The fleshpots of Tobermory beckoned so, after the usual bout of “gardening” that accompanies most up-anchoring procedures (weed and kelp), we had a splendid beat around the now familiar Ardnamurchan Point in 15-20kt SW air. The forecast strong winds of the ensuing day were not really felt in Tobermory at all but larger boats related stories of 4m seas just off Mull so we were glad of the snug haven for a sojourn. We also met a lovely French couple in their motor boat doing extended cruising, having “taken in the mainsail for the final time”. We enjoyed drinks with the young crew of “Shadowfax”, a Seastream 43 identical to “Yindee Plus” owned by good friends Chris and Sue.
Holding a favourable current is a vexxed issue. True, one makes excellent progress in the direction of the tide. But as soon as this is compounded by:
Opposing wind
Narrow channels
Shallows and reefs
Crossing ferries
Other boats in general
Pissing down rain and purr visibility
All of the above
then the equation really starts to change. Thus as we left the Sound of Mull and entered the Firth of Lorn at 9-10kts SOG, poor Diomedea was confronted with many of these factors, especially the 25 kts of headwinds. Suddenly high, steep, breaking seas were everywhere and forward progress became remarkably unpleasant. Nonetheless, we were able to lay across to the SE and anchor in the delightful Puilladohbrain bay near the entrance to Clachan Sound.
The examiner showed up the next day with the very stimulating trip through the 150 metre wide and 1 mile long Cuan Sound. The pilot, in describing spring tidal flows up to 7 kts, states: “No matter the state of tide the brief passage is always full of interest.” With the engine going at 2800rpm to maintain steerage we rocketed in through whirlpools and standing waves, passing under low power lines, and just behind a small ferry before sluicing around Cleit Rock (I think it is a Gaelic name, not a typo) barely in control of Diomedea. There were quite visible drops in the sea levels. After this stint of white-water kayaking, our pulses came down and we were spat out into the next sound before taking a meandering route to the pleasant Craobh (pron. Croove) marina.