Should We Stay or Should We Go?
Jul 6–7, 2025 in Scotland ⋅ ☁️ 16 °C
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.Read more
Neptune’s Staircase: A descent into Dram
July 8, 2025 in Scotland ⋅ ☁️ 16 °C
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!Read more
TravelerWow a very frustrating experience dealing with these f@@@wits….. hope you are both ok xx
TravelerIt’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 😊
TravelerOmg 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
Loch Aline: West Coast Wonders
Jul 9–13, 2025 in Scotland ⋅ ☁️ 16 °C
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.Read more
Tobermory: A special Return
July 14, 2025 in Scotland ⋅ 🌧 17 °C
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.Read more
Dolphin Dances & Anchoring Adventures
July 15, 2025 in Scotland ⋅ ⛅ 16 °C
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!Read more
Sunshine and a Dinghy Disaster
July 16, 2025 in Scotland ⋅ ☁️ 16 °C
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!Read more
From Arinagour to Salen
Jul 17–18, 2025 in Scotland ⋅ ☁️ 21 °C
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.Read more
Salen to Craobh, Tidal Challenges
Jul 19–21, 2025 in Scotland ⋅ ☁️ 19 °C
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?Read more
Back to the Mainland
Jul 21–Aug 5, 2025 in England ⋅ ☁️ 21 °C
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.Read more
Back Onboard for a Week Already!
Aug 5–12, 2025 in Scotland ⋅ 🌬 15 °C
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!Read more
Time Flies When There’s Boat Jobs To Do
Aug 12–17, 2025 in Scotland ⋅ ⛅ 22 °C
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!Read more
TravelerOh my, just picturing poor you Trace, having to go up the mast - can you imagine back in the day, didn’t the young lads actually have to climb up, eeek, I’d have been besides myself, so a huge well done you 😱 take care both of you how lovely that Olly stepped in - hero of the day 😇 Happy & hopefully hazard free sunny sailing 🥰 xx
TravelerYesterday, we were back on the water and it was beautiful. Blog and pics to follow 😊
TravelerBlooming ‘eck! All that stress would have given me a heart attack, well done for sticking with it.
Craobh to Ardrossan: The Long Way Round
Aug 17–20, 2025 in Scotland ⋅ ☀️ 19 °C
Craobh Haven to Ardrossan: The Long Way Around
Our sailing journey continues, and it’s been anything but simple. This week, we faced a major decision: take the shortcut through the Crinan Canal or embark on the scenic, long way around. After a series of confusing and contradictory accounts, a single phone call made our choice for us.
We’ve found that the information about the Crinan Canal varies wildly depending on where you look—the official Scottish Canals website, the Crinan Canal’s own site, and the ever-present Facebook sailing forums all seemed to offer different advice. Our boat has a 2-meter draft in saltwater, which increases to about 2.1 meters in the less-dense freshwater of a canal. While some sailors had boasted of successful transits, others confessed to grounding. We placed a call to the canal’s sea lock, and the man on the other end was a straight shooter. He told us the maximum depth for transit was 2 meters and that we were simply too deep. When Tracey questioned him about other boats making it, he simply replied, “They lied, and then complained about grounding” before hanging up. Decision made! We were taking the long way around, and our new route would include stops at Port Ellen on Islay, Campbeltown, and finally, Ardrossan.
The Glassy Passage to Islay
We waved Olly off and headed for the fuel pontoon before leaving Craobh. It was a scorching day with no wind, and the water was like glass, providing a perfect mirror of the surrounding landscape. Of course, the wind was on the nose, so there would be no sailing today. Nick's passage plan, however, was a masterpiece of tidal mathematics. We zipped along at anywhere between 6-10 knots, cutting our journey time from eight hours down to a comfortable six and a half. The Corryvreckan at 9.5 knots would have been far more interesting had the day not been so calm.
It felt so good to be back on the water and moving again! The new scenery was stunning, and we're not sure words can ever do justice to the views. With the sun beating down and the sea flat calm, the water was so clear and blue that you could see deep into its depths. While moving through the Sound of Jura, we spotted giant jellyfish pulsating their way through the water. The hours passed quickly as we diligently logged our progress using our new Raymarine chartplotter. There’s a lot of learning to do with all this new tech!
