Fairwinds 2005

Days 20 and 21 - Shapinsay - Lochinver 133 miles

Day 19 - Shapinsay - Shapinsay 12 miles

(Or the day we didn’t go to Stronsay)

Here’s the problem - we are pressed on to the pier by wind gusting up to 20 knots on our beam. We haven’t got enough room to get off forwards before running aground. If we try to go off astern the propwalk will swing the stern in before we have steerage way. Of course, the answer is not to get yourself in these situations, but the berth had seemed much more sheltered the day before . . .

I took off most of the lines and pondered. After much pondering a local guy who had been watching came over and asked if he could help. I explained that I was not sure how to get the vessel safely off the pier. He enquired as to whether I had an engine, obviously unable to see what else could be stopping me. I admitted to having one, and he suggested springing off with a bow spring and reversing off - a classic manoevre, but one I tried to explain would not work with this boat in these conditions. He was sure it would, and so we demonstrated with him holding the bow spring. The stern swings out, I go astern - and it swings straight back in no matter what I do. Eventually he jumps into the small boat moored behind (to seaward) of us and between us we manhandle the boat inelegantly alongside it then swing her stern to wind. I shout our thanks as we head off, knowing our helper will be left shaking his head at the antics of a couple of WAFIs.

Loads of tide with us as we close reach down the string - over seven knots over the ground all the way with double reefed main and half the genoa. Round the bottom of Shapinsay and we are almost hard on the wind making our course for the Southern coast of Stronsay and Auskerry Sound. Round the NE point of Shapinsay and the fun begins. We are now as close to the wind as we can get with the small genoa, and the seas in the Stronsay Firth are building as the spring ebb begins to challenge the NW wind. We have twenty-five knots over the deck pretty much constantly, and about a mile out into the Firth I decide I don’t want to do this. It’s cold, it’s uncomfortable, and even if the conditions aren’t too horrible in Auskerry Sound (which I suspect they will be) then the long slog directly to windward up the E coast of Stronsay does not appeal. Luckily there is a contingency plan for turning back (not always possible with the strong tides, and it’s Springs now). We do a 180 just as the tide does, and we are back opposite Balfour Village in no time at all, catching an equally strong tide back up the String just an hour after we had sped down it tide-assisted in the other direction.

It took a while to tack back across the tide into the bay at Balfour as we kept getting swept back East by the back eddy on the Northern side of the String but we were safely on one of the visitors’ moorings less than three hours after leaving the pier. A pleasant enough sail, but a bit pointless. Phoned Tim for some weather forecasts. The BBC are forecasting Northerlies for Kirkwall as far ahead as Tuesday . . . if they drop off a bit we might get somewhere else, but it won;t be fun - everywhere is North from here unless we throw in the towel and head for the Moray Firth. And it’s still freezing!

Blew the dinghy up and went to the Gatehouse again for a couple of pints. A youngish (to my eyes) girl with a rip in her jeans who works in Balfour Castle (now a hotel) came over and spoke to us - she was originally from the Falklands but moved to Shapinsay when she was six. She hadn’t been to any other ioslands in Orkney except Mainland and Rousay once when she was a kid on a school trip. It’s a familiar story - no-one bothers with what’s on their doorstep.

Day 18 - Kirkwall - Shapinsay 5 miles

Weather still very unprepossessing - strong gusty North to North-Westerly wind making going anywhere from Kirkwall remarkably difficult. I went up the town for rolls and bought Kathy a new fishing reel. We hung about the boat doing not very much, feeling very indecisive.

About half past twelve a Scanyacht 39 roared up into our corner of the marina and was unhappy to find us tied across to the opposite finger (we had been invited to do so by marina staff in fact). We moved the line and they roared in and parked beside us. They weren’t unpleasant, but we were now pressed hard on the pontoon and feeling crowded so we decided to head up to Shapinsay. We walked Fairwinds back and the Scanyachters helped us get out by taking a long bow line and swinging her head through the wind. (The narrow beam of the Vega combined with the relatively full stern means using a stern spring gives you very little angle, yet another reason the boat is so difficult to handle in confined spaces).

