Adrift in Caledonia
Returning to my Highland homeland waters for a summer cruise was challenging – both for the weather and the emotions.
A little nostalgia and plenty of history shaped a cruise around Scotland’s Isle of Skye.
Northerly winds dictated the route of our week’s cruise around the Inner Hebrides, so with full sail on Aisling – our Contessa 32 – we headed south along the rockstrewn coasts of Skye. Atlantic gales bring powerful seas and winds to this west-facing coast of Scotland so cruising sailors have to be hardy and cautious – which explains why there are so few.
There are many variables about west coast sailing but there is one constant: rain. Often arriving horizontally but then again often innocuously persistent and even pleasantly warm thanks to the Gulf Stream. Our cruise brought all the classic weather ingredients – two gales, heavy rain, stunningly clear sunshine and, thankfully, only neap tides.
“You can tell it’s very windy because the rubber dinghy flies behind the boat,” observed my chum Ronan who’s been flying his dinghy off Aisling’s stern for 15 years. She is reputedly one of the few yachts to finish the disastrous ‘79 Fastnet Race that drowned 21 sailors and sunk 23 boats.
Her main features are a thick, keel-stepped mast, deep semi-long keel and a near-50% ballast ratio – a well-equipped vessel for the dreaded Minch, one of the stormiest waterways in Europe that lies between the Inner and Outer Hebrides. As a child I’d crossed it on family holidays and watched in amusement as passengers’ hats flew off from the Calmac ferry, fluttering among the gannets that streaked past in the stiff breeze.
As we approached the south coast of Skye we tucked in a reef – just in case. Passing the Macdonald stronghold at Armadale Castle (now the famous Clan Donald Cultural Centre), we discussed the two rival clans that ran Skye, the Macdonalds and the Maccleods. They often crossed claymores once the Vikings had retreated.
Descended from them, the early Macdonalds were part of the famous Lord of the Isles dynasty that ruled after the Vikings left in the 13th century. Skye played many parts in history, including being the home of Flora Macdonald who took the defeated Prince Charles Edward Stuart over to the island after the English defeated Scotland’s best at Culloden in 1746.
Flora and the largely Highland army were to suffer more afterwards in what became the dismantling of Highland culture and the clan system.
The wearing of the plaid was banned, as was the playing of the pipes. But worst of all was the outlawing of our language, the Gaelic. So despite growing up in a Gaelic-speaking household I was not encouraged to speak it.
RING OF BRIGHT WATER
History lies heavily in the Highlands but there is plenty of it to choose from, as we’d found out at our first anchorage. Sailing into the mainland bay of Sandaig we visited the former home of Ring of Bright Water author Gavin Maxwell. The colourful aristocrat had leased a house here and used the burn for his beloved otters. Weirdly, before his ‘epiphany-to-wildlife-saviour’ he’d decimated the local basking shark population – it never recovered.
Looking west from Sandaig the stupendous views encompassed a horizon filled with islands – the Small Isles. Shelter is never far on the west coast, thanks to the large majority of Scotland’s nearly 800 islands being on this seaboard.
The Stornoway Coastguard VHF forecast warned of westerly gales so we headed for an anchorage to ride them out. It lay on the low-lying island of Canna, described in the Clyde Cruising Club’s Sailing Directions as an excellent anchorage and sheltered from all directions.
Obscuring it were the brooding mountains of Rhum and dotted around its shores were fish farms; one of the modern success stories of this region. Looking east, the towering peaks of the Cuillins, some of the highest mountains on the west coast, jutted out from Skye.
Reefing the big genoa as we rounded the north point of Rhum we saw another reminder of the weather – the 2011 wreck of a large French stern trawler – the Jack Abry II – she seemed to be berthed against the high cliffs.
The green and verdant Canna lay low and its wide bay looked welcoming as we glided in. A grey seal swam over and snorted at us while a flock of geese honked overhead. Also welcoming were the plentiful, government-supplied moorings.
Stillness descended as we sat in the cockpit, celebrating with a dram from Skye’s Talisker distillery. I studied the few buildings: the nearby small stone church, the farm steading, and on the smaller island of Sanday a grand neo-romanesque church. This was now the archives for Gaelic writing, established by the benevolent last owner, John Lorne Campbell and his American wife Margaret Fay Shaw.
An accomplished photographer, his wife has left 1,000 negative photos of life in the west Highlands. These are being digitised and will complement the extensive written archives