So you already know we made it back to Chatham and completed our mission. When last I wrote from the boat – we were coming down the East Coast and motor sailing with the wind and current on our nose. Well – that persisted, and we motor sailed, not helped by our lack of confidence in the head sail, which meant we resisted using it. We passed as close as we could to the coast line, reducing the effect of the current and avoiding the shallows that are a feature of this coast. I had hoped to call into Lowestoft to see my family who live there, but time didn’t permit. However, as I sailed past the port about a mile or so out to sea, I called my big brother. At first he didn’t pick up (it was 6.00 in the morning), but he called back shortly afterwards and we chatted about what was going on. Strange to think I was just a mile away – but so inexcessable. 
Our entry into Harwich was uneventful, even with traffic entering Felixstowe – which shares the same estuary as Harwich. We had to avoid the shallows that lead up to the mouth of the rivers Orwell and Stour, and we did. An hour after passing the entry marker – we tied up on the fuel dock at Wolverstone Marina. We had decided it would be great to spend our last night on the boat at a nice destination, and have dinner somewhere suitable and special. Pin Mill is a small village on the Orwell and still has a couple of working Boat Yards as well as a lovely pub called the Butt and Oyster. It’s a short and lovely walk along the bankside country from Woolverstone. And so that’s where we had our last supper.

Before dinner we sat outside enjoying a perfectly decent pint of Adnam’s Ghost – and chatted. To be honest, I got a little pissed off. There was clearly an evident degree of negativity in the two newest crew members. They thought they had been oversold this leg and their experience wasn’t what they wanted. There is no denying that the marketing hype and the reality of what could be delivered were not necessarily aligned, but a cursory look at a map and a bit of common sense would tell you that the actual passages needed to get you down the East Coast from Lossiemouth in North Scotland to Chatham in Kent would be very long. We had stopped at all the places mentioned – but they had to endure a lot of sailing – or should I say “motor sailing”. They repeatedly  commented about not sailing as much as they would have hoped – well that’s life when the wind isn’t cooperative – you have to either wait or switch the engine on! Unusually for me – I just went quiet and left the group to the discussion, which developed into a broader conversation about the terrible course of modern life and the intrusion of technology, specifically cell phones and social media. Now, I have some sympathy with this point of view, but as presented that night, it sounded like even more negativity and like a gathering of the United Society of Luddites. I felt myself starting to fill with annoyance and eventually said the most bizarre thing: “There are more positive things in my life than negative. I have more happier things happen to me than sad. I enjoy way more of my life than not enjoy and I am way more thankful than regretful”. This was all true – but may be a little out of place in the conversation. Nevermind, I have a feeling that while this did strike the group as being an odd thing to have said, it was also perhaps a little poignant, because the tenor of the conversation changed and we started to talk about how much we had enjoyed parts of the last week. I carefully rejoined the conversation and the world seemed happier to me.

A little detail to share. As we walked to the pub that night, I chatted with one of the two guys who had joined us at Lossiemouth and he talked about his view on the necessity to wear a neck tie at all times and accompany it with a jacket – and by doing so, it shows that one is worthy of doing a particular job, or just generally being part of a respectable and responsible society. At first, I thought it was a tongue in cheek conversation, but it wasn’t. He is an active, very recently retired school teacher who until this last week had been teaching sixth form kids and imparting this message. This guy is an educated and very decent man. I had enjoyed his company for the last 6 days. I thought he was normal.

“What marks the difference between you and the man who turns up to clean the drains – is the way you dress. He dresses appropriately for the job he does and so should you for your job and position in life”. I quote this verbatim. I don’t fully understand it. With this sort of advice coming from a school teacher, I am at a complete loss as to why any kid would feel the world wasn’t in tune with their needs and wants. It’s commonsensical – surely. If we all go back to wearing a coat and tie, the world will be a more respectful place, youth employment will be cured (along with cancer) and we will see tolerance and respect abound. We’ll also be able to sail without wind. I can’t help myself – in the words of the great Count Arthur Strong himself – Idiot!

AT 10.00 the next morning, after further messing with the head sail, we slipped lines and headed down the Orwell and back into the North Sea headed to cross the Thames Estuary. We raised both the main and full head sail as we drifted down the Orwell and as soon as we said goodbye to Felixstowe and Harwich our sails filled and we had the sail of our lives, knocking off hour after hour at 8.0 knots plus. We sailed happily through the shallows off Clacton and into the Thames estuary. Eventually off Shoeburyness, we had to furl away the head sail and power up the liquid wind and head across the Thames approach and over to the Medway. The night turned a little chilly and as the sun went down we said hello to Sheerness and the start of our last few miles back to Tonic’s home. With a strong current against us, we cut each corner as close as possible, in order to make it back into the Marina at an acceptable time. 
And so we did, as you know, make it back at shortly after 9.00pm. The crew fully agreed that we’d had the best day’s sailing anyone could have asked for and so the sins of previous days may have been forgiven. We’d managed a wonderful day, behaving like real sailors and not a neck tie or coat were insight!

Almost 7 weeks earlier, we had crept out of the Marina and through the lock at 4.00 am in the morning headed for France and the start of our Journey. Now we were back and while this had been massively testing, we had endured and succeeded. No matter what, we had now done something that few do – we had taken a sailing Yacht around the entire coast of Great Britain (per the child like map I posted a few days ago).

And so now I have been back on land for several days and nights and acclimating back to life ashore. It’s going pretty well – but it is a little strange. I had no idea how tired I was – am!

There were days out there when I just wanted the thing to be over with – and now I have moments when I just wish I was back out there. I’ll get over those! Oh yes I will!

