Gallanach, Muck (via Staffa) - 04 July 2006 (day 45)

Yacht Gothik

At Anchor

Gallanach Bay

Isle of Muck

Highland

04 July 2006

Click here to see a map.

Logged distance: 30M

Chart distance: 33M (via Staffa)

Time under way: 7h30m (including a 1 hour stop at Staffa)

Tuesday 04 July 2006

Sunrise is something we all too often miss, especially in the summer when the days are long and the nights short. If the weather is fine, rarely are we disgruntled by the hour when we first catch a glimpse of the light in the east. This morning was no exception. The weather was calm and still, a pink and blue haze tinted the distance. Shrugging off sleep was easy.

Looking out of the entrance to our anchorage it was difficult to discern the sea from the horizon. The open water lay beyond but what was in it was anybody's guess. Although next to no wind it was impossible to tell if there was still a swell.

Gothik has no anchor winch, lifting the anchor and chain is a manual task - a task which Ben tells me he enjoys. I'll make a note to ask him again when he leaves us and the boat in Ullapool - asking him before may not be in the best interests of Keith and myself!

Keith looks on, gaff hook ready to lift the tripping line attached to the anchor. Each time I see him on deck with the gaff hook I think of some medieval mercenary come out to fight with his pitch fork and halberd...

It did not take long to get to Staffa. There was a swell but it was slight. With no tide or wind to carry us away we let the anchor fall into 7m of crystal clear water - we leaned over the side and could see it sitting on the rocky bottom. By the time we had prepared the dingy a full ten minutes had passed and I was reasonably comfortable that Gothik was not going to drift away by herself. Even so, when the three of us stepped off the boat and into the dingy it felt to me like I was leaving the lunar module for a moon walk - Gothik was the mothership and our only way out of here.

A flypast of Staffa at a range of 100m with good binoculars may have been enough yesterday but today it would have been a missed opportunity. As we ventured toward the island the size and structure of the basalt columns was truly awesome.

We managed to get right inside Fingal's Cave.

It was still very early and we'd had the place to ourselves. Not before time too, as we were leaving another yacht arrived.

The next destination was the Isle of Muck - the most south-easterly of the four islands that make up the 'Small Isles' or 'Inner Hebrides'. Each of the four islands (Muck, Eigg, Rum and Canna) are said to have their own unique character. At first I was not sure what was meant by this; did they each have some odd fellow who would run down the beach and greet you with a treasured bag bag of collected bottle tops (a character); or was it something to do with the landscape and/or community? I suspected the latter but would have been just as happy with the first.

Muck is an island about three miles long by one mile wide with a population, according to the 2001 census, of 27. The island is owned, lived upon and farmed by a single family with the rest of the population being tenants. From time to time the owners advertise for young families to settle on the island so as to keep a viable primary school.

We had intended on anchoring in the harbour on the south side of the island at the 'town' of Port Mor. Instead, since it was such a flat calm day with nothing untoward forecast tomorrow, we decided to head to an exposed anchorage on the north side. This anchorage is a little trickier to enter but had the benefit of being away from the town and any boat traffic to and from the island. It turned out to be perfect. We edged our way in through the rocks and let go the anchor. Our view out to sea was of Eigg, Rum and Skye; our view toward land was of an active farmyard with tractors and livestock close to the shoreline. The cows had come down to the water and were lying on the beach. Children were playing in the sand. There were a few hay fields and some trees. Not very much you may say but the place had a relaxed feel to it. Life on this island looked as though it would be far easier than some of the others we had seen.

Cows on the beach.

Rum across the waves.

Funny looking goats.

From our anchorage on the north side of the island, we took a stroll to the village on the south side passing a number of people on the way. They were mostly children and mostly on bicycles. We said hello to everyone but there was a reluctance in their replies. It seemed to me this was a close community and perhaps we were intruding. None the less we found a tea shop in the village (licensed) where we were able to sit outside and have a beer.

Back on the boat in the evening we cooked up a feast of barbequed sausages, had a few glasses of wine and all went for a swim.

Ben decided that some more excitement was in order and climbed the halyards hand over hand to the height of the spreaders - whereupon he dived in! As entertainment goes it was pretty good. Here is a picture which does not do the feat justice, instead I have a short video... when bandwidth permits I'll post it - it's worth it!

We finished a relaxing day with liar dice and a wee dram of whiskey.