Light winds were forecast for Tuesday 31st July but the direction was favourable for a 20 nautical mile passage round Fife Ness and across the Firth of Tay to Arbroath. Katherine and I had spent a great evening in a small hotel in Crail with fantastic views over the Firth of Forth and of the Isle of May, so feeling refreshed I launched into the small harbour and drifted out of the shelter of the hills surrounding Crail. A light north easterly breeze took me along the north shore of the Firth of Forth towards the point of Fife Ness at around 3 knots. It wasn’t possible to raise the coastguard on the marine VHF due to surrounding hills and cliffs, but once in sight of the Coastguard station at Fife Ness I was able to register my vessel’s details and my passage to Arbroath. The officer on duty wished me well and I confirmed I’d call later to report my safe arrival. Dodging numerous creel buoys I sailed in company with a small Drascombe with tan sails for a while.

Rounding Fife Ness in bright sunshine I steered to the east of the post marking the edge of the reef that extended eastwards from the point. Later, with the expanse of the Firth of Tay to my left, the wind increased in strength to F3 gusting 4, backing to the south east whilst the waves also slowly increased in size. By now I was on a reach and making a much better speed toward Arbroath than expected (around 5 to 6 knots as an average). Whilst this was welcome I wasn’t entirely sure what the effect would be at the shallow entrance to Arbroath Harbour. Reeds warned about the dangers of the entrance in moderate swell conditions and I knew I’d be entering the harbour fairly close to low water when breakers would be more likely. I concluded I’d be unlikely to have a problem as there had been insufficient time for any significant wave height to build, but a slight nagging doubt remained. I’ve found this sort of uncertainty typical of sailing unfamiliar waters in a small vessel. For example, in the Solent I’d have no difficulty with working out what the implications of a wind against tide situation in the Needles Channel would be for a sailing canoe; because pilotage guides are written for yachts, I’d also have little problem with entering a harbour for the first time in a yacht in less than ideal weather. In the event there were no breakers at the harbour entrance and after reaching Arbroath I soon had Stacey on a boatyard slipway next to a very large fishing boat, which was out of the water for deck repairs and repainting.

The large fishing harbour, with a marina in the inner harbour, offered nothing in the way of camping possibilities, campervan or not, so Katherine and I booked into a B&B where I was able to catch up a little on blogging and recharge the VHF, mobile phones, camera batteries and so on. The next day dawned grey with grey skies and fog (visibility of less than a mile) whilst waves from the spell of fresh south easterly winds were intermittently breaking over the harbour wall, so we spent the day looking round the harbour and visiting the Signal Tower Museum* and Arbroath Abbey.**

* Built in 1813, by Robert Stevenson (the grandfather of Robert Louis Stevenson), the Signal Tower complex was the shore station of the Bell Rock Lighthouse until 1955 and provided a home to its keepers and their families. The museum, housed in the signal tower building, has a fascinating exhibition concerning the building and history of the Bell Rock lighthouse, the first sea washed lighthouse in the world, also built by Robert Stevenson. The Bell Rock lighthouse is situated 11 miles from Arbroath on the notorious Inchcape reef which wrecked many ships before the lighthouse was finished in 1812.
** Arbroath Abbey is the site of the 1320 Declaration of Arbroath which asserted Scottish independence. The ruins of the once huge abbey are impressive. There is an interesting exhibition concerning the declaration, Scottish history and the long history of conflict with England.

 

Having just reached Scotland, and looking back with a little distance of time and space between, it seems my time in Amble was a low point in my journey around the coast. I knew that long sails, challenging conditions, getting ashore and doing this solo* would be physically and mentally arduous but I didn’t reckon on two things. The first being the worst British summer anyone can remember and the second being the hefty demand of the ‘off the water’ workload. By this I mean; getting ashore, setting up camp, or finding somewhere to stay, making sure the boat is safe, planning the next day’s sail, domestic tasks, answering emails and blogging.