As I said in my previous posting, I will take a little while to reflect and share some thoughts about the entire adventure, so if you’re interested, stay tuned, but I can give you one little insight – I’m starting to think it might just turn out to have been life changing after-all! 

Pip pip for now,

N
Post Script: I got an e mail from Barclay tonight asking me to stay in touch and declaring how much he’d enjoyed his time with me, especially in Wick. So what did I do? I told him exactly what he needed to hear – I sent him a note thanking him and suggesting we should stay in touch. I know, I know – but what can a man do, especially one who’s life has just been changed!

  

So I have other stuff to post, and will do shortly (yes – don’t call me shortly – Naked Gun) – but here I sit in our place in Battersea drinking tea with Bernadette, listening to Classic Fm and starting the dual processes of acclimating myself back to the real world (at least until next Wednesday when we begin the serious  Yacht Master training) and also the process of reflecting on what I’ve just done. I’ll share those thoughts with you – if you are interested – but I’ll take a few days to mull things over.

I can tell you that I was never been so pleased to arrive somewhere as I was last night at shortly after 9.00pm when we pulled into the lock at Chatham – less pulled and more dashed at a crazy speed (the tidal flow was at its strongest and to get into the gate – we had to power across and through the gate grinding to a halt on the right hand floating pontoon to sit and wait while the lock filled). Simon was trying to blast out Going Home from Local Hero as we entered! We made it – no colateral damage to boat or crew. This was my last time at the helm of Tonic (and to the end – her throttle both stuck open and she wouldn’t shift gear when asked to – saucy minx!). I took her out of the birth many weeks ago and here I was putting her back in.

While in the lock and from above me there was shouting going on and looking up – there was Bernadette leading the welcome home party (well, 3 of them, Benradette and our great friends Les and Debra – who have provided incredible support through the preparation and execution of this crazy plan of mine). I was so excited to see Bernadette and gang waiting there. We all had a great night in the Italian(ish) restuarant right there by the locks – welcome party and crew. We might have enjoyed anything at that point – but what we had was excellent. We celebrated what had just happened.

So more to follow from me on the two last passages, the arrival, reflections opon what’s just happened, a piece on the people of Tonic (which I think you’re entitled too, having stuck with this blog) and finally a piece on comfort zones! Until then – see the map below which shows what we just did!

Thank you God for getting us around and allowing us to keep some of our sanity. We didn’t exactly circumnavigate the globe, but we did something that not many folks get to do and it challenged us to our cores – both personally and skillwise. It certainly was a better option than sitting on my ass pondering my time as a CEO – from the comfort of my home. I know already it has made me think a new about my relationships and what’s important – what is most definitely of value and may be what I don’t want to do next. It’s also re-established just how privilged I really am and how others seem to leads a perfectly satisfying life with so much less than I have – or may be that’s why they have such a satisfying life. Since I left home – the world has continued to do crazy, cruel things. People have been killed out of hate – Dallas, Baton Rouge and now a defenseless, dedicated 83 year old priest in France – this is just so obnoxious. It also hits home – I have a Brother-in-law who is an Anglican Priest in a church in France – and clearly vulnerable, not because of what he is or what he does, but because of what he’s not. There is no circumnavigation long enough to go and fathom this shit out. 

I’m drifting into my reflections, which I don’t want to do here and now. May be I need to go and circumnavigate something else so I can think about that!

BUT –  The biggest question for me to answer, is one which I did ponder ahead of this: Has this been life changing?  Well – we’ll see, won’t we.

Pip pip

SeaEO

I’m sitting here writing this on the passage from Whitby to Harwich – a mere 200 mile jaunt down the east coast. We have no wind once again, so the engine is on and we’re running into current on our nose and so only getting 4.5 knots – after initially getting 8! This is a 35 – 40 hour passage! It started at 6.00 this morning running out of Whitby after a very brief “splash and dash” 10 hour stay. I skippered the boat down to Whitby from Newcastle and had the opportunity to take it into this very interesting fishing port. There are all-sorts of dangers, not least of which is it is very shallow except at high water. There is a narrow channel and a swing bridge. All of that was taken care of and we tied up ahead of schedule and shot down to the Magpie Cafe for some of their infamous Fish and Chips (6 out 10 – sorry). After a short night’s sleep – here we are. I have been to Whitby before and once again I concluded that in the season (not sure what that means because it was freezing there yesterday), Whitby is a hell hole dressed in a summer frock. In winter it returns to a cosy little fishing community with pounds that sell real ale and local food. Last night the streets were full of holiday makers of the variable type.  
Our intention is to get to Harwich by late afternoon tomorrow and go up to the Marina at Wolverston – on the River Orwell. It’s a very pretty place and we would like a nice last evening together ahead of running down the rest of the coast, over the Thames Estuary into the Medway and back to Chatham by Tuesday night. We are being very ambitious doing this, but there are few options – if we are to have the boat back in time. If things get too much for us we could stop short in Lowestoft, but that means another very long day the next day – so the vote on the boat is to keep going. I have family in Lowestoft and it would be great to see them, especially my big brother Trevor – but the consequences of going in are large and I know that in a democratic vote of the crew here – I would be out numbered significantly! I think they would like Trev, but there you go! They’ll never know what they’ll miss.

