The Continuing Adventures of Hjalmar Bjorge
Season 4 - Episode 5 of 5 - Gale Riding to Canna and Return to Oban
Exploring the Isles of the West Cruise July 10-19, 2019
Season 4 - Episode 5 of 5 - Gale Riding to Canna and Return to Oban
Exploring the Isles of the West Cruise July 10-19, 2019
After our visit to the Flannans we made an uneventful sail through the Sound of Harris. After passing the low lying isles of Ensay and Killigray, we motored around Berneray, Hermetray, and Rubha an Fhigheadair (Weaver's Point), before dropping anchor in Bagh Aird nam Madadh, a small bight in the coast east of Lochmaddy.
Even though the forecast was dreadful, we woke to seemingly calm conditions Wednesday morning (July 17th). But it was oh-so deceptive. As usual, Mark had chosen the perfect anchorage for the conditions. The vast bulk of North Uist was sheltering us from a big southerly blow that was starting to brew.
After breakfast we headed into the Minch: our destination Canna, 40 nautical-miles to the southeast. The fun began 15 minutes later when we rounded Rubha nam Pleac to enter the Minch. The winds hit, the waves hit, the swells hit. It was dangerous to move about, so we sat glued to our seats in the saloon. Suddenly Dave got up, and dashed down the passageway. We would not see him for hours. We assumed he'd been sick, and had gone down to his cabin. As it turned out, he'd headed up to the wheelhouse, where he would end up being trapped for the duration of the storm.
Trapped is apt. We were all trapped in place - for as the ship rocked and rolled there was no way to safely move about. The sea was washing across the deck, to slowly drain out the scuppers. But several times a large wave would drench the stern, and splash back through the rear doorway into the saloon. So one brave soul (I don't recall who) got up to latch the door shut. We'd left it open for the fresh air, which helps stave off seasickness. But even with the hatch closed, and the inside temperature on the rise, no one got sick. It was quite impressive. Usually someone gets sea-sick during these wild conditions.
At one point the ship rose fast on a high swell, followed by a sudden free-fall that had us all momentarily floating in air - weeeee! Wolfgang, who'd been anchored to a deck chair, also enjoyed a moment of weightlessness. Then, as the ship suddenly bottomed out on a low trough, he crashed back down, causing the chair to collapse. Luckily he was only bruised; unlike the chair, which was broken beyond repair.
I wish I had photos to share of that dramatic crossing. But I don't. I'd not been prepared. The camera was down in my cabin, which lay below deck aft of the engine room. There was no way I could retrieve it without getting injured and/or incurring the skipper's wrath. (I think keel-hauling, forty lashes, walking the plank - or all the above - are the recommended punishments for entering the engine room in a full-blown gale.)
But Michelle had been prepared. She took this video of Don singing a sea shanty during the worst of the crossing.
The following stitched-image of frame captures from the video shows us glued in place around the saloon table. It's not a smooth composite due to the changing camera angle, but I think the zigs and zags give a feel for all the zigs and zags we experienced for several hours.
After a six-hour beating the conditions gradually improved, and as Canna came into view it was possible to move about. Once in Canna Harbour the anchor was dropped, and we were set ashore for a few hours. I led most the guests on a circular tour that included the pencil-tower church, John Lorne Campbell's Grave, Canna High Cross, and the Punishment Stone.
After the tour, everyone set off on their own to explore. I wandered over the footbridge to Sanday, to follow a track constructed to serve the newly built windmills.
After exploring the new track, which avoids the high-tide blockage of the old track, I crossed the bridge back to Canna, where a mystery was solved. We had seen several cat statues as we'd hiked across the island: including one at John Lorne Campbell's grave, and another at the Sanday bridge. The mystery was solved at An Taighe-bainne (the dairy house), where I came across a poster explaining the cats.
The poster read: This trail on Canna uses John and Margaret Campbell's cats of Canna House to tell stories of the house, garden and the island. Each stone puss is named after one of those cats and you are encouraged to track all the cats down and tick them off the 'clue-sheet"... You can then post selfies of yourselves with your favourite puss on the dedicated facebook page where you will find more stories of each character.
What a great idea someone had to encourage children to learn about the island. The cat's facebook page is: https://www.facebook.com/CannaCatsgalore/
With the mystery of the cats solved, I returned to Canna Cafe in time to find several of the guests enjoying tea (or something harder). I ordered something harder, and joined them at the tables in front of the cafe, the setting sun casting long shadows across the harbour with ominous skies off to the east.
We had a peaceful night at anchor in the harbour - a welcome respite from the day's wild ride. In the morning we set sail to the southwest, to eventually pass the cliffs of Rum before rounding Ardnamurchan Point to enter the calm waters of the Sound of Mull.
Once through the sound we set a course south past the elegant William Black Memorial Lighthouse. For the story of the light see Book 2, chapter 27.
Even though the forecast was dreadful, we woke to seemingly calm conditions Wednesday morning (July 17th). But it was oh-so deceptive. As usual, Mark had chosen the perfect anchorage for the conditions. The vast bulk of North Uist was sheltering us from a big southerly blow that was starting to brew.
