by
Mike McLean
I blame Father Ted (Ian Donnelly)
for the whole thing. He turned up at Kames (just south of
Tighnabruaich) just at the same time as we did so we had no option but
to have a drink and a chat in the hotel.
The evening was fine, if a little windy and a good sunset looked on the cards. It’s amazing that in a country this size you keep running into people, even if you are well out in the boonies. As it was, Ian was just on a day run while the Midget and I were on a week’s holiday exploring the Isle of Bute and the surroundings. Anyway, after sustenance was taken Ian sped off and we settled down for the night.
The evening was fine, if a little windy and a good sunset looked on the cards. It’s amazing that in a country this size you keep running into people, even if you are well out in the boonies. As it was, Ian was just on a day run while the Midget and I were on a week’s holiday exploring the Isle of Bute and the surroundings. Anyway, after sustenance was taken Ian sped off and we settled down for the night.
Father Ted at Kames
Morning arrived and we had to make a decision as to whether the weather
was good enough to proceed down the south side of the island and then
over to Millport on Big Cumbrae or if we would head back around to
Rothesay. The forecast was a bit dodgy but we decided to go for it. A
hearty breakfast was consumed, weatherproof gear donned and the twin
cylinders fired up.
Within ten minutes of setting off I reckoned that we had made a “brave” decision as the wind just kept getting stronger and stronger. The forecast had mentioned occasional force 7s but no rain so I had thought that it wouldn’t be too bad but it’s not until you get to an exposed spot that you really get the feel of what force 7 actually means and it can make life a little interesting. Anyway, we were committed and in best bloke style, there was no turning back.
The Argyll coast in western Scotland Michelle at thehelm of Mrs Trellis
About 90 minutes later we were leaning well over to fight the wind and the Midget was hanging on for dear life on the back and not feeling too happy about the whole thing. But with grim determination we plugged on, pistons pumping and shaft spinning away driving us forward. It was the first time in these conditions with holiday gear on board and the handling was very, shall we say, interesting.
The scenery was dramatic, the light giving the looming bulk of Arran a harsh edge. The south-west side of Bute is pretty unpopulated with some dramatic coastline and empty beaches. A very pretty part of the world in fine
weather and well worth a visit but that day it was a little inhospitable with the wind whipping in off the sea and greenery having a washed out feel to it.
Our progress was hampered by our inability to go in straight lines due to the conditionsand the landscape so while the speed was normal the journey seemed to take longer and longer. This didn’t help the Midget’s condition much but circumstances dictated that we carry on for the moment.
From St Ninian’s bay and Carrick Point we had a great view of the small isle of Inchmarnock, an island where the locals used to put drunks who had gone over the score and leave them to sober up for a few days. Trust
me when I say that it would be a serious deterrent in weather like we had – I do not fancy being stranded out there with nothing but a kilt and a hangover.
We pushed on down to Garroch head and prepared to make the hop over to Cumbrae. This southern-most point of Bute is very exposed and here the wind was at its peak, the sea foaming and the rocks on the shore
just waiting for some idiot to get too close to them. The crossing was rough and little conversation was had at that point.
As we approached Millport, four hours after departure, we had the first bit of shelter for the day from Little Cumbrae to the south but by then we were too tired and frazzled to think of staying there the night and had decided that what we really wanted that night was somewhere nice and calm, a hot shower and a good restaurant. With these images in our mind we opened the throttle and continued over to the mainland coast
and followed the shore north to Largs.
Stormy seas circumnavigation Bute Mrs Trellis (small one) after her stormy voyage
This leg of the journey actually brought out some sunshine and the wind started to die down a little. But even so, by the time we entered Largs Marina we were totally knackered. I think that Mrs Trellis had weathered the storm much better than the two of us and had demonstrated that she’s a tough little cookie and worthy of being
classed as the KGT Navy.
Within ten minutes of setting off I reckoned that we had made a “brave” decision as the wind just kept getting stronger and stronger. The forecast had mentioned occasional force 7s but no rain so I had thought that it wouldn’t be too bad but it’s not until you get to an exposed spot that you really get the feel of what force 7 actually means and it can make life a little interesting. Anyway, we were committed and in best bloke style, there was no turning back.
The Argyll coast in western Scotland Michelle at thehelm of Mrs Trellis
About 90 minutes later we were leaning well over to fight the wind and the Midget was hanging on for dear life on the back and not feeling too happy about the whole thing. But with grim determination we plugged on, pistons pumping and shaft spinning away driving us forward. It was the first time in these conditions with holiday gear on board and the handling was very, shall we say, interesting.
The scenery was dramatic, the light giving the looming bulk of Arran a harsh edge. The south-west side of Bute is pretty unpopulated with some dramatic coastline and empty beaches. A very pretty part of the world in fine
weather and well worth a visit but that day it was a little inhospitable with the wind whipping in off the sea and greenery having a washed out feel to it.
Our progress was hampered by our inability to go in straight lines due to the conditionsand the landscape so while the speed was normal the journey seemed to take longer and longer. This didn’t help the Midget’s condition much but circumstances dictated that we carry on for the moment.
From St Ninian’s bay and Carrick Point we had a great view of the small isle of Inchmarnock, an island where the locals used to put drunks who had gone over the score and leave them to sober up for a few days. Trust
me when I say that it would be a serious deterrent in weather like we had – I do not fancy being stranded out there with nothing but a kilt and a hangover.
We pushed on down to Garroch head and prepared to make the hop over to Cumbrae. This southern-most point of Bute is very exposed and here the wind was at its peak, the sea foaming and the rocks on the shore
just waiting for some idiot to get too close to them. The crossing was rough and little conversation was had at that point.
As we approached Millport, four hours after departure, we had the first bit of shelter for the day from Little Cumbrae to the south but by then we were too tired and frazzled to think of staying there the night and had decided that what we really wanted that night was somewhere nice and calm, a hot shower and a good restaurant. With these images in our mind we opened the throttle and continued over to the mainland coast
and followed the shore north to Largs.
Stormy seas circumnavigation Bute Mrs Trellis (small one) after her stormy voyage
This leg of the journey actually brought out some sunshine and the wind started to die down a little. But even so, by the time we entered Largs Marina we were totally knackered. I think that Mrs Trellis had weathered the storm much better than the two of us and had demonstrated that she’s a tough little cookie and worthy of being
classed as the KGT Navy.