I want to use the rest of this trip, including the lonely night watches, to think about what this has all meant to me. To go around the complete Island of Great Britain. I’m sure I will need to reflect for a little time before I can properly articulate how I feel about things. Right now – I just want it to be over! I am tired and ready for some normality. Simon and I have been sailing continuously for 8 weeks now. We have had new people come on OUR boat every week, some were great, some less so (for the avoidance of doubt, Barclay was on the negative side of the equation). I am very excited about seeing Bernadette in Chatham and to get a few days off with her before the rest of the plan starts (advanced stuff associated with doing the Yacht Mater Test later in August). While I’ve been doing all of this messing about on boats, she’s had to endure the Dallas summer, look after Bootsie and keep James on the straight and narrow (Alice is no longer our responsibility – you marry – you transfer privileges and responsibilities). Bernadettte has been an absolute brick and I miss her more than I can put into words. As for the Yacht master test, I’m still not sure I’ll do it. If I feel like I’m ready – I’ll go for it. Part of me says I have nothing to lose and part of me says I don’t have to have the pressure. I’m not going to use it to make a living – but there is a huge amount of work needed over 3 weeks before I go for it. I promise you I will let you know what I decide. As for the next blog entry – hopefully it will be about the last night as a boat crew – at the Butt and Oyster at Pin Mill. Until then – pip pip,

Pip pip,

N

Sorry for two postings all together and even sorrier for the next one coming at the same time too! Out of contact is the answer!

We had a wonderful day on Holy Island. Breakfast, a short sleep, some boat chores and then we got out the dingy (depending on your point of view, alternately called Gin or The Titanic). We lunched on the Island, went for a walk – attempted to re-provision, with limited success and then returned to the boat where we sat in the cockpit and watched the sun start to go down We ate together with a glass of not so good wine from the small store on the Island and hit the hey in preparation for the trip down to Newcastle the next morning. I’ve already posted on this one, so I won’t repeat myself, but taking the helm and entering the River Tyne was awesome (wish it had been under sail – but the lack of wind and space meant it was entry under motor).
There is a lock system to get into the Marina in North Shields – and while refueling and waiting – a voice called out to me no it was my old school friend Vince (Taylor) standing above looking down – together with his son Tommy. Vince had followed the blog and reached out to me and offered to come and meet the boat as we came in – and of course, head out for a pint, which is exactly what we did. This was the third old friend to make time to meet up with me (Anthony and Jacquie in Peel) and it was excellent. We caught up and chatted and generally agreed we should make more of seeing each other. We had worked together a few years ago on pulling an old friend’s Memorial together, which included a boat trip down the Tyne with some musicians and a load of booze. It was only afterwards that we thought that it might not have been an appropriate final tribute to someone who died from the consequences of Alcohol! Still, we all have to go from something and we can’t all tread on egg shells. 

Seeing Vince again served as a timely reminder of the many paths I’ve been lucky enough to have crossed, of people who influenced me and shaped me (don’t worry Vince, I’m not blaming you for anything here – but you probably had more influence over my musical taste and my attitude to in home entertaining than anyone else). Vince used to host great Saturday night parties that I would go to after finishing work at the Gosforth Park Hotel. The best thing about the parties was that our Head Master, Fr. Walsh would call us up to his study the following Monday morning to question us about them. “What would your parents say boy if they knew about these going’s on”

“Have a great party Vince” I remember was the answer Vince gave.

“This is not the behavior of lads from this school” – which is really silly if you think about it because it clearly was – given that 90% of the boys there went to the school (and 90% of the Girls went to The Sacred heart Convent). We never found out how he knew about the parties – but sure enough – he did and he continued to embarrass himself with his intervention. The consequences of our gauche behavior was to be banned from being Prefects and not to be allowed to go to visit Trinity and All Saints College in Leeds (poor examples of St. Cuthbert’s boys). Well Fr. Walsh (now departed), or Slug as we used to call you – it seems that those errant boys have become socially adjusted, semi responsible members of society who are fully capable of putting away a few Guinness’s on a Friday afternoon when we see each other.

Stopping in Newcastle allowed me to go to my sister-in-law’s retirement dinner with the rest of the family. After 32 years of teaching at the Sacred Heart (the very same one who’s girls attended Vince’s parties) – she is giving up her classroom to effectively retire. Great for her. What dedication she has shown to the school and the kids. I seriously think she and my brother are all that is good about the dedicated folks who each day go to work (or not now that they are retired) with the intention of positively effecting change in our kids lives and preparing them for the future. So Newcastle was magical – I stayed with Gill and Gerry (sister and brother in law), had 2 showers in the space of 12 hours, a very comfortable bed, 2 very nice whisky’s before bed, a great conversation and bacon rolls for breakfast. What a stay!

Pip pip,

N

We pulled out of Lossiemouth a tad before 9.00pm on Tuesday – as soon as we had sufficient water below our keel to exit the tight little harbor. The evening was stunning. Warm, blue skies with a few whisper clouds, the sun sitting low over the distant hills and we slipped eastwards towards the North Sea. We got the main sail up and presently the head sail, switched off the engine started delivering 8.0 knot plus speeds. The 10.00pm watch took over the cockpit and I went below to my bunk to try and get a little rest before my 2.00am watch. Given the ability of our crew – we had decided to deliver 2 X 4 hour watches with 2 folks per watch and with Barry helping out when we needed a sail change or whatever. After a relatively short sleep I was woken by flapping sheets banging on the deck above my head. The wind had backed and we were now running 30 degs off our course. Peter had been on the helm and he hadn’t responded and was clearly having trouble finding the wind – even though Simon (who was skippering the first part of this 180 mile passage) kept telling him to turn to port!
By the time Charlotte and I took control at 2.00am, we had sailed a significant distance off our track. After a little time to acclimate to what was going on – we tacked and started what I call the “punishment tack – the one that doesn’t get you any closer to your destination – it just positions you for the money tack. We then tacked to get on the money tack – the one that get’s you significantly towards your destination. But with further backing of the wind – there was precious little money going in the bank. More concerning was that the wind changes were associated with an approaching front and I could see lightening up ahead, behind and at the side of us. 