As we passed Craighouse, a "pan pan" call came over the radio—a sailing yacht had suffered engine failure and was requesting a tow. We were just about to respond when another vessel radioed in, saying they could see the boat and were on their way to assist. We could only spot the sailboat in question, but as a RIB came zooming towards us, Nick pointed them in the right direction. We were happy to continue our journey knowing that the distressed vessel, Grace, was being towed to safety.
Soon, we began to spy the masts of several boats anchored along our route. Having left our new dinghy back down south, anchoring wasn't an option, so we had to push on to Port Ellen. As we approached the port, we started to spot the famous distilleries. Islay is world-renowned for its smoky, peaty whiskies, and we passed Ardbeg, Lagavulin, and Laphroaig—three of the most iconic distilleries on the island. After passing inside the small Isle of Texa, we followed the buoys into Port Ellen. The port is a busy hub for ferry services (from Kennacraig on the mainland) and commercial fishing. Fortunately, there was plenty of space for us in the small marina, which operates on a first-come, first-served basis as do many of the marinas in Scotland.
After tying up, Pepper was thrilled to have a run on the beautiful, golden sandy beach. It had been a while since she had played in the sand! We were thankful it was a one-night stop, as the port’s constant noise from refrigeration lorries left us with little sleep. The fee was a reasonable £27 for the night. Exhausted from the long day and the build up to coming into a new port, we skipped the local pub and tucked in early.
Rounding the Mull of Kintyre
The next day, with the weather still looking perfect, we left Port Ellen at midday to catch the best of the tide to take us to Campbeltown. The start of the journey was smooth, with our main excitement coming from updating the hourly log and trying to keep up with Vernon Kay's radio quiz. To get to Campbeltown, we had to round the Mull of Kintyre, a magnificent headland (the word 'mull' is from the Gaelic maol, meaning 'headland' or 'promontory'). Of course, Nick had Paul McCartney's classic song queued up on Spotify, claiming it simply had to be done!
The landscape began to change as we sailed onward. Purple heather sprawled over the hills replacing the vibrant greens we had been used to seeing. It was a pinch-yourself moment, realizing we were here on our own boat, doing all the things we had once only dreamed of. As we rounded the Mull, we had Paul McCartney's voice belting out across the water, with Nick miming along and pretending to play the bagpipes, it would have looked funny to anyone watching but I’m sure the locals are used to it. We'd been told we could stay close to the rocks for a shortcut, but playing it safe, we steered a bit further out. Big mistake. We spotted some overfalls—areas of turbulent, confused water caused by strong currents—and it got very lumpy. Pepper was not a fan! It only lasted a few minutes, but it felt like an eternity as Tracey tried to keep a terrified Pepper calm.
Back in calm waters, we noted the huge landmass of Ireland on our starboard side. The scenery changed again, this time from the purple hills to beaches nestled in dips, with cars visible along the roads. We passed Sanda Island and, through the mist, caught a glimpse of Ailsa Craig. This iconic isle, famous as the source of granite used for curling stones, felt like a homecoming for Tracey, who hadn't seen it since she left Scotland in 2011.
Ardrossan and the Promise of Dits
Emotion aside, we still had to get into Campbeltown, another new port to tick off the list. We rounded Davaar Island and followed the marker buoys into Campbeltown Loch. The harbour master was there to greet us, and our preferred starboard-side-to approach made for an easy docking. Campbeltown is steeped in history; it was once hailed as the "whisky capital of the world," boasting over 30 distilleries in the late 19th century, though only a handful remain today. It was also a major fishing and trading port. With only one night to stop, we knew we wouldn't be able to explore its history this time. A fair was in town, and the noise carried over the water. We prayed for a quiet night, but sadly, our prayers were not answered. The wind picked up, and we awoke to the boat being pinned against the pontoon, with endless banging and water slap against the stern.
