Our preparations for the trip had been minimal, we'd hired a life raft the week before we set off, bought one chart of the South-West corner of Ireland and Pete picked up the 100ft of anchor chain in the morning. At the time of leaving we weren't even sure if we'd go to Ireland or Brittany, I had a letter and cheque all ready to send to the Insurance company should we head for France.
We arrived at Glasson about 3 hours before high water and whilst Pete did some last minute repairs to the echo sounder I was hastily stashing all our food and gear on board. It was a glorious afternoon and as we sailed out of Morecambe Bay there was a great feeling of relief not to be scurrying around anymore. We made very good time down to the Menai Straits and we picked up a mooring buoy near Beaumaris just before dawn. After a very wet motor through the "Swellies" we met up with our friend Martin, who, luckily for us, had a good selection of charts of South and South East Ireland (he'd been there himself a few weeks beforehand).
It was another beautiful afternoon as we left Port Dinorwic, once we'd cleared Caernarvon Bay we found ourselves completely becalmed, on went the engine as we wanted to clear Bardsey Sound before the tide changed. As dusk approached visibility suddenly fell and Bardsey light disappeared.
The following morning you could still only see 100 yards or so, it was rather eerie being in the middle of St George's Channel with apparently no-one else around, although a seal did pop his head out to say hello. A light breeze sprang up as we approached Tuskar rock so we decided to try and set the spinnaker (we had to get the instructions out -we'd had the yacht for 3 months but hadn't had the right weather for the spinnaker before). We'd been hoping to make Waterford or Dunmore East our first port of call in Ireland, but the light was fading so we opted for another night on passage and to carry on to Cork. Late the following afternoon we sailed into Cork harbour - a very impressive place - and to our amazement found the place teaming with yachts - we hadn't seen another yacht since leaving the Menai Straits. A friendly local in Crosshaven let us use his mooring as the Yacht Club pontoons were packed 5 or 6 deep, we discovered later it was Ford week, a big racing event. After a sortie ashore for fish and chips and a couple of glasses of Guinness we went back to the boat and fell asleep almost instantly despite the loud disco at the Marina. A much needed lazy morning was followed by a visit to the Chandlers Agents were we managed to get a few more charts and a pilot to Ireland's South and West coats. That evening we motored further up the river to Drakes pool, well worth a visit despite being near a road. We saw a fox running across a field, quite a few wading birds on the shore and salmon jumping in the pool.
Next day we chose to leave Crosshaven just at the wrong time, 15 minutes before the days race started, it was like rush hour, about 70 or 80 yachts trying to motor out of a narrow channel at once. Further out in the bay we sailed past the Irish Navy, their battleship dressed overall and the crew out on deck with binoculars to watch the race.
The next few days we had light easterly winds giving us plenty of practice with the spinnaker, there are plenty of beautiful bays to anchor in. We just had one very near miss in Kinsale, after anchoring overnight we decided to stock up on supplies and spent an hour or two in the town shopping. To our horror the yacht had disappeared when we got back, suddenly we spotted it on the far side of a fishing boat. Mad panic - we threw everything in the dinghy and paddled like mad to the yacht (the tide was on the way out). Luckily the fisherman had tied Jaluda alongside him, although he'd thrown lumps of coal all over our deck thinking he'd try and wake us up! We thanked him profusely and set off to catch the tide around the headland, later on we started to ponder on why the anchor had dragged on a virtually calm day, when we'd been at anchor for 12 hours before that without moving an inch. Realisation suddenly hit us, the fisherman had thought the buoy on the tripping line was one of his fishing floats. Despite the recommendation in the pilot we didn't use a tripping line again, we didn't want to give the Irish fishermen a second chance.
