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,
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!The new industry of Wick can be seen on the dock – wind turbines3 down 2 to go – and it’s only 11.00 am!
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.
After a nice sail over from Stornaway and into Loch Inchard, arriving in glorious sunshine and some stunning scenery, we tied up in what can best be described as a fish processing plant called Kinlochbervie – in the middle of nowhere. Accessed through a little cut and into a creek, all there is there is a huge set of sheds, an ice making plant, a dozen or so houses and an old hotel. Suspicioulsy – there were 2 Mercedes and a couple Porches parked discretely outside of the Fish Processing office. The harbor allowed Yachts to tie up on their pontoon (aka Fish Quay, complete with rank smell). There were a few fishing vessels parked up, but this was a place where the deep see fleet come back to and where fish would be packed and despatched by road across to who knows where. It literally was 60 miles from anywhere. It’s known as a stopping off place for yachts going to sail around Cape Wrath to the North – something we were about to do. Simon managed to get Tonic parked right up in a tight space making extraction for me the following day really challenging. The crew ate dinner while Barry and I tried to fix the furling head sail which had stopped working during the passage over. Within an hour we’d made the matter much worse! Now it would neither furl in or out. Tough to sail without a head sail! Another couple of hours and we managed to get things back to exactly where we’d started and by this time it was after midnight and we were the only ones awake! I sat in the cockpit and had a night cap and contemplated the world. I knew why this place existed – but couldn’t imagine what life must be like. It was desolate most of the time and then frenetic for a short period.
We pulled out at 5.00am on the nose in order to make it to Stromness in time to get into Scapa Flow with a flood tide (because you simply can’t get in in an Ebb tide – we’re talking upto 12 knots). With an early watch we punched into the lock and out into the Minch (still sounds vaguely rude) and we headed up to Cape Wrath. This was a place I’d heard of every night as a student when I would be listening to the Shipping forecast while working (do not ask why). By 7.20am we were rounding Cape Wrath and to me it felt like rounding Cape Horn! We hot our window to get into Scapa and Then into the Harbor of Stromness.
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!
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