I asked Barry to come up and he and I put in a second reef in the main in anticipation of the front hitting us. We also reeled in the head sail. Charlotte kept asking me if I thought this storm would hit us – I had to be honest and tell her – yes it would – it was just a matter of time. Without over dramatizing – around 5.00 the storm hit us and we rolled away the head sail (it was and still is broken and we didn’t want to get caught not being able to shorten it – and we have to either roll it by hand or very cautiously using the furling line). We sheeted in the main, switched on the engine and just motored through it. We used the oven as a faraday cage and placed phones, iPads and our hand held radio inside in case we were stuck by lightening and needed to attract attention! 

We closed up the hatch with our washboards (the boards that prevent water from the cockpit going down into the Salon) and for the next 30 minutes I was on my own at the helm with the worst rain I have ever experienced – to the extent that it hurt my hands and my face. The lightening was all around and way too close for my comfort. The winds dropped (thank goodness) and the seas then went ominously flat – partially because of the force of the rain. When Simon relieved my shortly after 06.30 – I was ready for a hot drink and to dry out. The worst of the storm was behind us and we could see Peterhead off to our starboard. Off and on for the next 6 hours we got rain and thunder!

With the main up and little wind – we motor sailed on and went through a succession of squalls and showers until it started to dry up around mid day. We were making good time again, having been put about 5 hours behind getting to where Peterhead was a beam of us (because of wind changes and the storm). We try to deliver 6 knot hours and we were now delivering 7 knots and even 8 at time (being pushed by current from behind us). Our estimate of between 28 and 34 hours to do the passage was still looking good. I took over the skippering after Peterhead and appropriately started my hourly fixes on the chart – measuring our progress down the eastern seaboard of Scotland. Seeing a row of dots with circles around them, marked with time and distance is a wonderful thing. The storm had been uncomfortable, but not life threatening.

As Charlotte and I handed the watch over to Simon and Graham at midnight, we were dashing along at almost 8 knots with the power coming from the main and a little bit of engine to coax her along. We had avoided the head sail, but with the wind finally veering onto our starboard beam, we would be able to roll out some of the head sail and become a sail boat again. I recommended to Simon to work with Barry and to make sure he cleated off just enough of the furling line to make sure when he did pull out the sail – he only got the amount he needed. 

I was just drifting off to sleep when I heard the engine go off and the head sail furl out. Then there were horrendous bangs and crashes as the head sail sheets (the lines that attach to the foot of the sail and back to the cockpit to provide control and allow us to tack) were whipping against the deck and the side of the boat. Knowing Barry would be there – no need to worry – but there was a lot of noise. Next – the engine went back on. Very strange! Just before I was about to get up and see what the commotion was – Simon poked his head around my open cabin door and asked if I could join them on deck. The head sail had completely furled out – the wind had freshened to 20 plus knots and there was no way to furl it back in – as the furling line was now completely wound around the stay under the drum and not inside it. Barry was up at the bow trying to sort out the furling line, the sail was flapping out of control over the port side and we seemed to be hurtling along at break knock speeds (well 9 knots) pushed by the main sail and we were clearly out of control – in the dark in the middle of the Firth of Forth. My immediate action was to sheet in the head sail so at least it would stop uncontrollably flapping and it would give us more control over the boat. I then clipped on and worked my way to the front to see what Barry was trying to do. I had my wet weather coat on, but not the matching pants, just a pair of thin track pants on. I was soaked by the time I reached the bow. Barry was trying to unleash the furling line that was wrapped around the stay – so that we could at least then wind the drum and therefore the sail back in. However, the boat was ploughing into the waves and they were breaking directly across our bow and therefor us! I told Barry I was going to go back to the cockpit and heave the boat to – a move which stops the boat and let’s it sit safely so that you can work on things, catch your breath, have a cup of tea etc. I hadn’t done this with Tonic and so it would be trial and error. The maneuver involved turing the boat through the wind, backing the head sail (the wind gets on the wrong side for sailing) and then you turn the wheel to weather to balance the boat. When performed correctly, this is a great way to calm any terrible situation. The first attempt stopped the boat – but then she swiveled around and started to sail again. Second time she stopped and we just jogged along at about 1kt.

The problem with doing this, was that it relies on the head sail to do the heavy lifting and this was the sail that we really needed to get back in! I moved forward again and worked with Barry try and free up the furling line and get it back in its drum so we might be able to wind the sail in. After 30 minutes of trying – we had the furling line free, but the drum wouldn’t turn. We tried to manually wind the sail in but it had too much power and we kept losing it. It also kept whipping about and there was a real danger of it catching us and at best really slashing across our faces and at worst – knocking us over board. In the end we agree there was only one thing for it – drop the sail. In hind sight – we should have gone for this option immediately, but we were afraid with just the 2 of us we could end up losing an expensive sail. We needed to find the correct Halyard wound up on the sail. Because you generally don’t drop this sail (unless you need to Hank on a storm sail), neither of us knew which one it was. I plumbed for the biggest coil and God was certainly helping us – because it was. We dropped the sail, it went in the water on the starboard side, but we managed to pull if back on board and after a further half hour we had the things lashed to the guard rail. In the process we had dropped the main to reduce movement and that meant pulling down each fold and doing so while it was still partially powered up. My hands were a complete mess – chapped and soar from carpal tunnel syndrome!

