We arrived in Glasgow on Saturday and were met by Tom, Louise's brother and driven to Gourock.

Much of the way lies beside the Clyde, with it's mix of estuarine views and heavy industry.

Driving through Port Glasgow, I was amused to see a building with the sign "The Old Men's' Club."

Louise asked if there was an "Old Ladies Club," to which Tom replied that the "Old Men's Club" was probably started by the ladies to get the men out of their way.

We headed for Tesco's in Greenock next morning to stock up on victuals and then around 12.30pm, sailed across the Clyde to Loch Long. Louise caught a mackerel just before the Loch entrance and we spotted a seal. Soon after, Tom caught another mackerel, but it wasn't until we reached the entrance of Loch Goil, that I finally caught a couple. Close by, we passed the submarine repair base, with it's police boat patrolling the environs. Another seal was bobbing about in Loch Goil, but disappeared when we were about 50 metres away.

We anchored up in a relatively quiet bay, which we shared for a time with scuba divers and an unexpected visit by the SS Waverley. The Waverley is reputed to be the only sea-going paddle steamer in the world and plies it's trade taking trippers around the Firth and Islands.

We were rowed ashore by Tom and wandered in the direction of Carrick Castle about 800 metres away. The village also bears the same name. We passed a couple of very large stranded pink jellyfish, possibly Rhizostoma Octopus and noted the very large mussels on the shore. Some vandal has actually built a modern house on top of the castle and has it's roof showing. We returned to the boat for a dinner of guineafowl. Very tasty and the sunset was glorious.

Loch Goil sunset

We woke to bright sunshine on the crags above us and had breakfast watched by another seal.

There was a good wind, which meant we made speeds up to 6 knots and only caught 2 mackerel.

We had our smoked mackerel and salad on the move. We passed Largs to our left, where the Scots finally defeated the Vikings and Hunterston nuclear power station, before hoving to in Millport, Great Cumbrae Island in the early afternoon.

Millport is a very attractive place, built to a high standard and spread out along the shoreline. Don't be deceived though, it is no longer what it was. It is very much a budget holiday destination and the verdict of both Tom and Jo, his wife, are that they do the worst fish and chips in an area (Clydeside) which excels in doing them badly. With no decent eating houses around, we got some finely sliced sirloin steak (beef ham as it is called locally, and usually cooked with "spice.") from the butchers and fried that with a fresh herb omelette.

There is a fine red sand beach at one end of Millport and a low lying rocky shore on the other.

The views are spectacular and there is a good variety of sea birds, especially curlews (numenius arquata).

Millport Sunset

Tuesday was a glorious morning, with clear blue skies and a flat calm.

Tom slipped off early in the inflatable boat and rowed ashore for the morning papers, bacon and rolls.

Before 10.30am, we motored out of Millport, steering between Little Cumbrae Island and Garroch Head on Bute. Soon we were able to set sail, but not with much speed. The sea was quite glassy and calm when at 11am, we spotted a couple of dolphins crossing our course. When they saw us, they came to about 30 metres to investigate, but carried on after that. They were in no hurry and undulated gracefully through the surface.

Some 3km (1.86miles) away, a large flight of gannets (sula bassana) were plunging from a great height into a shoal of bait fish, raising a splash up to 1.22m (4ft) high. It is breathtaking watching three or four hitting the water almost simultaneously.

Garroch Head looked a good fishy spot. Five seals and a large number of cormorants and other sea birds can't be wrong. I caught two mackerel there as we passed through. Further on, I changed tactics to troll a large plug for larger fish and Tom got four mackerel at once. It takes strong arm tactics to haul in 4 mackerel from a moving boat, but he landed them all safely. We kept some for lunch and released the others. The view over to Arran is majestic, and Goat Fell with its great curved valley, catches the eye with its rugged and symmetrical beauty.