In addition to delays waiting for wind or waves to abate, the long run of exceptionally bad weather has often meant sailing solo in challenging conditions without any nearby safe havens. Physically, this has been hard work but mentally it’s been a whole lot tougher with some very difficult decisions concerning wind, weather and what’s an acceptable level of risk. Plus, there were some periods of very demanding sailing in large waves and or strong winds, or both, with a high level of vigilance needed to stay safe. Simply put, days of sailing in strong winds and into five foot waves, alone, was taking its toll. To add to my woes, my knee injury was increasingly painful and beginning to make walking difficult.

After a night’s rest on the floor of the Coquet Yacht Club floor, light winds would have allowed a Wednesday departure but a day’s to rest and allow injuries to recover seemed the better option. I occupied the time with updating the account of my voyage, reading and visiting the local supermarket for food supplies. On Thursday morning I prepared to leave but, looking seaward from Coquet Yacht Club, could see breakers at the harbour entrance so walked the half mile to the harbour pier to take a closer look. Large rollers from the North East were causing large breaking waves on the entrance. A departure was clearly not possible that day and I later heard that most of the local lobster boats had returned to harbour after finding the sea conditions too rough for comfort or safety. Talking to Greg confirmed that websites such as XC Weather and Magic Seaweed (a surfers’ website) were reporting a wave height of 4 to 5 feet, which was predicted to take a couple of days to die down. No doubt, the cause was some stronger winds far out sea, perhaps as far away as Norway. I’m learning that Northerly and Easterly North Sea winds often lead to such sea states which can persist for some time. In any normal summer this is unusual, but not this year. Landing on beaches was clearly impossible with large breakers and talking to one of the Coquet Yacht Club members who happened by, confirmed that all the harbours between Amble and Lindisfarne, some 22 nautical miles to the North, were open to the North or East.

In the afternoon, deciding to make best use of time ashore waiting for the sea to calm down, I took a bus to Alnwick to collect a hire car which would enable me to drive up the coast to check out the sea conditions at harbour entrances, but also to revisit some of the places I new as a child. Craster’s tiny harbour looked calm enough but outside large white breakers surrounded, and occasionally invaded, the narrow rocky channel leading to the entrance. An angler on the end of the harbour pier assured me this was common in winter but was very rare in summer. A short walk into the small village yielded wonderful smells of the famous Craster kippers being smoked in a large two storey shed but sadly, nowhere to buy a hot kipper, toast and mug of tea. So I left to explore Beadnell beach and the river mouth at Alnmouth, both to the South. Neither seemed to present much in the way of safe havens in the prevailing sea conditions but Alnmouth was an attractive enough spot with a village next to the River Aln as it wound its way over the sandy beach. I watched anglers fishing for flatfish for a while before continuing back to Amble. A night in a B&B and comfortable bed helped ease some of the knee and back pain.

Next morning I continued my exploration of the coast with a visit to Seahouses which had become much busier and commercial since childhood visits with my grandmother. However, it was still recognisable and the harbour was much the same but the fishing boats had been largely replaced, or converted to day trip boats taking tourists and bird watchers to the Farne Islands. The roundabout where my grandmother used to take short cut up to the high street, against the flow of traffic, rather than go the longer right way round, was still there. So I took a photo for memory’s sake.

By contrast Bamburgh was hardly any different. This small village is dominated by the imposing castle, once the site of the home of the kings of Northumbria. A village green with tall trees is surrounded on both sides by rows of stone built houses leading down towards the castle standing on a high rocky outcrop near the sea. The stone fronted terraced stone house where my grandmother lived in later years looked much the same. At the western end of the village is the ancient church of St Aiden, first founded in 637 AD. Sitting for a while beautiful, calm and cool interior I looked at the tall illuminated window at the end of the nave while reflecting on times past and the present, on my boyhood and on revisiting the Northumbrian coast, on relatives no longer alive and on those close to me now. With a renewed determination to continue the journey formed in the peace of the church, I left to visit a nearby beach where I ate bread, cheese and tomatoes in the sun and took photos of rockpools where, earlier in life, I’d played with toy boats. After returning the hire car to Alnwick I took a taxi back to Amble where I dined on fish and chips at the harbour cafe. Later I checked the tides and weather forecast for the next day’s sail to Lindisfarne, via the Farne Islands.

