipped with advanced drilling technology, capable of operating in water depths of up to hundreds of feet. Its sheer scale and sophisticated engineering make it a formidable presence in the offshore energy industry. Sighting such a colossal structure emerging from the fog was a truly impressive and slightly surreal experience.
High Stakes and a Coastal Dash
As we continued, we found ourselves crossing Aberdeen Port Authority's designated area, and soon, we were hailed by Aberdeen VTS. They advised us that significant ship movements were imminent but confirmed we were clear to continue on our current course for now, though they might contact us again if a change was required. We could see numerous large ships and tankers waiting patiently offshore, making us wonder which colossal vessel would soon be bearing down on us. We knew Kismet was now behind us, and we could see the German boat, Mutsch, off our port side. Next thing we knew, we overheard communications between the huge ships, Aberdeen VTS, and the pilot vessels, stating they'd be delayed by approximately 30 minutes while they waited for "the two yachts" to clear the area. Oh dear. Halcyon Sea was now officially contributing to holding up international shipping!
As the fog finally lifted, the wind picked up dramatically, gusting to 25 knots before suddenly dying away completely. Halcyon Sea found herself once again being tossed around in the large waves that began to crash over the bow. Tracey began to feel seasick. Then came the rain. The drops were large and heavy, hitting the deck with an almost hail-like intensity. This was far from pleasant, but perhaps not unexpected given the East Coast of Scotland's reputation. Sheltering Pepper, Tracey fleetingly dreamt of warm Mediterranean seas, anything to escape the current reality. The sea remained unsettled all the way to Peterhead. Fishing buoys reappeared, but they were incredibly difficult to track, vanishing repeatedly in the swell.
We finally arrived outside the large harbour of Peterhead, a bustling commercial fishing port with a small marina nestled in its western corner, fronting a sandy beach. We radioed for permission to enter and proceeded directly to the marina, having already received our berth instructions when we called ahead. What a relief! Tracey's seasickness vanished instantly, as if by magic, the moment Halcyon Sea found the safety of port. By the time Tracey returned from taking Pepper ashore, Nick had already set up the cockpit tent, put a ready-made lasagna and some Mediterranean vegetables on to cook, and brewed Tracey a most welcome cup of tea. We're staying put for a couple of days now, eager to catch our breath and replenish our boat supplies.En savoir plus
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- Jour 73
- vendredi 20 juin 2025
- ☀️ 24 °C
- Altitude: 36 p
ÉcosseKirktown of Fetteresso56°57’47” N 2°12’27” W
Tracey Meets her Nemesis

Arbroath to Stonehaven: Tracey Meets Her Nemesis
The cill lock at Arbroath was scheduled to open at 7:54 am on Friday, June 20th, remaining accessible for four hours. This offered ample time to prepare for our departure to Stonehaven. We woke, and Tracey was already fractious, her movements around the boat unusually forceful – a clear sign she was not pleased, and not necessarily with Nick! Having missed out on the famous Arbroath Smokies the previous night, Tracey decided a shopping trip was in order. With a couple of "bags for life" in hand, she set off, determined to gather provisions. Meanwhile, Nick diligently performed his engine checks and stowed everything, readying Halcyon Sea for our journey.
Tracey, however, had dramatically underestimated her shopping haul. Without the trusty shopping trolley, she returned to the boat, her arms nearly dragging on the pontoon, laden with groceries. Her mood was not improved by the sight of Nick sitting comfortably on the boat, engrossed in conversation, and seemingly oblivious to her struggle. The man, it transpired, was Charlie, an ex-submariner. Nick had spotted Charlie's distinctive dolphin decal on his Merry Fisher, and they had struck up a conversation. While they didn't know each other or share common acquaintances, they instantly connected, laughing, joking, and reminiscing about the boats they had served on. There's an unspoken familiarity and camaraderie among those who have served in the military, a bond forged in shared experiences.
Tracey busied herself putting the shopping away, and then it was time to start the engines. Stonehaven was approximately six hours away, and we aimed to arrive at least an hour after low water, meaning anytime after 3:30 pm would be suitable for entry. We slipped from our berth and over the cill, executing a sharp right turn towards the fuel point. We wanted to top up our tank, unsure of the next reliable fuel stop. This marked the first of our day's significant challenges: both the fuel point and our allocated berth in Stonehaven required tying alongside a wall. Neither of us had ever performed this manoeuvre, and Tracey's apprehension was visibly mounting.