The wind dropped and the sun grew very hot. I sat in the pulpit for a while, watching the large (35-50cm, 14"-20") pink jellyfish passing by in large numbers. They appear to swim horizontally. Tiny fish about 2cm (3/4") in length skimmed along in the surface film, trying to outswim the boat, but were just overtaken or peeled off sideways. The spinnaker was tried, but proved ineffectual, so we settled down to a drowsy lunch, drifting at about 1/2 a knot on Loch Fyne. It is hard to imagine anything more relaxing or idyllic, sitting in the cockpit, eating fresh smoked mackerel with salad, followed by a ripe Camembert, bread and drinking a fine Jacob's Creek Chardonnay in the sun. We were becalmed, but enjoyed it rather more than Coleridge's Ancient Mariner.

At the end of the meal, I got a rude awakening. My reel started screaming as line was pulled of at a great rate of knots. I grabbed the rod, but felt nothing. That's because there was nothing left. After examining the line, I found it had been bitten through and had abrasions at 1cm intervals above the break. I imagine it must have been a Tope (galeorhinus galeus) of around 35lb-50lb (15.75k-22.5k), or some other of the shark family. I regretted not bringing some wire trace with me.

Around 4pm we spotted a Minkie whale about 100 metres ahead of us, but it disappeared quickly, after a long arching dive through the water. The wind got up and the sun hid behind a large cloud for a few minutes. The wind was from the North East and a little chilly, but once the sun returned, it restored the warm conditions. The Waverley passed us again, heading back to the Clyde.

SS Waverley with Arran in the background 

Our destination for the night was Tarbert on the Kintyre peninsula. It is a small fishing town with probably the most civilised yacht marina in the Firth. There are first rate facilities with hot showers which seem to last forever and cost £1.00. We recall it with great pleasure. It also boasts some worthy eating establishments, from tea houses to expensive hotel restaurants with very good food.

To our mind, the best is the Victoria Hotel, a haunt of the small craft sailors. The beer is good, the food is very good, and the wines are outstanding. I was unable to resist the starter of Loch Etive mussels. Tom had the smoked haddock fishcakes, while Louise and I opted for the game kebabs (rabbit, pheasant and venison) for the main course. I must have been influenced by the sea air, as I continued with the apple and strawberry crumble with custard. We accompanied the meal with a red Norton Malbec 95, from Mendoza, Argentina and a white Navarra Vega Sindoe 97 from Chile. As I said, outstanding.

We ended the night with a night-cap of Cragganmore 1980 double wood, malt whisky and a reading from the "Para Handy Tales," chronicling the disappearance of the herring from Loch Fyne. His prognosis was that they were silly fish which should never have strayed beyond Tarbert to Kilchannan.

Wednesday, 11^th August. I'm not sure why the fishing boats leave around 1-3am. The harbour has enough draught to let them out in any tide. I guess they are fishing for species which come out into the open sea at night. By 4.30am, the sky was clear and blue. A good bit later we went ashore for more supplies and had an early breakfast on board boat. Louise and I wandered along the shops for a while and bought some postcards and fishing tackle, especially steel trace. People were friendly and chatty there and getting a little excited about the eclipse, due very soon.

The sun started to fade slowly and for a brief while we watched it's image projected onto the side of the cockpit through Tom's reading glasses. The seagulls stopped flying and settled down quietly as the light faded to the shades of evening. By 11.27am some 85% of the sun was covered and then the eclipse slowly faded. It was a couple of hours before the sun was fully restored again.

We left Tarbert at noon and sailed slowly for Brodick on the isle of Arran. Strangely, we only saw three jellyfish on this voyage and we noticed that the gannets did not start feeding until about 3.30pm.

We did see a number of solitary seals and at 2pm, a trio of dolphins crossed ahead of us.

Louise and I hit the jackpot with three and four mackerel caught at the same time. The four fish felt like a whale, all fighting in different directions. We kept a few for lunch and returned all but one, which I used as a trolled deadbait. When I retrieved it later, there was almost nothing left of it.

There was so little wind, we had to abandon our course and head instead for Lochranza, the northernmost village and mooring on Arran. Apart from the wash from the local ferry, it was a calm anchorage this time. There are free moorings, but they had long been taken, so we were obliged to anchor up. Tom's boat has a draught of 1.65m (5.5ft) and much of the spare anchorage goes down to 1.83m (6ft) at low tide. After plumbing the depths, he decided on much deeper water in a narrow channel which is not too exposed.  

