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April 20, 2005 Everybody else, of course, took the day off and got to Isle of Skye Yacht Charters by mid afternoon. I had to do Mental Arithmetic and Map Work and Finishing Off, not to mention Corrections until 12.15. So Steve Peacock (who had got off the plane from Houston at 11-ish) and I could already see a sail forging across the Sound of Sleat towards the mainland as we snaked our way down the coast to Armadale. That was the other boat- bigger than us, an Oceanis 43, which despite consistently setting twice as much sail as ourselves, in a Bavaria 36, didn't seem to go that much faster. So we got aboard and quickly followed them across the white strewn sea to Knoydart. It was a bit rolly in the bay, and anyway, when you've only got three days you want to get going straight away. It was a fine evening, if breezy, and the sun was shining in a staggeringly theatrical way on a snowy peak far away. We were heading for the remotest pub in Britain- The Old Forge at Inverie. There is a road, but it doesn't really go anywhere. You can only get there by boat. Apart from the skipper, Ian, and myself, who had sailed together once before, nobody in the crew knew anyone else. Well, Mel and Jim knew each other quite well, of course. And actually, when you've spent six hours in the car driving over, you have made a start all right, strike that. Home More General Stories Search News Story Submissions Comments (0)No comments. |
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