Wall-Side Woes: A Practice Run and Mounting Fear
Nick calmly explained the process: Tracey simply needed to pass a line around a rung on the ladder and secure it back on the boat to our midship cleat. Nick would then manage the rest. The fuel point’s location, tucked into a corner, meant a challenging right-angle approach. This manoeuvre would typically be straightforward with a bow thruster, a luxury Halcyon Sea did not possess. As Nick brought the boat in slowly, Tracey reached over the guard rail, snatched a rung before we moved past it, and swiftly managed to wrap the line around it, securing it back on the boat. Nick then climbed the ladder (fortunately, we were at high tide, so only two rungs to climb) and managed to throw down a bow and stern line, which we secured. We had done it! Nick optimistically declared this our "practice run," attempting to reassure Tracey that our main event at Stonehaven would be fine. Tracey, however, was having none of it; the experience had only intensified her fear of coming alongside the wall in Stonehaven. Having successfully refuelled, Tracey chose to climb the couple of rungs to pay for the fuel and berthing rather than remain on the boat watching the lines – clearly, the lesser of two evils.
We then slipped our lines for the second time that morning, completing the necessary dog-leg manoeuvre to exit the harbour, ensuring we stayed mid-channel to avoid any unsuspecting rocks.
A Fishing Buoy Battlefield and a Castle's Glimpse
As soon as we cleared the harbour wall, we went on high alert, scanning for the hundreds of fishing buoys that littered the sea. Nick aptly described it as "Selsey Bill on steroids." Knowing that two other boats had also left Arbroath that morning and were heading to Stonehaven, we called ahead to confirm our berth. We were informed ours would be the first ladder inside the outer harbour wall.
The fishing buoys relentlessly continued to appear until we reached Montrose, offering a brief respite before they resumed. The sun was shining, but the sea breeze was cold, and a one-meter swell generated long, rolling waves. We pulled up the sails to try and create some stability, but the wind was constantly shifting, making it a battle to maintain a steady course without constantly changing direction or drifting too far off our track.
In the distance, the dramatic silhouette of Dunnottar Castle perched high on its craggy rock, a welcome sign that we were nearing our destination. The wind had picked up, and huge gusts began to play with Halcyon Sea. This was not what we needed. The shore was littered with rocks, and Tracey's anxiety began to escalate, doing everything she could to prevent hyperventilating. We still had to drop the sails, a task that required both of us in these challenging conditions. Nick maintained a calm composure, reassuring Tracey that this was normal, and that we had done it many times before – all very true, but nerves had clearly gotten the better of Tracey, who was now tearful and felt as though she had forgotten everything she knew.
A Hard-Won Berth and a Vertical Climb
We managed to turn the boat head to wind so that we could drop the sails. Then, Nick hung the fenders and fender boards in readiness for our arrival. As we rounded the corner of the harbour wall, it appeared a small RIB was occupying our spot. We had failed to spot the first ladder, which was cunningly hidden in an alcove in the harbour wall. This necessitated a 360-degree turn to position ourselves for a second attempt. We had arrived after low water, but still only had a mere 30cm under the keel as Nick swung Halcyon Sea around to try again. To compound the pressure, an audience had, as usual, gathered atop the harbour wall. Nick brought the boat in slowly, as close to the wall as possible. Tracey, with a surge of determination, grabbed a rung, managed to fix the line around it, and secured it back on the boat. Nick then had to ascend the vertical ladder so he could secure the bow and stern lines, dropping each one down to Tracey for her to secure on the boat.
We were in! The first thing we noticed as we rounded the harbour wall was the immediate increase in temperature. At sea, we'd both been layered in sweatshirts and jackets, but stepping into the harbour felt like entering a sauna. The heat hit us, much like exiting a plane into sunnier climes. We quickly stripped down to our shorts and T-shirts, and then the realisation dawned: Pepper needed a walk! As we were not long after low water, there was a significant number of ladder rungs to climb to reach the top. Tracey's fear of heights, now adding to the mix, left her shaking, her legs like jelly. Nick stood behind her, offering encouragement with each rung, until she finally scrambled over the ledge and stood on terra firma, her tears mercifully hidden behind her sunglasses. He then climbed up with Pepper securely under his arm, his hand threaded through her harness, ensuring he still maintained four points of contact with the ladder. Tracey was immensely relieved to be ashore and took Pepper for a long walk around the boardwalk to Stonehaven beach, on the other side of the harbour, and then back through the pretty town.
