Chapter 5: Aug 7/8 - Cruising aroung Thule
At 16.30 of a perfect summer afternoon we left Stornoway and proceeded south along the coast. The Skipper was minded to visit some of his shipmates who had sailed with him during the war. It was a most delightful quest. Pursuing his objective he turned west up the first inlet we came to. This was Loch Grimshader (Grim's sheiling or farm). There are several 'shaders' 'bosts' and 'Stas' scattered about the Lews and indeed other parts of North Scotland, they are relics of the Norsemen and I understand they all mean very much the same thing, so when you see Grimsta - the famous salmon river - Scrabster and Lybster do not be alarmed they import nothing very terrible.
Loch Grimshader is a most entrancing little fjord gently winding between most harmonious banks, rising to low ridges with rocky ledges by the edge of the tide. There were snow white sheep grazing amid boulders, only a little less white, and emerald grassy slopes decorated with occasional clumps of heather and swathes of bracken. We passed a scattered clachan of neat pink and white cottages. A group of children watched our entrance with obvious delight, pigs were nuzzling for whatever they nuzzle for and high up on the slope a cow was having a battle royal with the midges. He was whirling - it may have been a stirk - his or her tail round in circles, now clockwise and now anti-clockwise like a windmill fitted with a reversing gear. When we reached the head of the loch, where a great black backed gull was standing sentinel, perched like the Liver bird on top of his solitary rock, we stopped to make enquiries from some boatmen and discovered we had come to the wrong loch. It was in Loch Ouirn we must seek for Evander McLeod. Accordingly we turned in our own wake and followed it back to the sea and proceeded south across the mouth of Loch Erisort until we came to the bold promontory of Kebock Head and turned west up Loch Ouirn. This too was an utterly charming inlet, but with steeper sides and more heather and rock. Just off the entrance there is an eighty fathom pool in the sea. Whether this had any influence on the character of the loch I could not say; but when we came to anchor at the head, we had some doubt as to the best place to anchor, for Loch Ouirn is open and in parts fairly wide open to the sea and should the wind come in easterly we feared an uneasy berth. Presently however the Skipper's friends came on board and pointing to a certain spot assured him that he would find it perfectly quiet. It turned out to be a peaceful anchorage and the evening was spent amid courteous and hospitable friends.
We had now been eleven days out from the Mersey and the morning broke fair and warm and sunny with exceptional visibility. As we came out of Loch Ouirn the mainland of Scotland could be seen from Cape Wrath to Skye almost in detail. This meant a range of vision probably exceeding sixty miles, for the mountains which lie inland were prominent features, moreover for the weatherwise it portended change. In the same connection I am reminded of the view from Beinn Edra in Skye as related by Seton Gordon. Not only did he see St. Kilda, at least eighty miles away, but he could identify houses on Berneray in the Sound of Harris and a boat with a brown sail threading its way among the outlying reefs of that island at a distance of thirty miles. Nay more he could see a wave breaking on Rhu Stoer full sixty miles away. That should give you some idea of the translucent air of those parts. It is an air that appeals to all six senses.
We were going north and presently we threaded a narrow passage between Eilean Thorraigh (? 'Torrie island') and our mainland and, rounding to the westward, entered Loch Mariveg where the Skipper was pursuing his round of visits. Now Loch Mariveg forms one of a series of waterways which lie between the cluster of islets and peninsulas which half cover the entrance to Loch Erisort. It is known as the Cromore group and forms a veritable maze. There are at least a dozen of these islands, and several peninsulas and you would have no difficulty whatever in losing your way among them. When we entered the Loch I gazed spellbound on a scene of fairyland. It had something of the spirit of Acarsaid Mor in South Rona, but was wider and of greater scope. As we made our stately one knot way over the water, Tommy Lor sat on the bows and reported to the Skipper on the bricks beneath our keel. The water was clear as crystal and once when Tommy spied weed on the surface there was a heated argument between him and the Frail as to how many feet or fathoms weed could grow. For airiness, light and beauty I have seldom seen anything to equal this magical inland waterway surrounded as it was by grey blue green and roseate low rocky eminences with the background of the wild moorland of The Lews.
When later we dropped anchor in Stornoway, the South Cone had been hoisted on the Coastguard station and as was our habit we had arrived too late for morning stores. This involved waiting till the afternoon and when eventually the shore party went on the beach they dallied as if a gale warning had no significance. Had the Mate been with them he would have chivvied them aboard without ceremony and doubtless we should have carried out the declared intention of going down the coast to East Loch Tarbert in Harris. The idea had been to visit as many of the Booster's agents as was possible and even such out of the way places as Lochboisdale and Barra had been contemplated as possible objectives. It was a beautiful fine afternoon with the breeze nothing worse than force two; and when the beachcombers eventually returned at 16.30 they remarked or somebody did; "Oh?. The South Cone means nothing; they pay no attention to it here". But this bit of airy persiflage made no impression on the Skipper, so no time was lost in getting as far eastward across the Minch as we could before worse happened.
It was nearly pitch dark before we reached Tanera Mor and three hours of the passage had been against fierce easterly squalls and wild broken seas. It had been no easy matter to find the entrance to Dorney Sound.
Rolling, pitching in the Minch
Making landwards inch by inch:
Fiercer blew the eastern squall,
Nearer rose the Coigach wall.
Where can entrance true be found?
Surely there by Dorney sound ...
At last, amid the breaker's roar,
We came to sweet Tanera Mor.