Fog and me are not the best of friends. The weather forecast said "fog patches", well I must have followed this fog patch all day. The swell waves were about 15 metres apart and I could only see four of them. As often happens the sun is out and shinning quite brilliantly from above from time to time. This means that the fog not very deep, but that doesn't really help does it. From the Isle of May I headed out to sea to get away from the pot markers. Having said that some of them are in 50 metres of water!
The chartplotter was on with the AIS overlay so I could see the large vessels. Fishing boats often have it too and quite a few yachts, especially the foreign ones it seems. Peering into the gloom all day it very tiring so I was thinking of putting into Stonehaven. Nearing Stonehaven the weather cleared and the sun cheered us up so I decided to carry on. Huh, as soon as we got past Aberdeen, in it closed again, along with the night. I did give us a chance to get through the busy shipping around this port with some half decent vis.
My head was getting a little sore with the piecing fog signal siren every two minutes. The speaker that pumps the sound out also has a "listen back" feature. Being high up the mast it is away from any engine and wave sounds and one can hear the answering signals back. Fog sound signals are grouped according to the length of vessel. The high notes for small vessels and low notes for big vessels so when you hear a really booming bass note watch out! A short vid of how it is. It seems to jump a bit but you get the gist.
I was aiming for Peterhead with its all weather and all tide entrance through the rather large breakwaters into the bay and thence into the marina in the corner. Just off the south skerries I called up the harbour radio and requested permission to close the breakwaters. It was busy and permission was denied. I was asked to call back in half and hour, by which time things might have slowed down a bit. I could hardly see the front of the boat and it is very easy to get disorientated in conditions such as these as I know only too well........ I turned 180 and headed back half a mile then turned back onto my original heading and cut the engine speed down so we were doing about 1 knot against the tide. I could just about keep stationary with the tide and Samantha did the steering. After the half hour I was called up and told to close the breakwaters to the south of the main channel and wait 1/2 a mile from the entrance. The tide was moving now and it took a while to cover the 1 1/2 miles, particularly as I had to negotiate the rocks and any pot markers that might be in my path. I was totally blind to tell the truth, I could have run over a hundred pot markers and not known about it. The electronic chart was the only way I could have done it short of being talked in by harbour master on his radar. This he was doing for several fishing boats, in and out. When it was my turn I was called expedite the entrance. The chart plotter said I was less than 100 metres from the breakwaters and the lights on the end only showed up above my head as I was going through the gap. Larger vessels were taking pilots even though they were exempt. Once inside the vis cleared, it was still not good but by comparison the "blind could see again". Peterhead bay is rather large and now enclosed by those humungous breakwater so there was still a way to go to the marina in the south west corner. So I set a course on the plotter to take me to the marina entrance and, at low speed, turned up at the buoy, just where it should have been. I tied up to the nearest pontoon and had a rest having said my thanks to the controller for his patience. Eighteen hours and 875 miles, what a day but it makes you feel alive.
I was not keen to dally in Port Edgar, the north was calling and it is all to easy to get harbour soft and doss around for days at a time enjoying whatever delights can be found in a new port. They had a rather nice sailing club bar which I resisted, choosing instead to cook a rather pleasant meal and have a San Miguel or two. Then the kerfuffle started. I had already arranged with the office to fuel up in the morning so that I could take the last of the tide out. The office kindly moved me from the outer berths (can be subject to swell) to one close in. What they failed to say is that these now dry out due to silting and because it is a local authority marina, cuts etc........
The tide had gone and was half in again by the time I got my diesel, so that meant waiting and it was going to get dark, passage plans had to be altered, more faffing around with books and ting. I left soon after 1400 and spent some time with the bridges before heading off proper, like.
The entrance to Port Edgar with is floating tyre wave break.
Owing to some rust problems the road bridge of 1964 vintage is being replaced with a new one just a little further upstream, just the other side of Port Edgar in fact. This is the north caisson under construction.
The old road bridge.
The rail bridge with quite a large gas carrier about to pass beneath.
Can you see the train, tiny isn't it or is it that the bridge is massive.
Truly awesome, especially considering when it was built.
A lot of the islands in the Forth are riddled with fortifications from the Hitler war as the naval dock yards are just upstream.
Inbound for the oil jetty.
Inchcolm and the abbey through the misty haze. The grand city of Edinburgh and the docks of Leith are on the opposite shore but I didn't see them at all.