Stonehaven's Charm and a Fireball Legacy
Stonehaven, once known as Kilwhang, is located about 15 miles south of Aberdeen. It was historically a very busy fishing port, particularly renowned for its herring catches, though its main business now revolves around tourism. Approximately two miles south of Stonehaven lies Dunnottar Castle, a ruined medieval fortress steeped in rich history. The castle has played host to notable historical figures, including William Wallace and Mary Queen of Scots. It is perhaps best known as the hiding place of the Honours of Scotland (the Scottish Crown Jewels) from Oliver Cromwell's army in the 1650s; they now reside safely in Edinburgh Castle. The castle was even used for portions of the film Hamlet, starring Mel Gibson and Glenn Close. We would have loved to visit, but arriving so late and with plans to leave the next morning, time, tide, and weather were once again not on our side.
Stonehaven is also famous for its spectacular Fireball Ceremony that takes place at midnight on December 31st each year. This unique ceremony has been performed annually since 1908, pausing only during the First and Second World Wars to avoid revealing their position. The ceremony is widely believed to be a tradition rooted in ancient practices of cleansing and warding off evil spirits, with some sources suggesting it's a purification ritual to ensure a fresh start to the New Year.
A Nightly Ritual and the Seas Ahead
Anyway, we digress, much like Tracey's walk did when she realised she would have to descend the ladder on her return. Nick, meanwhile, had been expertly adjusting the lines securing Halcyon Sea to the wall. He'd rigged a long line from the top of the ladder, securing it to the lowest visible rung. He then ran our midship line around the back of this fixed line, allowing it to slip freely up and down, moving with the tide. The bow and stern lines, sufficient at high water, would need checking and possibly adjusting at low water.
Nick had been watching for Tracey's return and was ready at the top of the ladder to take Pepper. He climbed down first, then stood ready to guide Tracey safely back onto the boat. Once secured, she vowed she would not leave the boat again until they arrived somewhere she considered more "safe."
Later, seeing a Facebook post from John and Dee of Fareham Sailing and Motorboat Club, who were using their Cobb barbecue, reminded us we had ours onboard. It seemed the perfect way to heat the Arbroath Smokies and hot-smoked salmon Tracey had purchased that morning. Following the fishmonger's instructions, Tracey soaked the smokie in very hot water, allowing us to easily prise the fish open and remove the bones while keeping it moist. We served it with a fresh salad. While Tracey wasn't a fan, Nick thoroughly enjoyed his fish supper.
The day's events had taken their toll, and tiredness had truly set in. Nick set an alarm for 3 am to check the lines and was up again at 5 am, thinking he heard strange noises. It had been an experience. Was it as bad as Tracey thought? At the time, and for her, yes it was. But she now understood the process and what was expected, though she sincerely hoped it wouldn't be a frequent occurrence. We leave for Peterhead tomorrow, another long day, marking four consecutive days of sailing – the longest stretch we've done without a significant stopover. Only three more stops, hopefully, before we finally reach the Caledonian Canal!En savoir plus
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- Jour 72
- jeudi 19 juin 2025
- ☀️ 18 °C
- Altitude: 72 p
ÉcosseArbroath56°33’31” N 2°35’22” W
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!En savoir plus
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- Jour 71
- mercredi 18 juin 2025
- ☁️ 17 °C
- Altitude: 39 p
ÉcosseBurnmouth55°52’13” N 2°5’19” W
Amble to Scotland: A Coastal Leap

Amble to Scotland: A Coastal Leap and Eyemouth's Embrace!
