Fantasy Cruising - part I - Clyde

My fantasy cruise is a virtual smorgasbård of memories and yearnings, of moments savoured and chances missed....of harbours and wee hooks passed hurridly on racing passions. What were's when the sun shone and what should have been if untimely demises had not gotten in the way.

The cruise is in two parts for the time being, bound together by a whole week or more of leisure on the Crinan canal's fairest nine miles.

CLYDE

There are a few places on the clyde alas, no longer worth dropping the hook at. Yet many other once barren wee village harbours whom offered no fine welcome to wellied brigadeers, have now become little havens worth the trip.

Swine's hole in outer loch Goil would need a visit because I was taken there as maybe a ten year old and really got the whole thang about a weekend trip a float, rather than more usual day or evening tours. Beyond going round the "sugar ship" this was the firat tour I remember as both adventurous and escapist. We chose there because I believe Caladh Harbour was too much of a stretch given our off time. I believe there was just me, my dad and a dolly bird who clad herself in a bikini and thought she was in the med' when the sun shone next day. She sang " leaving on a jet plane" and "i'm a star in new work, I'm a star in L.A.' incessantly.   Caladh even then back in 1978 ish, was a favourite weekend bolt hole of the moody 33 crowd amongst others.

However, Caladh would be the next destination, perhaps if this be a boys tour, to take a day and eve post night out in Ro'th'y. Also there is the kames hotel, having delivered the wooden 'Sonja' sans nav lights and decent torch, in a December operation the SBS would be proud of. Tighnabruaich too, where once there was a sailing school run oot an old shop, with overnighting at the Youth Hostel, which was a wonderful lodge building up the hill. 1995 Derrick passed me RYA grade two, his eyes averted when my grade three skills were in the display in the Kyle.

Tighnabruaich was a place I had visited in the 1970s and family freinds had bought a holiday flat there, we maybe even stayed over, but it was within striking distance of home and part of the family's old war time stomping ground when my grand parents had a cottage on loch fyne south of Strachur. The town had a kind of slightly run down feel to it, Kames being a stage further into decay in the 1970s. The situatiuon was harslyy changed in the 80s when I cycled there, nor 1995, further not any better in 2002 when I returned for a last wee dose of sailing school. On the fringe of economic viability. Maybe since Robbie Carlisle took up wi the place it got some swaggering types, but it was full of twee good lifers and sceptical locals each time.

The Kyle's Of Bute are much under-rated by some, while a firm favourite of others who even move their boats to Roth'y or Tighnabruaich to cut out the middle man that is the open firth of clyde. I think it is a very beautiful passage, worthy of at least one overnight (see suggestion in next paragraphy too) It has a changing, multifaced character from Banatyne past Kames, with scenery many perhaps take for granted in their rush to either get to the pub at Tarbert or make the last lift from the sea lock at Ardrishaig. From the hard turn at the burnt Islands, to the high walls on the North, wi the maids overlooking us, back then into civilisation from this wild and narrow passage. I have only raced the once I believe, Tobermory race 1995, though the Kyle but would love to do the annual round Bute stramash.

Round Bute it is then, with Caladh and Rothesay as overnightings, the first large tour. Maybe drop the hook for lunch at the bay I was at Scout camp, or Port Banatyne and stick the bow to where Sonja lay with three tons of water in her 'upper bilges" - hence tardy and pitch dark approach to Kames. Bute jazz festival is far too early in the year for most wind assisted idjiits, but jazz and roon bute could be an early season, pre midge cracker. In fact I rather fancy this as a late May cruise, with four of us, one a dog and the others being well aquainted chaps from which one could rewrite ' Three Men in  a Boat" in Paliamo Glasgow style. 

One place of in my folklore, is Ettrrick bay, where once wayfarer borne sea-scouts beach assaulted the cafe, the D_Day forces who trained there 40 years before having paved the way for such freedoms. Very exposed from all but east and northerlies, the bay has an uninviting " underwater obstructions" warning on the chart, relating to this WWII or perhaps some sonar structures or underwater targets used by the navy post war.

There are some dangley Islands and rocks off west Bute- Inchmarnock-  and the almost well kept secret sands of Ostell  Bay ( Beagh Osde, aka Kilbride Bay) beyond Toward Point, to bag in this, all be that not in south westerlies for sure. Here white sands and dunes lie before a panoramic view of Arran, which looks like a wilderness void of peopling.

