Thursday 18th May, 2006
Anchorage: Camas Tauth
Position: 56°20.300 N 006°17.300 W
Distance surveyed 38nm

Before starting today’s log, I need to mention the excitement from the previous night occurring after the log was completed.
At 21:00, a look outside of the cabin window led to the question “where’s that boat that was anchored next to us half an hour ago?”. A moment’s panic later and we spotted the boat drifting over to rocks several hundred metres away. The crew and volunteers sprung into action and launched the tender (like a formula 1 pit stop crew) and Duncan and Rob sped to the drifting boat to alert the unsuspecting crew. It transpired that the Irish crew had ‘popped off’ to the pub for a quick one.
This led to a frantic internet search for the pub’s phone number, and contact was made with the Irish crew.
One look at the figures scurrying across the opposite bank confirmed that the crew had already been informed of their plight as we watched four panicking Irishmen negotiate the muddy terrain to reach their tender.
Final outcome was a happy ending; the other crew saved their boat in time; we all relaxed back into our happy group to discuss how pleased we were before retiring to our comfy little bunks, happy and contented at the exciting climax to the day.

That should have been that, but with the wind howling, sleep was difficult, especially for people like me with a slightly nervous disposition. The crew, woken by the wind, had a quick look outside, which gave them some serious concern. There seemed to be yachts drifting about all over the place, seemingly with their anchors still down. One was heading for us, another seemed to be attempting a rescue, taking some damage itself on the rocks in the process. Once again captain Duncan leapt into action like a comic book superhero, with Susie his girl wonder at his side in our tender. The stricken yacht had no power, its anchor chain caught, perhaps round the prop. On deck Rob organised his willing helpers in the driving rain as Mike’s T shirt trebled its weight with water in the first five minutes, while Percy was struggling with cold feet (he reverted to traditional Indian attire – open toe sandals and bare feet), being unprepared for the cold wet Hebridean conditions.

In the face of this emergency Sam and Emi bravely managed to sleep through the whole experience while Raihun crawled out of his pit to discover what was happening. On learning the facts he stated “nothing I can do here” and promptly crawled back to his bunk.

During the following few hours, we managed to get ropes to the unpowered yacht and, pull it in alongside us and secure it. The lifeboat had been called by this point and, unable to free the anchor chain, towed the yacht off to Kerrera (see photos). The bedraggled but heroic Silurian crew retired below decks for a well earned cup of tea before starting the day’s work in earnest. Surely enough excitement for 1 day … but that was just the start of a long, epic journey.

As boats sailed, limped, and were towed out of the bay, captain Duncan decided to take up a safer anchor position away from the rocks in order for technical sciency work to be completed by Susie. Seems simple enough, but not with us lot as crew. Strong wind and current meant moving anchors required complete obedience and 100% effort in order to complete the delicate manoeuvres safely. Like a Roman slave master training his captives to survive in the Colosseum, captain Duncan set about driving, beating, bullying the recruits into something more than the group of incapable individuals; and bonded the team into something more than it had been previously; a team that felt it could achieve anything.
This feeling was short lived as the volunteers were conned into believing they were ready for open sea and at 15:00 we set off on the 7-hour journey from the mainland to the south of Mull. Volunteers topped up with sea sickness tablets handed out by Susie, though Emi chose to opt for Japanese medicine (much better than western rubbish), and would not be swayed by taunts of “These tablets are better!”
Two minutes into the journey and Percy was the first to suggest Emi was right about the medicine thing. In an agitated state, he spent the next four hours hanging over the back of the boat praying to the gods of the sea for respite from the horrific feelings raging through his body.
Raihan fared little better in the strong seas. One little saying from Rob with a beaming smile “Hey, we did actually hit gale force winds for a few minutes there” and that was enough. He rapidly went through the first level of sea sickness whereby he felt that he was dying, to the second stage where he wished he was dead.
As the volunteers started to fall, Emi sat at the back of the boat with the world’s biggest smile on the face which just seemed to say “I told you so”.
Seven hours later, with Raihan and Percy relegated below decks to make the place look a bit tidier, we escaped the mauling of huge waves, belting rain and a boat seeming to sail permanently on a 90 degree angle, up the Sound of Iona into a quiet little bay on the at the south of Mull, with grey stone buildings and striking pink cliffs. It took a set of pliers, lump hammer and chisel to remove Mike and Sam from their respective handrails which they had clung to for grim life throughout the journey, while Emi, benefiting from the superior Japanese medical expertise wandered below, still wearing the ever present smile which seemed to say “Was that it?”.
Dinner this night was a quiet affair due to fatigue and the need to sanitise and sterilise below decks before cooking even began.
Dinner was completed by 23:00 at which point those still standing trudged back to their lonely, damp bunks; which felt like a king size divan fit for royalty.
Roll on tomorrow!!!!

Mike, volunteer,
Cheshire