After breakfast we headed into the Minch: our destination Canna, 40 nautical-miles to the southeast. The fun began 15 minutes later when we rounded Rubha nam Pleac to enter the Minch. The winds hit, the waves hit, the swells hit. It was dangerous to move about, so we sat glued to our seats in the saloon. Suddenly Dave got up, and dashed down the passageway. We would not see him for hours. We assumed he'd been sick, and had gone down to his cabin. As it turned out, he'd headed up to the wheelhouse, where he would end up being trapped for the duration of the storm.
Trapped is apt. We were all trapped in place - for as the ship rocked and rolled there was no way to safely move about. The sea was washing across the deck, to slowly drain out the scuppers. But several times a large wave would drench the stern, and splash back through the rear doorway into the saloon. So one brave soul (I don't recall who) got up to latch the door shut. We'd left it open for the fresh air, which helps stave off seasickness. But even with the hatch closed, and the inside temperature on the rise, no one got sick. It was quite impressive. Usually someone gets sea-sick during these wild conditions.
At one point the ship rose fast on a high swell, followed by a sudden free-fall that had us all momentarily floating in air - weeeee! Wolfgang, who'd been anchored to a deck chair, also enjoyed a moment of weightlessness. Then, as the ship suddenly bottomed out on a low trough, he crashed back down, causing the chair to collapse. Luckily he was only bruised; unlike the chair, which was broken beyond repair.
I wish I had photos to share of that dramatic crossing. But I don't. I'd not been prepared. The camera was down in my cabin, which lay below deck aft of the engine room. There was no way I could retrieve it without getting injured and/or incurring the skipper's wrath. (I think keel-hauling, forty lashes, walking the plank - or all the above - are the recommended punishments for entering the engine room in a full-blown gale.)
But Michelle had been prepared. She took this video of Don singing a sea shanty during the worst of the crossing.
The following stitched-image of frame captures from the video shows us glued in place around the saloon table. It's not a smooth composite due to the changing camera angle, but I think the zigs and zags give a feel for all the zigs and zags we experienced for several hours.
After a six-hour beating the conditions gradually improved, and as Canna came into view it was possible to move about. Once in Canna Harbour the anchor was dropped, and we were set ashore for a few hours. I led most the guests on a circular tour that included the pencil-tower church, John Lorne Campbell's Grave, Canna High Cross, and the Punishment Stone.
After the tour, everyone set off on their own to explore. I wandered over the footbridge to Sanday, to follow a track constructed to serve the newly built windmills.
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| Shrine at Sanday Bridge - note Canna cat at lower left |
The poster read: This trail on Canna uses John and Margaret Campbell's cats of Canna House to tell stories of the house, garden and the island. Each stone puss is named after one of those cats and you are encouraged to track all the cats down and tick them off the 'clue-sheet"... You can then post selfies of yourselves with your favourite puss on the dedicated facebook page where you will find more stories of each character.
What a great idea someone had to encourage children to learn about the island. The cat's facebook page is: https://www.facebook.com/CannaCatsgalore/
With the mystery of the cats solved, I returned to Canna Cafe in time to find several of the guests enjoying tea (or something harder). I ordered something harder, and joined them at the tables in front of the cafe, the setting sun casting long shadows across the harbour with ominous skies off to the east.
We had a peaceful night at anchor in the harbour - a welcome respite from the day's wild ride. In the morning we set sail to the southwest, to eventually pass the cliffs of Rum before rounding Ardnamurchan Point to enter the calm waters of the Sound of Mull.
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| Cliffs of Rum |
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| Duart Castle under repair -Sound of Mull |
Next up was Grass Point on Mull, once the main connection to Oban, and from where cattle were sent to the mainland via the island of Kerrera. The old ferry house is still there, and can be rented as self catering accommodation.
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| Grass Point and the ferry house |
We had a couple hours ashore. Half the group decided to look for otters near where several streams enter the loch. I led the rest in a quest to find Balgamrie, also known as Old Croggan Village. Having heard Mark describe it on many previous trips, I've always wanted to see Old Croggan, a township ruin of two-dozen homes abandoned in the late 19th century.
It was a two-mile walk to a cottage at the end of the shore track, from where Mark told us we could climb the hillside to reach the village. But it was not to be. We made it to the cottage, and then started up the hill. It was not just a hill, it was a slanted swamp. The storm had left the ground sodden, and with each step your boots would plunge into the quagmire. In addition, the bracken was head high.
We had to acknowledge defeat and turn around. The only way to get to the village would be with hip waders, machetes, and an extra hour of time. You can read more about Old Croggan at https://canmore.org.uk/site/22651/balgamrie-mull.
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| Balgamrie - Old Croggan Village |
Once moored up in Oban we enjoyed a full breakfast before saying our goodbyes. It had been a fantastic trip, and we'd set foot on some of the most remote isles of the Hebrides. I hope to see you all again, somewhere in the Hebridies.
PS: There is one berth available for next year's cruise (for a female sharing). See this Northern Lights Page for more information.
Thanks Marc. We have really enjoyed your last 5 blogs. What a great itinerary. I have visited many of those isles, but, regretfully, now, at 74, too restricted to enlist for next year. Thanks for blogging - much appreciated
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