Just as we completed anchoring up, a loud voice from the shore declared to all, "I love this woman." Tom couldn't resist replying, "So do I." The two lovers continued to sit on the beach, unimpressed.

  Lochranza Castle     From Lochranza, looking over to Kintyre

Louise and I were rowed ashore and wandered over to the ferrypoint. The views over to Kintyre are glorious. It has to be said there was another flat calm and the sun was bright and low in the sky.

When the ferry arrived, two cars got off, and it looked as if half the island was trying to escape. Several cars and vans had to wait for the next ferry.

Around the point are a few seats dedicated to the memory of individuals and a memorial to the crew of the submarine HMS Vandal which sank in Kilbrannan Sound in 1943.

At 6.30pm, we headed back to the pub to meet up with Tom for some refreshment. On the way, I noticed a group of about seven Red-breasted Mergansers (mergus serrator) around a small rock on the shoreline. They are not unlike cormorants in appearance, with a ruddy head and crest.

The gate to the pub announced "Wild animals, please shut the gate." I thought they were referring to the local drinkers and Tom remarked facetiously that maybe the animals here could read.

We chaps had a pint of McEwans 80/- and sat outside to take in the gorgeous views. Not for long.

The infamous Scottish midges joined us and drove us back indoors. They are tiny, but ferocious and impossible to ignore. We slipped back to the yacht out of their reach for dinner. We had bought a splendid top of leg of lamb in Tarbert which Tom transformed into a gourmet delight. It was flash fried in olive oil and roasted with red wine, apricot conserve, fresh herbs and whole garlic. Oh yum!

We spent that evening in the cockpit watching the sun setting with the myriad colours and shadows from the sea, sky and hills around us. On the shore, the dark outline of the ruined Lochranza Castle loomed out in the tiny estuary. That night the sky was clear and the stars shone in their thousands.

The Milky Way was bright above and in the sea about us, the movements of fish and anchor chains were illuminated by the light of phosphorescent creatures. To degrade this description, I have to confess that it really tickles me to see the toilet pan light up with phosphorescence while I'm having a leak.

During the night a southerly wind came down from the mountains and created a mild swell which unnerved some of the crews. A few of them up-anchored and left in the dark. The ground here does not hold very well and they may have been prudent to move on. It is even worse when a northerly blows directly into the bay, poorly sheltered as it is from the heavy swells it generates.

We woke on Thursday morning to the incongruous strains of "Happy Birthday" played on the bagpipes. It's quite possible it was the same extrovert lover from last night.

We rose before 9am and cooked bacon, tomatoes and toast and completed our chores before departing just before 10.50am. It must have been rush hour in Lochranza; two other boats were leaving at the same time. The sun was out, but it was also quite overcast. Once out into the bay, the wind stiffened and heeled the boat over for half an hour, giving us a speed of around 6 knots. Once we had cleared Arran however, the wind steadily dropped until we were doing 2 knots.

The day started a bit chilly, but grew milder as cloud built up, dissipated and then thickened again.

We saw no sea mammals this time, but gannets put on a thrilling exhibition and Manx shearwaters (puffinus puffinus) skimmed close to the surface with their display of effortless aerobatics.

Our course took us to the left of a small island called Inchmarnock, before heading for the Kyles of Bute. Around 1pm, we were reminded of the date as the sound of shots echoed from the moorland hills on the mainland. It was the "Glorious Twelfth," the start of the grouse shooting season.

We finally moored up at a courtesy buoy belonging to the Kames Hotel, near Tighnabruaich and wasted little time rowing ashore, having avoided another smoked mackerel lunch. We made it to the hotel with seven minutes to go before they stopped serving lunch (3pm). The food was very good. Between us we had ham, fish and venison sausages. All washed down with more McEwans 80/-.

The Kames Hotel is a treat. It has a lovely atmosphere with time-worn timber and photos of old sailors and ships and the local ladies rowing team of 1899. They thoughtfully provide showers for £1.50, if you have your own towels. It costs more if you don't.