Our time in Amble had gracefully reached its conclusion. Suitably refreshed and re-energised, we stood ready to tackle our next challenge: Eyemouth. This wasn't just another port; this was Scotland! A major milestone in our grand circumnavigation. Before setting off, we needed to top up our fuel, the pontoon conveniently situated right at the end, just before exiting the cill and the marina. A familiar companion, anxiety, had once again crept in, which, frankly, was annoying. You'd think by now we'd be seasoned pros, but it's simply not the case. Nick's anxiety tends to manifest as we leave a port, while Tracey's kicks in upon arrival at a new destination. Perhaps it's just the fear of the unknown, but we're choosing to see it as a "yin and yang" dynamic – we balance each other out, and that can only be a good thing.
With Halcyon Sea refuelled, we restarted the engine and gently pushed ourselves off the pontoon. The sea lay calm before us, with barely a whisper of wind. We chugged our way along the pier towards the harbour entrance. A small fishing vessel, with only one man aboard, suddenly decided to pull out of his berth and head straight across our bow – a jolt of excitement we definitely didn't need this early in the day! As we reached the harbour entrance, the distinctive lighthouse of Coquet Island came into view. We would pass the island to starboard as we made our way north alongside the stunning Northumberland coastline. From this new vantage point, we could clearly make out all the picturesque spots Lee and Zoe had so generously shown us by car yesterday. It was fascinating how different they looked from the sea, and we'll admit, Google Maps occasionally came in handy to help identify some of the beaches.
Farne Islands, Puffins, and a Holy Detour
A few hours into our journey brought us to Seahouses and the famous Farne Islands. Once again, it was the distinctive lighthouse that provided our reliable bearing. We followed our track, watching the day tripper boats shuttle back and forth between the mainland and the islands, ferrying tourists eager to glimpse the abundant wildlife. The latest, much-talked-about addition to the list of attractions was a pod of Orcas, reportedly taking up residence to feast on the burgeoning seal pup population. Secretly, Tracey harboured a fervent hope for a glimpse, but alas, it was not to be. Our track kept us well clear of the islands and the hidden, unforgiving rocks that lay in wait, ready to claim any vessels that ventured too close. We passed inside the Farne Islands, and our course then took us outside of Holy Isle, otherwise known as Lindisfarne.
Holy Isle, or Lindisfarne, earned its revered name as one of the most important centres of early Christianity in Anglo-Saxon England. It was here, in 635 AD, that Saint Aidan founded a monastery which became a flourishing centre for evangelism and scholarship, notably home to St. Cuthbert and the creation of the illuminated Lindisfarne Gospels. This rich spiritual heritage is why it transitioned from simply being known as Lindisfarne to the deeply significant "Holy Isle."
Halcyon Sea had been too far from any of the islands to spot any major wildlife spectacles, but we frequently saw tiny puffins bobbing in the water next to us. They were much smaller than we had imagined for some reason! Their camera-shy nature, however, made getting a clear picture of one an almost impossible mission. As we felt safe enough to do so, we turned off the engine, embracing the quiet glide of sailing, though the sea remained dotted with fishing buoys that demanded constant vigilance. We steered a good distance offshore to avoid them and were making excellent time. We knew we'd have to slow down slightly, as entry into Eyemouth was only possible around high water. We thoroughly enjoyed our sail, eventually having to tack to windward to bring ourselves back inshore and onto our final track.
Eyemouth's Narrow Embrace and a Fisherman's Bounty
Our waypoint reached, we continued along the coast towards Eyemouth. A local fisherman was also making his way in, and as the harbour is naturally protected by a ring of rocks, we politely requested he go before us, leading the way into the narrow entrance. He obligingly consented, and we were incredibly grateful. The harbour mouth is remarkably tight, a mere 17 meters wide! As you enter, there’s a sharp right-hand turn to reach the inner harbour and the visitor pontoon. The Harbour Master was there to greet us, along with another visitor, Sam, who had been there for a while. Both helped us secure our lines. One of the local harbour seals, with large, eerie eyes, came to greet us too, watching our every movement on the pontoon, hopefully anticipating a fish we, unfortunately, didn't have to offer. The seal eventually moved back to a nearby hut near the entrance, where fresh fish can be purchased specifically for feeding the harbour seals. Hopefully, he had more luck there.