Voyaging further on from Bute though, we have a split in decision making between  further and longer progress basically either  round the Mull ( of Paul Mcartney) or being taken by the usual tractor beam of a flood tide up Loch Fyne towards Ardrishaig and the best short cut known to man on this mild Earth, the Crinan Canal. ,

Many sailors like round the Mull and firstly the short lived pub on Sanda was good craic for sailors hailing from both sides of the N.Channel, now alas a private and unwelcoming owner, but still an anchorage in the lee of westerlies, southerlies and the flood tide. Now Gigha is a major destination for the cogniscenti and Islay boasts pontoons for the 'caravanneurs' who will sample its' peaty distill. Round the Mull was something my father and his compatriots mostly avoided, probably due to ill experiences of getting stuck with the tide turning, there being no effective shelter either between Sanda and Gigha. 33 LOA was an awwfy big yatt fir a wee fella back then, where as nowadays 35-40 foot is almost par fr the course. More recently than the siren like allure of first Sanda's so then Gigha's licensed premises, it happened that the Crinan canal booted up its prices, see below, then dropped them a wee bit,  and in sheer spite many sailors now plan their 2017 passages to exclude its priceless perfection, yet take rather the chances and exposures roon the Mull! (There is even a paraphrasing of parahandy tales's finest shanty wi McPhail's song bastardised to liking the wide briney sea, and the crinan cah-na-ahl noh binn for me)

The wee but more than perfectly formed canal is one  of those - ahem- watersheds that sorts out the casual yellow wellier from the more salt seasoned sailor. You could say it is a portal to the wonders of geology and nature westward. It can be regarded as rendering Kintyre an island.  It is a miraculous passage not only in geography, but also almost back in time to the 18th century when it was built, and further back to the ancient days of Dalreada a millenia and more before that. The sweeping curve its untroubled ribbon  takes after the traverse of the summit, with Kilmartin and inland hills to the north laid out in mysterious distances before you,  is a timeless view which breaks you away from the humdrum world of the clyde and modern civilisation. Not in a single day given an eternity of crusing,  would I its charms desist. More measured in the weeks, the time I would spend on it's inegnious nine mile span.

Savouring the thought of the canal, or avoiding the 'racing rabble' if they filled the Adrishaig sea-lock and  basin of an eve you will partake of entering god's own wee cheatin' hop o'er Kintyre, few yatties venture though, further North of Ardrishaig  in the still saline upper stretches of Loch Fyne, which is a shame because there is much to see at a leisurely pace. Otter Ferry is one such wee forgotten harbour where someone finally got round to opening up a restaurant, and popping moorings out at one point at least. There is then on the other ban, over at Loch Gair yacht haven and hotel, minard point and Furnace, all with something to offer and some fly -as in smart- sea trout fisihing to be had near the river mouth at Furnace. Personal memories of visiting a family there and being veey, very small down at loch gair beach after a thunderstorm. Or maybe it was Seil Island. Folk are no loknger with us to correct me.

Inveraray is best done by bike or car imho. Pity it's noh five hours frae habitatus centralis. Far from tawdry though, it is just far too busy all summer with land lubbers. Mobbed. Shame it doth not lie where Campbelltown or Tayvallich do, too far a stretch for Ada and Bert in a day and hame fir yer tea.  However the venture as far as Furnace at least,  is rewarded by the finest of vistas north east to the true start of the western highland range of hills and proper 'moontins', and barring a southerly has blown several days - and the Fyne fair channels the wind that way- peace can be had from a string of westerlies with shops, caf's and boozers a stone's throw ashore from the hook-spots named above.

I must say that Campbelltown and Arran have no allure for me, but given fantasy summer holidays of no bounds, then especially the Carradale area is worth a tootle. Round Ailsa craig too for the hell of it. Sneaking up on the Mull, Sanda boatsed a pub for several years as noted, but now the idle rich who own her don't want visitors no more. So really we are getting to the end of a clyde cruise, and any ideas of Ailsa craig would be better served by the added interest of racing agin' o'er yats.

Sanda is still though the gatweway to Islay with Gigha a favourite hook for yats now, but also a trip to the Emerald Isle so near it is so near.

So roon a few islands and stick the nose up a couple of Fjords and we are finished wi the clyde at Sanda or Ardrishaig,  and ready for the delights of the crinan canal- oh, and the wee bit rest of the Hee-brides.