Page 80 - RSDG Year of 2023

78 EAGLE AND CARBINE
to grips with sail handling and helming with the awesome scenery of the Inner Hebrides as our backdrop. Dark skies on the horizon warned of more turbulent times, but for now the endearing little port of Tobermory awaited. Whilst the tours at the local distillery were fully booked, we talked our way into an impromptu tasing. The whisky was excellent, to the extent that no one really remembered the gin, and although the tasting was initially free, it suddenly became very much not; the next morning, Petrel slipped her moorings a little lower in the water, with a few choice bottles clinking away in the hold.
The third day comprised the most horrendous sailing conditions ever experienced by anyone in the history of the British nautical tradition. For nine solid hours it was wet, cold, windy, uncomfortable, and slow. Somewhere in the chaos, Trooper Bailey compared sailing with bungee jumping: “at least with bungee jumping, it’s only **** for a few seconds, but with sailing it can be **** all the time.” We had grand aspirations to round the southern tip of Mull but were forced to divert as the weather worsened. When we finally dragged ourselves, bedraggled, windswept, and dazed, into Ulva Ferry, we dried off, found a pub – not hard, it was the only building for miles – had a beer, regained some perspective, remembered we were being paid extra to be there, had a laugh, and promptly forgot about the watery hell that we had just been through. A huge dinner was proceeded by an equally huge sleep.
We cruised south for two days in much gentler conditions, the highlight of which was the plethora of marine wildlife – dolphins, porpoises, seals, sea otters, and every sea bird imaginable – that made fleeting appearances. On more than one occasion, we flicked off the engine to drift lazily alongside whatever have deemed us interesting enough to come and have a look. The physical scenery was equally stunning: the medieval Iona Abbey stood resolute against the Atlantic weather as we sailed past, and the precarious, whirlpool-infested waters around the Slate Islands kept us on our toes.
It was time to bid farewell to this dramatic, brutal Atlantic coast as we diverted through the Crinan Canal to remain on schedule: the Mull of Kintyre was deemed a stretch too far in the coming conditions. The canal itself was a unique experience during which the crew had to learn rapidly how to operate the waterways: imagine the determination and focus of an F1 pit stop, but over 25 minutes. Emerging on the other side, we had transitioned to the mercifully sheltered waters of the Firth of Clyde, which provided pristine cruising conditions around the Isle of Bute, and a final, sweeping downwind leg to our destination of Troon. Here, we celebrated the varied, exhilarating experiences of the last week, before being dutifully returned to reality. The journey back to Leuchars felt quick – too quick, given the pace of things over our journey thus far – and was a poignant reminder of our proximity to the awesome nautical playground off the west coast.
Not the Caribbean, no, but our adventures on the fringes of the Atlantic was the perfect advertisement for a Scottish regiment, based in Scotland, exploring the very best that our surroundings have to offer.
Looking into 2024, we have targeted a return to the west coast and an expedition to the Arctic circle. We will qualify RYA Competent Crew and Day Skippers and, where possible, push our more motivated sailors towards competitive opportunities during the racing season.