The next morning, we debated whether to leave or wait it out. But as other boats began to empty out of the marina, we decided that if they could do it, so could we. Nick helped another boat leave before us, and then, with a perfectly executed spring off, we were underway. The weather was a far cry from the previous two days, and we put on our warm coats as we headed for Ardrossan. Nick decided to deviate from the planned route, heading towards Arran to find shelter from the conditions. It worked well, and although it was still bumpy, it wasn't too bad. Pepper, however, saw things differently, and it took about an hour to calm her down.
As we rounded Pladda, we spotted dolphins! They came and played in our bow, as if they knew we were feeling a little low and needed a boost. Our spirits lifted immediately. With Ailsa Craig standing proud to our right, we rounded the bottom of Arran and began our final approach to Ardrossan. Tracey spotted the familiar landmarks of Prestwick and Troon, and the small lighthouse on Lady Isle, sparking happy reflections from her previous time living here. The entrance to Ardrossan seemed to take forever to reach, but we were finally the first boat to arrive for the rally. We enjoyed a quiet night to ourselves, settling in and getting the electrics sorted. We're looking forward to the next four days and nights of meeting up with like-minded “loonies” (as Nick calls them) to swap stories and sailing tips. The promise of hot and sunny weather makes it an even better prospect!Read more
RNSA 90 Celebrations and Rally
Aug 20–27, 2025 in Scotland ⋅ ☀️ 17 °C
Ardrossan: A Celebration of Sail and a Comedy of Errors
The last few days have been spent in a fantastic whirlwind of maritime mayhem, surrounded by a wonderful group of people. We’ve all come together from various organizations—the Royal Navy Sailing Association (RNSA), the Royal Naval Volunteer Reserves Yacht Club (RNVRYC), and the Royal Highland Yacht Club (RHYC) amongst others, to celebrate the 90th anniversary of the RNSA. This incredible four-day event was the vision of one person, Paul Williamson, who used his connections to pull off something truly special.
We started the party in Ardrossan, with just the two of us on Tuesday night. By Wednesday, we were joined by other attendees, some arriving on their own boats, others already based here. Dave, a long-standing friend of Nick’s whom he hadn't seen in about 10 years, popped down for a catch-up. Then, our boat became even more populated with the arrival of June, a key figure in the RNVRYC. We’d just found out that her charter had fallen through and she was joining us on Halcyon Sea. After the initial shock (on Tracey's part) and embarrassment (on June's part) wore off, we all made the best of it. With our gear already consuming most of the boat, a cabin was out of the question, so we decided the saloon would become her temporary bedroom, with her bags tucked wherever we could fit them. It was a true test of our ability to coexist in a confined space!
The chaos continued as June went off on a plumbing errand to find a part for our broken tap, and Tracey went to get her nails done. We didn’t have much time to chat with the other boats that arrived, but that all changed on Thursday, the first official day of the celebrations.
The Red Carpet and the Birthday Cake
Our first official event was a lunch at Mar Hall, and a coach was set to ferry us there at 11 am. Time seemed to vanish. As June and Tracey were sitting on deck, Tracey still in her pyjamas, Nick arrived back with Pepper after their walk and announced we had just one hour to get ready. The three of us, in our small, confined space, miraculously managed to emerge looking glamorous and on time. Pepper came with us, her crate placed securely on the coach, and she was an absolute angel. She sat quietly during the lunch, not making a sound, and was rewarded with treats and a little photoshoot of her own.
The hotel was stunning. As we walked the red carpeted entrance, we were led to a terrace with a welcome drink, where we reconnected with old friends. Phil Warwick of the RNSA gave an inspiring speech about getting more people on the water and highlighted the need for clubs to work together. His words resonated with everyone, and the buzz in the room was electric. The lunch was exquisite, a rare treat of excellent food and service that had been missing from our lives for a while. After a few drinks back on board with Sue and Stuart, whom we had met at Loch Aline, we got out of our finery and turned in for the night, ready to do it all again the next day.
Friday was Tracey's birthday, and it began with opening cards in bed and Nick bringing morning drinks. The day's events were a much less formal lunch at the Inverkip Hotel. Once again, the food and service were excellent. We returned to the marina, where Nick produced a birthday cake. Tracey had to blow out the candles three times because Nick forgot to press the record button on the first two attempts. Later that night, Sue, June, and Tracey went to Asda for snacks for the pontoon party. It was a wonderful evening, giving us the first real opportunity to chat with the other people in the marina.