Tracey took Pepper for her walk. We were in another new place, and this, too, was a thriving fishing port. Pepper, much to Tracey's disgust, delighted in crunching on discarded langoustine claws left by seagulls along the harbour wall. Sam, meanwhile, had walked up to meet Gordon, the fisherman who had so kindly guided us in on "Fortunatous." Gordon had returned with his catch of mackerel. Sam explained that out of the ten boxes caught, about one and a fifth boxes contained fish too small for market – apparently, a good ratio. These smaller fish would be used as bait for lobster pots, while the majority of the catch would be shipped to France and Spain, as there isn't a large market for mackerel in the UK. He then asked if we wanted to try a fresh one and promised to ask Gordon to bring one back for us. By the time Pepper and Tracey returned to Halcyon Sea, Sam was walking along the pontoon, triumphantly carrying a freshly caught mackerel!
Scottish Shores, Smugglers' Tales, and a Somber Memorial
As it had been a long day – eight hours on the water – we opted to eat out and made our way to The Ship Inn, where Nick happily downed a couple of pints of Belhaven Best, one of his favourite Scottish beers. After dinner, we ambled around this small, quaint fishing town, allowing Pepper to run free on the beach.
Eyemouth, with its rugged coastline and hidden coves, has a long and storied history as a notorious smugglers' den. Local lore is rich with tales of illicit goods being brought ashore under the cover of darkness, evading customs officials with cunning and daring. Beyond the whispers of its illicit past, Eyemouth is also home to the poignant "Widows and Bairns" Memorial. This powerful sculpture, located overlooking the harbour, commemorates the devastating fishing disaster of October 14, 1881, when a sudden, violent storm claimed the lives of 189 Eyemouth fishermen, leaving 160 widows and 350 fatherless children. It's a stark reminder of the harsh realities and profound losses faced by coastal communities.
We had decided to make the most of this period of calm weather to push on up the east coast. As such, we planned to go to Arbroath the next day. This marks the first time on this adventure that we have sailed two consecutive days! It also feels very strange as we are now going to bed and it is still light outside. Scotland, here we come!En savoir plus

VoyageurJust copped you on Martineau Traffic still at sea (19:30) and way past Arbroath!

VoyageurWe were heading to Peterhead yesterday and got in about 8.45 last night. I’m a little behind on the blog as we have just completed 4 days sailing on the trot and they have all been around 7-8 hours. We are pretty tired so are going to rest for a few days now. We think only 2 more stops until the Caledonian Canal woohoo 🙌
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- Jour 69–70
- 16 juin 2025 - 17 juin 2025
- 1 nuit
- 🌬 22 °C
- Altitude: 23 p
AngleterreWarkworth55°20’9” N 1°35’2” W
A Whirlwind Tour of Northumberland Gems

Amble: Sunshine, Scrubbing, and a Whirlwind Tour of Northumberland's Gems!
Our final few days in Amble were a masterclass in relaxation. Despite the persistent wind, the sun valiantly broke through, casting a shimmering glow across the sea. We ambled around the pier, enjoying clear views of Coquet Island, its presence a constant reminder of our coastal journey. Halcyon Sea, however, had accumulated a rather impressive collection of weed on her underside, so Nick bravely inflated the dinghy and took to the water, giving her bottom a much-needed scrub.
Tuesday brought a welcome change of pace: Lee, one of Nick's former work colleagues, arrived to whisk us away on a sightseeing adventure. We were buzzing with anticipation, eager to see more of the North East coast, which had already impressed us deeply. Our drive wound through the picturesque villages of Alnmouth and Boulmer, their charming stone cottages nestled against the rugged landscape. We met up with Lee's wife, Zoe, for a delicious lunch at The Running Fox in Longhoughton, a truly delightful spot. We then continued our journey along the coastline, passing Howick and taking a closer look at Craster, famous for its kippers. Dunstanburgh Castle stood proudly on the headland, its ruins a dramatic silhouette against the sky. After picking up their three enthusiastic dogs, we made a stop at Beadnell Bay, allowing all the pooches to let off a bit of steam on the vast sandy expanse.
Farne Islands, Bamburgh's Majesty, and the Heroine of the Longstone Lighthouse
Our tour continued to Seahouses, where we drove down onto the pier, observing the day trip boats preparing to depart for the Farne Islands, a renowned wildlife sanctuary. From there, we paused to admire the majestic presence of Bamburgh Castle, an iconic stronghold perched dramatically on the Northumberland coast. As we gazed, Zoe pointed out the location of the Grace Darling Museum.
