It was past teatime when we got to the entrance to the sound and the engine stopped. About 35ft at a guess – and it had to be a guess because he didn’t have his AIS switched on that would have told me… and his name too… All I got was another yacht going the other way – a Halberg-Rassey with it’s distinctive blue stripe and reinforced windscreen. I would have liked to see a submarine, though – apparently they’re as common as seals because of the base at Faslane. They’re certainly right about the scenery up here. To seaward, the Mull of Kintyre was a sort of purple colour on the horizon. I didn’t have the luxury: Putt-putt-putt at four-and-a-half knots past the Laphroaig distillery and the Lagavulin distillery (they have their names painted on their walls in enormous letters), each with it’s plume of blue peat smoke hanging in the air.
#SAMSARA PANIC BUTTON DRIVERS#
I suppose that’s the reason motor cruisers go so fast, creating enormous wakes that shake the wind out of sails – motorboat drivers can’t wait to get somewhere. But it was something to keep an eye on as we puttered out of the bay and through the little passage inside the island of Texa (or Caolas an Eiolein) as I had learned to call it. Eventually, if nothing is done, obedience goes out of the window. What happens is that the stuttering becomes more frequent until eventually the engine stops and you have to turn the key again. This is worth noting because once or twice over the past week or so, it had developed something of a stutter – slowing down before resuming its business (and increasing my heart rate at the same time).Īnyone would think this was a fuel blockage. The worshipful Nanni rumbled into life with due obedience.
Twenty miles, on the other hand is a different matter – especially if the difference means having to wait another day for the wind. If you have read my ramblings about ocean calms, you will know that I don’t like to use the engine except for getting in and out of harbour but then, if you have a thousand miles to go, what’s the point? There was the little (but magnificently named) Am Far Eilean Bay just at the entrance where you can anchor for the night before catching the tide as it begins its race through the sound after breakfast.Īnd it does race – five knots at springs. Talk about leisurely… all I had to do was get up in time for lunch and then motor the 20 miles to the entrance to the Sound of Islay.
0 kommentar(er)