We got the main up double reefed in the relative shelter of the outer harbour then motorsailed out of Kirkwall with 25 knots or so over the deck. Once we were tidied away I attempted to unroll a sensible working jib-sized genoa. Jut as I thought I’d got it wallop! Out it all comes, and we are careering off rail in the water only marginally under control. (You really do not want a 150% genoa with 28 knots over the deck). To add to the fun there was a riding turn on the winch. We bore away onto a broad reach to let the main blanket the genoa; once it collapsed I could get the riding turn off, wind the sail in and try again. We had an exact repeat performance, but this time the riding turn was worse. I knew what was causing it - the car was well forwards, in the right position for the sze of headsail, but creating too shallow an angle onto the winch. Knowing what had caused it did not help however as we hurtled towards the shore at seven knots barely under control, beariung away to get the genoa to collapse so I could manhandle the sheet off the winch.. This time I had had enough and we rolled it away and resumed motorsailing under main only for the tme being.

(I had discussed this with Geordie - Orion21- and he had said that he found the only reliable way to do it was to let all the genoa out first then roll some in - a procedure that is less than ideal in strong winds, particularly if there isn’t much room to bear away. I intend to discuss this at some length with Sailspar when I am back in the office as the problem seems to be getting worse).

We whistled through the channel inside Thieves’ Holm (sailing harmlessly right over the 2m patch according to the depth sounder, which went down to 3.5m below the keel at one point) then bore away, unrolled the full genoa and rolled in the correct amount for the conditions. Still had to wrestle another riding turn off the winch as I hadn’t moved the car. Now we could bear away reach across the tide in the String, beam reaching at over seven knots at an angle of forty-five degrees to our heading.

Heading in to Shapinsay we decided to go into the pier rather than pick up a visitor’s mooring (of which there were two). The approach to the pier looked straightforward and sheltered, so we fendered up with four fenders out, intending to blow up the big fender once we were settled. The approach was perfect, Kathy got a rope round the ladder and I applied a little reverse then BANG! - the stern suddenly swung in, clouted a barnacle-encrusted metal piling and scraped backwards with a horrible barnacly grinding noise. Nothing further untoward happened, and we got secured with no further incident. The damage was cosmetic - and to my pride of course. Still not sure what happened, but the Shapinsay ferry was backing out from the pier at the time, and we think it was the wash from this coupled with the propwalk when I went astern that did the damage.

It took an hour or so and a can of beer before I calmed down enough to let this one go. Another hour or so was spent fiddling with lines and fenders, while I reflected that if we had taken a mooring we could have had the dinghy blown up and been ashore by now with the boat unscratched and safe. Eventually I stopped brooding, decided we were safely moored and we went ashore. It was still a dull, overall grey with a temperature that I swear wasn’t into double figures. An old lady stood at her cottage door as we walked down the village street.

"This isn’t Summer", she remarked as we walked past.

We were not inspired to go very far - Shapinsay didn’t seem very interesting in this weather. We stopped at the shop on the way back and bought a few provisions. The shopkeeper was also the Shapinsay harbour master, so we checked that we were OK where we were. We also found out that what we had thought was a disused gatehouse for Balfour Castle was in fact a pub, which cheered me up a bit.

While Kathy cooked I planned a possible passage to Stronsay - assuming the wind didn’t go more Northerly and dropped off a bit it looked feasible. We had steak for tea - allegedly Orkney beef, it was tough and uninspiring and neither of us ate more than half. We vowed that we would only eat meat from Mr. Flett, the Stromness butcher, from now on. The Gatehouse was now obviously open, the participants in a football match that had been taking place earlier having repaired there. A fast RIB came into the pier and three guys in foul weather gear headed up the twee turreted steps towards this unlikely hostelry. We followed, only to find them on the steps outside smoking fags. I asked if it was too warm for them indoors, and they said it was too crowded but would be emptier soon. Apparently they were the transport back to Kirkwall for the visiting team.

Inside the place was jumping. It was a strange narrow building, never designed for its current role but strategically converted into the most interesting pub we had seen in Orkney so far. We were the oldest people there - it was full of footballers eating sandwiches and downing pints, although the call for the first boatload back to Kirkwall had already started to empty the place.

We had an enjoyable two or three pints while people-watching before repairing to the boat. It was now high water, and we could easily step aboard rather than face the weedy embarnacled ladder - probably a greater hazard to the returning reveller than the average dinghy trip.

Day 17 - Kirkwall

Orkney Harbours forecast 20 knots gusting 30 NW going Northerly, so we phoned Orkney Motors and cancelled the car hire. In the event the wind stayed resolutely in thte NW and we would have been OK, although it did get a bit bouncy and we hung ourselves off the pontoon with lines to the empty (upwind) finger opposite.