Baltimore is a beautiful harbour formed between an island and the mainland, we had an exhilarating entrance. The wind picked up as we passed "Lots wife" beacon and we raced in on a reach having to drop the sails pretty sharply, it was only half a mile or so to the moorings. There's probably a lot of delightful day sailing to do near Baltimore - it would be a wonderful place to have a yacht moored. We rounded Fastnet Rock next day in a light breeze but a heavy swell, the first sign of being on the Atlantic coast of Ireland. There's a marked change in the scenery as you go North from Mizen Head instead of rolling pastures the landscape becomes much hillier with three long bays to explore. We choose Bantry bay and decided to anchor at Adrigole tempted by the pilot's description that it was one of the most beautiful anchorages on the West Coast. Suddenly from nowhere, a large fast inflatable crossed our path, onboard were 4 men wearing dark glasses, they demanded our customs clearance documents, gave them a quick glance and disappeared as fast as they arrived.
The next day we went for a wander over the hills behind the anchorage, our map was a quick sketch drawn from the chart. As we approached the highest point "Hungry Hill" the mist clamped in so we cut short the hike and decided to have an early evening passage to Glengarriff. Yet again tempted by the description in the pilot "it would be hard to exaggerate the beauty... no-one should miss calling to this lovely harbour". It was a fabulous spot and we spent a lazy morning basking in the sunshine and admiring the view. Bantry Bay was a "bit hit" with us and we spent another night moored in Lawrence Cove on Bear Island. The anchorage was very entertaining here - to one side a channel 20 to 30 yards wide to the mainland. That evening we had an energetic walk through thickets and brambles to get to a Marbello Tower on a hill behind the village, the view was superb over the cliffs and luckily we found a path on the way down. Next day we set off for Dursey Sound in the rain (interesting navigational point - there's a large wreck half submerged in Bear Haven not marked on the small scale admiralty chart). The tide races through Dursey Sound at 3 to 4 knots and we rounded into it the wind picked up, we hastily reefed the mainsail as we were sucked towards the narrowest part of the channel, which is about a cable across with a rock in the middle, very exciting sailing. The rest of the passage to Kilmarkilloge in Kenmare river was relatively uneventful apart from finding an anchorage in the bay itself where some fairly careful pilotage is needed to avoid the fish farms.
The next day was a "rest day", we got up late, tidied the boat and had a walk around the bay to a steep hill opposite, there was a really entertaining scramble up the ridge at the front of the hill and fabulous views from the top. After building up a thirst a couple of glasses of Guinness went down really well at a pub on the way back. Next morning appeared to be ideal sailing conditions, force 4 on a reach as we set sail past the Skelligs to Valentia. By late morning a gale was forecast for the evening and we still had 30 miles or so to do, our next surprise on getting another admiralty chart out of the table was to discover that 2 apparently adjacent charts didn't meet up. We had about 3 miles of no-mans land near Puffin Island, with a bit of imagination and help from the pilot I sketched in the missing area on one of the charts. The Skelligs looked magnificent in the sunshine, but no place to be with a gale forecast, perhaps some other time we'll get the chart and visit them.
Valentia harbour has a very interesting entrance, there are a lot of sunken rocks on either side of the headland and with the wind picking up rapidly to Force 6 as we approached there were some frightening breakers. Fortunately there are very good leading marks so we just hoped for the best and sailed straight towards them through the swell. We anchored well tucked into a corner of the most sheltered bay in the harbour, leaving a very safe distance between ourselves and the other yacht in the anchorage. An hour or so later a French steel yacht arrived, they threw the anchor out with great panache and went straight below decks to cook their evening meal. As the wind strengthened, the yachts started to swing in large arcs, the yellow french yacht was coming so close to the original occupant of the bay that he got his fenders out in protest. By midnight there were 6 or 7 yachts in the bay - I didn't sleep too well, eventually I must have dropped off, I was woken by Pete getting very excited about something. Looking out, between us and the rocky shore was the yellow yacht scarcely 20 feet away, their anchor had dragged in the night, however nonchalant to the last they had breakfast on deck before re-anchoring. Later it dawned on me that we'd had a lucky escape, we could have very easily been hit by the steel yacht in the middle of the night.
