Over sixty skiffs and counting

The Isle of Luing community launched skiff number sixty last weekend and the Selkies were there to salute her, with their new flag floating in the gentle breeze. 

The row down from Balvicar was a light paddle of three and a half miles down tide with a following zephyr.  

The only hazard the Belnahua, who has right of way.

The Gill of Melfort came by road to the ferry and missed the lovely trip down, but had a nice row across the Sound.

One of our surviving fellow creatures, who has so far escaped the fish farm's rifles. 

Rowing is back in strength it seems.

Bilderglug Report and a Sombre Postcript

Bilderglug 2014 showed how much fun you can have when it’s really cold and wet. The ditty bag my Swedish friends Petter and Birgitta gave me has a legend which translates “my little boat makes me awful wet round the middle when it’s stonking”, which just about sums up this year’s highly secret muster in a tiny village on a small much perforated island somewhere.

At least having the Kelpie there in advance meant that I could drive round in comfort and warmth. It was good to get the tent up and the chefs in charge of the enormous Friday feast really surpassed themselves.

Saturday was fun, charging about in a brisk wind and rain with the borrowed Mrs D while Mr D gave his Flashboat a test drive under sail. Circumnavigating Right Island was followed by picnic on Shuna and a trip home round Wrong Island to base, with barbeque and ceilidh courtesy of Paul and Chris with squeezebox, clarsach and fiddle. Songs in sundry tongues from English to Russian, voices female and male, some classical flute solos and some poems and stories too. All good traditional stuff and this year two complete sets for the Jig, which means that sixteen can now do it and at this rate the whole company will be managing it by 2016.

Sunday was wet and cold, Mrs D had been reclaimed and so I was alone. It blew a bit, but not enough to make things interesting. It rained, then rained a bit more.

At lunchtime we visited Pol na Gille once again, in the shadow of cages licensed by the so-called Scottish Environment Protection Agency to hold about 2000 tonnes of salmon, up to half a million mature fish. My article published a year ago about the industrial pollution of the bay seemed to have produced a result, as most of the debris had been removed, no doubt because there’s now a new application in to ruin the bay round the corner with yet another fish farm. Here is the map showing the location:

A cold, wet, sombre Sunday ended with a warming evening of “lectures”, some of which may or may not be eventually published online.

Recovery of the Kelpie took place the following week with the aid of the buses and the ferry to the island, then a lift from Richard who took the photos at the top of this post.

Postscript

Industrial fish farming is doing a lot of damage to the SNP and hence to the cause of Scottish independence, which is desperately sad, because I believe that whichever major party was in power we would see precisely the same destruction of the environment.

There was massive expansion under the previous Labour regime and while the Libdems and Tories will not get near to power in Scotland this century their few surviving placemen vote for the farms whenever they can. A pathetic example of this is Councillor Currie from the Isle of Islay, elected by a population which refuses to allow farms, but who felt he could safely vote for the one at Ardmaddy.

The policy seems to be driven by civil servants who have far too much power and who have become far too close to the industry for proper independent analysis of the issues. In case we the public find out what’s going on, under the freedom of information rules, government has decided not to require the industry to disclose data on subjects such as the prevalence of sea lice. No land-based industry would be allowed the same liberty.

Nobody expects politicians to care for the environment, but they should care for the fragile micro-economies in places like Seil, whose private sector businesses are entirely dependent on the quality of life and the visitor experience. Pollution from the farms put an end to recreational diving years ago, by wrecking many of the delicate life forms that exist below the surface. Placing colonies of caged salmon in most of the bays will put an end to the pleasure boating, kayaking and pottering that bring so many visitors. Killing or scaring off the local wildlife self-evidently puts paid to eco-tourism (officially over a dozen “rogue” seals were shot last year at Pol na Gille).

The proposed “farm” at Shuna Cottage will if allowed destroy the amenity of one of the last unspoilt anchorages and may mean the end of Bilderglug, which has done its bit for the local economy for the last twelve years. Comments can be registered with the local authority by following the link here:

Argyll and Bute planning portal

Bilderglug again

Secret messages passing, of course now overheard by GCHQ and others, suggest that Bilderglug may be about to happen again, perhaps for the twelfth time.