Saturday was a free day, with only an organized BBQ at Cecchini’s in the evening. It was a much quieter day spent socialising and chilling out before another dinner out. We had a relatively early night because we were all sailing to Tarbert on Sunday.
The weather had turned by Sunday morning, and it was looking a little bleak. It was windy and foggy at times—the sort of weather we might have chosen not to move in if we weren't part of a rally. While we unfurled the Genoa a couple of times, it did nothing for our speed, so we motored on. We can't not mention June's amazing strength, though. While Tracey often has to use the winch to handle the sails, June was able to pull the sheet out with minimal effort. At 73, her strength and agility are truly impressive! Halcyon Sea was the first sailboat to arrive in Tarbert, and soon after, the rest of the fleet began to trickle in. Several of them came over for pre-dinner drinks on our boat. The evening's entertainment was another meal out, with 29 of us booked in. To keep things interesting during dinner, Tracey challenged the younger members to find a celebrity look-alike for each diner, which provided plenty of laughs! Afterward, the party continued back on the boat. It wasn't a late night, but a few sore heads were proof of a good time. That evening, we also created a WhatsApp group so we could all keep in touch, a fantastic result of the rally's goal of bringing people together.
Monday arrived, and most of the boats were heading back to their home ports. Only Halcyon Sea and Pegasus stayed for an extra night. Tom from Pegasus kindly invited us over for afternoon tea. We spent a few civilized hours on his boat over tea and scones, getting to know him and Calum better before signing their guest book.
Finally, Tuesday arrived. Nick was feeling really unwell, but we had to get back to Ardrossan. We knew it was going to be a lumpy journey, as the wind was on the nose (shocking, we know!). We left Tarbert around 11 am, and Pepper shivered and shook all the way back to Ardrossan, a clear sign of her dislike for the conditions. We arrived back at 6 pm, and it wasn't long before we retired for the evening so Nick could rest. After a fantastic but exhausting week, it felt good to be back at our home away from home.Read more
Great write up Tracey. Thank you for your kind words. It was brilliant being with you guys and of course Pepper dog. Hope you got the car back ok and enjoyed the planned friends/family time. xx [June]
On the Road Again!
Aug 26–Sep 26, 2025 in Scotland ⋅ 🌬 17 °C
On the Road Again: A Month of Land-Based Chaos
Well, it's been almost a month since our last update, and the reason is simple: we haven't been on the water! Instead, our recent weeks have been a whirlwind of land-based adventures, a series of spontaneous decisions, and an unexpected run-in with a very unwelcome guest.
After our return from Tarbert, Nick was still feeling unwell, but we had an early start. He had to catch a train from Ardrossan to Dumbarton to collect our car, which had been in for a new clutch, brakes, and tyres. The dilemma was then whether to drive the long journey to Peterborough that day or wait until the next day. We chose the former, knowing it would be a marathon day but giving us a much-needed day of rest afterward. The purpose of this epic drive? Tracey's sister and brother-in-law, Teresa and Martin, were celebrating their 25th wedding anniversary, and Nick had offered to be the chef for their party.
The drive was long, and somewhere around Scotch Corner, Tracey’s throat started to feel sore. By the time we reached Peterborough, we were both feeling pretty rough. We crept into their house late at night, trying not to wake them, and after a couple of paracetamol and a cup of tea, we collapsed into bed, barely able to speak.
The next day, we were both in a bad way. The bug we had picked up was far more than a simple cold, and it put our travel plans into a state of frantic chaos. We had to push through, getting all of our washing done and prepping for the party. Friday arrived, and Nick, our heroic chef, powered through, prepping all the food and salads. Michelle and Richard were the first to arrive, and the evening was a blur of catching up.