The trip out to the Isle of May was a bit bumpy and I was starting to have second thoughts about the efficacy of her anchorage. 1. It was dark and I had to anchor about 60 metres from a cliff, in the right place as there are adjacent rocks. 2. I could see that the place was covered in pot markers. 3. The pilot book said it was 4 metres at low water, it was low water and I couldn't find anything less that 11.5 metres. That meant the sand had been scoured off the rocky ledge. 4. It's not brilliant holding anyway. Still I chucked 45 metres of chain overboard and spent a fretful night listening to it scrape and grumble over the rocky sea bed. The chart plotter said we did 1.9 miles in the night ranging about but we didn't move more that 60 metres in all so not bad really. Hear is the Isle of May in the morning just before she disappeared in the fog.
The alarm woke the boat at 0430, ugh. Haul up the chain and get underway to make the most of the tide northwards. The birds had already been up for some considerable time me thinks, some had even chosen to perch on the boat for a comfort break judging by the freshly whitewashed decks. I was going off my feathered friends rapidly. We wended out way through the rocks and channels, past Holy Island and off up the coast shrouded in tendrils of mist, not condusive to the lens of the camera, sadly. Very little wind and what there was I was making so a long old day under motor was ahead.
This building stood out and must be, or have been, a power station. Sure enough, Torness if I remember.
Nine o'clock had us off St Abbs head turning north-westwards to the Firth of Forthj, past Bass rock.
That is not manna from heaven but birds and their guano, you can almost count them. North Berwick came abeam, it's easy to spot with the bold lump of Berwick Law adjacent to the town. There are some visitor moorings there and an anchorage but I wasn't bothered to find my way in.
The Firth was upon us and I was looking for somewhere fairly comfortable to anchor for the night, choosing the west side of the island of Fidra. It served well and after another 50 odd miles another pleasant night was spent under its lee.
Tutak nestled under the island, notice the white from the ever present birds.
The wind was brilliant for sailing in the morning, a brisk blow from behind. Sadly I was not in the mood for faffing about with damp ropes and sail cloth only to have to take it down an hour or two later. It was not very far to the bridges and I was going to have to do some pilotage and keep out of the way of the ships in the narrows. Islands abound in the Firth of Forth, large and small. May I introduce you to the Cow and Calves.
The Forth rail bridge was showing itself through the mist.
I like visiting the bridges, this one is massive.
Port Edgar marina is tucked just by the road bridge. Quiet it is not, unless you are used to living next to the M25. It is, however, very convenient for the Bosun's Locker, a chandler of repute where I found the necessary hypalon adhesive to beef up the dinghy.
I don't think anyone could accuse me of being a twitcher but I did have a good look at a fair few birds when I went ashore on the Inner Farne Island. I got talking to one of the warden's crew and he told me all about what was going on just a few feet in front of me. This pair of terns were doing a courtship dance to re-cement their relationship. This commonly lasts for a few years apparently. I was the weekend and all the trip boats from Seahouses had left and I had the place to myself for half an hour, what a truly amazing time that was.
Gulls don't like people so tend to stay away from the Inner Farne island as they get lots of visitors. Gulls take eggs and chicks from the terns so the terns have learnt that if they nest on the Inner Farne they get less hassle from the gulls. This means that the feisty terns (go for your head they do, Hitchcock style, wear a hat) nest as near as possible to the humans. Right next to the buildings and paths, so many that you have to be very careful not to tread on them as you make your way up the hill from the landing.
I can thoroughly recommend a visit, £6.40 or free to National Trust members. The staff were exceptional even after a busy day with the public.
The path from the landing up to St Cuthbert's Chapel, the visitor centre, (barn affair) and the Tudor tower, oh, and the lighthouse.
The stained glass window in the Chapel. There were many paper birds hanging from the ceiling if you are wondering what the dark shapes are.
Coming in for another attack run, they operate a serious no fly zone and any gull that strays into the exclusion zone gets mobbed.
There are 15 or 25 islands depending on the tide, as a sailor I would say 15, surely it's not an island if it submerges. All that snow is guano and boy does it stink, ammonia I guess.
The puffins guarding their burrows. They remind me of meerkats.
See what I mean?
Chilling out on charlie rock.
23 species of birds, tens of thousands of them, all turning the black rocks white.
Young critters patiently awaiting another load of fish .
Ah, here it is, "mind me tonsils young un"
A terns getting fierce guarding the nest and chick by the boardwalk.
St Cuthberts chapel and the visitor centre, all nice and discreet like.