Grace Darling is a celebrated heroine of Victorian Britain, famed for her extraordinary act of bravery. Born in 1815, she was the daughter of William Darling, the lighthouse keeper on Longstone Lighthouse, one of the treacherous Farne Islands. In the early hours of September 7th, 1838, the steamship Forfarshire struck the Outer Farne rocks during a fierce storm. Grace, from her vantage point in the lighthouse, spotted survivors clinging to the rocks. Despite the immense danger and her father's initial hesitation to launch their small coble (a traditional fishing boat) in such conditions, Grace's unwavering determination persuaded him. Together, they rowed through mountainous seas, a truly perilous journey, reaching the shipwreck and rescuing nine survivors, including a woman and two children. Her heroic actions captivated the nation, turning her into a national icon and inspiring countless acts of courage. The Grace Darling Museum in Bamburgh now commemorates her life and daring rescue, displaying the very coble she and her father used.
Harry Potter Magic and Amble's Charms Endure
After this fascinating historical interlude, we headed back inland via Alnwick, where we made sure to grab a photo of Alnwick Castle, famous for its role as Hogwarts in some of the Harry Potter films. Finally, we arrived back in Amble, truly awestruck. What a whirlwind tour of such incredibly beautiful countryside and coastline! A huge thank you to Lee and Zoe; we would never have seen all of this without their generous guidance, not even if we'd dared to get our bikes out (Nick is still having palpitations at the mere thought!). The bikes, by the way, remain firmly in their original position in the back cabin, untouched and probably covered in a fine layer of dust.
Our biggest regret is that we were so captivated by everything we were seeing that we completely forgot to take many photos. This is definitely somewhere we would like to explore further, perhaps with the car next time.En savoir plus
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- Jour 67–68
- 14 juin 2025 - 15 juin 2025
- 1 nuit
- ☁️ 17 °C
- Altitude: 16 p
AngleterreWarkworth55°20’12” N 1°35’9” W
Amble: Surprise Visitors & Warkworth

Amble: Weekend Wonders and Warkworth's Majestic Echoes!
Our plan was to settle into Amble until Monday, hoping for a clear weather window, but in the meantime, the weekend stretched out, ripe for local exploration. Tracey's oldest school friend, Tareena, and her partner Darren were staying about 1.5 hours away, and while we'd initially aimed for a North Shields rendezvous, our northern shift made it a longer trek for them. The weather was also a wildcard; with Pepper and Tareena's two dogs, Milo and Leo, a soggy boat or a futile search for dog-friendly indoor spots was less than ideal. We'd put up the cockpit tent when we arrived anticipating rain around 2 am, and throughout the night, the drumming of heavy rain on the deck, accompanied by the howl of the wind, confirmed its arrival. Morning dawned with dark, threatening skies, promising more of the same. We resigned ourselves to a boat-bound day, a perfect excuse for Tracey to catch up on the blog and edit photos – there’s always something to do on Halcyon Sea! Tareena checked in a few times for weather updates, and to our delight, they eventually decided to brave it and head to Amble. We quickly prepped to greet them, excited to explore somewhere new together.
After a swift tour of Halcyon Sea for Darren, who hadn't seen her before, we decided to venture into Warkworth to take a look at the castle. It was about a 25-minute walk along the river and the road until we reached the truly magnificent structure. Warkworth Castle is a classic motte and bailey design – a "motte" being the artificial hill built for the castle, and a "bailey" the courtyard protected by a stone curtain wall, exactly what most people imagine when they think of a medieval stronghold. Thought to have been founded by Henry II in 1157, it's one of the most historically significant castles in the North East, having weathered countless sieges. The Percy family has owned it for centuries, and it's still officially held by the 12th Duke of Northumberland, though English Heritage now manages the site. With the dogs in tow, we didn't go inside, but we thoroughly enjoyed walking the grounds and perimeter, capturing some fantastic photos of its imposing presence before heading back to the coastal path. We found a lovely spot where the dogs could finally run free, and Darren even got his drone out for some aerial footage! We then popped into The Hermitage Inn for some much-needed refreshment before making our way back to Amble.