We settled the boat and crew down, hoisted back the main and sailed off as if noting had happened.

Within 3 hours we were entering the natural anchorages at Holy Island at Dawn – a tricky set of maneuvers, but we made it in seamlessly and dropped the hook. I think the pure awe of the place overtook any thoughts about the issues we had just faced and we felt good about life. The serenely beautiful setting of Holy Island marked our return to England and also a significant number of miles closer to the end. It was hard to believe that we had come right around the North of Scotland and now we were on the way home.

Post Script. My partner in crime, Simon, felt badly about the head Sail incident – and I’m not too sure why. The sail just doesn’t work and he did what he should have done to prevent what happened from happening. Once it happened – he stayed in the cockpit to look after the others and coordinate at that end. He is very competent sailor and I would trust his judgement without question. 

Pip pip,

N

As you know, we finally set sail from Wick after a good time off. We sailed through some wet, nasty weather and out into the clear, To our right there was the Beatrice Oil Field looking like something from Mad Max! The chart suggests you sail around the marked exploration area, so we did just that. Our sailing varied from a brisk 8.5 knots down to 3.00 – so we had the “Ior n Sail” off and on as we went. We arrived at Lossiemouth right at the predicted time and found another yacht sitting just off the harbor entrance. The chart showed only 0.4 meters of depth (to which you have to add the appropriate tide). In this case we arrived a couple of hours after Low Water and so we should have had the required 2 meters to enter (that’s the depth of our Keel). We dropped and rolled the sails and motored over to the other boat to see what was what. We had 3 contradictory pieces of information. 1) The Chart showing very low water 2) The Almanac showing the harbor/marina dredged to 2 meters and 3) Barry’s iPad showing 3 to 4 meters of depth. The other boat was drawing 0.5 m less than us so they said they were going in and would radio to tell us what they had under there keel as they went in. They did just that and told us they had 1.0m under there keel so we were in business. We entered at very low speeds (me at the helm) and made the 180 degree turn straight from the narrow harbor mouth and in to the East basin where the visitors births are. We could see immediately that the very last easy birth had been taken by the boat in front of us! We had been trying to raise the Harbor Master and Marina all day – but without any luck. As we entered the basin our low depth warning alarms started to scream. I first tried us on a short pontoon birth but I could feel the keel slide into the silt! I backed out of there, swung the boat around in a very close space (she does turn nicely_) and tried to head out and up to the West basin. This time the Alarms really screened and I stopped the boat dead as the indicator went to 1.8m (we need a minimum of 2.0)! Now I backed up and had to wrestle the boat into a space where we could raft up. We looked ridiculous – rafted up to the biggest boat we could find, but so, so much smaller than us. This was later corrected when the skipper of the other boat returned and offered to swap places – with us on the pontoon and him rafted to us. In any event, we were in and the boat made good for the evening. We then headed out to dinner and celebrate the last night as the total group. We’d already lost James and we were about to lose Lloyd (sorry Barclay). We entered up in a place called 1629, a white tablecloth Italian inspired Asian up market cocktail come wine bar With the most extensive menu I’ve seen n a long time. With only a resident population of about 5,000, surprisingly, there are 5 Indian restaurants in Lossiemouth, but not a lot of other choices! We retuned to the boat and after the usual gathering around the Salon table, we headed to bed. I had already told Barry that I wouldn’t be joining the team the next day if they went out to sail in the bay, I wanted some shore time ahead of the last push down the North Sea. 
So here I am in Elgin, sitting in a Costa Coffee writing this dribble. I had a nice walk through Lossiemouth where it seems everyone is nice and wanting to speak. I was given local insight that the bus service to Elgin was circular and went both ways. There were 2 bus stops and 1 bus shelter. The next bus would be from the stop opposite the shelter. So I walked up to the bus stops (it was now raining) and was about to cross over to the stop for the earliest bus (33 minutes ahead of the later bus, and only 5 minutes off) when I noticed a couple of folks in the shelter. I popped my head in and just confirmed the next bus to Elgin went from the stop opposite.
“Oh it does indeed”

“Are you waiting for it here”

“Not at all – I’m getting the later bus into Elgin”

“Oh, do they go to different places”

“No – but I like the direction of this one better”

The other person in there seemed to not be with us. Her jaw was sucked in, in the way that some Scottish folks jaws are – possibly as the result of bad dentistry – who knows. Her eyes were sunken and distant. She was smoking a roll up with practically nothing in it and drinking from a can of own label beer. She didn’t answer.

On arrival in Elgin, I made my way here to the Tourist Information Office, which happened to be the Public Library. I hadn’t been in a British Public Library for over a quarter of a century (nor any other to be honest) and I was shocked – positively shocked. Firstly, this library is busy, which may be a function of other things to do in Elgin, but I think not. The Library staff function both as Librarians and also the local Tourist Information Officers. Earlier, I asked about Distillery Tours (I know, this is starting to look like a fascination – and so it is)! I was shocked to find that they had an expert on hand and a young librarian collected information and then put his own personal tough on it, but endorsing a tour of the Glenn Moray Distillery (conveniently close by).

And so with such a glowing recommendation – it would have been rude not to have gone and done the tour (which I have now done did with 4 friends from the crew – see later section on “The People of Tonic). Before doing the tour, I sat upstairs in the “Resources” center and admired this hive of activity while knocking out some e mails and researching a few things. It does seem to me that Scotland is much better organized to help its people and it brands it regions in a proud way, not a commercial way, like England. There seems a more obvious sense of community and a real presence of being in Europe (which they are about not to be – may be). There is evidence everywhere of things being funded by The European Commission of WHATEVER. In England – the funding probably came from the National Lottery (which clearly some people see as being the same is Europe).

