A rude awakening then Plockton to Loch Sheildaig

You know how some days start badly and you think that will be the way of things? Yes, this was such a day. Just after midnight, the anchor watch alarm went off, waking the crew who shook some life into the captain. For the non boaters, an anchor watch alarm is something you can set on the boat navigation electronics so that if you move out of your pre-set zone, an alarm is sounded. Usually a sign of a dragging anchor so not a welcome noise.

Heading up to the pilothouse, we blessed the lack of total darkness in these latitudes. The wind had shifted by 180 degrees and freshened so we were laying very differently and much closer to the Gordonstoun yacht. Hum, time to move and reset the anchor a little further north perhaps. The undignified sight of the captain removing the snubber line from the anchor chain dressed in his bathrobe was spared from eveyone bar the unfortunate crew. We then moved, and anchored just south of the pot makers that had been liberally spread around the anchorage by thoughtful fishermen.

After such an awakening, sleep isn't easy......

We planned an early departure to take advantage of the tides heading north although they are pretty weak in this area. So, when the alarm went off again around 6am (nothing dramatic this time, just that the captain had made the guard zone much smaller so another wind shift pushed us to the perimeter of it) the genset went on. Tea was needed.

Leaving this idyllic spot took longer then planned. Recovering the anchor (better dressed this time of course) it came up with the line to a creel like this caught over it:

Just what you want when a little sleep deprived.... The captain had fun with the boathook, removing the line from the fluke of the anchor and dropping the line, creel and its marker buoy (which had been submerged by the way!!) back into the water. He also had to let the boathook go the same way so our spare is now in service.

It would have been so much nicer if the marker buoy had been floating rather than underwater..... Still, a lesson there. In our locker we have a line and float that we can use to mark our anchor position and to use as a trip line if we get it fouled on anything. It was, of course, still in the locker so not too useful. For the non boaters, it is something like this:

Pulling on the trip line lets you change the angle of the anchor and normally things like ropes attached to creels come off the anchor fairly easily - a lot simpler than trying to move them off the fluke with the weight of the creel on them as the anchor is winched up high above the waterline!

So, having finally escaped and having thanked the nice fisherman who has floats that sink, we pottered off in idyllic calm sunny conditions. Luckily they were, in Loch Carron we just spotted a half submerged and very grubby marker buoy that was dead ahead of us, about 2 metres away. Too late to turn so a crash stop was needed, a bit like stopping a supertanker really. Lots of reverse power and we luckily managed to stop before the marker and rope reached the stabilisers or propeller. It looks as though this marker had been in place for ages - lost by the fisherman perhaps. We were getting more and more keen on the local pot laying fraternity.

At least the trip up alongside the coast was calm and enjoyable, with great views of the Torridon Hills:

A very dramatic background for the trip into Gairloch itself. The crew's brother had tried to get us a buoy mooring in Badachro but most inconveniently, the one buoy big enough to hold us was in use by its owner. However, a local pot fisherman (a nice one of course) had suggested the big mooring buoys in Loch Shieldaig which were put in place as a storm shelter for trawlers and hence very chunky. (The anchorage area there, like so many now, has been pretty much filled up with local moorings.)  He advised against trying to get a spot on the crowded Gairloch pontoon as he said that the local fisherman who used it were "none too careful".

There were 3 ginormous buoys. The only drawback was that they had ginormous ropes attached to them for use by trawlers. The normal little pick up buoys with their normal smaller lines were swamped in a mass of rope that floated a good 10 meters back from the buoy. So, we could not leave it in the water in case it managed to get wrapped around us. The very happy crew had to haul this heavy slimy stuff, studded with rough crustaceans, onto the previously very clean foredeck aided by a captain who hadn't got any gloves on. Not fun. The end result was not pretty:

However, it was very very secure. We almost felt that after such an effort, we should await the next storm to prove the point....

We launched the RIB and headed over to the aforementioned Gairloch pontoon. The harbour master man gaily said that "he ought to remove the trawler mooring lines from those buoys for the summer". We gently agreed, thinking that it felt a lot like the summer outside.  There we awaited a lift from Tracy - the sister-in-law - who was taking us to their lighthouse B and B for dinner.

By the way, we heard that the harbour master post was vacant for a long while after the last jobholder retired. For some reason, in an area where most jobs are seasonal (holiday trade related), no-one wanted the stress of a permanent government job in the harbour office looking after one pontoon and a few moored boats with the associated rather nice government contract benefits. Hum.