Ship-shape and fancy free once more SAFE HAVENS
Robin McKelvie and his family try their first post-lockdown cruise, visiting the wild west coast of Scotland
It’s with barely contained excitement, and a fair amount of nervousness, that I find myself aboard Red Moon as she tentatively ekes out of Dunstaffnage Marina bound for the Hebrides. Throughout the pandemic, I’ve experienced the industry’s troubles first-hand, with two Scottish voyages and a French cruise cancelled. If you’re a fan of cruising, you may have had plans disrupted too.
As we meet on the west coast, marina skipper Scott Atkinson explains that, as a small ship run by a husband and wife team, taking a maximum of four passengers from one family, Red Moon can now sail again. There is that typically Hebridean smile as a welcome, but in the new Covid-19 normal there are no handshakes and an instant dousing of hand gel.
I’m with my wife Jenny and two wee girls, 12-year-old Tara and nineyear-old Emma, all experienced sailors, but we all have non-nautical knots in our stomachs leaving the safe harbour of our lockdown bubble to forge into the great blue yonder.
Scott works quickly with his wife and co-owner Mary Waller (she is mate and chef too) to reassure us. Alongside the usual safety briefing, he explains they won’t be dining with us; our bathroom will be cleaned daily, but not our cabins; there will be physical distancing; and gel is available throughout the ship. Using gel is a must with the tender. It is new territory for Scott and Mary as well, but we have every confidence in them.
There is distraction too as the familiar hum of the Gardner engine kicks in and I smell the salty tang in the air at the bow of this old-school dame. Red Moon has been on the seas since 1945, built as an Admiralty vessel. She may have lost a machine gun over the years and gained a sail, but she feels steady.
We are feeling more steady too as we moor up. On the crossing to the Isle of Lismore, the girls have started to forget about Covid-19 as dad races to the stern to tell them he has spotted porpoises. They miss these most flighty of marine visitors, but are soon rewarded with a pod of bottlenose dolphins skipping by. As we ease into our overnight mooring off the uninhabited southwestern corner of Lismore, we are welcomed by a juvenile sea eagle circling in languorous loops overhead. It looks bigger, better and brighter than I remember.
My stomach is soon back in gear. A platter of plump Hebridean langoustines and pink salmon fillets are accompanied by coffee roasted on Skye and a craft beer from Arran. Lismore puts on a show as we saunter ashore for sunset, one of those epic smouldering Hebridean sunsets where it refuses to get properly dark and just teases with fiery pinks and burning oranges.
As a Scot I am very aware, though, of fears among some island communities about visitors (maritime or otherwise) importing the virus – which is understandable, given that the Western Isles, for example, are the only NHS board in Scotland with zero deaths to date. Much as I love forging around Ardnamurchan into the Sea of the Hebrides proper, we contend ourselves with hugging the mainland using the ship as an isolated cocoon in which we can sensitively explore.
The next morning, after a breakfast of Scottish kippers while a playful otter splashes outside, our less conventional route brings the joy of Bernera, a new island for me. We bash ashore by tender and ramble with the ghost of St Columba, who once preached here under a giant yew.
We struggle up to the highest point on vague sheep trails. A sprinkling of other isles open up, reminding me how the Hebrides offer almost endless opportunities, while a pair of diving great skuas (known as bonxies in these parts) protect their nests, serving to remind us that man very much plays second fiddle to nature in this part of the world. It has been that way since long before Covid-19 forced many of us to take more notice of the flora and fauna swirling around us.
The afternoon is spent under sail – Red Moon is a versatile ship. It’s comfortable, with a large double cabin and two cosy singles. The decor is as much New England as Old Scotland, with tartan twee reined in and white wood panelling bringing out the bestin the tastefully curated artistic depictions of
Scotland. The wheelhouse this year offers a comfy new seating area with 180-degree views. We dine in the spacious galley, with the main nod to Covid-19 being asked not to touch anything on the side where Mary cooks. Outside, the aft seating tempts, with spots to watch for dolphins and porpoises, basking sharks and whales too, with even orcas patrolling these rich waters.
We’re only aboard for three nights, testing the waters for longer voyages. A highlight is striking Castle Stalker, which we can get much closer to than larger vessels can. We also venture ashore to the small village of Port Appin. We’re welcomed like old friends at The Lighthouse, a craft shop and gallery that showcases the work of local artists.
As the trip draws to a close we spend a night in a new anchorage – Loch a’ Choire on the wild and wildly beautiful Morvern Peninsula. It’s a stunner, whose deep corries and rugged slopes evoke the eastern flanks of Skye as they forge up towards mist-shrouded peaks rarely touched by climbers. This is remote country. We wander ashore in a carefree way, chancing across red deer and golden eagles but not a single soul with whom we have to negotiate awkward physical distancing.
Leaving Dunstaffnage Marina we felt like pioneers, perhaps even uneasy guinea pigs. These have been tough times for the cruise industry, but there are delicious green shoots; trust me, I’ve just tasted them.
Red Moon has four-night cruises available in 2020, costing from £4,800 for four guests including all meals, drinks and excursions. The vessel is currently available for single family use only (07768 101667; redmooncruises.co.uk)