Greystones-Sherkin

We had arrived at Greystones in good time for our Matthew and Holly's wedding. Holly comes from Delgany nearby, and they first met at our Fionnuala's wedding 10 years ago to Anto, Lord Ardee if you don't mind from Killruddery, also nearby. Here they are aboard with the happy results of that union; the bump has been safely delivered since and is now Evelyn. That's Matthew on the right, Anto is behind him, but since he is on his phone he doesn't get a place in the photo. Mind it's a tough number running a show like that and everyone expects his lordship to be available the whole time.... Actually I think they're doing a great job of reinventing a long tradition! See www.killruddery.com/

Well, here is a nice photo of Anto, taken like all the next few by our John at the wedding:-

And here are Holly and Matthew getting spliced:

The Full Catastrophe, as Zorba the Greek would have called it, were present and correct. I may as well take the opportunity to introduce our family:-

Well, introducing that lot properly at one go is not going to work; it will have to wait until they come into the story. Fiona and I have four sons and five daughters in there.

Meanwhile a very good time was had by all, while the Anna M enjoyed a well-earned rest in the excellent new harbour there at Greystones, which is a most impressive bit of design. Pity I seem to have lost the photos I took of it! Like the two above, taken by our John, I shall use some more that he took at the wedding to introduce the ones who came on our fine sail to Ballycotton and Cork.

Aunty Cristiona can be very down-to-earth sometimes 

and was brilliant to have along especially when the younger crew members needed sorting out: the two As, Alec and Aaron

 

and Lizzie
                                                                          

We whistled round to Ballycotton in under 24 hours, with an ideal NW breeze, and spending 3 hours anchored in St Margaret's Bay, just north of Carnsore Point, while the tide was foul.
While I rested from a sleepless night on watch, the lads paddled off in the dinghy and caught a few mackerel, said to be very scarce this year. Then we walked along the cliffs to see my very dear old friends Ken and Rachel:


Off to Cork next day, right up to the city, so that we could go our separate ways handily while some bad weather came in. I went home to Sherkin on the bus for the weekend. God bless Charlie Haughey says I, and his free travel passes for pensioners, which means that I can get home for nothing from anywhere in Ireland; very much appreciated, I can tell you!

Rory and his young son Sean came along for the trip downriver. Turning as we left the pontoon after the gale, I managed to get the ladder on the transom caught under one of the metal cleats, which not alone mangled the ladder, but yanked the boat tight round so that the self-steering was damaged. Wonderful how one can go on making mistakes at this game, and be punished for the least failure of concentration, as Rory said! Only going to Crosshaven anyway, where I got the damage sorted at Salve Marine, and happily Richard, Sheila, Tristram and Lucy came for a very pleasant day sail.

Then at last the mate joined me again, along with Aaron, and with a good offshore breeze we sailed for home; bit late getting away however, so we put into Courtmacsherry for a night, and along comes mistake number three. It was nearly two hours after high water, and according to both my paper and electronic charts there should have been plenty of water as I went to anchor in the recommended spot:

but there wasn't, and we grounded and stuck fast where the icon is above. The narrow deep channel was just to the north of us, and we ended up on our beam-ends. An uncomfortable night, but the old girl came up like a daisy, and we were on our way early in the morning, past the Seven Heads,

 Galley Head

and home.

a fine sail, though the mate seemed more interested in getting that pirate finished for Sebby!

Sherkin was in full bloom!

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!

Inishbofin-Tayvallich

After my last post from Inishbofin, my laptop decided I had better take a summer break from cyber space; it refused to recognise the internet any more; meanwhile however I had prepared an account of our trip northwards.

We headed off on a lumpy sea up past Clare Island, whose intriguing profile fascinated Patrick Pye:


 

and Achill Hd:

Then we at last found sheltered waters inside the wild Inishkeas, and slipping inside Eagle Island, came once more to Broadhaven Bay. 

It was so good to see the sweet familiar hills of Mayo again, and recall Luke standing on a fish box to steer the Eiscir Riada, as we hauled crab pots in Broadhaven Bay. They are still fishing crabs there, for prices that make it very hard to keep going, and also mackerel, with the like problem. 

I found Henry Geoghan pottering outside his house; he's had a lot of knee trouble, but has one new one doing well and will have the same operation on the other. He took me with him into Belmullet for supplies.

We recalled the bitter March night when I took shelter in the Magnificent, Pat Conneely's old 75footer, lest one forgets or thinks it was but a dream! The weather station at Belmullet recorded gusts of 100mph. You could not stand on deck, unless bent and holding on. All electricity on land was out, the radar didn't work because the scanner could not go round, the sounder was useless with interference, it was in the days before GPS, the night was thick with drizzle and spray. The only electrical gadget still working in the boat was the VHF, and I was in touch with Henry.

I had anchored in the bay, but the anchor was dragging. Fortunately the wind changed from SE to W, so that it became possible to get alongside the pier, which I was able to do because Henry drove to the end of it and kept his headlights on, so thanks again, Henry.

Let them not take it into there heads that there is no longer any need for proper lighthouses!

The sea was settling for a change as we headed north-east past the Stags:

Sadly, what with having to be in Wicklow for the 22^nd and more bad weather given, there was no time to set foot in Donegal;

Passing over 10 miles to the West of dear old Glen Head, on a pleasant evening with a fine northerly breeze that had a little west in it, we were just able to lay Tory Sound,

and after a night that was never really dark, for one notices a big difference in this line just sailing from Cork to Donegal, we raised Tory Island with the dawn behind it.

Holding on the Gannetsway past the fine northern coast,

we made our landfall at Islay towards evening.

A bonnie island indeed,

where we anchored off the distillery at Lagavulin,

and went ashore to taste their fine whiskey.

After that we had a magnificent smooth water sail up the Sound of Jura,

to Loch Sween.

and so found the sheltered bay of Tayvallich to ride out the forecast gales.

A lovely, gentle, wooded part of the world.

C'mon Gabby!

Time to head south again, to be in Wicklow in time for Matthew and Holly's wedding!