Saturday arrived, the day of the party. Tracey's son, Scott, made it despite some train drama, and the food was incredible. The party was great, but the real highlight was when Tracey and Michelle, after copious amounts of wine, performed a hilarious Absolutely Fabulous spoof. As the evening got colder, everyone grabbed their deck chairs and moved into the garage, where the party continued late into the night. It had been a great day. We stayed for a few extra days, but before we left, Teresa started to feel unwell. A couple of days later, Martin did too. The culprit was confirmed: this was no ordinary cold—it was COVID!
A Return to the Past and an Impulsive Detour
After recovering on the boat for a few days in Scotland, we headed to the Ayr Air Show. Tracey felt a strange mix of nervousness and nostalgia as we met her old friend Laura, who was now the commodore of Prestwick Sailing Club. It had been years since she'd been there, and stepping back into her old haunt felt surreal. The air show itself was fabulous, with the Red Arrows putting on a thrilling display and Tracey’s favorite, the Lancaster flanked by a lone Spitfire, delivering a beautiful, poignant fly-by.
With the weather turning windy, we were stuck in the marina for a few weeks, both of us still not feeling 100%. Meanwhile, FSMBC was getting ready for its 175th anniversary. On a whim, Nick and Tracey decided to go. Tracey was making dinner as Nick frantically arranged a place for us to stay and a place for Pepper. Nigel and Sarah kindly let us have their bed, since they were staying on their boat. Our friends’ sense of humor was on full display when we arrived: on the bed were a towel, a box of tissues, a Durex, and a welcome note saying, "Have fun but don't make a mess." As Nick moved his pillow, he found a clean pair of Nigel’s boxers with a "Scratch and Sniff" sign. We love their sense of humor!
Pepper had a sleepover at Richard and Clare's with their dogs Daisy and Barney. It was a huge success, right up until Pepper decided she would start chasing Richard's socks and feet as he was trying to get ready in the morning. The anniversary party was a huge success, with various club shanty groups and bands providing entertainment. We were so glad we had made the drive. Before driving to Teresa and Martin's to break up the journey, we squeezed in a quick visit with Lauren, Matt, and our sweet granddaughter Elsie.
Back on the Water at Last!
After a long drive back, a few days of rest, and a final check on the weather, our time had finally come. Fast forward to September 25th, and we made it out of the harbour. The sun was glorious as we made our way across to the Isle of Arran and picked up a mooring buoy in Brodick Bay. It felt so incredibly good to be back on the water.
In a first for us, a submarine passed by behind us—Tracey had never seen one moving before! Another first was using our new-to-us dinghy to take a very anxious Pepper ashore. She was relieved to get out and have a run on the beach. We spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing, watching the ferry come and go, and simply soaking in the peace. Our plan is to head to the pub later, after cooking dinner on board. Today is everything we had hoped our trip would be, and we can’t wait to see what’s next.Read more
Our Lumpy Grand Finale
Sep 26–Oct 1, 2025 in Scotland ⋅ ☀️ 16 °C
Farewell, Summer: Our Lumpy Grand Finale
Our last day on the water for the season was a perfect illustration of boat life: a mix of gorgeous serenity, ridiculous comedy, and unexpected terror. It was a proper send-off before we tucked Halcyon Sea in for the winter!
After a lovely dinner on board, we relaunched the dinghy and headed ashore to find the famous pub we’d been told about. At the top of the slipway, we hit our first, hilarious issue. We were at low tide, and we had to walk the dinghy a considerable distance up the slippery ramp. The dinghy, with its hard floor, is heavy. The difficulty was compounded by the fact that Nick is 6’6” and Tracey is 5’4”. As Nick lifted his side, Tracey felt the entire weight on hers, forcing her to side-step up the ramp with the boat rubbing painfully against her knees. After a few agonizing meters of this human tug-of-war, Nick had the brilliant idea to take the engine up first, then the fuel tank, lightening the load. It was painful, exhausting, and confirmed one thing: a set of dinghy wheels is now mandatory!
Issue number two: the famous pub was closed. Defeated, we chose the alternative, the Douglas Hotel, where two drinks cost an eye-watering £15. We chugged them down quickly, realizing we wouldn't be staying long, and reversed the painful process of dragging the dinghy back down the slipway. Despite the struggle, it had been a great day: fantastic weather, a good run for Pepper, and a peaceful evening on the water. We were happily exhausted from the fresh air and turned in early.
