Monday 23rd June, 2008

Anchorage: Loch Tarbert, Jura

Position: 55°57.500 N 005°54.900 W

Distance surveyed: 56nm

Vanessa was initiated into the Elizabeth Arden Hebrides version of a mud bath while in the anchor chain locker stowing the chain., which came up from the deep with gobs of sticky muck. Others were on deck raising the anchor by hand, as the mechanical windlass had decided to take a day of rest—in spite of serious coaxing by Steve. We left Loch Aline about 8:30 with glorious sunshine pouring down upon us—yeah!

Our course took us south via the Firth of Lorn, via The Garvellachs towards Colonsay, with our final destination being Loch Tarbert, on Jura. Several porpoises were sighted as we made our way southward, as well a group of hundreds of kittiwakes circling above the water. The sunny weather held for magnificent day of sailing around The Garvellachs and along the coast of Colonsay.

In the afternoon, Vanessa ascended valiantly and celestially into the crow’s nest. “ It was a little bit like being a sail, rocking around with the wind, luffing, and flapping a bit.” Observed Vanessa upon her return to the firmness of the deck. A significant sighting of a bag of red rubbish was reported, along with two phantom fins that could not be confirmed. Her descent in the afternoon left her feeling exhilarated.

After several hours with the sails all up, we turned towards the island of Jura and motored to a lovely anchorage at the far end of Loch Tarbert. Vanessa and Tom prepared a delicious dinner of north and south Asian chicken-vegetable stir fry—a combination of Chinese and Thai cuisine, with Steve’s sauce created from scratch using various ingredients: lemon juice, soy sauce honey and sugar.

After dinner, around 9:30 we all climbed into the tender to take a tour of the second most beautiful place in the world—a cobbled raised beach which extended in a long gentle curve southward, and hidden lake further up. The soft light from the late sunset enchanted the photography buffs, while others searched among the pebbles for an entry into the “most beautiful rock” contest to be held when we returned to the Silurian.

With all closely grouped around the dinner table, and with the rocks displayed in a neat little group, Steve (the contest judge), began his careful examination of the stones. Two large and flat rocks were set aside as more or less out of the running early on, despite the interesting blotches and colours. He then focused his attention on a smooth, flat and nicely rounded cream-coloured specimen, with circular streaks of gray. Unfortunately for the person who submitted this rock to the contest, Steve discovered a slight rough blemish on one end, which disqualified this entry, even thought it was in every other respect a sure finalist. He next examined a small oblong rock that he described as resembling a Puffin egg due to the small white and grey spots (providing Steve the opportunity to digress into describing his experiences observing Puffin eggs, and allowing the considerable tension that had developed around the table among the contestants to briefly subside)—this entry was cursorily dismissed without further comment. This brought the judging down to the final two and the eventual selection of the winner: a round disc-like specimen with scimitar like streaks of some darkish mineral out of the long-forgotten geologic past. A polite round of congratulations and the group dispersed. While the winner, Tom basked in the limelight of his victory, others were left to quietly grumble about the obvious biases exhibited by the judge, who will likely not be invited to assume this position again soon.

After a round of hot drinks and a lively discussion about the politics of the day, all retired to their bunks.

Cultural confusion of the day: this damned computer doesn’t even know how to spell “color”.

Sunday 22^nd June, 2008

Anchorage: Loch Aline

Position: 56°33.300 N 005°45.300 W

Distance surveyed: 0nm

A pleasant day dawned in beautiful Loch Aline. Actually it was pouring with rain. The weather forecast remained dire. A democratic decision decreed a Rest Day, conjuring visions of a long read and an afternoon nap. Enter the Science Officer (whose other vehicle is a broom, but we love her) who refused to release us for a walk ashore until we had seen slides of grey and common seals and could identify both, more or less.

For your information: a grey seal looks as if it has been smacked on the top of the head with a frying pan. A common seal looks as though it has been similarly smacked, but on the front of the face.

Enter the Skipper who would take us on a short walk: one hour along the shore. And a very beautiful eight mile, three hour forced march it was, with many sightings of sea birds and a magical ruined castle at the end of it.

Home to a veritable feast of venison/quorn chilli and roast vegetables cooked by Steve. A really good day, and the Force 8 gale has yet to arrive.

Happy Birthday to Susie’s dad from everyone on the Silurian.

Back to work tomorrow …

Anglo-American cultural confusion of the day: A ‘fresh breeze’ is not a storm.

Saturday 21st June, 2008

Anchorage: Loch Aline

Position: 56°33.300 N 005°45.300 W

Distance surveyed: 83nm

A long day and a beautiful early start. Up at 6.00, breakfast on the hoof and Dale & Jackie’s bleary-eyed stumble to the mast rewarded by a very early sighting of two harbour porpoises right at the bow, so close that you could see their little white bellies.

A great day was had by all. We had eleven hours on watch, in a calm and beautiful sea and we could even shed a layer or two of foul weather gear. All was quiet and tranquil until Tom and Gordon (totally switched off at the mast and discussing North Atlantic Fishing Policies) let out a simultaneous strangled squeal. They had seen a BIG SPLASH caused by a BIG FISH or cetacean. What was it?? All except the Science Officer were absolutely certain that we had seen a breaching basking shark. Gordon & Tom sulked for about 3 hours when she refused to confirm their sighting, but luckily we all agreed about the next three basking sharks we saw.

Also, there was no doubt about the minke, a frisky wee creature, who behaved very oddly. A second sighting of minke was probably the same animal.

Tom, still slightly aggrieved at ever being questioned, took refuge in the crow’s nest, his paralytic fear of heights overcome by his desire to escape the doubting and brooding presence of the Science Officer. In the crow’s nest, Tom found the view spectacular, but his upper body totally immobilised by Gordon merrily swinging on the belay rope attached to his harness. Gordon, suitably chastened by Tom’s squawk of indignation, and still sulking about the basking shark, retired to bed.

By now, everyone was shattered, so we headed down the Sound of Mull in a totally flat sea to seek a safe mooring in Loch Aline. Safe from what? The weather forecast, which had pursued us like the Furies all day with dire warnings of Force 8 gales.

Late bed after a delicious meal of Dahl Baht cooked by Dale & Regina. Mention must also be made that Susie, who is actually a really nice Science Officer, gave a virtuoso performance of the scale of G on Jackie’s concertina.

Anglo-American cultural confusion of the day: None: we are a team and understand each other perfectly??