Met up with Orion21, a local YBW Scuttlebutter (real name Geordie) who now owns a Trapper 300 based in the marina. He very helpfully took me to get diesel and gas, much appreciated as it is an enormous trek to anywhere from the marina’s current (temporary) location. Ihad a look at this boat, a real Tardis of a 26 footer. He has Sailspar single line reefing the same as Fairwinds’, and it was interesting to hear that he has had similar problems with the full genoa suddenly unfurling in strong winds when you really don’t want it. He is, like us, thinking of fitting twin jammers to stop this. (The problem with the system is that both ends of the endless line have to be cleated off firmly in strong winds - not always easy, and opten requiring three hands).

Geordie also took us for a mini-tour round and about Kirkwall and out to Scapa pier for a look at Scapa Flow, before dropping us off at the internet café where I hoped to plug my laptop into the café’s network and upload this blog to date. This was only marginally successful, but eventually I managed to upload most of it while Kathy went to Somerfield for more supplies.

We went out for Orkney patties and chips (a patty seems to be some sort of deep fried stovies come bridie-filling, tastier than it sounds). A remarkably cheap supper followed by a pint of Red MacGregor in the public bar of the Queens Hotel, yet another boring and unprepossessing pub - we have yet to find a decent watering hole in Orkney, which seems to be stuck in the era of grubby Calvinism when it comes to pub décor.

Day 16 - Kirkwall

Extraordinary how long everything takes . . . by the time we had showered at the yacht club, dropped washing off at the launderette and gone to the internet café and Somerfields it was time to come back to the boat for a very late lunch, then off for a bit of quick sightseeing before picking up the washing. (The very nice girl in the launderette pointed out that we could save a couple of quid by doing it ourselves instead of getting a service wash, but . . . . nah . . . we decided to splash out). Just time for a quick look round the excellent museum (free admission) and the very impressive cathedral.

Decided to stay in Kirkwall another day as the forecast was not impressive, and booked a hire car. However, we then decided that if the wind was strong Northerly as previously forecast we might not be wise to leave the boat unattended all day, so decided to review the situation when we got the Orkney Harbours forecast at quarter past nine in the morning.

(Kirkwall Marina was constructed at great expense behind a fancy new breakwater that left a gap with the old pier. This gap faces an eight mile fetch in a Northerly. The first marina flexed horrendously and started to fall apart in a Northerly gale shortly after it was finished, to cries of ‘I told you so’ from all the local yachtsmen and fishermen, who were not consulted by the ‘experts’ who designed it. It has been resited temporarily in the SE corner tucked in behind the new breakwater, but in strong winds from N to NE the swell is still reflected off the rear wall and can send the pontoons snaking and bouncing in an alarming manner. After wave tank testing a new dog-leg extension to the old pier is now being built at further enormous expense, and it is hoped that this will cure the problem. This will be in place for next season).

Back to the boat for food then watched dinghies racing in the bay for a while before going up to the Sailing Club to check out the bar. Met a bunch of Aberdonians (two toonsers], a teuchter and one ancient mariner who wasn’t saying). They were heading South to Findochty on the early morning tide, a sensible sort of passage given the forecast.

Day 15 – Eday – Kirkwall 19 miles

The tides said there was no point in leaving for Kirkwall untikl about three in the afternoon, so after a breakfast of two small unidentified fish caught on a spinner the night before we decided to take the dinghy over to the Calf of Eday, described in one of the guides as ‘one of the most significant prehistoric sites in Britain’. Taking the dinghy across the fiercly flowing tide was a little nerve wracking but the trusty Yamaha never faltered and we dragged the  dinghy up the kelp covered boulders below the ruins of trhe 17th century saltworks. The remains of chambered tombs and an iron age farmhouse were easy to find, and as we walked up the broad back of the island it was obvious that this had been a large settlement inthose dim and distant times. Hundreds of disturbed seabirds scraiked and wheeled above us, and one particular beast – a skua of some variety  I think - repeatedly attacked us with scary head-on strafing runs. We hightailed it out of their nesting area and walked along the shore to a small beach, disturbing dozens of huge basking seals, who lolloped into the water and all lined up, a row of heads, to examine these unusual visitors.