A forecast of a light Easterly proved accurate and it was too good a morning to miss, but on Easter Sunday no buses or ferry and Vice-Admiral Sir B**** A****, Bart (applied for) doesn't have his modified Ninigret afloat yet to supply a run home. Solution - the venerable Nutshell, now nearly twenty eight and the best little tender in the world.

I got the Kelpie underway at 0800 with the Nutshell in tow and we ran down to Toberonochy before a gentle breeze with a falling tide, grounding on the slatey sand at 0945. A good cup of strong coffee, some chocolate and chat, then off under oar at 1045.

There followed a pull of 45 minutes against the tide in Shuna Sound to the North of Shuna island, about one and a quarter miles, then a half hour hike across to Right Island for a break of fifteen minutes for bananas and a drink of water.

There was then a long stretch of four and a half miles home, with a little land breeze, which sadly faded and became a fresh little Easterly just when port was in sight.

Altogether a good day was had, about seven miles rowed in two and a quarter hours in a boat under eight feet long.

STOP PRESS - STROMA IS FOR SALE

I've cared for her since 1976 and she's been a big part of my life, source of a lot of joy and good friendships and occasional worries. She's taken me and those I love safely through storms, gently cradled us when we were tired and thrilled us when we eased her sheets and let her reach across broad seas.

I've never counted the hours spent caring for her, but am sure there are few yachts her age in better condition. She's as strong as when McGruers launched her in 1929.

I'm sixty six now and won't be taking her, as I once did, to Ardminish or to Craighouse, or to Skye or Muck or Eigg or Coll or Mull or Wester Ross. She needs someone younger to do such things, in Scotland or further afield; I won't care if she's going to be in good hands.

Stroma is up on the hard at Cairnbaan along the Crinan Canal, a two hour trip from Glasgow. I'm asking £18,000, about 22,000 euros, for her and she's well worth that to the right person.    

There are full details elsewhere on our sister website, scottishislandsclass.blogspot.co.uk

Classic Boat Awards 2014

Ellad, photo by Nigel Pert

Saskia

Interesting to see a good Scottish contingent getting awards at the Classic Boat 2014 awards, with best restoration William Fife III’s Ellad heading the list, and his Saskia included.

Our own St Ayles skiffs did well, coming runners-up to the CW Hood 32 footer from the United States, a fibreglass “Spirit of Tradition” daysailer, which I guess would have collected a few trans-Atlantic votes.

Skiffieworlds in Ullapool

American plastic daysailer

Among the human winners were Fiona and Alastair Houston, tireless organisers of the Fife Regattas and Martin Black, the painstaking biographer of G L Watson, whose massive work is a great read and a fantastic resource for anyone looking for information about our sailing heritage of a hundred years ago, available from our fellow blogger the Leggy Prawn.

Fiona and Alastair

Martin

The images in this post have been lifted from Classic Boat, who attribute the one of Ellad to Nigel Pert. The takers of the others are not identified, but the one of Martin is mine, which I took when we were aboard the Ayrshire Lass last year. It’s always nice when the commercial sector acknowledges the efforts of those of us who publish for the fun of it. 

The Easdale Ferry

Until recently almost any journey on our western seaboard would have involved a ferry crossing or two. The ferries were part of the lifeblood of the coastal communities and stories about them form an interesting component of our social history. The skills of the ferrymen were legendary in keeping vital routes open in all weather. 

Greatly improved roads and numerous bridges have reduced the numbers considerably and ferrymen and women are now quite a rare breed. Some of the ferries from earlier days can be seen gently rotting in remote bays, a reminder of the greater skills required of the early motorists than those of today.

There seems to be constant pressure, certainly from landowners if not from the ordinary folk, to reduce ferry links further by constructing more bridges and causeways. After all, having a proper road link to the mainland provided at the taxpayer's expense will easily add a zero to the end of whatever figure one's island is currently valued at. The implications of this in terms of rapid influx of new residents, pressure on island roads and so on are pretty obvious. Perhaps more important is the loss of the peculiar quality that makes islands special, the uniqueness of access by ferry. 