The tour was very instructive and a great hit with my new Swiss friends, Oli and Yvonne (not really – it’s Ivan – pronounced Yvonne though). They turned out to be the stars of the crew in the week they were with us – more to come later on this very modest loving couple.
The trip to Elgin was rounded out with a walk about the town center, lunching at a “zippy” Belhaven formula pub and a bus ride back to Lossiemouth. The bus return bus ride made me sad – not because I was returning to the boat – but because of an incident getting on the bus. Remember the lady from the bus shelter in Lossiemouth? She got on my bus coming here – can of beer and roll up cigarette? We’ll she coincidently tried to get on my return bus – looking even more jaded and drunk. This time the bus driver refused to let her ride without paying a fare. “Right too” was the attitude of my fellow passengers who laugher and looked at each other each time she tried to get on. It was clear she had no means of paying her fare and so she was ejected from the bus, three times (she had resolve). This was a very sad scene and I watched it play out and sat realizing I had a pocket full of change that could have resolve the issue and I hadn’t moved. I was very disappointed in myself. Bernadette and I long ago resolved to always try and help people in the streets who clearly deserved a hand up. Luckily for me, the opportunity presented itself when we had to get off the bus we were sat on when it was declared out of service (knackered) and we moved to the bus next to us. Annie, the drunken lady was ever present(I knew her name because she was known to the bus inspector who came to supervise the transfer over and he called her out and told her not to get on the bus). I pushed a small note into her hand and told her “that’s for your bus fare – not for a bevy”. A young guy saw me doing this and told me I was ridiculous. It made my blood boil. I told him it wasn’t and he should mind his own business. I was sad that it took me so long to do something so simply done in the end. I was mad that the folks around me were clearly lacking in any humanity at all – and I had become one of them for a while and I was really sad to think there was no obvious avenue for this poor woman to have a normal life. I have no idea what her circumstances are or what led to her present state – but whatever it was – it was sad, not ridiculous.

The following day was incredibly hot and sunny and nice. I said goodbye to John the copper as he dashed to get his early bus and start his long journey back to the Midlands. I was sad to see him go – he was a character and a nice man. He provided balance and he was funny! He was happy to be the butt of other people’s jokes and ride them out. I said goodbye to the other departing crew members (Oli and Ivan), welcomed the new crew member (Peter and Graham) and prepared the boat for our late evening departure for the long haul down the Scottish coast and over into English waters and to the beauty of the Northumbrian Coast line. 

More to come of the storms and incidents we were about to face!

Pip pip 

N

Sorry, I have several things to post and will in the next 24 hours. However, this photo is from Holy Island off the beautiful Northumbrian Coast – the area of my birth. This simply is the most beautiful place to be. We sailed over 2 night from Lossiemouth down past Peterhead, Aberdeen, the Firth of Forth, past Eyemouth and Berwick for a sunrise entry into the stunning natural Harbor at Holy Island (Lindisfarne). This photo is of our departure this morning – 5.00am away at high water, bound for Newcastle – the city of my birth! All is good – not so on the trip down from Lossiemouth – Thunder, driving rain, winds, and then an hour and a half battling an errant head sail which was nearly disastrous! Sitting writing this as we sail gently by!
Pip pip,

N

The serious side of being in Wick for nearly 48 hours, is that it demonstrated how much places like this are struggling to deal with the social issues that significant industrial change brings about. For years there was full employment in this town – either fishing or supporting fishing. Jobs were guaranteed and pretty good paying ones. 

Thomas Telford (a very famous Scottish engineer) helped design the harbor here – which was of significant importance. Even more importantly, he also designed the “Lay” (a narrow channel in which water flows – No idea how to spell it) which brought the fresh water from the Lock 12 miles to the distillery. The drop is only 12 feet, so quite a feet of engineering back in the early 1800’s. Now there is little hope of graduating high school kids getting work here. They have to get out, through college or working elsewhere. 

There is a renaissance of sorts through the 1.5 Billion GBP investment in the harbor to equip it for the installation of  off shore Wind Farms (I hate them by the way). That will bring jobs and some level of hope. However, the place is filled with roaming gangs of young men and boys – with no jobs and no outlook. Drugs are a major problem. We watched a Pipe band and some dancing on Saturday night right in the center to the small town. The band is sponsored by the Distillery. The average age attending was about mine – the youngsters were not to be seen, accept in the band, which was reassuring. 

There is clearly a real sense of hopelessness and it is so palpable as to be threatening and massively depressing. I don’t know what the answer is in terms of real regeneration of a place like this, but it’s remote location and lack of resources mean it has little to work with. The answer may lie in being apart of the service based, virtual economy the UK is gorwing – if that is in fact real. May be. One thing for sure – everywhere we went in Wick – people were friendly and so they have that going for them. Perhaps the wind farms are a better thing than I thought.

FInally, the photo  below is of the Funeral Home and the adjoining shop. It just tickled me!

So here we are again – sitting at the Nav Desk and we’re en route to Lossiemouth for the night, after spending 2 nights in Wick in the North of Scotland. We wouldn’t have chosen Wick for a longer stop, but a storm blew through and we thought it better to delay our departure for 24 hours (9 people pounding through Force 8 winds, which would have been on our nose – so we would have been tacking all the way here – just too many folks – and have I mentioned there are too many people on our boat?).
Wick is an interesting place! It became affluent on the Herring trade with a fleet of boats that would then follow the herring al down the coast. There are pictures of the three inner harbors teaming with boats. Not so now. Locally, folks talked about the silver barrels and the gold barrels – the herring and the whisky. This herring trade has all but vanished and with it the prosperity that came with it.