The 2:30 AM Wake-Up Call
Issue number three hit at about half-past midnight. We were woken by the boat rocking. A change in wind from the east had built up some swell, and while it was manageable, Pepper was clearly unhappy. At 2:30 AM, the situation escalated. The swell was awful; the boat was rocking and rolling so violently that we were gripping the shelf beside our bed to stop ourselves from rolling into each other. Nick was ready to leave immediately, but leaving in the pitch-black felt reckless, especially with Ardrossan’s narrow marina entrance.
Knowing dawn was around 7 am, we agreed on a compromise: if we were still awake and the conditions were still bad at 5 am, we would make a break for it. We catnapped while Pepper just shook—she really detests lumpy sailing!
At 5 am, we were done. Exhausted and cold, we slipped the mooring buoy and headed out of Brodick Bay. The sky was clear, the stars were incredibly bright, and it was absolutely freezing. We were motoring, towing the dinghy, and despite our hopes that the journey would be a quick two hours, the wind direction meant we were hitting a soul-crushing headwind. Nick warned us we still had an hour and a half to go, and the shoreline of Ardrossan seemed to taunt us by refusing to get any closer.
Just as we were feeling utterly drained, our personal cheerleading squad arrived: a pod of porpoises and dolphins! They played around the bow for the best part of an hour, escorting us almost all the way back to Ardrossan. They always seem to turn up when our spirits need lifting! We were hitting wind speeds of 25-35 knots—far higher than the forecasted 10-16—so their support was much appreciated. Finally, after spotting the leading light into the marina, we also spied the three green lights permitting our entrance. Tracey, with freezing hands, struggled to untangle the lines she’d put away in a hurry, but at last, we were alongside. It was a massive relief! After Nick secured the lines, Tracey took a relieved Pepper for a walk on solid ground before we both crashed back into bed until 1:30 pm.
Season Finale: A Dream Realised
On September 30th, we finally made the big decision to take our sails off the boat and begin tucking her in for the winter. With our plans uncertain and a stormy forecast ahead, it felt like the right time to pause.
As the sails came down, we had a moment of profound reflection. There was a genuine sadness that our first cruising season was over, but it was completely overshadowed by elation at how much we’ve achieved since leaving Portsmouth on April 9th. It hasn't always been plain sailing—we’ve had difficult days, technical headaches, and an unexpected bout of COVID—but we did it. We realised a dream.
We’ve met wonderful people, joined a new sailing club, and, surprisingly, have seen more of our friends and family in the last six months than we would have if we were still working. And Pepper? She’s been amazing. Despite her dramatic aversion to anything lumpy, she bounces back the moment we hit a beach or come alongside a pontoon. She’s celebrated her first birthday and first "Gotcha Day" onboard!
This is definitely not the end of the journey—just a short pause. The almanacs and charts are already out on the saloon table as we begin planning for next season. Our original plan to spend a whole season exploring the West Coast of Scotland still holds true!
A huge thank you to everyone who has supported us, followed along with the blog, offered encouragement, and especially to those who have signed our guest book by visiting us on board—you are now part of our memories. And the biggest thanks to Teresa and Martin, who put up with our car on their drive, have often been a launderette and always welcome us with open arms and a warm bed and dinner.
We’ll be back with more adventures soon, but for now, the boat is asleep, and the planning is beginning!Read more
TravelerWell done all three of you…. Such an amazing achievement and turning dreams into reality. Season one finished season two awaits….. you need to put this on Netflix 😂😂😂….. should you wish to include us on your winter break, your room awaits!!! Safe travels in whatever direction you take….. here’s hoping you celebrate with a Bacardi or three…. Love to you both and Pepper… xx
TravelerSuch lovely words, thank you and we will be sure to see you in the autumn. We will definitely be celebrating with a Bacardi or two xx
TravelerLoved 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
TravelerIt was great meeting you guys too and putting faces to whom we are following. Mail has all been posted. We had a nightmare going through Neptunes’s Staircase but you’ll see that next. Currently enjoying the sun in Loch Aline ☀️🕶️