That afternoon we risked a row ashore out of sheer necessity to fill up on drinking water and to buy some food, it was a pleasant walk of a mile and a half down country lanes to the village, quite a touristy spot with a selection of expensive restaurants and luckily a couple of open stores. It was certainly worth a walk back there when I discovered they had showers in the local hostel. Later in the day the wind really picked up, the French crew provided further entertainment as their anchor dragged on a couple more occasions. The following day the wind has eased slightly so we started looking carefully at passage plans through the Blasket sound to the Aran islands, the weather still seemed too rough for that so a change of scenery and a short sail across to Dingle late afternoon met with most enthusiasm.
If entering Valentia harbour had been exciting it was nothing in comparison to leaving, once out in the bay we realised we were undercanvassed with two reefs in the main and the storm jib up. However in the huge swell neither of us fancied going on the foredeck to change sails, we turned the engine on to give us added propulsion towards Dingle.
At the entrance to the bay there is a blind corner and for a couple of hundred yards you sail straight towards a cliff, then suddenly a channel opens up to port. There was a pleasure boat full of tourists circling around, as we entered the harbour a girl jumped into the water and sat in a tyre tied behind the boat, a few minutes later a dolphin appeared swimming along beside her. Despite the swell, outside Dingle harbour was perfectly calm as it is almost completely landlocked, we anchored well away from the town and were soon joined by a couple of seals sitting on nearby lobster boxes. Electronic equipment always seems to pack up just when you need it most and Pete spent the best part of a beautiful evening trying to fix our autohelm but to no avail.
The next passage to the Aran Islands was a crucial point of no return, once through the Blasket sound there are very few places of shelter to head for in deteriorating weather so we paid very careful attention to both the shipping forecast and the local forecast that evening. In a storm the Blasket Sound can be an awesome place, several vessels from the Spanish Armada were wrecked nearby, however if the weather is fair and the tide is right you just need careful pilotage to pass through safely.
I woke up suddenly as it started to get light, Pete's alarm hadn't gone off, I made cups of coffee whilst Pete handed the sails and we set off within half an hour of waking. The dolphin obviously enjoyed an early start and delighted us by doing a few backwards somersaults alongside the yacht as we sailed past him.
The tide had turned in Blasket sound and after a nerve wracking few minutes arguing about the transit, which was Clougher rock in line with Sybil point, neither of which we could identify with certainty, we were more than half way through and could take the next line. Sybil point once identified was a magnificent cliff and we were whisked past it at a tremendous pace. We had an exhilarating few hours sailing on a broad reach, surfing down the large rollers, the log was regularly hitting 8 knots or more. By late morning we were level with the Shannon estuary and by mid afternoon we were sailing goosewinged downwind which took a lot of concentration so we took one hour turns at the helm. At last the Aran Islands came into view and as we entered the channel between Inishmore and Inishmaan we saw a solitary yacht heading into the wind and heavy swell, it looked pretty uncomfortable. Conditions in the channel were pretty choppy, there were some spectacular blow holes, we waited until we rounded up into Kilronan Bay before I dashed onto the foredeck and pulled down the jib getting a good soaking in the process. The light was fading fast as we anchored and we were soon having a welcome rest and something hot to eat.
We awoke to a murky grey day, cloud and flat light, even Inishmore seemed completely grey. After breakfast we were almost tempted to head straight to Galway on the next tide. Luckily we needed more water and food so we loaded the water containers into the dinghy and had a very wet row ashore in the strong wind.
The village was packed out with tourists either queueing to hire a bicycle or spending a fortune in a giftshop. At the water tap we met someone from Fleetwood, also sailing clockwise around Ireland who said we really should explore the island and go and see the prehistoric Fort Dun Aengus, the sun came out in agreement so after a quick lunch we set off on a wander around the island. For anyone with an interest in dry-stone walls Inishmore is fascinating, there are so many limestone pavements that the whole island is walled off into a patchwork of tiny fields, all with their own different patterns.