This lot are so used to humans that they just pose for you. This is no long lens, it really is just a couple of feet away. In fact I had to step back to get it to fit the frame.
Tutak residing in the "kettle" anchorage, almost a lagoon. A bit of swell makes its way in but any sting in the waves is taken out by the off lying reefs and islands.
One is allowed to visit two of the islands and on a nice day makes a fine trip out if you are up this way. I loved the Farne islands, so easy to sail by and miss them. I have not been to Lindisfare yet, so much to see up this neck of the woods.
After a slightly sore head after much hospitality from members of the Humber Cruising Association I awoke to this splendid piece of equipment. A 35T Wise boat lift with a crane on top, want one.
I went for a bit of an explore, I guess you could say that the dock area is a little run down. I don't know what the rest of Grimsby is like I didn't get that far before I was arrested!
There I was taking pictures of some buildings from two centuries ago, magnificent brickwork don't you think?
This disused overpass is somewhat crumbling and there are still trains going underneath it too.
This is the back of the first building with 1898 and the adjacent one being 1884.
Then this security van pulls up and wants to know what I'm doing as he has had a call to go and see what this lurking bloke is up to. I explain that I am taking pictures of brickwork, beautiful brickwork and......
Where have I come from and how did I get on the site. I came by sea I said, through that gate over there.
You can't take photos without a permit, I nearly laughed but I could see it wouldn't have helped the situation. I took my cap off and started wringing it in an attempt to look penitent and promised to take no further pictures and to go back from whence I came.
Here it the Hydraulic tower from the river side.
I took a picture of the Bull Sand Fort two years ago so here is one of the Haile Sand Fort.
I didn't want to get too close to this one as it dries out and I was unsure of what might be around it. The day was murky anyway.
This is a deep drafted tanker using the opposite traffic lane to proceed out. This caused a bit of a cuffuffle, as, even though the VTS told everyone, not everyone seemed to know what he was doing. "'ere, Sergie, whot is sship doin'. Trouble is the one in front was using the correct lane so it was a bit of a game of chicken. I was due to cross near here but I waited until the mellee had died down a bit.
Flamborough Head again, with the light house in the gloom, the rest of England was bathed in sunshine apparently.
Good old Filey bay again and the sun had had the decency to make an appearance too. 60 miles and I was ready for some cooking........
Passed this beauty on the way up to Runswick bay which was going to be the next stopover as the weather seems settled.
A stunningly beautiful bay this, a deep indentation that gives protection from offshore winds and a bit of onshore as long as it's not coming straight at you. Very nice in conditions like this and the twee village is delightful.Short day today only 30 miles.
Here we have the Boulby potash mine. A useful pointer to Staithes, I nearly went in but it's only a few miles from Runswick, maybe next years stopover?
And here we have Herd Sands off Southsheilds in the entrance to the Tyne. There are two anchorages just inside the breakwaters depending on the direction of the swell. South side for me this year.
The mighty breakwaters of the Tyne looking seaward.
And when I say mighty, this is a close up.
An average days sail of 40 miles this time. Onto the Amble for a marina stopover next, but with the weather so magnificent I may have to try something else. The wind has been very good to us after the headwinds to start. Broad reaches with the chute and mizzen staysail up, only 8 or so knots of wind speed but sailing nevertheless.
A few hours and 22 miles brings us to Coquet island.
and I reckoned on an anchorage close off the dunes of the mainland with the island guarding the seaward side.
A pretty sunset and sunrise to follow before entering the river and marina for stores and fuel and a clean.
So with victualling completed we are one more in fog off to the north passing Craster and, a bit further up, the ruins of Dunstanburgh castle. Needless to say the fog soon burnt off.
Another very short day of 20 miles brings us to the Inner Farne Island with its lighthouse standing proud. It is not a light you would want to paint red, one feels it would turn pink very soon judging by the colour of the cliffs.
Here is the Tudor tower that was once used as a lighthouse.
The building to the left of the tower is the Chapel of St Cuthbert, which has, and I'm about to find out, some rather nice stained glass.
The Kettle anchorage is just perfect. When the tide is low it is almost like a Pacific lagoon with just one entrance. Reefs and islands surround it on all sides very nearly. High water sees the reefs submerge but they still will break a wave for you.
One of those sunsets before the fog.
The Southern entrance is only possible with some tide. At low water it is almost a causeway.
It is nearly time for me to make the trip in the dinghy to the landing and have a look see. The warden suggested I wait until the trip boats finished, I had forgotten it was the weekend. Silly me.
