Having victualled heavily in Amble with exciting things unheard of in the north we set sail once again southbound and waited for the wind to reach us.
It did and we thundered southwards, urged on by a brisk offshore breeze for mile after mile.
No time to visit Staithes on this outing, the tide was all wrong anyway, maybe next year.
The wind was so good we just had to keep going, past Runswick bay, Whitby, Scarborough, Filey Bay and round Flamborough Head. Enough was enough and we dropped the hook off the South Landing on the southern side of the headland.
It was not easy here as the scend made its way round the headland and tickled Tutak so we picked up the hook and tucked ourselves right in the corner above the clamour of Bridlington and had a most peaceful night.
The morning brought us more wind and we again made all plain sail, racing southwards past the works off Bridlington beach.
More windmills were being planted off the Spurn Head.
The wind drove us southwards still, past the Humber.
Past the delights of Skegness until we reached.....
Gibraltar Point, as made famous by the shipping forecast, where we tucked in behind a sandbank for the night, well part of it anyway.
A four o'clock start had us crossing the Wash until the sun crept over the horizon off the Norfolk coast. The wind still doing its job, what joy.
Onward past Cromer and...
Norfolk's pretty cliffs, the white horses going eastwards with us. The tide had turned by this time but we had the genoa poled out and were still making 3.5 - 4 knots against it.
The wind came more and more ahead as we turned south into the Yarmouth Roads where, once more, we came across the Trinity House Vessel "Galitea".
On past Lowestoft with the wind still in our favour, through the night until the morning brought us off Harwich. A day or so anchored under the old HMS Ganges had us rested for the last thirty or so miles. The wind had forsaken us and the sun vaporised the early mist.
A strange scene as the ribbon of mist made its way down the river Orwell past the cranes of the Port of Felixstowe and the hidden Ultra Large container ships. The crane booms are only lowered if there is a ship underneath. I wonder if they had to suspend cargo handling?
The Northwest Knoll buoy just about had enough energy to nod its greeting to us as we started the engine for the last few miles with barely a ripple on the surface. But what a cracking sail, 360 miles from Perterhead and the wind chuffing all the way, fantastic.
A little under two months and a little over 1600 miles, and a great time was had by all. I wonder what delights 2014 will bring and where we will fetch up? I know one thing, I must leave earlier to get the best of the weather in the higher latitudes.
Sooth as in tooth, is the way it's pronounced round these parts. Scalloway boating club felt like home, at least the bar did so it was time to move on. The weather had been blowing for some days, up to Beaufort 8 and I reckon there was a swell running out beyond the protection of the many islands. Still it shouldn't be too bad as the forecast was for 3s - 4s on XCWeather.
The Scalloway Boating Club visitors' pontoon with the clubhouse in the background, not far to crawl after a pleasant night in the bar with the locals.
Leaving the shelter of Scalloway it was still brisk, over 20 knots on the deck. The sea state was ok but as we wended out way through the islands the seas gradually built up, and up, and up. I did consider getting the camera out to shoot a vid but Samantha had had enough and Tutak was getting stood on her rudder. I looked for a lull (yeah, right) and turned back. It was good surfing down the big waves but not for long as a mile away was an inlet called Hamna voe on the island of Trondra. We had only done 5 miles but hey it was interesting. I dropped the hook in the bay for two days listened to the waves crashing on the rocks just the other side of the promontory. The local forecast for the Shetlands was 'sea state moderate to rough, very rough in the west', very rough 4 - 6 metres which is why even I turned back.
This is the stuff that was going on the day after and still fiesty.
The lighthouse on Fugla Ness, the headland of which provided the shelter in Hamna Voe.
Even after waiting until there was virtually no wind at all the swell was still fun.
A bit further out and we came across out first ice field. Well from a distance I didn't know what to make of it. It appears to be foam, there were large patches of this as far at the naked I could see.
We passed Sumburgh head, just a couple of miles from where the helicopter went down. Not a nice place with the tide race although it actually went down in a bay rather than the open sea. Whether it was better to have ditched in the sea rather than landing on rough terrain I don't know. Either way it couldn't have been pleasant. You are taught to wait until the rotors stop before evacuating, but upside down, disorientated and about to drown..... The course set was for the northern isles of Orkney, the 'hole' was unpleasant on the return journey, throwing us around like a cat would play with mouse. I put on my buoyancy aid to give my ribs some protection. With the new seat I don't often suffer now but there are times when you need to move about. Reaching for the next handhold and finding it's disappeared and you are heading for a corner is not good. The shelter of good old Pierowall was welcome after a long and bumpy day of 70 odd miles.
The direction of the wind made the buoy in Pierowall bay uncomfortable so I shifted to anchor a few miles away on Papa Westray in Moclett bay, much nicer. I had somehow managed to time my arrival back in the Orkneys with spring tides. I had hoped to make some different passages but tides round these parts are not to be messed with. Even the ones I had done before I needed to be careful. So I retraced my course from Pierowall back to Elwick bay off Shapinsay. This meant crossing the Westray Firth again. I was able to creep up against the tide a few metres off the cliffs where there is an eddy. Eventually I had to break out and ferryglide accross the stream. The reason for this was this....
One of those new fangled tidal energy things. The pilot says to continue inside of this but I wasn't sure it was safe. Tutak was giving us 6.2 knots and we were making 1.5 - 2 knots..... backwards. I reckon that makes the tide doing 8 knots. After two hours we got into another eddy on the other side and crept back up. It is really rather disconcerting as ones senses and instruments don't seem to want to agree. I can quite see why, when things go wrong, people sometimes make bad decisions. It was starting to close in again and I was pleased that the route was familiar, especially when this loomed out of the murk.