There are two forts built entirely from Limestone, one overlooks Kilronan harbour towards Galway but the most impressive is Dun Aengus, a series of 3 semi-circular walls all ending on the cliff top. From the central courtyard there is a 300 foot drop straight down to the crashing breakers, it was an exhilarating place to be. The lighting and colour were magnificent in the sunshine, crashing blue waves, white limestone cliffs and huge showers of water spraying in the air. We wandered slowly back along the cliffs, I could have stayed for hours mesmerized by the scene.
For the next 3 days we had a very frustrating time trying to get some charts we'd ordered from the agents in Galway. No answer on the phone so we sailed there only to find the shop was closed due to the Galway races. The whole town was a hive of activity by day and full of revellers by night. To improve morale we treated ourselves to a delicious meal, Galway salmon, in a local restaurant. Eventually when the chandlers opened he hadn't got one of the charts we'd ordered from him (they'd forgotten to order it - we weren't impressed!), eventually we agreed to him posting it on to us in Burtonport - it would have worked out at half the price if we'd thought of ringing Liverpool and ordered one from them.
That evening we anchored in a delightful deserted corner of Kilkieran Bay, this was an area we'd been hoping to spend a few days in but time was against us and we suddenly realised we'd be very hard pushed to get home before my 4 week holiday was up.
Next day was showery with the wind on our nose for the passage to Slyne Head, however it was an interesting sail with some very intricate pilotage between a lot of small islands and even more breakers over submerged rocks and rocky islets. The backdrop was magnificent, the Connemara Mountains, two beautiful ridges of hills. It was very tiring back to Slyne head having to be constantly watchful on the chart, we'd hoped to get there at slack water but as we approached it was nearly half tide and we met a very confused sea - wind against tide. We passed very close to the lighthouse, giving me a very anxious time helming, the final straw was a 10 foot wave that crashed right over me. Pete took over and I went below to dry off. Once we'd rounded the headland, the tide was with us and we were sailing on a reach - we flew up the coast between the islands. As we approached Inishbofin we were sailing at over 6 knots in a heavy swell, Bofin Harbour has a very narrow entrance, so I got my second drenching of the day crawling along the deck to pull down the foresail. According to the pilot "with strong S.W winds or a heavy swell entrance and particularly exit can be difficult if not impossible. We sheeted in the main and following directions sailed within feet of the entrance tower, rounded up and quickly dropped the sail. There wasn't much room to anchor but we found a corner near a sandy beach complete with a flock of sheep going for a stroll. A sudden downpour deterred us from going ashore despite the fact that the locals have a reputation for being very friendly.
After an overcast start we had a fabulous sail the following day, blue skies, sunshine and more spectacular scenery , our only real disappointment was not having enough time to see Killary harbour, a narrow channel which is supposed to resemble a Fjord. Mid afternoon we sailed past Clare Island, the sandy bay looked delightful, you need settled weather for an overnight stop but after hearing the shipping forecast we turned around and went back to anchor there.
After a quick meal we went ashore, it was a beautiful island, one large hill on its western shore falling precipitously into the sea and some smaller rolling hills on the East coast surrounded a small sheltered valley which lead to the sandy beach and harbour. Our luck was in, we managed to get a shower at the hotel and spent most of our remaining cash on a couple of glasses of Guinness each. We just had to have a wander up the hill the next morning, it is a fantastic viewpoint at over 1500 foot high with views over Clew bay, Achill head and the Connemara mountains. Wandering back along the only road on the island, all of 3 miles long, we saw the most amazing collection of battered cars, some of them were quite literally tied up with old pieces of string. We were very tempted to take some photos but didn't like to offend the owners. Our next plan was for a night passage of 120 miles past Achill head, Erris Head and across Donegal bay to Aran island (not to be confused with Inishmore in the Aran Islands). There was another hard tack past the bills to Achill Head, the highest cliffs in Ireland formed by a mountain tumbling straight into the sea. Once we'd rounded the headland and were on a single tack we'd hoped to rig up a few lines to save us steering all night, but despite several attempts we didn't quite manage it. It was a long cold night on watch, made all the more disappointing