Returning to the boat we rapidly deflated the dinghy – we had towed it down from Papay, but I was not prepared to tow it across the top of the somewhat unpredictable Stronsay Firth. We motored off the mooring at 15.25, and ten minutes later were making good speed on a broad reach under all plain sail. Once round the bottom of Eday I poled out the genoa as the reach got broader and we struggled to make headway on our diagonal track across the tide towards Shapinsay and Vasa Sound. On our desired track our VMG was down to under a knot, so I rounded up a little and broad reached as fast as possible across the main tidal stream, heading for the relatively tideless waters to the North of Shapinsay. Finally, now goosewinged and with the engine doing its best to assist us, we just clawed our way clear of a wee rost  developing off Holm Taing and into the shelter of Veantrow Bay.

We motor sailed as far as the North Cardinal off Galt Skerry, then cut just inside it and enjoyed a fast sail down Vasa Sound. The channel is narrow, but the leading line – St.Magnus Cathedral spire in line with the SW tip of Shapinsay – is incredibly easy to see. At the narrowest point of the channel one of the Northlink ferries caught us up and had to reduce speed substantially and follow us through the Sound, swinging past with a wave once we were past the beacon.  

Coming into Kirkwall we were waved into an inner berth in the marina by someone saying ‘have my berth, you’ll be snug here’. Kirkwall marina has a problem with Northerlies, of which more later.

We had haggis and then went for a wander about, although it was getting dark by now. Ended up having a pint int the lounge bar of the Kirkwall Hotel, but had to finish it and leave to avoid further extremely dull conversation from the barman, a Lancastrian who didn’t want to be there. And so to bed – tomorrow, showers, laundry and the internet café . . . and perhaps a bit of sightseeing.

Day 14 – Papa Westray – Eday – 9 miles

We sailed off the mooring and enjoyed a fast close reach down to Eday, arriving a little early at the top oif Calf Sound and having to motor the last mile to pick up the  visitors mooring in front of Carrick House, scene of the denouement of one John Gow, allegedly the most inept pirate ever and certainly the most unsuccessful Orkney buccaneer. They say there is still a bloodstain on the floor in the dining room of Carrick House.

We went ashore and headed up the hill in search of more burial chambers. At the top of Vinquoy Hill is an impressive chambered cairn, pretty much intact but with a skylight in the top allowing you to see once you have crawled inside through the long entrance passageway. Four chambers open off the main chamber.

Walking South from here we were following the Eday Heritage Walk in reverse, passing two less complete burial chambers and finishing at the impressive Stone of  Setter. We returned via the Red House croft restoration project, site of a home made overshot waterwheel used to power a threshing mill. By the time we had climbed Vinquoy Hill again from the other side and made our way down to the dinghy we were soaked through, trousers filthy from tomb crawling and boots covered in sheep shit – a fine Sunday afternoon excursion for genteel yachtspersons.

Day 13 – Papa Westray

A foul day with persistent rain broken only by spells of drizzle made us abandon our plans to sail down to Calf Sound on Eday, and we just sat about on the boat all day reading and generally chilling out. After our evening meal we climbed into the damp dinghy and went ashore to investigate pub night. The ‘pub’ is a two foot long bar and a cupboard in the dining room of the Youth Hostel come Guest House up beside the shop. Mine host was Jim, born and bred on Papay and still a little bleary-eyed from the previous night’s festivities at a ruby wedding in Kirkwall. We drank bottles of Northern Light and later a bottle of Scapa Special, a new beer made by the guy who used to own Orkney Ales but sold it and set up in competition. The other barman looked like a tattooed biker and had been showing tourists round the bird reserve while the RSPB warden was on holiday. He didn’t like the cliff part of the tour, he told us, and regaled us with the  tale of an elderly woman who almost walked over the cliff one day while looking through binoculars.

One of Jim’s daughters who lives in Aberdeen was there with her man, and it turned out we had mutual acquaintances from Aberdeen in the 1970s. The visiting minister from somewhere in the US played the banjo, accompanying Jim’s wife who played the accordion while sipping a small glass of Baileys. An unusual combination, the banjo and the squeezebox, but it worked. While they played we played Pass the Pigs with the minister’s girlfriend and chatted inconsequentially. A large Glaswegian type who had lived on Papay since leaving the forces bought us a drink, and I reciprocated. In fact, lots of people bought us drinks, but it was hard to buy them back and this represented the only success in this field.

