Loch Gair was welcome
and although there were several
moorings we anchored carefully,
not wanting to depend on unknown
moorings. We put the cockpit
tent up, ran a line under the
boom, pulled the oillies off and
hung them on coat hangers onto
our drying line. Then we had a
dram before preparing a meal and
every wee while told each “it’s
not getting any better, is it?”
After we had eaten and
washed the dishes it was after
2000. it was a very dark night
and the wind was blowing gale
force with frequent stronger
gusts coming through the driving
stair-rods of rain. Even in the
shelter of the loch the boat was
surging quite a bit. We went
forward and sent an ‘angel away
to give some more weight to the
chain. An hour later we put the
fisherman anchor over the side
just at the forefoot and left
its warp flaked on deck. The
boat was a lot quieter then.
We turned in just
before the midnight forecast and
glass in hand, tucked tightly
into sleeping bags heard the
weatherman admit that there was
a deep depression about with
Storm Force 10 imminent. It was
certainly blowing force 9
outside. The cockpit tent
allowed us to keep the
washboards out of the cabin
hatchway and yet separate us
from the wind and the lashing
rain. If there wasn’t any let
up in the morning we would have
to get the bus home.
We put the light out
and tried to get some sleep. In
the darkness a few words were
muttered about bad weather in
general. Joshua Slocum was
mentioned and there were a
couple of facetious remarks
about his encounter with the
ghostly Portuguese Pilot who
sailed SPRAY while Slocum was
ill.
Neither of us really
slept, just dozed. Each of us
got up a couple of times to
check that everything was all
right. It really was a hell of
a night. About 0300 the
movement of the boat changed.
She started to plunge more to
her chain. Moonlight was coming
through the cabin windows. We
both made to get out of our
sleeping bags but stopped dead
when we saw two very aggressive
figures rushing at us from the
cockpit into the hatchway.
Not boarders. But our
oilskins sliding along the
drying line under the influence
of wind and movement. I
wouldn’t say we had been
frightened. Speechless yes. A
little nonplussed. Perhaps even
a little apprehensive - but not
really frightened!.
The 0600 forecast was
encouraging and we left Loch
Gair with our harnesses on and
let the reliable SAAB diesel
thump us through a still nasty
head sea, all the way back to
Kip Marina.
Bill Mills