So we had a wonderful sail up to Stornaway from the Kyle of Lochalst. The winds freshened and we had a pretty good 7.5 – 8.5 knots speed over ground (with a little push from the current). We saw all varieties of wild life, especially Dolphins, which always delight. I have to confess – I am completely useless at spotting what wild life there really is. I know very little, despite being brought up on Eye Spy books (I can easily tell the difference though between a Telephone Box and a Post Box and I also know exactly what a Police Box looks like – which not only set’s me apart from many other folks, but makes me very useful if Police Boxes are ever brought back into service). But – animals and birds – not a clue – may be the black and white drawings of the Eye Spy era just didn’t stick with me. I do know that with the engine off, the sails filled, the water flowing beneath you and a bunch of Dolphins swimming beside you – life is pretty damned good. That was a what we had for a great stretch of yesterday’s passage.

Then about 10 miles out from our destination (Stornaway) the wind veered and we got pushed off course by about 30 degrees. We’d been tracking dead on to arrive exactly at the harbor there on a nice close or beam reach (more sailing terms, but you’ve had these before – so the wind was coming over the port forward quarter or across the beam). So now we had a cockpit filled with people (did I mention there being too many people on this boat right now) and were going to have execute a simple tack to get us over to where we needed to be – about 7 miles on – all simple and basic stuff. The wind freshened further and the boat was a little over-sailed and it was now close-hauled – so healing over quite some. Not a problem – but not before the smiles turned to anxious looks and the inexperienced helm started to panic as the wheel pulled hard to weather. Nothing in this is dangerous, or unusual – but with so many people and so many semi-informed views – my job as skipper became a little tricky and involved some quite direct words – and so they were had – and so everyone sat down and so we all moved on.

We entered Stornaway Harbor with a definite chill within the crew – but we rafted up perfectly to an Irish boat sitting along the Esplanade Pier, an old woodern structure with heavy metal ladders to climb up to get to the dock itself. We put in our dock lines and then I did what all good skippers do – I got my things and headed to the showers. I returned to find a more chilled crew. I proceeded to chop veg for the evening meal, and then a few of us walked up the street to find a bar for a few pre-dinner primers. 

Well we found a corker of a bar: The Criterion! It was a simple long room, bar running along half of one side and then simple tables and chairs along the other side and a couple of snugs. Along the bar, were a string of locals, most with a half pint of bear and a whisky glass at it’s side. The place was friendly and authentically aged. The front (and I wish I had taken a picture) was just about 12 feet wide with an old shuttered window and a double door (low) occupying the space of a single door. We sat in the window minding our business, occasionally bantering with the locals whose collective age rivaled Methuselah (actual – some individual ages ay have too)! As we sat, some dribs and drabs arrived, mostly with guitar cases, one with a violin and one with a secretive wrap, possibly holding the Island”s Scrolls. Now either there was to be music here, or there was a convention of instrument case makers. The wrap contained a set of Penny Whistles, the other obviously had their intended cargo. Within 10 minutes the room was filled with music. The Barmaid explained that these folks were never invited and certainly weren’t paid, but they came every Tuesday and played. The rest of our team made a timely arrival, a table was secure and drinks bought. The earlier tension of the cockpit completely dissipated and we were united in the mission of enjoying the evening. Dinner turned to supper which turned to whenever and the music and drinks flowed. It did get a little surreal when the band struck up with “Rock me momma and rock me good” Or whatever it is – ask Catherine Bevin – she knows, it’s one of her Country Favorites – and again, a long way from Dallas I found myself listening to some of the sound track of my life there (absent of Wee Hughie this time). I videoed a little of the scene and sent it to Bernadette so she could feel part of it (although with a more sober head, it may have made her feel more not part of it). When they broke out into a Celtic version of Van the Man’s Brown Eyed Girl – I again videoed it and sent some of that and to Alice (because wedding memories came rushing back – Dad and Married Daughter’s first dance). The night went on for quite some time and I think hunger eventually drove us back to the boat to eat the Fish Pie which was sitting in the oven waiting. A midnight feast and some banter before falling up into my bunk and into sleep.

Luckily, the next morning was a leisurely affair, readying the boat for a simple passage across to a Loch about 15 miles South of the Cape of Wrath, which will be our goal tomorrow – around the Cape and over to Orkney and to Stromness (For which I have a piece of music I can play – Faiwell to Stromness, by Maxwell Davies). So it’s time to sign off and focus on getting on with some lunch and motoring a boat (the wind is very light and right behind us!

Pip pip,

N