Now that we were in the water, we were of course immediately impatient to be on the road. Or on the sea, to be more precise. If ten long months in the boatyard weren’t enough to spur us on, the marina fees that were the same price as the flat we’d rented in Manchester definitely were!
Unfortunately, and what should really, by this point, have been ‘unsurprisingly’ things weren’t all smooth sailing (pun intended).
Although the engine had started without issue the day we had splashed, the next time we tested it – just before we planned our first trip – it didn’t work. Our plan nicely scuppered, and the pounds signs now lining up neatly as we thought of the additional time in Largs Marina, barely recovered emotions quickly became fraught once more.
Things were also a little more challenging as we were no longer staying in Largs. We were instead a day’s drive away staying with my mum and stepdad in Cumbria, who were graciously putting us up while we finished the final elements of the refit. I’d called an engineer at Largs Marina, who told us we could be waiting weeks for someone to come and look at the engine due to the sailing season being about to begin. Though we knew some basic maintenance ourselves, we felt that for our first trips out alone at sea we would prefer an expert to give us the nod of approval before we headed out, and so we began to mentally prepare for the additional wait.
Fast forward a week and our engine was functioning once more. Miki had gone up to the boat earlier in the week to see what he could do, and with the call from him that things were up and running, I hot-footed it to the train station after work so we could finally get our first sail in the bag!
So there we were, boat ready, final tips from friends given, boat fuelled, and we were off! Or so we thought… The Isle of Arran had finally been in sight. There were thoughts and dreams of reaching her, hooking up at a mooring buoy for the night (due to the electric windlass on our anchor not functioning) and returning to Largs the following day. What actually happened was much less exciting.
As we slowly made our way from the marina, bow pointed towards the safe water mark which indicated the water was deep enough to safely head off in any direction, we realised our on-board depth reader was being rather less indicative of the amount of water beneath our hull. In fact, it was flipping useless. Being as this is just about the most important piece of technology to have on your vessel, this was a rather inconvenient point to realise it was faulty – now we were out in the water, bow pointed briefly, and hopefully, towards the open sea. We quickly reached the conclusion that attempting to go into any unknown waters without the depth reader functioning could result in a bit of a disaster. And as attempts by both of us to fix the reader failed, we could do nothing but bob around the local area where we were sure of the depth.
The rollercoaster of emotions rallied high as the gargantuan pile of hopes, stresses, expectations, disappointments, glories and defeats ran through us both. What was supposed to have been the victorious moment at sea was, in comparison to our imaginations, a rather deflating experience. We headed back into Largs a few hours later feeling far from joyous.
Despite our disappointment, it is easy to see now, looking back, how magnificent that moment was. Whether we’d made it a few metres or a few miles – two people who hadn’t even stepped foot on a sailboat one year prior to this moment were now out on the water alone, and they successfully exited and entered the marina without crashing into anyone else!
We headed back to Cumbria once more, for some time to regroup and determine our next move. Then a week later travelled up to Largs by train, this time with bags packed and a final bout of resolve in our hearts. The depth reader was now fixed, and we’d made the decision to take our boat from Largs to Maryport Marina, alone.
We’d made the decision to make the trip alone after some advice and encouragement from one of our skipper friends. It was exciting to feel that, finally, all of the knowledge we’d gained during our theory course was to come to use. New charts were laid out on the table in the saloon and the planning could begin. The Isle of Arran, so long the feature of our desires, the big goal across the water from our standing point upon the pontoon, was now becoming an initial passing point for a much bigger goal. Wanting to move to a cheaper marina, plus hoping to move the boat closer to our temporary new residence, and so we were to head to Maryport Marina – a point on the west coast of England, not far from the Scottish border. A good few hours drive by car, a couple of days sail for a skipper experienced with night sails and strong, varied tides. For us, a four-day trip, with several stopping points along the way.