We wandered back to the dinghy and thence to Fairwinds some time after midnight, and agreed that this must rank as one of the  classic small island pub nights along with Eigg and Inishturk.

Day 12 – Pierrowall – Papa Westray – 8 miles

Left the pontoon without incident and headed towards Papa Westray (or Papay as the locals call it). Lightish breeze from dead aft so we motor-sailed with headsail assistance – needed to charge the batteries, as I was beginning to suspect that the wind generator was not doing the business.

As we came round into South Wick between Papay and Holm of Papay the wind picked up and we accelerated in through increasingly shallow water – for the last mile we were never in more than three metres. Picked up the big red visitors’ mooring (marked ‘Visiting Yachts and rated to 18 tonnes). An astonishingly early arrival for us – on the mooring buoy at one o’ clock! So – time for lunch then ashore to explore.

Looked in at the craft shop and post office (‘Daybreak’), which is run by a German woman who has been on the island for six years. She hand knits astoundingly coloured socks, and only innate meanness and poverty prevented me buying a pair. A large map of the world with pins stuck all over from South Georgia to the Phillipines is entitled ‘Papay socks are trotting the world’. Margit also showed us a book with pictures of all the people on the island in 2000 (some 67 souls at the time the book was made) – and shortly afterwards one of the inhabitants she had pointed out came hobbling in for her pension and gave us a truly magnificent scowl before profoundly ignoring us. Margit also told us about Pub Night on Saturdays. It now being Friday we wondered whether another day’s stay might be in order.

Off then to Holland farm and the Bothy Museum, then down to Knap of Howar, a superbly preserved Neolithic farmhouse, and along the shore to the restored 12th Century St. Boniface’s Kirk, then back past the airfield (shortest scheduled flight in the world – Westray – Papa Westray, scheduled flight time 2 minutes but once done in 58 seconds). We were just in time to catch the shop. It is a community co-op and stocked with all manner of fine things. We purchased some pieces of pork marinaded in chilli and lemon from Fletts, the excellent butcher in Stromness, and some locally grown strawberries.

Back on the boat we were still in active mode and after a beer and a snack took the dinghy over to Holm of Papay. It had a wild feel to it, with seabirds screaming and wheeling menacingly overhead. At the South end of this small island which protects the anchorage there is a chambered burial cairn from Neolithic times. There is a trapdoor and a ladder; excavations in the thirties resulted in the place being given a concrete roof and skylights, so you can see well enough in the main chamber, although the ten smaller chambers where the bones or bodies were placed are pitch black. Kathy at first was reluctant to descend into the tomb, but I convinced her she would not be claustrophobic, so she climbed down the ladder. To my amazement she even crawled through the tiny gap into the end chamber, where one of the stone lintels into the actual burial chambers has an eyebrow carving. I found a small bone (maybe a vole?) and kept it as my Neolithic tomb souvenir.

By the time we returned to Fairwinds we were more than ready for the pork and strawberries. What an excellent, gourmet meal it was – with some red wine and a dram and coffee to finish, and so to bed.

Day 11 – Pierrowall (Westray)

It looked as though it was clearing up, so after a late and leisurely brunch – bacon rolls in fresh baked rolls from the bakery just up from the harbour – we wandered down to the Half Yokk café and hired bikes for a half day. Once again the people couldn’t have been friendlier or more helpful – we were told to take them back to the marina any time up to nine o’clock  to save ourselves a walk, and given a mobile number to phone so the bikes could be collected from the pontoon..

We decided to take the road South towards Rapness. For those thinking of following in our footsteps, don’t! It is without doubt one of the straightest, dullest seven miles of road I have ever cycled on, with one long slow hill after another. About half way the ‘Jesus Saves’ bus that had been parked on the pier at Pierrowall passed us in a reek of choking diesel fumes, then as we approached Rapness it began to rain in earnest and we sheltered for nearly an hour in the deserted ferry waiting room on the pier, where with a little supple manoeuvring I managed to  use the hot air dryer to dry parts for which it was never designed.

When the rain subsided we headed back, detouring to watch the puffins at Burrian Castle. These guys know how to put on a show, and allowed us to get within a few feet of them. They made the entire wet painful expedition worthwhile.

When we eventually freewheeled down the hill into Pierrowall it was straight into the hotel for a welcome pint of Northern Lights, then off to the shop where we bought an Orkney Today and some local eggs before retiring to the boat for pasta and vegetables and a relatively sober and early night.