Craobh to Dunstaffnage

One of those tough decisions faced us. We fancied the walk over the hills to Ardfern (perhaps because there is an excellent tea and carrot cake stop there?) but also fancied pressing on to Dunstaffnage as John, Irene and Archie were driving up to their boat which is now quartered there. Tough call. The thought of an Archie cuddle won (or should we say "the thought of seeing John and Irene"?)

So, we popped into the Craobh office and had a quick catch up with Sue the office manageress. Sue used to work in Kilmelford and was very kind to us three years ago when we abandoned the poor boat for a few weeks. We offered her a trip in the sun up to Oban but work got in the way - we can just remember how irritating that work thing was too. Only just mind, we are old and the memories fade quite quickly at our age (luckily).

It was such a glorious morning and it seemed criminal to leave a spot as lovely as this:

The marina in Craobh has changed a lot since the previous, terminally grumpy, manager "was retired". A much friendlier place with some maintenance work that had been long neglected underway too. Such a transformation.

So, after paying and wandering back, we headed off for one of our favourite trips up to Oban.  Lots to see and enjoy en route.

The Sound of Luing is interesting - lots of disturbed water and whirlpool things to spin you around and spit you out at strange angles. Eddies over the very uneven seabed that cause you to speed up and slow down by a good couple of knots within 100 metres or so. Seabirds galore. All in all, pretty beautiful.

Passing Fladda in the narrow channel was good. Just love the cute little lighthouse on the island there:

The rock on the other side has a less appealing structure though:

Some canoeists were out and about hugging the shoreline and trying to avoid the stream. It looked like very hard work even though the sea was very very calm - the promised North Westerly force 5 hadn't materialised.

The Calmac ferry looked kind of insignificant against the dramatic backdrop of Mull:

Kererra Sound, heading up to Oban was sunny and inviting:

Talking of ugly little light towers, the entrance to Kererra sound had a beauty:

There are some stunning houses on the mainland, overlooking Kererra island. Tempting but perhaps a bit too remote in the winter when Oban itself (the only sizeable town for many miles) part closes. Glasgow is over 3 hours away by train so when you want anything "special" it is either internet shopping or a long trip. Still, this building is tempting:

Oban itself had the regulation Calmac ferries in situ:

A long thin French motor yacht had been chasing us up the sound and he passed us pretty close by so that he could be first into Oban Marina on Kererra Island, maybe to get what he thought would be the last large mooring space.  No idea why he felt the need to overtake, we were not going there! Behaviour just like the French catamaran that was determined to get to the Scilly Islands before us last year. Perhaps it is a national trait, along with cleaning their fibreglass boats using scouring cream?

Once we cleared Kererra and got into more open water, the forecast wind was evident and we actually threw up a little spray! Not impressed, we will have to wash the boat off now.... Guess what, the French boat had clearly been told there was no space for him in Oban so he raced past us towards Dunstaffnage. Ho hum. Same game perhaps. Again, the entrance to Dunstaffnage bay has been "improved" with a lovely fish farm:

We pottered into the bay with a nice force 5 gusting 6 behind us. No problem as the crew had called the marina early in the morning and been told that we could go onto the hammerhead of B pontoon. No pontoons were marked of course and equally, no hammerheads were free. Hum. The same admin mess that we had encountered here before. As an added pain in the ***, they use VHF channel 37. Most marinas use 80. Our two very wonderful high quality Icom radios don't have channel 37 on them (not typical for the USA). So, in the howling wind which wanted to push us onto the pontoons, with limited space to hold off owing to the boats on mooring buoys in the bay, we held off and called them on the handheld VHF. The reply was "Oh,  I will check and call you back in 5 minutes". More fun in the wind followed until they called us and wanted to put us alongside the walkway between two pontoons with the wind blowing straight onto the berth.

The only thing that cheered us up was watching the speedy Frenchman leaving the bay having been told there was no space for him.

Mooring was always going to be fun, no going back once you are committed and heading into the gap between the pontoons. Kind of an "into the valley of death" thing. So, a big burst of power ahead with the wheel hard over to force the bow into the wind and get the boat side on to it followed quickly by a burst astern to stop ramming the moored yachts. Then we let the boat drift down the last 10 feet onto the walkway thanks to the wind, using the thrusters to slow down as we approached. All this had to be done with about a 10 foot clearance ahead and astern. Debbie (the Norn Iron circuits and bumps lady) would have enjoyed the challenge we think.

We were once more highly amused at Dunstaffnage and their organisational abilities. Enough said.

Still, the trip had been lovely and shortly after we arrived, John, Irene and Archie (the Hamsterley Mill mob as they will henceforth be known) pitched up by car ready for a few days on their yacht. For the avoidance of doubt they are not the Lavender Hill mob. For foreign folks and the younger readers (if we have any), see Wikipedia. That made us happy again. Even better - they fed us that evening and provided happy making fizz and wine.

Archie seemed pretty tired after his trip of course. the stress of being a backseat doggy driver:

Maintenance news:

Nope, nothing. Of course, we didn't use the navigation lights so they might decide to play up again when we do.....