(April 2022)
We had booked a week off work to do the Day Skipper Practical course. It was a very exciting moment as, although we’d had many days on a boat over the past few months, the boat had never been floating.
Our first evening was a brief affair, we met the other people doing the course as well as our instructor, Amy, – a young woman in her mid-twenties. After having our safety talk and putting away our luggage we were left to our own devices to get dinner and settle in.
After a terrible night, unable to rest due to being so cold, I got up feeling as though I hadn’t slept at all. Not a great start. As the day’s events unfolded I luckily managed to leave my tiredness behind. The morning was spent preparing the vessel, checking the equipment on board and having a safety tour of the deck (it had been too dark the night before). Then around midday, just as we were preparing to go, the throttle broke. Now it would go only forwards, no reverse! While we waited for it to be repaired we began some pilotage planning (a brief guide of how to safely navigate to a destination while near the shore), the first time we’d put our theory skills into practice. An hour or so later, we were fed, the throttle was replaced and we were on the way!
In typical fashion whenever Miki and I go sailing there was no wind and so we had to spend a good portion of the afternoon motoring. This was disappointing from a sailing experience perspective but gave us chance to practise reefing (changing the size of the mainsail) and giving navigation instructions while on route. Our instructor covered some other useful info such as the easiest way to remember the process of raising the mainsail. By the end of the day, we were both feeling more confident back on board, and we’d been given the task of drawing up a pilotage plan to enter our first marina, Tarbert, at night. It was the first time we were ending the day in a different marina than we’d started, and it was a glorious feeling.
I awoke the next morning to appreciate new, peaceful, surroundings. Beautiful buildings surrounded the marina in a horseshoe shape, the landscape new and exciting to the eyes, and the end of a beautiful sunrise filled the sky.
The Day Skipper Practical course is largely focused on different boat handling manoeuvres and so we began that morning in preparation for mooring practice. Then, as Amy noticed the wind was beginning to come in she changed our plans, aiming to get us out to enjoy some sailing in what was to be a largely windless week. One of the most important lessons of sailing: be prepared to change plans.
Amy’s hunch was right and we enjoyed a wonderful morning of sailing, tacking our way back towards the Isle of Bute. They were light but consistent winds for a good few hours. We shared the water with a handful of other sailboats and a couple of fishing vessels. Distant islands sat on the horizon, grey outlines shrouded in mist. Their colours slowly came to life as we neared.
Winds died down at lunchtime, allowing us to relax and enjoy our meal on a more horizontal plane, moving along at barely 3 kts (something similar to 3 mph) for a couple of hours.
For our second night, we wouldn’t be staying in a marina. Instead, we would be hooking up to a mooring buoy (basically like a permanent secure anchorage point) at the Kames Hotel. A hotel which sits near the end of a claw-like shape of land, attached to the mainland but not very accessible via road. The northwest side of the Isle of Bute lay just opposite. It soon transpired that we were to be the only floating guests that night. We had the whole body of water to ourselves.
One of the men on board had signed up to do the Competent Crew course and as part of this, he had to show he could competently row a boat. This meant pumping up the dinghy. As all of this effort was being made, it seemed only right that we would row to the shore and test out the hotel bar. It took two trips each way as the dinghy couldn’t hold six people in one go. I made a valiant attempt at rowing on my journey to shore, though I’d apparently forgotten how and so took a rather wayward route, close to sending us around in circles! It was an amazing night, showing Miki and me what could be possible once our boat was floating once more.
A gentle rocking sent me off to sleep that night. My mind was full of eagerness at waking the following day without being attached to the land.
The next morning we woke up to serene surroundings at the mooring buoy. Almost glassy, calm waters were stretching in either direction, moving gently as though it were a stream of ink. An amazing sight to behold, but in terms of sailing, useless. If we were to continue with our journey we had no choice but to motor.
After the usual preparations, we were on our way. The other two day skippers were to be doing the passage and pilotage plans for that day, so there was nothing to do but enjoy the views.
We glided to the top of Bute, past a small loch to the north and through what are known as Burnt Islands – three small uninhabited islands that lay at the top of the Kyles of Bute. We’d been here previously and had learnt the importance of choosing the right route so as not to risk running aground! As we travelled through I felt some pleasure at being able to note the direction of the tides. Looking behind a lateral mark (buoy) to see the stream, knowing this would tell me which way the tide was flowing; and watching a leaf on the water certain that, without wind, it was moving with the tide.
A few hours later we pulled into Port Bannatyne, a marina on the eastern side of Bute. Where Tarbert Marina had been almost hidden away amongst the hills, Port Bannatyne was in clear view as we neared. Even from a distance, it was clear this was yet another beautiful location. Woodland and green fields sprawled out to our right, while the small town of Port Bannatyne spread along the shore to the left, grand housing seemed to lay right at the water’s edge. There was a good scattering of mooring buoys just outside the marina, and we spent our afternoon taking turns to rehearse our approach. All did quite well, but we were all more keen to try the real challenge – mooring in a marina.
The marina was much smaller than Largs and more remote. There was no concern about street noise here. The pontoons were lit at night by a line of blue lights on either side, a little like the walkway on a starship. Exhausted after another full day on the water and an evening spent passage planning we were in bed at 10 pm. Miki and I were discovering planning in two seemed to take double the time due to the discussions about each decision we may take!
On our fourth day on board, we left the island behind and headed back towards the mainland. Further up the coast from Largs, our planned destination was Inverkip. It was yet another tranquil day on the water, and incredible though it was, I felt some disappointment at a lack of stronger winds. We’d had experience in light winds before, and I’d been hoping to experience some harsher weather, while we were in the hands of a capable, accomplished, skipper.
As we moved into the larger channel we set our heading towards Inverkip, northward bound. Now back within range of the major shipping lane which takes cargo to Glasgow, increased alertness was necessary to stay out of the way of any larger ships we may encounter (or more accurately, which we hoped not to encounter). With a pause along the way for man overboard drills, we arrived at Inverkip early evening.
Our final night on board and camaraderie had built between us. One of the guys returned from the shop with a few beers. We drank and feasted together, revelling in the successes and adventures of the week just past. Emotions were high. Each of us was aware that this endeavour was drawing to an end.
The fifth and final day on board was a journey due south. Faced with the most windless day of the week there was nothing to do but motor. In all her years on these waters, our instructor claimed she’d never seen the Firth as still as it was that day. Marvellous, yet frustrating. After a short stop at Great Cumbrae, the island just across the water from Largs, giving an opportunity to anchor and to have lunch, we turned bow to the east and headed back to where we had begun.
Being the first multi-day trip Miki and I had ever been on, it was a momentous week for us. We not only improved our sailing knowledge and confidence, but we’d also been able to experience different marinas and vistas after so many months in Largs. Though there had been a continual theme of rolling hills; overcast days and misty mornings; greens, greys and browns; lochs and firths heading here and there; it was far from becoming tedious. I felt downcast that it was coming to an end, yet also hopeful. The day that Miki and I could do that alone felt as though it were creeping into sight.
