Tayvallich-Greystones

Here goes with my new Chromebook; more knobs to master, but hopefully it will be easier when I get going! The weeks have whisked by since the last post, after which my old laptop took a hump and refused to go online any more. Just managed to get my hands on this machine before sailing for Spain. Now I am at anchor on a windy day off the harbour of Fisterra, but I will have to go back and pick up the story at Tayvallich in Scotland, where I left off.

We rode out a gale there, along with this beautiful boat, and were soon heading south again. First night was spent in the company of hundreds of seals in the shelter of the Ardmore Islands off south-eastern Islay. Three hours after we had left, we were scudding past the Mull of Kintyre at nine knots, with a fair wind and tide.

Leaving the Atlantic swells in a calm Irish sea, we shot on past the Antrim coast until the tide turned off Donaghadee.

I thought of the amusing conversation that I overheard on the VHF hereabouts when I was passing in a fishing boat back in the late seventies. Posh RN accent addresses old Lancashire coaster, the usual sort of questions, where from, where to, happen to have any guns on board, any passengers? 'Well some of the crew are a bit lazy-like, but you couldn't exactly call them passengers!'

Fortunately the filling tide allowed us to slip into Strangford Loch with the last of the daylight, and to pick up a mooring in Audley Roads, across from Portaferry..

The calm night gave way to a bit of a blow next day, and we stayed put to enjoy our peaceful berth 

forenenst the ruins of Audley Castle,

amidst the trees and green fields of County Down.

A short way up this path, a wide view opened of the expanse of Strangford Loch, beyond the narrows:

We rode all that water barrelling out next morning.

dodging whirlpools,

and thinking we might dodge overfalls 

that sucked us in at 11 knots:

I dread to think what it's like with an onshore wind!

               

Anyway all was soon peaceful with our south-westerly,

where the Mountains of Mourne swept down to the sea.

We spent that night in Scotsman's Bay, at the back of Dun Laoghaire pier, going on to Greystones next morning, where Gabriel and Lou-lou left for a night on the town before their flight home next day. Au revoire mes amis, merci, et a la prochaine fois.

I'm not sure what Gabriel is making of that breakfast though!