Tarbert, Troon and home

We like Tarbert (population  1338).

We had a very good time cruising with Footloose, enjoying amongst many things

excellent company, good food,  intrepid mountain climbing, one slightly dangerous flubber trip, sailing and lovely scenery.

Footloose sailing

Friday:

We decided that it was time to go home ... well … back to Troon anyway.

We sailed from Tarbert to Troon. 

Whenever it was too windy we reefed and this had the effect of immediately making it not windy enough; we therefore un-reefed and ... you’ve guessed it.  

So we sailed back to Troon merrily pulling the sail up and down.

Troon, when we arrived was much the same as usual (and possibly nearly as exciting as Haywards Heath* )

We were directed to our “Winter Berth” only to find, at the last  moment, a mooring line stretched across it.  Luckily my brilliant co-skipper spotted this obstacle in the nick of time and saved the day.

Saturday:

We emptied “Albatross” into our trusty Skoda.

Sunday:

Home again.

 Home again.

Next year:

The Orkneys and Shetlands including Fair Isle in the company of Footloose!

* Saint Hayward's Heath is justly proud of its ground-breaking website.

Cuckfield to Portavadie to Troon to Lamlash to somewhere unpronounceable* at the top of the Kyles of Bute to East Loch Tarbert.

The plot so far … is entirely unimportant.

The new plot:

Our intrepid sailing couple slip silently away (before dawn) in an attempt to leave without waking Bonzo who, chained up in the garden, snores fitfully.

They drive to Portavadie (in Scotland).  This is a very very long way.

Next day, one of our intrepid team sails solo to Troon** (by sea), whilst the other drives (single-handed) to Troon (by road, obviously).

Troon was calm. The street dancers had gone home, the bars were silent. Not a roulette wheel spun. 
No dogs barked.

Next day:

Lamlash.

What more can I say?

We went there (by boat).

Soon Peter and Sara also arrived.

Peter and Sara arriving.

Tuesday:

We climbed the mountain.  Holy Island Mountain
.

Evidence of successful mountain climbing.

There was good view.

A good view.

Holy Island is a Buddhist Island and therefore entirely free of dogs. 

Holy Island has Sheep and Goats (these are not difficult to tell apart***). 

It also has some elaborate Buddhist art.

.

Green Tara

After checking out Holy Island, our intrepid foursome flubbered back to their boats.

It may be interesting, at this point, to realise that, such were the weather conditions that afternoon, the ferry had been cancelled and that only wet or silly people were at sea.    Jean avoided getting wetter on the journey back by (gracefully) lying down in the water before climbing into the flubber.

Wednesday:

We sailed to somewhere unpronounceable* at the top of the Kyles of Bute.

We all agreed that it was a “cracking good sail”.

(Import to note that, although it obviously wasn’t a race, Albatross arrived first.)

Our anchorage was surrounded by rocks.

Footloose cleverly avoiding a rock.

After supping together on Morrisons Chicken Pie, we slept.

Thursday:

To Tarbert  (East Loch Tarbert).

We motored most of the way, they sailed. 

Footloose sailing

It was windy (F5-F7)  and raining.

We got there first. 

It wasn’t a race.

Next week:

Find  out then.

*An Caladh

** Troon, City of Adventure.  See above or below.

***  The more discerning reader (John, Linda etc) may here sense the possibility of a joke.