It blew again but by the evening it had moderated some so I made a quick dash and had a blistering sail a few miles to Deer sound. There was no point in hanging around as the shop had now shut on Shapinsay, it being too rough to go ashore in the dinghy. I had an uncomfortable night because of an irritating swell and was glad to be on my way again in the morning. I had thought about Wick or back to my old favourite Whitehills but Peterhead was calling. You always have to keep your options open but the 103 miles to Peterhead straight across the Morray Firth seemed doable.
The wind was with the fast tide round the headland as I left Deer sound. No problem, oh dear, although the wind was with the tide the swell from yesterdays southeaster wasn't. I could see the white topped sawtooths in front of me.
We were soon doing over 8 knots but they were not as fearsome this time, I remember our first encounter and the laundry bill. As we got into deeper water and away from the effects of the Pentland Firth all became calmer. Naturally the wind was on the nose so we had the main and mizzen up to give us a bit of stability. Of course the visibility closed in at eleven pm and still we had a few more hours to go before the closeting comfort of the marina. Eventually at about four oclock in the morning the pierheads of Perterhead were closed and we were soon tied up in the beautifully kept marina at Peterhead. This wee sailing boat turned up the next day.
Keen to take advantage of the wind in the right direction we sadly left Perterhead bound for the Amble.
Still a bit misty, Peterhead is the most easterly point of mainland Scotland and juts out into the North Sea. This may be the reason for its frequent aquaintance with the haar or whatever they call it, fog most of them by all acounts. This was to be another direct trip which was to take us out to sea and the fickle winds inshore. Well that was the intention and it didn't work out too bad. We had winds up to 28 knots and a broad reach to boot, sometimes it was so broad I had to pole out the genoa. The tide was just right for going straight in and after 135 miles in 25 hours we tied up and took on fuel before being allocated a berth in the excellent Amble marina. I was now far enough south for the thermostat on the heater not to come on all the time. And shops, shops which opened and had things in them. Where you could by things, many many things. Where you weren't told 'the supply boat won't be here for another day you know'. Proper pubs too, ones where you didn't have to share space with the weighing scales of the postoffice or the chiller cabinet for the local meat. But I do like the Norther Isles and I must come back soon.
So, from Bressay on the east side of the islands, we were due to head north past Whalsay and through the Sound of Yell. This sound is strewn with islands which make for some funnels for the tide. Small boats have to make allowances for this or else spend their time going backwards. The day was not a bad one, bit rainy and the wind was only a few knots and not worth bothering getting wet for. Taking particular care of the many rocks on the way to Whalsay we hugged the side of Linga sound to cheat the adverse tide. There were a few large fishing boats lying in Symbister harbour, the Antares, the Zephyr, the Charisma and the Venturous, forgive me if I have the names wrong, it was a mixture of AIS and eyeball.
Fish farming is big business round these parts too.
Tutak's bridge, those things tell Samantha where to take us.
The Sullum voe oil terminal with its tanks and flare stack. They are building a new gas terminal here at the moment with about 1000 workers brought in and staying in floating hotel barges. I think there are four of them at present.
Another stunning sunset in Gluss voe, another safe and secluded anchorage.
Up at the northern entrance to the Yell sound by the Ramna Stacks.
Heading in for the Ronas voe with its distinctive red cliffs.
This is a long inlet of several miles narrowing at one point to a cable.
This is the reason sheep up here taste differently.
A close up of what they are actually doing, grazing on the seaweed.
Here we have a mussel farm, strings are held vertically between the many rows of buoys.
And this is why the beef tastes different up here, no it is actually having a drink as the burn makes its way accross the beach here, they may also graze on the beach to, I don't know for sure.
Ronas voe had to have a reason, well yes, it also has Ronas hill on its steep shore, the highest peak in the Shetland Isles. I say peak, it's only 450 metres but plenty for me. I took the dinghy to this wee bay and started the climb.
A little further up.
A bit further.
Further still and the vegetation is starting to become somewhat sparse as is the warmth from the sun. The wind is rather chilly too.
The plateau on top with its chambered cairn.
And the ubiquitous triangulation point.
The journey from Ronas voe down the west side of the islands towards the island of Papa Stour was a boisterous one. The west side is open to the Atlantic and the wind was F4 from the south, on the nose again. Our forward speed gave us 18 - 20 knots over the deck and spray was once more flying. Samantha steered and I hunkered down in the most wonderful seat. We anchored in West voe, Papa Stour for the night whilst the wind blew. The morning brought light airs and we ventured through the Sound of Papa which today was a pussy thank goodness. On eastwards along an unpromising coastline towards Scalloway, a truly wonderous vista.
This is the island of Trondra guarding its southern flank.
I have seen these vessels off Aberdeen, what they are I'm not sure, not your standard rig supply vessel, more off a marine fire and rescue service perhaps.
Yoal racing is abundant round about with each habitation having a go against the competition.
It has been blowing for a couple of days now. There is also the Viking challenge taking place, a 4 day rod fishing competition off small boats. These birds have arrived for the occasion as there are lots of guts at the end of the weigh in.
The strong (5-6 gusting 7-8) wind made them virtually stationary in mid air and fascinating to watch, they even seem to use their webbed feet as flaps for extra lift.
I was on the windward side of the pontoon, and stayed there to allow some of the smaller boats to have shelter on the leeward side. That was until the competition ended and most of them left and then I moved to the more comfortable side myself, it was a struggle mind and some kind fellow braved the undulating pontoon to get wet and help, thanks.