Seaside Feasts and Unexpected Sunshine
Fish and Chips, or chips with curry sauce, called our names, and we headed to the Harbour Fish Bar, a spot Darren had heard good things about. Tareena and Tracey secured a picnic bench near the beach, eagerly awaiting our delicious dinner. Once devoured, it was time for farewells. The day had flown by, but despite the ominous start, we'd remarkably missed most of the rain, and the sun had even made a welcome appearance. We parted ways, heading back to the boat, our limbs feeling the pleasant ache of a long walk and great company.
Sunday greeted us with blue skies and sunshine, though it remained quite breezy. We decided to try the sailing club for a Sunday roast, but alas, we just missed out, with the last available dinners being served to the family who arrived just ahead of us. Still, we enjoyed a refreshing drink on their balcony, a perfect sun trap overlooking the river. With the tide out, the intricate sandbanks became clearly visible, offering a striking visual explanation for why we'd needed to hug the south side wall on our way in. We then walked into town for lunch, finding a hearty meal still being served at The Schooner Pub. Full and content, we returned to the boat. With so much still to explore in Amble, and after checking the latest weather forecast, we've decided to extend our stay until Wednesday. There's plenty more to see and do in this charming coastal haven!En savoir plus

VoyageurWell it was certainly a lovely unexpected day out and the weather was kind. It was great to see you both and definitely worth the trip. I think we will come back to Amble. xx
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- Jour 63–66
- 10 juin 2025 - 13 juin 2025
- 3 nuits
- ☁️ 17 °C
- Altitude: 30 p
AngleterreNorth Tyneside54°59’45” N 1°27’5” W
North Shields Down Time & Amble Respite

North Shields: Downtime, Discovery, and Dolphins to Amble!
Our stay in North Shields felt different, not because of the place itself, but due to a shift in our perspective, particularly for Tracey. The previous docking incident had undeniably left its mark. Compounding this, we had begun to map out the daunting next leg of our journey towards the Caledonian Canal, noting the seemingly challenging access to potential stopping points. Stonehaven, for instance, involved tying alongside a wall rather than a pontoon – a completely new manoeuvre for us both. With confidence momentarily rattled, Nick suggested turning back, not out of desire, but to offer Tracey options. However, retreating wasn't an option for Tracey either; we'd come too far, and quitting simply isn't in her DNA. Instead, we opted for a deliberately easy few days, starting with the mountain of laundry and the perpetual list of boat chores.
The marina itself was pleasant, though like many we'd visited, it was surrounded by housing, giving it a somewhat "concrete jungle" feel. We had a clear view of the enormous DFDS ferry departing daily for Holland, and Pepper thoroughly enjoyed the lovely patch of green space nearby. We also became regulars at The Lock cafe, frequenting it twice during our stay – once for lunch/dinner and another time purely for coffee and cake. The marina office staff were both friendly and helpful, providing detailed local maps and instructions for venturing into Newcastle if we chose. For the first time, Tracey wasn't in the mood for sightseeing, preferring to focus on chores and some much-needed pamper time. This pause highlighted a realisation: despite not having "work," we had been continuously on the go for two months, either planning or executing our next move. Every day felt like a weekend, yet we hadn't truly taken a break. It was definitely time for some downtime.
The weather wasn't conducive for moving on anyway; we faced a choice of leaving on Wednesday (we arrived Monday) or staying until the following Monday. Tuesday was dedicated to starting the laundry, and Tracey finally delved into her Kindle, downloading a couple of new books. One of Nick's former colleagues from SETT kindly arrived at the boat, offering a lift to the local chandlery, which afforded Tracey a precious hour of peace. Upon his return, Nick continued polishing the cockpit's white surfaces and had plans to re-waterproof the sprayhood. Wednesday dawned glorious and sunny. We debated moving again but ultimately decided to stay put and fully embrace the perfect weather for a genuine chill day. Tracey indulged in a pamper session, giving herself a pedicure and manicure before losing herself completely in her Kindle – once her nose was in a book, the outside world vanished. Meanwhile, Nick continued his boat pottering, diligently avoiding anything that might disturb Tracey's newfound serenity. Thursday arrived, and Tracey felt significantly better; perhaps the enforced downtime was exactly what she'd needed. We walked to Fish Quay for some shopping and a change of scenery. That evening, we cooked onboard and started a Netflix series. We hadn't turned the television on since Dover! The series, "Dept Q," proved instantly captivating, and four episodes later, we decided we really should head to bed, as we planned to move the next day, seizing a newly presented weather window. We were definitely ready for a new environment to explore. Friday arrived, and we busied ourselves stowing the cockpit tent and prepping Halcyon Sea for departure.