Now speaking of whisky – I took a walk up to the distillery yesterday morning – it was advertised to open at 10.00. Compared to the West Coast, this was a more workmanlike place in a part of Wick called Pulteney (obviously a prosperous place at one time – but not so much now). The ladies who worked in the Visitors Centre there were just lovely and the actual place inside was very nice. But I was greeted with “no tours available right now due to significant capital works being done” – well that was a disappointment! “But we do have the tasting – if you don’t mind drinking a little whisky this early in the day”

What is a man to do – as they say around here (on Tonic) – it would be rude not too! The young lady who conducted the tasting was knowledgable and very interesting. She and her partner and their 2 year old – were living in a mobile home on their woodland croft, which they’d just bought and upon which they would build a new little croft cottage. I guess she was late 20’s early 30’s and just splendidly interesting and what an adventurous thing for this couple to do. They’d moved from South West Scotland all the way to the North East Scotland in order to afford to buy some land and make a life. 

The Pulteney Whisky – “The Maratime Malt” was excellent and worth the pain of tasting it so early in the day. 

As a group and in order to occupy our day, we had thought about getting the train to Thurso – to the County Show, but the trains weren’t running because of a) Engineering Works on the track b) Industrial Actions by Scotrail employees – choose your answer. It wasn’t terribly clear which was the truth – and while the the Rail Station ticket office was manned (womanned actually), she suggested we speak to the bus drivers who were doing “the replacement service”. Of course she couldn’t offer assistance (because it was really industrial action and she didn’t want to be a scab) and as it turned out, neither could the bus driver. 

“There may be a bus there, but definitely not one back”. 

“May be a bus there – aren’t your the driver?” 

“I’m awaiting instructions about whether to go or not”

By the time I reached the station to find these things out – there was only Barclay and I amassed to go. With the benefit of no information at all, we agreed to  knock the plans for Thurso on the head do what any sensible person stranded in Wick should do – go to Wetherspoons for a pint. Incidentally – Wetherspoons dominate every secondary town in the UK – they really are everywhere and that doesn’t say much for the taste of the Great British Public!

Funny how things work out. I wouldn’t have thanked you for some alone time with Barclay, and here we were – thrown together – victims of these circumstances. I had a very pleasant couple of hours with him and started to understand what made him who and what he was. Firstly he is massively insecure, secondly he is massively insecure, and with a dose of insecurity thrown in for good measure. It’s a funny thing, but over a couple of hours I was able to hear his life story and really start to know him. Over the same period of time he learned precious little about me. You see – he didn’t ask any questions about me – but he did say after a couple of hours – he’d had the best few hours of conversation and he really valued my company! People who ask few questions, inquire little about other people, but who are happy to answer questions and talk all about themselves – well they might have a little issue there!

I didn’t mention that Barclay was the product of Barbadian Father and white English mother, who divorced early on in his life and no doubt he had been through some rough stuff. This didn’t seem terribly relevant at the time I first mentioned him, or so I thought. Going through some rough stuff in his upbringing doesn’t mitigates his lack of civility or the level of arrogance, but it may just explain it. Later on, on Saturday, he was racially abused by an ignorant looking idiot in a bar in Wick (there seemed to be a lot of them, based on my intense judgemental approach to life) and I understand he stood his ground and tried to explain to the guy why his behavior was inappropriate. As Barclay later said – he’d learned long ago that you can’t punch racism out of people (he looks more than capable of achieving that goal – at least temporarily). I don’t care about his other behaviors, he should not have to put up with ignorant people picking on the color of his skin as a point of differentiation and hatred and feeling they can freely express it in the form of an instruction to go back to where he came from (Harrow actually). Reading what is going on right now in the US – and especially with today’s news from Baton Rouge on top of the shocking going’s on in Dallas – I think we’ve all lost the plot and we need to wake up and realize that the level of intolerance and blame is out of control. Sounding like an earlier generation – I really do think that violent video games and instantly reported footage of violence on You Tube, and other content streamers is having a massively negative impact on the level of respect we have for life. The Internet is great for accessing information – but in the hands of divisive fools it is a dangerous breeding ground for spreading hate and you only have to take this blog as a fine example. My final words on the “Wick Incident” – Angry man of Wick – you’re a tosser.

Pip pip – more from Lossiemouth!

We docked up on a very tight inside Pontoon, which Barry our training skipper thought was a very amusing option. A narrow slip down a narrow alley with fishing boats double parked at the bottom, with the wind blowing us off the pontoon into other boats. We made it, but only after some major shouting for folks to get the dock lines on. Let me share some meaningful insight – when you have crew who don’t speak a lot of English – don’t assume that their language skills, or your own, will improve during their leap to the shore. Consequently, “secure the stern line” translated into “please stand there smiling, waiting for some appreciation for your daring leap to land and meantime watch the the boat nicely drift into the yacht parked next to us”. Well, we didn’t hit the boat and with sufficient shouting and gesticulating, the lines got secured and we were able to start to see a little bit of Stromness – well the shower block and a pub! Once again, just like in Stornaway, from nowhere, live music started shortly after we arrived in the pub (to eat dinner). This time 3 young fiddlers (and I mean just at legal drinking age, which seemed to be 12 around here) and an equally young pianist struck up playing truly appropriate Celtic music. I swear, we were on the set of Local Hero. A byproduct of last night was finding out that Simon (my co-skipper) equally loves Going Home from Local Hero and so we will play it very loudly from the newly acquired Bluetooth speaker as we head back into the Lock at Chatham in 10 days time. Stromness looked like pleasant enough place, just a little austere. It sits on the famous Scapa Flow where the German fleet was scuppered at the end of the First World War and now it has a lot of Oil related stuff going on (actually, not a lot of Oil Related stuff right now). We wanted to see Scapa Flow and so we did – nothing more to report there.

