From Tobermory, Mull, to Loch Tarbert, Jura

Date: 30 September 2003

Early at dawn we left our mooring in Tobermory. The Coastguard’s weather forecast sounded promising. We felt adventurous and changed our passage plan. Our new destination was Loch Tarbert, Jura.

We intended to cross a challenging sea from the south eastern shore of Mull along the western shore of Jura before reaching the shelter of Loch Tarbert. Our concern was “The Great Race” created by the famously notorious Gulf of Corryvrecken.
In strong westerly winds and a strong flood tide rushing in from the east through Corryvrecken the sea becomes confused. A roaring standing wave may form where the tide hits the relatively immobile mass of water of the Atlantic. Random and unpredictable waves, a picture of anarchy, can make a yacht lurch and jump and roll from one side to another, the steep little walls of sea that the wind makes against the tide are a continuous threat for any long stemmed wine glass in the galley.

However, on this day, there was nothing alarming. The wind was NE, the ebb tide was running with us, as much as three knots in places. The swells were long and certain in their movement, a steady breathing of the great waters of the Atlantic Ocean. The sea was sliding and sidling us to our destination. Pick the right moment and the sea will be your assistant.
Conditions were favourable, the sun was out, we could see everything around us.

We watched a gannet hanging 50 metres above the sea. Then it fell, the body twisting as it went down. The wings suddenly folded and the bird slapped into the sea leaving behind it a pool of broken water. It gorged on mackerel or herring, then it was up again, shuddering, a pause and then the long haul back into the air, a few beats of the wing before returning to the hunting glide. Soaring, diving, soaring, diving, a repeated search and plunge for prey.

When we entered Loch Tarbert early in the afternoon, tranquility enveloped us. Anchor dropped the water lay glittering around the boat. Alone in the bay, silence hung around us, an absence of communication, the mobile phone showed no signal, the VHF was out of reach of any other station.

But silent it was not. The sea surged on the shore, birds screamed and fluttered, seals wailed, red deer roared high on the mountain ridges. The tide ripped on numerous unseen rocks. We felt enriched and shivered in the light wind with awe and maybe just a trickle of fear.

There is a lot to consider when anchoring in a remote bay.
Do you think the weather is stable? Could the wind get up tonight? Is the darkness of those clouds out over the Atlantic a first signal of a gale tonight? Will our anchor hold if the wind changes to the SW and Atlantic swells start rolling into our tranquil bay? What can we do in an emergency? Where is the next safe haven? But there was no need for worry. The coast guard’s weather forecast was reassuring. The easterly air stream would hold at least another 2 days.

So we let excitement and pleasure flood over us. When the sun is out, when you can enjoy the most beautiful nature around you, when you have everything you need, good company, good food and a fine wine, is one of the most satisfying personal experiences.