I was able to reflect on this a few days ago when crossing to Easdale for a quick visit that had been arranged before the wind got up. With over 30 mph blowing across the Sound I wouldn't have been surprised to find the ferry off, so there was a little surprise and apprehension when I saw the two ferrymen and their dog setting off in response to my summons. I needn't have worried, because the trip across and back was a model of expert seamanship and boat-handling. It would take a lot to stop the Easdale ferry running. 

Cold water sprinting

Boating events are great for getting us out when we otherwise wouldn’t go and coastal rowing is great because the skiffs are available to do so when yachts and dinghies are at rest. The first formal event of 2014 at Loch Insh will be hard to beat for the competitive buzz, great company and an excellent location purpose-built for watersports.

On Sunday the forty participants were divided into eight teams plus coxes, resulting in a total of seven races - four heats, two semis and the final.

Novices and more experienced rowers were mixed but our crew were all entering just our second season, Will Glover from the Isle of Islay and myself from the Isle of Seil plus two from slightly newer clubs, Gillian Innes from Eskmuthe and Donna Martin from South Queensferry. Will and I grabbed our usual rowing stations, bow and stroke respectively and left it to the women to deliver the real power in the middle of the boat.

Usually everyone likes to have good quick blast on the water to open up the blood vessels and get rid of any residual hangovers, but this wasn’t possible with heats scheduled ten minutes apart so that you climbed aboard less than five minutes before the start. To make matters worse the temperature was hovering around zero.

 

One always has difficult choices about what to wear, knowing that you can’t change once you’re out. In general I think it’s worse to wear too much and risk becoming overheated and dehydrated, but in these conditions it was better to be well covered up. Gloves are another issue – in general I hate them as even slight separation between the fingers makes the grip less comfortable but they were certainly required at the weekend.

Suitably wrapped up and gloved we joined our cox the experienced Adam Graham aboard the Esther and just had time to sort out our footrests before lining up for the start.

When you’re in a race you don’t seem to see much, all your effort goes into delivering and you’re truly just one piston in a four cylinder engine. You’re running on rocket fuel made from an oxygen and adrenaline mix.

The leg out to the turning mark was pretty hard, the gasps of ice cold air really hurting and the legs suffering from it being a month or so since I was last out. I just remember Adam’s constant urging us on, then the turn, which we did quite well considering we’d never rowed before as a team. On the return leg I think the two skiffs were probably about level most of the way and the finish was the closest of our three races.

It was only after we finished that I realised we had won. This meant, of course, that we had to do it all again twenty minutes later, just time for a quick pint of water.

We drew the Soy Loon for the semi-final. He feels lighter, but maybe that was just his colour, after black Esther. I liked my rowing position further from the pin and felt that my oar suited me rather better. Adam was rowing against us, so Phil Robertson coxed us.

 

The first race had served as a warm-up and I found the second one much easier despite, I think, my setting a slightly faster pace. As our crew felt confident we did a racing start too.

Again I had no idea during the race about how we were doing but I know the result was pretty close. The closing stages seemed to last much longer than the thirty seconds or so they took in reality.

Thus we found ourselves with less than five minutes before the final race, just time for a slug of water from Will’s bottle.

I’m told the black boat beat us to the turn, but after we were round we settled down to a good fast clip and after half a minute or so I saw her just behind us. The combination of good coordinated rowing, a slight following breeze but most importantly Phil’s incredible coxing kept us ahead, until suddenly he shouted “You’re going to win, take it a little easier and enjoy your success!” and we finished a length or so ahead.

The best thing about coastal rowing is the incredible generosity of the clubs. At Ullapool we had to borrow from North Berwick to complete our over sixties crew and it happens time and again. Rowing with experienced people from older clubs and in other skiffs is the best way to learn and is the way to bring everyone up closer to level. On this occasion the main lesson learned (apart from having drinking water aboard) was the value of good coxing from Adam and Phil, two of the best.

Finally a word about our hosts, the www.lochinsh.com. Offering a combination of good accommodation, plenty of parking, an excellent restaurant with covered viewing, everything was ideal for skiffing. 

The only problem is the possibility of ice at this time of year, but then if you come in summer it seems you may be treated to aquatic acrobatics, see here: Loch Insh at play

First four photos courtesy of Ian Bright, Portsoy.