by our poor progress we'd only just cleared Erris Head at dawn, however once headed across Donegal Bay we goosewinged the sails and sped through the mist. With the exception of a couple of fishing boats and their huge clouds of seagulls, which we met early in the morning, we had the sea to ourselves. Aran island appeared out of the gloom in the early afternoon but it took us several hours to reach the anchorage on its East coast. The whole area is a mass of underwater rocks and small islets of pink granite, in good weather it could be very reminiscent of the Scilly islands. We followed several transits of poles and perches into the anchorage in Aran Road, which was more sheltered from the swell than the chart suggested. When we'd bought the Irish Cruising Club directions we'd wondered why there was such an uninspiring series of photographs of this North West corner of Ireland, however after having a week of mist and showers whilst the rest of Britain was having one of the hottest summers in years we were beginning to discover the reason why. This was confirmed the following morning, a local fisherman rowing past in the drizzle shouted "beautiful day" to us, after a quick look out we went back below decks for our breakfast. Some very helpful locals brought our chart across from Burtonport on the ferry and refused to take any thing from us for the favour. That afternoon we set sail on the first of the tide heading for one of the loughs on the North Coast. As we rounded Bloody Foreland we were making over 8 knots, we'd passed some beautiful granite islands which would have provided interesting sailing in clear weather. Progress was so good it seemed a shame to stop and once we discovered that the tide would be with us for over 12 hours we decided on a night passage to Scotland. The wind picked up, so we reefed down the main, however we were still racing along at over 6 knots towards Malin head. It was a very wet night with heavy showers, as we approached Inistra Hull Lighthouse a fishing vessel suddenly raced up and motored straight in front of us, (indicating something was wrong,) I yelled to Pete wondering what the problem was, we knew there was a savage tide and rocks to the North of the island but we thought we'd miss them by a mile or so. After a careful check of the chart we adjusted our course well to the North, half an hour later we could just make out the dark menacing shapes in the water as we rushed past. My second watch that night was just after a very heavy downpour, the rain eased off and the clouds cleared to reveal a full moon. A little while later I saw a strange glow in the sky, suddenly I realised it was a moon bow, all the colours were there but very muted as it was still an hour or so before dawn. As dawn broke I could see the surface of the sea, disturbed by a strange pattern of eddies and overfalls, luckily the Atlantic swell had eased off and there was no problem sailing through them. Peter came on deck as we sped towards Rathlin island amazingly the tide would still be with us for another 6 hours if we wanted to carry on towards the Mull of Kintyre. Neither of us was feeling up to making a decision before breakfast, especially with two nights on passage out of three, so we hove to for a strong cup of coffee drifting towards the North Channel before eventually opting to sail up to Crinan. (Unfortunately we didn't have a chart to sail up the West coast of Islay to Oban). Several hours later, the tide had been against us, we reached the sound of Jura, the sun came out as the tide turned and we had a magnificent sail up to Crinan. There was a water shortage in the canal so we tied up outside the lock next to an Irish yacht, the skipper was a very friendly man from Carlingford Lough. Within minutes of tying up we started to scratch our faces - something we'd managed to avoid all the way around Ireland was welcoming us back to Scotland - midge. We grabbed our towels and clean clothes and headed straight for the luxury of hot showers in the Crinan Hotel and followed it up with a delicious home baked meal in the cafe next door. There was an essential visit to the Chandlers next morning, for the chart of the coast between Crinan and Oban. It is a magnificent sail past the Gulf of Corryvreckan up through the Sound of Luing, the pleasure only being slightly marred by a torrential downpour as we sailed up Kerrera Sound with the promise of a following gale.
We were dwarfed in Oban that evening as we tied up alongside a sail training ship from Liverpool the Glaciere. After changing into our only set of clean clothes each, we booked a table at a local restaurant where we enjoyed a superb meal. I had to catch a train home to Lancaster the following day, we sailed back from Scotland to Glasson over August Bank Holiday, with Southerlies all week - but that's another story.
Laura Booth and Peter Wragg. Jaluda is a Contesa 26.
N.B Our total distance logged Glasson - Glasson was 1120 miles