Whitehaven to Luce Bay - Scotland - August 22nd

Locking out of Whitehaven’s sea lock, accompanied by a rather smelly fishing boat, found us heading straight into the nose of a lumpy and uncomfortable Irish Sea boasting a SW’ly wind of 9-13 knots. Two days of severe gale force winds had left the shallow Solway Firth angry at being rudely interrupted from its summer recess. Our destination, the far side of Luce Bay and the tiny inlet called East Tarbet Bay right at the tip of the Mull of Galloway. A perfect spot to wait before the challenging North Passage - the fiercely tidal narrow gap between Northern Ireland and Scotland, just sixty miles long, twelve miles wide with up to 10 metre tides. It’s critical to get everything right – wind, weather and tide!
   On just one single tack we sailed into Wigtown Bay, passing the tempting entrance to Kircudbright harbour at 1500, along with hundreds of throbbing surface swimming brown jelly fish in bright sunshine then when close to the western shore, tacked out past the Isle of Whithorn, another tempting little harbour, to meet head-on the race at The Machers, the headland that separates Wigtown and Luce bays. It had taken far longer to sail the twenty five miles than planned, as the disgruntled Irish Sea continually threw batches of ugly sisters at me in threes’ – a set of waves that smack you this way and that and knock you almost to a standstill, despite best efforts to helm around them. I’ve met them before near Cowes. One particular batch sent a packet of spray thumping back into my spray hood along with a huge cafe au lait coloured jellyfish which was stranded between the windlass and Cranse iron – the metal structure that takes the varying loads at the butt end of the bowsprit! I am not sure who was more surprised and was not in the least bit sorry to see the shiny mass, the size of a large Frisbee and as thick as a telephone directory, get washed overboard some moments later by the next big batch of ugly sisters. Resorting reluctantly, to the engine, as groundspeed faltered to less than a knot as the wind fell to7 knots was a must if I were to reach my destination. Once in Luce Bay the wind picked up and we had a lovely sail engineless towards The Scares – a small group of tiny islands and a nearby larger island in the middle of the bay; Gannets diving all around me providing compelling viewing; some from incredible heights and back or should that be beak-breaking speeds. A two knot hostile tide was making progress torrid; the sun long set, by the time we passed the larger island which prompted an engine restart; motor sailing the last eight miles in near darkness, the lighthouse at the tip destroying my night vision every 20 seconds. By the time we were below the beam and well inside the bay, it was completely dark, with a very fine drizzle damping enthusiasm for anything other than getting under cover. With sails furled, we gently and cautiously motored blind, relying totally on instruments, to the far end of the bay and moored in 8m; a mere 30m from the rocky shore. Too tired to cook, a lump of bread, cheese and pickle and two Hens sufficed, before falling exhausted into bed. The daily log read 73 miles; my longest passage both in hours at the helm and distance covered!