When we left Goldfinch in Kirkwall at the end of last month it was blowing a gale and raining a very wet Orkney rain. When we returned to the boat last week there was no rain but the wind was stronger. Goldfinch's lines were straining with the force of the gale, and the water in Kirkwall harbour was being whipped up into a frenzy. It didn't look very promising.
Fortunately the wind subsided overnight and we were faced with a much more appealing prospect in the morning when we set out for Stromness.
In fact there was not really enough wind. Because of the tides, which flow rapidly in the gaps between the islands, we had to time our passage carefully, which meant we couldn't afford to spend time sailing slowly in a Force 3. So apart from a ninety minute stretch as we went down the western coast of the Orkney Mainland, we were under motor all the way.
It was good to be back in Stromness for one more evening. We arrived about 20 past three in the afternoon and in due course paid one final visit to the Ferry Inn before dinner on board the boat. On this leg, Mike has once again valiantly offered to take responsibility for victualling and cooking, for which I am grateful.
The next day (19th July) we had a fairly long way to go, and the tides were such that we had to start at 6 in the morning. Once again the winds were light and contrary and I don't think we did any actual sailing in the whole 10-hour passage. Still, it was good to watch the mountainous coastline of mainland Scotland grow slowly closer as the Orkneys dwindled behind us.
That evening we anchored in Bagh Loch Sian, in Loch Eriboll. There are a number of possible places to drop the hook in this large loch, and we tried a few before settling for the first one we'd looked at: the others were too exposed, too small, or endowed with a carpet of kelp on the seabed, in which the anchor could not get a grip.
This was our first night at anchor of the whole trip. It was peaceful and we were surrounded by dramatic scenery, with the hills rising up on all sides. Adam rowed the dinghy ashore and strolled on the beach while dinner was being prepared.
The next day was another early start. We were headed for the fearsome Cape Wrath, the north-western corner of mainland Britain.
A cape is a headland that marks the boundary between two seas. The world champions are the Cape of Good Hope and Cape Horn. In Britain there are only two promontories that are called 'cape': Cape Cornwall in the far south, and Cape Wrath in the far north. The name Wrath comes from the Viking name hvarf, meaning a turning-point, so it has nothing to do with anger. However, this corner of Britain is one of the most exposed parts of the country, and the conditions are by all accounts quite wrathful. Fierce winds batter the coast, and the tidal rips can stir the elements up to dangerous extremes. So the name Wrath seems to fit it nicely.
Or so I read. On the day Goldfinch rounded the Cape, there was a gentle westerly force 4. We were able to sail quite close to the shore and get a good view of the dramatic coastline.
Once round the Cape we had a couple of hours' good sailing before the wind faded. We arrived in Kinlochbervie around noon and moored at the pontoons there. Later that day another boat came in and her skipper tied a sprig of heather to her bow. Someone in our crew mentioned that they had read this is a kind of badge of honour for boats that have rounded Cape Wrath, so Adam ran up a nearby hill and picked a bunch for Goldfinch. Later we discovered that the heather is for vessels which have come round Ardnamurchan Point, the most westerly point of mainland Britain. Goldfinch hasn't yet made that passage, so we hastily took the heather off. Still, if there is a badge for having gone over the top of Britain, she has earned it.
Comments