For the first time we brought our waterproof jackets with us and before we left the pub at 4pm, a steady fine drizzle had set in. It wasn't a problem and we strolled over to Tighnabruaich, 2.4km (1.5miles) away, to the Spar shop for more supplies. On the way back, Louise remembered that she intended to replace the washing up brush she probably threw out with the dirty washing up water.

We stopped off at the Kames general store to look for one. A man who looked like a deep sea fisherman asked Louise if she need any help looking for what she wanted. At this point I found one and offered it to her. He assured her that she just needed to ask a man and he will find anything for her. She then committed the sin of all women and asked if he had it in another colour. He was exasperated and said "No, but that one will do all you want it to do." She resigned herself to buying it. As she drifted out of earshot, he whispered to me, "Bluidy wimmin, they're aye wanting something ye've no got."

Once we reached the dinghy, the rain got heavier and uncomfortable. Despite erecting an awning over the cockpit, none of us was inclined to sit on the wet seats for long, so we settled for a night inside.

It was our intention to moor up at Wreck Bay, just around the corner about 2km away, but we couldn't be bothered. We settled for a magnificent roast sirloin with new potatoes and asparagus instead.

We regretted not moving on later, as a stiff south-westerly blew into the Kyles and rocked us heavily most of the night.

Friday morning was misty and damp at first, but the rain had stopped before 8.30 am.

After toast and coffee, we sailed further into the Kyles of Bute at around 9.30am. After rigging up the trolling line, Tom suggested I read an extract from "Para Handy" regarding the painting of the "Maids of Bute." The Maids are rocks painted to look like two brightly dressed girls on the island, supposedly watching the boats sailing by. My patois of London, East and West Coast Scots with some stray Irish intruding was graciously received. There were no complaints from the Maids, at any rate.

Just as we reached them, the reel clicked and a mackerel took the lure half it's size. It managed to wriggle off the hook as I was swinging it on board and lived to reflect on it's penchant for large lumps of metal.

Just around the corner is "Wreck Bay," a quiet and picturesque anchorage. I remember catching a small codling there two years ago. It's possible to row ashore and visit the Maids from there.

There was very little wind and the ferrymaster on the Colintraive ferry had to wait patiently for us to cross his path before setting off for the other side. Tom got out the spinnaker sail out hopefully and then regretted it for the next hour as he ran back and forth resetting it every few seconds as the wind sighed and died from all directions.

The Colintraive Ferry. Probably bigger than Colintraive itself.

Eventually as we cleared the Kyles, the wind picked up and we sailed to Rothesay for a spot of lunch. There are a number of visitor's moorings there and we stayed on board for beef sandwiches with a salad and wine. The Waverley was just leaving with the Calmac ferry, but the wash was barely noticeable. The weather was quite balmy with a mixture of cloud and sun.

The SS Waverley and the Calmac Ferry leaving Rothesay.          Rothesay, Isle of Bute.

The final leg would take us past the "Toward Light" lighthouse at Toward Point, with it's miniature lighthouse for the lighthouse keeper's children to play in. The wind continued to die slowly as we aimed for the Cloch past the Kip marina. The sky got greyer and around 4.30pm, we could see the beginnings of rain over the hills towards Strone. It gradually got chillier too, but remained dry with us. Behind us, we saw another sheet of rain filling the gap between Bute and Arran.

Our speed had settled to a turgid 2 knots and still we had not made the Cloch. Meanwhile, the rain was building up and spreading to the width of the Clyde, including Greenock. Tom decided to switch on the engine some 3-4 miles from Gourock and motor along at 5 knots. We reached his mooring at Gourock about 7pm. He may have been disappointed with the rain. After all, he had dressed up in full waterproofs, but it didn't want to play. That was not quite the end. As he ferried the luggage back to shore in the inflatable dinghy, the outboard engine died, which meant he had to row back to the boat. I doubt he was expecting so much exercise in one day's sailing. The final act was a wonderful hot shower and another spiffing meal overlooking the Clyde estuary.

Viewpoint from Gourock across the Clyde estuary to the entrance of Loch Long (right) and Holy Loch (left).