Mallaig is neither a large nor sophisticated town, primarily serving the fishing fleet and ferry trade, but it turned out to have all we required to restore both our morale and physical well-being. Tucking into a hot breakfast in a dry and warm café was a good start, quickly followed by finding a nearby bunkhouse which was virtually empty during the day and happy for us to move in then (at 10am) where we could shower and hang our stuff up to dry. The weather was fairly awful and not due to improve for that day at least, so we did some washing, mooched around the shops and cafes, and in the afternoon I took the bus back to Acharacle to retrieve the car and trailer. A terrific chicken curry from Tony and a couple of pints finished our recuperation, but the weather prospects for the next day were still dubious.
In spite of a very comfortable bed I was awake early on the following morning and crept out at 6am to look at the weather and sea-state. It was a bumpy F4, still just a bit too much for us and I went back to bed. By 8.30 the wind was down to only F2-3 from the south and the waves were also dying off. I got quite excited about this chance to do the 5 miles across to Skye and dashed back to drag the others from their sleeping-bags and implore them to hurry up and pack. This process inevitably takes quite a while and it wasn’t until 10.35 that we pushed off in the harbour and headed out across the Sound of Sleat on a pleasant broadish reach towards Armadale.
This was the shortest hop to Skye but the conditions seemed so good after half an hour that we decided to turn right and head north up the sound; a strategy which went well for an hour or so and we were closing the far shore nicely, but the wind then perked up.
At about F4 it kicked up the waves as well, resulting in another fast ride, but with Andy’s leeboard being forced up by the sheer speed of his canoe. As we were running before the wind there was no side force to provide enough friction to keep it in place and without it partially down he found the boat was lurching around on the waves in an alarming manner. He was also experiencing solid green water coming over his bow at times. I had watched a dark cloud and its associated shower-squall catching us up for the previous twenty minutes and I suspected the wind would moderate again once it had passed. but Andy felt better broad-reaching out into the sound and frustratingly further from the Skye shore, before wearing round onto the other tack and heading into a deep bay just south of Orsay, to land for lunch at 1pm. That leg had been at an average of 4 miles per hour and we had made it to Skye!
On our relaunching after a relaxed lunch the wind had become a boisterous F4 again and we quickly put into shore once more to review the situation, this time at the Orsay Lighthouse. The shoreline would be inhospitable for some miles making landing in anything but an emergency undesirable but at least the sound became narrower on the way up to Kyle Rhea. I was itching to get on with it, but Andy and Tony managed to make me see reason and we decided to wait an hour to see what happened. Another brew-up and a snooze wiled away some time but before the hour was up I wandered out to study the conditions again which looked good so we set off once more.
It was very pleasant sailing with the steep and wooded slopes providing some interesting scenery and even a sighting of an eagle, whether a sea or golden we could not determine. The passing of a rescue helicopter overhead caused the usual jokes and we resisted the temptation to wave in case it chose to inspect us more closely and blow us over providing casualties on which the crew could display their skills. The wind became somewhat fitful for a while and we began to be concerned over possibly missing the tide at Kyle Rhea, which was due to turn against us within an hour or so. This particular tidal gate runs quite fiercely at up to 7 knots, so it was important not to get it wrong by being late. We paddled for half an hour until the corner just before Kyle Rhea, whereupon the breeze returned and pushed us up through the narrows on the last of the flood. The wind was probably accelerated through the gap and we enjoyed a swift passage north to land for some tea at the corner where the channel opens out.
During the meal break the shipping forecast suggested deterioration for the next day so although the tide would be against us at Kyle of Lochalsh it would only be relatively weak at about 2 knots, so we thought we should press on into the evening in the good conditions. It was west into the prevailing wind again but we still managed to make steady progress on the relatively sheltered and therefore smoothish water. As we neared the next narrows at Lochalsh/Kyleakin the current running against us became very noticeable and after a brief pause to discuss tactics we proceeded to beat past the ferries towards the very narrowest gaps where the new bridge was being built. We even managed to do some synchronised tacking just in front of the large hotel but whether anyone was impressed we shall never know! Following a couple of abortive attempts to get through the gap against both the tide and wind, we concluded that the only way to proceed would be to paddle like crazy for the few hundred yards necessary to get through and clear of the worst tide before rehoisting sails to continue.
Once back out in the open space beyond the Kyles the wind was a fairly steady F3 from the west, ie bang on the nose. It also producing a steep and choppy wave action into which we had to smack repeatedly to make progress. It was wet and cold work and we took an age to beat into the lee of the island of Pabay to rest for a few minutes and steel ourselves to continue on into the evening’s gathering gloom to find a campsite and landing. We eventually ended up just west of Broadford after a twenty minute paddle, which served to warm us up, as well as being necessary once the wind had finally died. We had been on the move for twelve hours, had covered over 30 miles and most importantly were now within only one day’s sail of Portree.