* ‘Solo’ means solo at sea and not in company with any other boat, apart from when Ian Hylton or Keith Morris have sailed with me for a day or two. Greg has provided excellent shore based support from a distance and I doubt I’d be in Scotland now without being able to rely on Greg for up to the minute weather forecasts, assistance with researching destinations and for discussions of potential passage plans.

I usually sleep well on boats, so on Monday morning I awoke on Ed’s yacht Samphire feeling refreshed. Katherine and Ed had sent details of local physiotherapists. A few phone calls later and I’d arranged an appointment with Swiss Physio in Tyneside for 12.15. Lately, increasing knee pain (and some hip pain) has caused me some concern as I need to stay fit to continue the tour. I’d decided to get an understanding of the cause and of what I needed to do to manage the problem.

Angela at Swiss Physio provided a diagnosis with clear advice on what self treatment was required – mainly a regime of specific exercises but with some other ideas.

I would have liked to stay a little longer and see a bit of Newcastle, but the prospect of a force 3 to 4 westerly wind and ideal conditions for sailing north meant I was away next morning before noon. Before departure, Stewart and Darren had made me welcome aboard their orange-hulled 19 foot yacht, where I shared coffee and croissants. They were planning a quick day sail before returning to work in the evening. We met again in the lock between the marina and the Tyne where I moored alongside their boat while the water level in the lock dropped to that of the river. The westerly wind took me quickly down the Tyne and out past the twin piers of the river entrance. I turned northward and waved goodbye to Darren and Stewart.

The sailing was pleasant enough, but uneventful. I close-reached past the northeast coast, passing a mix of small harbours, towns and industrial areas. Keeping fairly close inshore kept me up wind as ‘insurance’ against the wind veering to the North but also kept me in flat water, where I was able to make better speed. Soon after passing Newbiggin-by-the-Sea, with its distinctive, 14th century parish church on the point. Druridge Bay came into view. I’d wanted to stop here, mainly for the pleasure of being able to get ashore on a wide sandy beach backed by high dunes. Breakers, caused by a swell from the North East, were showing white along the shore. The north end of the bay was more sheltered though, and I put ashore close to a small coble tending a salmon net running out to sea.

By the time I’d briefly ‘stretched my legs’ (a strange expression in my view: ‘straightened my legs’ after being in a cramped position for several hours would be more accurate), with a short walk on the dunes, Stacey was almost high and dry. Several heaves were needed to drag her back to the water. Carefully avoiding the salmon nets, I pushed off. The fishermen gave me a wave as I passed. The weak breeze soon died, and I paddled towards Hauxley Point. Looking down through the unfamiliar clear green water, I could see rocks, seaweed and limpets as I glided slowly above.

Ahead, an uneven rocky shelf just off the point was starting to show above the water. I had intended to sail out to the east, passing seaward of the reefs, but now instead, with all the navigational insouciance of a kayaker or canoeist in calm conditions, I simply picked a path through the middle. The westerly breeze revived and I carried on under sail, spilling wind and slowly moving forward whilst standing up for a clearer view of any rocks near the surface.

Coquet Island, with a small beach and white lighthouse atop a grassy mound, was on my right as I neared the entrance to Amble harbour. Once inside the entrance (formed by twin piers), some hefty paddle-sailing against wind and tide was needed to reach Coquet Yacht Club (about a quarter of a mile upriver). Phil Derry (Vice Commodore of the yacht club) arrived especially to meet me and to give me access to the clubhouse facilities.

Feeling tired after about six hours’ sailing, it took me over an hour to unload the boat, carry my gear to the clubhouse and then drag Stacey up the steep slipway. But I was very grateful to Coquet Yacht Club for providing me with somewhere to stay. With the wind whistling through rigging and clattering halyards tonight, whilst rain batters against the windows, I was glad to be sleeping on the club room floor rather than in a tent.