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So we put in three reefs, poked out our noses cautiously and had a very sedate run out, making 6 knots with two scraps of sail towards the Crowlins. Unfortunately, the wind was howling through the anchorage. It's a beautiful place, peaceful even in the gale, with a seal popping his sleek head up to check us out. But we couldn't get the anchor to hold, so we jilled about in the entrance for one and a half hours, trying to get the storm jib set.
This involved an intrepid Ian standing up on the pulpit to reach the jib-sheets as the boat plunged in the waves We decided afterwards that it would have been better to fly it simply from its three corners, rather than try to rig loops of rope around the furled up genoa. They just snagged and got stuck, and as the top one passed out of reach, we looked at each other and decided it wasn't worth having it stuck up there and no way of getting it down. So we hoofed it over to the Skye bridge under engine and pretty bumpy it was too for a while, slamming into a gale. It even rained a bit (how dare it!). But our spirits weren't dulled. We really had the calmest, most easy-going and cheerful, and yet effective and willing crew I think I've experienced. We were so grateful, for example, that Mel and Jim thought about making sandwiches before we left. Talk about well- trained. It's always so astonishing that total strangers can just get along and operate the boat and end up really good friends. We all know this- but it's still a remarkable thing. We knew Sapphire had decided it was too rough to attempt Kyle Rhea today, and had holed up in Kyleakin, just inside the bridge. I'd spent a long time scouring the pilot books for alternative places to go, but there wasn't a lot that seemed suitable, and nothing for a fair long way if we did go through. And there would be no coming back against the tide if we got through and found a Gale 9 screaming in our faces from the south east. So we went and joined the others. It really wasn't all that sheltered, and the tiny pontoon was already very full; and the easterly gale was pretty much blowing us straight in, so it's not surprising that, after a short period of intense activity, we had a little scrape as we tied up. Just a little one. Really. We sighed with relief to be tucked up safe and walked along the old pier to watch the waves breaking on our bow as they rushed up Loch Alsh from the east. We took a walk to the castle (is there always a castle?). This one belonged to Saucy Mary, a sort of 15th century Nordic-type Brunnhilde who exacted tolls from unsuspecting mariners passing through the channel in days of yore. A bar in the village by the same name promised to lay on live music later, after our Uncle Ben's Sweet and Sour Chicken. Home More General Stories Search News Story Submissions Comments (0)No comments. |
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