Jackie's mid June post



Gav checking the mast light in preparation for the passage

It seems a long time since I last sat here in Stornoway feeling frustrated at the weather from preventing us setting sail for the Faroes. We had hoped to be away mid May but found strong winds and gales meant we just couldn't begin our journey. Finally just as June began it seemed as if a weather gap was appearing , and although not perfect, I felt we had to at least try.

Our sea chart course

On May 31st we left Leosovay for Loch Roag. We had plenty of food, but needed to refill the diesel tanks and there is a good harbour at Meavaig about 6 hours away on the west coast of Lewis. As soon as we left the shelter of the sea around Taransay the swell became huge and my head was swimming if I had to go below. WOW! 'This is the Atlantic' the sea was saying 'I am a serious force to be reckoned with'. I have never been in sea like this. I didn't feel sick fortunately but strangely unbalanced as it was impossible to see a constant horizon. One moment it was clear, the next half the sky was filled with solid wave with a white tipping crest. Quite disconcerting, and we came close to turning back. It became clear that although these huge walls of water were rolling relentlessly towards us,  just as they were towering and toppling and seemingly about to engulf us, Kyle would simply ride up over them with ease and they passed beneath us and rolled on to the shore, crashing on the rocks. The agitated sea was a result of the last weeks of strong wind...and although the wind was probably a force 6, it was gusting 7 and the sea was a result of a much stronger wind.

Breaking waves

At one point I went to lie down in the aft cabin and strangely listened to a Britten Sinfonia At Lunch concert broadcast I had played in a few months before.........the reception crackly and the wind howling outside.
It was a relief to come in to Loch Roag at last on a lovely shining green lively sea with the wind behind us. A very sheltered friendly place and a few locals came down to admire the boat and to chat.

The next day was too windy to leave so I listened to lots of Radio 4 and practiced Beethoven  and started an arrangement of 'On the street where you live'. It's a lovely sound in the saloon on the boat. Really warm. Then another very windy day...impossible to leave. I made a chicken casserole for the journey and we just waited.

At last the forecast let us leave on June 4th and we gingerly motored out of the Loch praying for not too much swell. It looked promising but soon became big and pretty rough. It felt borderline. Kyle was happy. I could tell Gav didn't like it. We kept going and silently decided to commit. The wind, although predicted to ease, didnt let up and the waves felt like mountains with breaking crests. It was exhilarating, but not relaxing and no rhythm to the waves.......at least we were SAILING which was brilliant.

One of the most difficult things was going to the loo and it is definately a disadvantage being a woman in this respect! You can imagine......with the constant lurching and rolling of the boat......multiple layers of clothing.....oilskins, jumper, sweatshirt, vest.......I would imagine how entertaining and hilarious to have a webcam in that tiny wooden space watching the poor victim being thrown all over the place.
After 6 hours or so we decided to start the engine . Maybe it would steady the boat in the unpredictable motion of the waves. It failed to start. It was a bad moment. Gav went white and his mouth became a hard straight line. We were not in any immediate danger....plenty of wind and no rocks, but it was bloody scary. Imagine approaching the Faroes and the huge tidal races with no engine. It wasnt an option. I became silent...suddenly feeling hugely vulnerable being tossed around like a cork in the elements. Should we turn back? Surely more dangerous approaching rocky Hebridean shores. It was about 9 pm. Everything seems more foreboding as the sea grows darker. At least up here it stays light until 11.30 and then its never really dark...then the glow of a rising sun starts around 2.30 am.

Sun setting on the first night... note the big wall of water

At sea this is a wonderful thing for it to be so light for so long. My favourite time is when the sun has set and the sea turns a mercury silver and clouds become pink then purple then another colour that I dont know how to describe. It is a special time when on ones own on deck late at night, the other sleeping below, the implicit trust, the huge water and sky, the occasional seabird silhouetted, the moon silver on the water. Out of ones comfort zone the senses are on full receiving mode...sounds, smells, and light. Lights from other vessels most importantly.....anyway more of that later. To our huge relief Gav got the generator working and started the engine thank goodness. Some battery problem?? We would look at it tomorrow. The important thing was the engine was alive and so were we. We ploughed on through the darkening sea. We passed near a fishing boat who radioed us to ask where we were heading and telling us that the sea would get better tomorrow as the wind calmed. He was finding it tough going which made us feel intrepid. We picked up some travelling seagulls from around his boat and they wheeled around us for many hours looking brilliant white against the wine dark sea in the fading light. I felt like shouting to them "Go back to the other boat!  There will be no fishing here!" but they stayed with us for many hours.  Gav went to sleep and then got up again around 1 am. I put my head down then, but couldn't sleep and got up about 3.

The next day the wind was the same and the sea still rough. It was taking its time to settle. It felt like we were making our way Northwards wave by wave. Gav reefed the mainsail and used the gib rather than the genoa. He was feeling low after the engine failure and hibernated most of the day.
Around 3 the sun came out and the wind became kinder somehow. Kyle was wonderful and sailing brilliantly and fast. I made pasta with our sage plant and bacon and parmesan...all buttery and oily. Yummy!  Things were looking up.

I saw the vertical cliffs of Suderoy [the Faroes southernmost island] around 7pm. Fantastic and truly awesome. Its hard to use that word these days without hearing an American twang but that is the word to use. We approached them around 11pm. We were here!

Suderoy, Faroes - big Atlantic swell

I slept a few hours...it would be another 8 hours to Torshavn. When I woke we were speeding along like an ice skater on a silver sea with huge swells of silver in long intervals....not threatening, but magical. The islands are volcanic and rise sheer out of the sea majestically and the scale is difficult to describe. we saw the odd house perched on cliff edges and little villages of a handful of houses grouped together on the rare flat land in between the rising mountains. To be continued soon.................

Flying the Faroese flag on arrival

Faroese money - so beautiful

Torshavn Port Turf Roofs

Typical faroese house - with wooden chimney??!!