I do want to share another little incident (it may take some time and be of little interest to you – so feel free to skip this – but then you’ll never know will you). I can’t remember if I have already commented on a current member of the crew, let’s call him Barclay (to spare blushes, so I’ll use the name of another bank, because calling him by his real name might get a little dicey, especially so soon after that bank separated from TSB). As is said, this guy is evenly balanced – a chip on both shoulders. He works in Business Development for – wait for it – a bank and he is currently working in Jersey. He told us he was an expert in CRM (Customer Relationship Management). Now I’ve done a bit of this myself over the years – and know enough to be dangerous, not unlike sailing I guess). So I commented on how good databases were for really getting to understand guest behavior. He says “well we don’t use databases – that doesn’t work”. Really – surely? Anyway – he went on to describe what he was working on and to the rest of the world (aka Simon) would be thought to be – a database. None of this has anything directly to do with the incident I wanted to share – just call it background. However, this guy (who is 6’6″ tall and has a large presence) is about as arrogant in demeanor as anyone could be. Shortly after arriving on board last Saturday he made it perfectly clear that he wasn’t going to listen to Simon and I if we were the skippers and because he was very experienced and probably knew better – which might have been true, but we didn’t know and his stated credentials would suggest not. However, he did have all of the gear and some of it still had the price tags on! Well we found out the very first day about his knowledge (and no, this still isn’t the incident I want to share). I asked him to take the helm from me while I checked the chart plotter down in the cabin so I could make some course corrections. I left him at the helm while we raised the sails and turned us into the sailing boat we are. I then asked him to steer a course “best to wind” (no heading – just keep the boat close up to the wind). So off the boat went and off and off – “Barclay – please steer best to wind” – “I am” – “Well can you find the wind we started with and not some other”. Now I know that perhaps that wasn’t the kindest thing to say – because he was clearly having an issue with the instruction – which is s very simple one to understand for anyone who has sailed a bit. He had loudly stated on his first night that he was really a Yacht Master already, but couldn’t find the time to take the exam (and for clarity, his certification with the RYA says Day Skipper, which is fine, but nowhere near what he was saying he was – like I’m really a professional singer, but I only have time to sing in the bath). Over the next several I days, he continued to be quite belligerent, but only at times and only when politely asked to carry out a task, which he would then do, but rarely with good grace. I like it when people say please and thank you. He didn’t!

So back to the proper incident I want to talk about. He pleaded wth Barry (Training Skipper) to be able to do a passage plan. Of course, Barry agreed – nothing lost there. So Barclay hogged the chart table for a couple of hours while off watch on the passage across to Stromness which I was skippering (not something you do while sailing and you’re not the skipper or navigator). Now he produced a pretty good plan – just got the timings wrong – not a good thing where you have a tidal race and gate running at 9 knots – called The Pentland Firth! Well things develop and he announces to the crew later that night that he is skippering the next day – he’d agreed it with Barry. News to all and especially Simon, who was due to be skipper. Anyway – I thought this to be a crazy decision, to let someone we knew had much less sailing ability than his mouth could speak, skipper a boat with 9 people through a very dangerous piece of water. I drank some whisky and went to bed – thinking this was crazy. When 4.30am came about the next morning – I stayed in bed. Having been duty skipper the day before – and having started even earlier I wasn’t due to be up, but normally Simon and I get up and support each other to get the boat ready and off – but not for a banker! I emerged shortly after 6.00, made drinks for the early watch and started to check though progress and get ready for my watch who would be joining me shortly and readying themselves for the 8.00am watch change – which would be just as we pushed out from Scapa Flow into The Pentland Firth. Barry started asking Simon a bunch of questions as if he was the skipper and yet I could see and hear the banker up on deck acting like he was. SImon just looked at me and said, quietly, welcome the the Accidental Skipper. Barry asked me what that meant – and I just said there is complete confusion as to who is running this boat. “Simon is” – says he. “Not according to Barclay” says I.

“Well he bloody isn’t – Simon – you’re skipper”. Well I grinned from ear to ear and Barry goes up to the Cockpit and says something to the Banker”. Not sure what he said but shortly after I took my watch on deck to relieve the early guys and Barclay humbly says “Nick I’ve been appointed to blow the main if things get over-powered, can you appoint someone from your watch to take over”? Well he was on my watch and should have been staying up. So I asked him with watch he was on. I sent him downstairs and told him to stay on the other watch with the skipper! I think he left the cockpit more humble than he had arrived and since then – he seems to be a more graceful member of the team. Sanity has returned toTonic, or atleast Tonic Sanity has been restored. (PS – about 5 hours on and he is already reverting to type. Ah well!).

So now we’re in Wick, the most Northerly port on the UK mainland. We sailed over the Pentland Firth and past Duncansby Head. The sun shone and the wind had a bight for JULY – really – what is it with this weathers! We were very early and so we stayed out at sea and waited until we could get both sails filled and then we had a marvelous sail down here to Wick . Unfortunately I have to go up with one helper to the front of the head sail each time we want to put it away and furl it back in by hand, something which won’t work in rough weather – more to follow on this one.

Pip pip

N

This is Barclay – subtle or what!