Loch Leurbost, Lewis - 16 July 2006 (day 57)

Yacht Gothik

At Anchor

Loch Leurbost

Isle of Lewis

Outer Hebrides

16 July 2006

Click here to see a map.

Logged distance: 22M

Chart distance: 24M

Time under way: 4h 10m

Sunday 16 July 2006

Calm and peaceful morning with sunshine. Before setting out we waited for the weather report to be read out on the VHF radio by the coastguard - instead we got the message that the morning 'maritime safety information broadcast' had been cancelled, the next broadcast would take place at the revised time of 1200 UTC (or one o'clock British Summer Time). "A bit odd" I thought but I also remember thinking that if there was going to be anything untoward they would have issued a strong wind warning (force 6 and above).

As soon as we weighed anchor the sun disappeared behind a layer of mid-level cloud and the wind picked up. We headed out of the little harbour and along the north side of the island toward the road bridge. It is a strange thing to sail under a bridge and if you haven't done it I recommend it. The nautical almanac, the pilot book and the chart all say there is 20 metres clearance (at high spring tide). The tip of Gothik's mast, including the VHF antenna, stands 14 metres above the water so there was no doubt there would be plenty of room. Having sailed under a few bridges before I mentioned to Keith that sometimes, at the last minute, it feels like the mast will hit the bridge and then come crashing down on top of you. As we approached the point of no return I glanced up and thought "Blimey! The mast really is going to come crashing down"... I'm not sure Keith felt quite the same buzz as I did.

It had been the intention to make a fly-by of the uninhabited Shiant Islands on the way to Loch Leurbost but the conditions were no longer favourable. There was a bigger swell than I'd expected and the narrow gap between the islands would be fully exposed to it. This combined with a strong tide would make it unapproachable - at least in any controlled manner. Instead we continued our way along the coast.

By midday the wind was a steady force 6. It was exhilarating while at the same time mildly worrying. I get a little nervous when flying the main before a fresh wind, especially in a swell which makes the boat twist and weave - the chances of an uncontrolled (and thus dangerous) gybe are increased. It requires continuous concentration to keep the boat steady and safe. George was not quite up to running downwind with a big swell but Keith and Ben were. They helmed well, Keith managing to get the record boat speed of 8.2 knots through the water - although he was a little off course at the time (...eh Keith?)! With 2 knots of tide in our favour the GPS said we were doing 10.2 knots over ground.

After lunch the wind had increased to a steady force 7. On at least two occasions we recorded gusts of force 8. Gothik was heavily reefed by this point and was performing fine but it is about this strength of wind that my mind involuntarily begins to question what piece of equipment will come away first... and then what will happen next... and then next... and then next.

We were nearly at our destination when the announcement came across the VHF to standby for the one o'clock weather report. We were all on deck, our hands were full and there was no way we could listen to it. I think by now we knew what it would say in any case. Before we could head inland we needed to gybe (bring the boom and main sail all the way from one side of the boat and then run it out again all the way to the other side, all whilst the wind is blowing from behind). Instead of tempting calamity we took the easy option of furling in the headsail and turning all the way through the wind to tack the main instead of gybe it. This meant changing our heading by turning 330° to starboard instead of turning 30° to port, effectively you end up on the same course.

The next problem was determining our leeway (sideways drift). We were now almost close-hauled (sailing into the wind), under very heavily reefed sails. Reefed sails are not great for windward progress but our mainsail is so magnificent (even when reefed) that our leeway seemed entirely normal and no worse than if we been in lighter weather. I was very encouraged. It was a relief since the quickest (and least labour intensive) route to our destination was if we passed close to windward a shoal rising from a surrounding depth of 20 metres. There was room for error but it would inevitably mean some panicky moments at the last minute if it looked too close. As it happened we flew past it with less distance than I would have liked but with far more distance than I honestly expected.

Once in the lee of the land the sea softened a little but our planned anchorage was not tenable. There was plenty of shelter from the sea but the wind funneled its way between two hill sides in strong wrenching gusts. However, the calmer water allowed us to drop the sails and start the engine so we could motor to find a more promising place to anchor.

I felt far less happy about being in these conditions under engine than under sail. It felt like we had dropped sail at the point that Gothik was most enjoying herself. Now we were chugging along only just able to make reasonable headway into the wind. The sails were ready to hoist should the engine fail but the main problem under sail would be keeping the boat speed down. Navigating and tacking in a restricted space with 6+ knots of boat speed would be hairy indeed.

Eventually we found a spot to anchor. Many places on the chart looked promising but were in fact not - at least there were plenty to choose from. Ben let go the anchor and plenty of chain while I watched the shore as we drifted back, fully expecting the anchor to drag. But we stopped. We stopped dead in fact. So suddenly did we stop it was as if a line had been tied from the boat to the shore. I put the engine in reverse with plenty of throttle to be sure but we were fine, no dragging. Splendid.

For the next few hours we played cards, checking from time to time the anchor had not dragged. Eventually it seemed safe to open a bottle of wine. Hmmmm, what shall we have? Our gift from Keith H at the start of the trip was a bottle of champagne. It had been chilling nicely for far too long and the very thought of it set our taste buds going. It was perfect.

Today was a good one - but only because nothing whatsoever went wrong. Sailing's great when it all works out like this. If any one thing had gone wrong at any moment there could have been a catalogue of subsequent mini disasters, perhaps leading to something more serious.