Leaving for Amble: A Lively Ride to England's Edge!
As we prepared to leave, a shared sense of anxiety, though unspoken, hung in the air. Although a passing couple had suggested a shortcut through the gap at Coquet Island and even Navionics backed up their theory, we firmly opted to go around the back of the island. We had no desire for shortcuts or further incidents. We radioed the marina, requesting a lock out, which was granted. We made our way around to the open lock entrance and tied alongside – so far, so good. After exiting the lock, we called Tyne VTS, who advised us to wait for a commercial vessel to pass before entering the river. We spotted the vessel, waited patiently, and all remained calm.
As we made our way to the harbour entrance, the wind hit us – far windier than predicted! What on earth was going on with these forecasts?
On our port side before we reached the entrance stands a tall statue dedicated to Vice Admiral Lord Cuthbert Collingwood. A Napoleonic-era admiral noted for being second-in-command to Admiral Lord Nelson during the Battle of Trafalgar, Collingwood is sometimes referred to as the forgotten hero of Trafalgar.
Just as we reached the entrance, we were greeted, once again, by a truly spectacular display: dolphins putting on an incredible show, breaching, jumping, and twisting out of the water right before us.
We pointed the boat northwards, and the true character of the day became clear. The sea, a challenging mix of waves and swells, made for a lively ride. Halcyon Sea responded to the ocean's motion, heaving and rolling significantly. We cautiously rolled out the Genoa, hoping for a little more stability, but it seemed to make little difference. We were moving at a brisk 7 knots just under the Genoa alone. Keeping a lookout for fishing buoys became a full-on challenge; they were incredibly difficult to spot in the waves, sometimes only bobbing to the surface just as we were passing. Both Pepper and Tracey felt unwell, and we briefly contemplated diverting into Blyth. With not much there and no other weather window until at least Monday, Tracey, despite her discomfort, bravely insisted we continue. The wind intensified, whipping up the sea and gusting to 30 knots. Halcyon Sea was being tossed about, making it the most uncomfortable sustained period we had experienced on our entire journey. We could clearly see the lighthouse on Coquet Island in the distance, watching impassively as we were buffeted by the elements, willing for everything to calm down, but instead, the wind intensified.
Immediate action was required. We needed to furl the sail, and Nick remained at the helm, working to keep Halcyon Sea on course against the strong wind while Tracey worked the winch. It was a demanding physical effort, each winch turn a testament to willpower. It took three arduous attempts to finally put the sail away – it was utterly exhausting!
Amble's Respite and a Scottish Promise
Despite the chaos, we persevered, we had no choice. Ahead, milder seas and the reappearance of the sun offered a renewed sense of calm. We settled back into the rhythm, pushing towards our new destination.
We finally spotted the harbour entrance and diligently followed the track, carefully avoiding the shallows. Amble also has a cill at its marina entrance. We arrived two hours before high water, ensuring ample depth to pass over the cill and move to locate our allocated berth. We were utterly worn out when we finally tied up. After walking Pepper and registering with the marina office, we simply collapsed, taking time to sit and rest. Dinner at the Fish Shack, right on the harbour edge, was a welcome reward. As we made our way back to the boat, the wind had completely died down, and the sunset was truly stunning; it had transformed into a really pleasant evening. The stark contrast between the challenging journey and the serene arrival felt almost surreal, but we had made it. This is our last stop in England; next stop is Eyemouth. We will have officially made it to Scotland, an achievement to be immensely proud of. For now, though, we're going to savour Amble, its quaintness, and everything it has to offer: its scenic river walks, long golden beaches, numerous restaurants and local pubs, and the historic Warkworth medieval village just a 30-minute stroll away. Amble might just become our new favourite place.En savoir plus