ROUNDING CAPE WRATH
The risk of strong tides, savage overfalls and gale force winds means timing is essential when sailing from Stromness to Tarbert
Savage overfalls, strong tides and violent winds make this a passage to be reckoned with
How do you measure sailing experience?
For most of us it will be harbours visited and miles logged. But there’s more to it than just numbers; certain stretches of water pose unique challenges and their reputations hold a strange power in the minds of all who set sail.
Completing one of these passages is an initiation, a rite of passage, that engenders the respect of others and a new self-confidence. With a nod to the 1980s YM book, Classic Passages, the Royal Cruising Club Pilotage Foundation and Imray have collated some of the milestone passages through and around British waters that should be on every cruising sailor’s to-do list. So how many have you done? This article is from the series Rites of Passage, commissioned by Yachting Monthly, the Royal Cruising Club Pilotage Foundation and Imray, which will be available as a book in 2020.
‘A sunny place for shady people’ is how Somerset Maugham once described Monaco. Orkney is the opposite; a shady place for sunny people. Orcadians are some of the friendliest folk you will encounter, and we had been enjoying their warm hospitality to the tunes of many a fiddle band in the Folk Music Festival, washed down with a dram or two of Highland Park. We had also visited the amazing 5,000-year-old Skara Brae Neolithic settlement and the museum dedicated to North West Passage explorer John Rae. It’s difficult to leave Orkney as it has a magnetic pull, but now it was time to set sail for the Western Isles, via Cape Wrath.
Our yacht was our 1960 designed, Viking manufactured, 33ft Hallberg Mistral, Mikara, a strongly built composite with wooden superstructure on a GRP hull. I was sailing her with my wife Wendy. The two of us have sailed many miles in this boat but rounding Cape Wrath still brought a frisson of foreboding. The very name, Cape Wrath, conjures up images of Norse gods hurling thunderbolts at ill-prepared yachtsmen. The name is indeed Norse but derives from the word ‘hvarf’ meaning simply ‘turning point’. Thankfully, treated with respect it proved to be free of thunderbolts, even in unhelpful weather.
In an ideal world we’d have waited for a soldier’s wind which would allow a direct passage of about 112 miles from Orkney to Stornoway on Lewis; achievable in 24 hours, and in summer mostly in daylight. But diaries dictated timing and we might have waited forever. The predominant wind is the WSW which has blown over 2,000 Atlantic miles to get there, so even in the summer months there’s a 50% chance of Force 5 or above and the likelihood of a gale. Our forecast was WSW Force 5-6, bang on the nose.
We were two days short of neaps but, even so, Orcadian tides still sluice between islands at a fearsome rate. We cast off from Stromness to time our passage through the Sound of Hoy at the last of
Our zig-zag plot looked like a goat track up a precipitous mountain as we tacked to and fro
the ebb, thereby avoiding the overfalls which are savage with wind against tide. The price for this was starting our voyage with a morale-threatening foul tide, but a bacon roll soon overcame that.
Our zig-zag plot looked like a goat track up a precipitous mountain as we tacked to and fro. Our target was Loch Eriboll, offering a selection of sheltered anchorages and only 15 miles from Cape Wrath, so perfect for timing the turn to avoid thunderbolts. Sadly, that was not to be. Our slow beating progress meant we had either to press on through the night or settle for something nearer. The only practical choice was Kyle of Tongue. The Clyde Cruising Club Sailing Directions describe a snug anchorage at Eilean nan Ron but by the time we reached the island near midnight it was pitch dark. I wouldn’t recommend weaving through the rocks in the narrow entrance without full use of Mk I Eyeball, so we anchored in the lee of the island in 15m. The rule in Scotland, to carry at least 60m of chain, is for good reason. The following morning we could see into the recommended anchorage – ideal for next time! Our next hurdle was still Cape Wrath. Except in calm conditions the advice is to keep well offshore. The WSW wind and tide set us a safe 6 miles north of the cape and our passage was lumpy but manageable. Then, having rounded the cape, we fully expected to turn downhill to enjoy a beam reach. No chance! Although we hadn’t been struck by thunderbolts, we had clearly incurred some wrath as the wind backed to SW just as we altered course. More zig-zag goat tracks under two reefs!
TRUE WILDERNESS
The sailing directions describe some 31 anchorages between Cape Wrath and Loch Inver, so one could cheerfully linger in just this area. They quote Ronald Faux who wrote in The West: A Sailing Companion to the West Coast of Scotland: Gigha to Cape Wrath (second hand copies available online) ‘This coastline has been described as the last true wilderness in Europe, [...] an emptiness filled with the sound and colour of the sea and hills, the wild din of black-backs and guillemots, razor bills and Arctic terns, and the eternal rhythm of the ocean.’ Sadly, we needed modern refinement in the shape of gas. Having spent most of the season in Norway where fittings are different, and because the only Calor gas in Orkney is on a distant industrial estate, we had less than a sniff left. We had been cooking on our wonderful Cobb barbecue until an unfortunate crew
Although we hadn’t been struck by thunderbolts, we had clearly incurred some wrath as the wind backed to SW just as we altered course
communications confusion led to the ocean depths becoming host to the critical part. So, our destination was Loch Inver, where gas could be found in a fishing harbour with a dramatic backdrop of the sugar loaf mountain Suilven. On arrival, we decided against a climb of Suilven and instead opted for the easier reward of sipping its inspirational ale as our reward for having bagged our cape.
One of the joys of the west coast is changeable weather. It can be blowing a hooley with sheeting rain one day then be gentle breezes and sunshine the next. So it was, and the following day we enjoyed a lovely sail south in a NNW Force 4 to Loch Ewe, famous as an assembly point for the Second World War Arctic convoys. Loch Ewe also boasts a beautiful anchorage adjacent to the gardens of Inverewe House. Although it’s 7 miles to the head of the loch it’s worthwhile, particularly if your mate is a keen gardener!
From gardening to high fashion; our final destination was East Loch Tarbert on Harris to buy tweed. The distinguishing feature of Harris Tweed is that, without even a nod towards improving productivity, it must be made in the weaver’s private home using a traditional loom. This makes it rare. Indeed, this rarity leaves all other tweeds in the shade. Aside from this it is an excellent candidate for standing a watch in a gale. So, with this in mind, we beat out of Loch Ewe and then enjoyed a lovely reach to the Shiant Islands, where we paused to watch puffins before continuing on to the stunning scenery of Tarbert.
We’d completed a challenging rounding of Cape Wrath and that in itself felt something of an achievement. But we had also experienced the culture and warmth of Orkney, felt the rhythm of the ocean, seen the changing faces of the Atlantic weather against towering coastal backdrops, and witnessed sunsets to make Turner rise again. Now the Western Isles lay at our doorstep. Life doesn’t get much better.