Shiant Islands - 57° 53’ 43” N 06° 21’ 22” W

I was up earlier than Kate as the wind had picked up through the night.  I wasn't concerned about Chinook, though.  For some reason, I was worried about a dinghy on a sliding beach anchor set up by the two sailors we had met the previous night. One of the sailors seemed unsure if he had rigged the sliding anchor properly and wasn’t sure if he would be able to pull it back to shore in the morning (when they planned to leave on a high tide, around 8 am). I said that I would watch for them on the shore the next morning to see if they needed help in the way of a motorized dinghy ride to their dinghy. The two sailors seemed grateful at the offer.

We zip away from a very quiet beach with just a father and son, sail-camping there.

The concern woke me just before 5 am and I was surprised that it was already quite light outside. It was gusty, but their dinghy was exactly where it had been last night when we turned in, so I started about my morning routine of putting on the electric kettle for tea, slicing up an apple for Kate and me to share, getting dressed and puttering around inside our warm, dry boat.

Once Kate and I were both up, we manually evaluated the weather and sea conditions (there is no mobile service on Canna so we were Internet-less) and began to prepare Chinook for a daylight passage. By the time we were ready (around 8:30 am), we could see that the two sailors had pulled in their dinghy - the sliding mooring must have worked.

Being on the bow for 'anchor up' duty sometimes involves clearing kelp from the anchor chain.
It's heavy!

The fact that Chinook needs very little water to float in means that we can get into anchorages that many boats cannot, or dare not, to go into. The main harbour in Canna is a bit busy and industrial-looking. There is a ferry dock made of concrete and sheet piles, along with most of the buildings (Canna has only 18 full-time inhabitants). Except for our two intrepid dinghy sailors, all the other boats had anchored or moored there, leaving us with a sandy beach and an almost empty bay. We tiptoed out, following the track we had laid down yesterday on the way in. Having an extra 2.5 metres of water underneath us (due to the high tide during our exit) made it extra easy. Still, we were quite proud of our own bravery as we left.

Getting into that tight little anchorage in our big, ol' aluminium gal
makes us legends in our own minds.

We knew we would be facing into the wind for the first part of the journey, but were looking forward to light (under 12 knot) tailwinds once we rounded the southern tip of Sanday and Canna Islands (and waved a farewell to the puffins) and started north. It would only be 45 minutes or so of motoring, then we could turn off our noisemaking darling Volvo.

‘Round the corner, past the busy anchorage on the east side of Canna and the main sail went up and the headsail was unfurled. With wind in the sails, we turned off the engine and relished in the quiet. We had sunshine, a tailwind, relatively flat seas and were stomping along at more than six knots.

Mainsail first, then once things are stable and we are moving, the foresail gets furled out.

Woooo! Look at us!  We even have the foresail poled out.
Why does the sail fabric look wrinkly if the wind is stretching them tight, though? 

Then the wind began to drop out. Dang!

The anometer (wind gauge) sat at 5 knots … and our big Dacron main and headsail really need 10 knots or more of wind to pull Chinook along at any sensible speed.

We then remembered that we had a specialized, light-wind sail in the forward sail locker - the Oxley! So, out of the sail locker came all the fenders, all the spare lines, four 30-litre jerry cans we were gifted … all before we could winch out the 30 kilogram sailbag. A sheet and a brace (line) were run on each side of the boat, then the headsail was furled in, the mainsail was dropped and secured on the boom, a quick refresher (“How do we control this thing again once it is up?”) conversation was had, then we were ready to hoist it.

Up went the sail … just as the wind decided to drop out to ONE knot. Double Dang!

Nice sail, but it looks a little baggy, too.

With so little wind, the sail wasn’t going to help us. We left the Oxley up to gently puff open and then fall closed, for half an hour, sailing in the completely wrong direction.  Time to bring down the sail (at least that wasn’t as challenging as it could be). On went our reliable Volvo Penta engine and soon we were chugging along at 6 knots again - towards our destination!

Onwards to the Outer Hebrides!

Motoring in calm seas is different kind of treat. You no longer have to be concerned with sail trim as well as keeping watch for other boats, hazards and obstacles. Your speed is constant and with light winds, the sea state makes for a pleasant ride.

We turned into Lochmaddy at 6 pm and were grateful for the lengthening sunlight in the evenings. An anchor was dropped well away from the main harbour, we made some dinner and called it a day. We had put up and brought down a sail that we hadn’t used (unsupervised by Garcia) yet. It was a good learning day.

After an overnight stay in a bay in Lochmaddy (where we did not go ashore, so sadly no tales to tell), we hauled anchor and enjoyed another day of motoring into flat seas (thankfully) and a light headwind, so no sailing.

Our trip to the Shiant Islands had something I wasn’t expecting - full mobile phone coverage up the Little Minch and Shiant Sound. We were able to research about our upcoming anchorage. The Shiant Islands are home to 2% of the world’s puffin populations. Ornithologists estimate the bird population to be roughly 240,000 during the breeding season. 

Approaching the Shiants under motor.  The one structure you can see on the shore of the closest island is a bothy - not permanently inhabited, but a shelter for those who might visit or find themselves on the island.

When we came around the southernmost point of the island group, we entered into the remains of a caldera and were surrounded by towering cliffs FULL of seabirds - puffins, cormorants, razor-bills, guillemots, black-tipped gulls - we were blown away by the activity around us.

Inside the ring of islands, there were seabirds on the cliffs, in the water ...

Flying, floating ...
The lighting wasn't great, but the wildlife was.

We dropped anchor in the southwest corner of the island group and then sat in the cockpit, bathed in sunshine and enjoyed the show of birds flying overhead, landing in the water as close as 100 metres away, fishing, taking off again and nesting in the steep cliffs encircling Chinook. What a show!

We were getting hungry and it had become evening, so we started a chicken curry simmering and then went for a dinghy ride to get closer. Puffins and guillemots did not seem to mind us whizzing by with our quiet electric outboard as they floated and fished all around us.

Heading back to Chinook as it waits with dinner simmering on the induction cooker.

We are trying to hang onto this feeling of remoteness, even as we have almost full internet access.

Tomorrow, we go ashore and explore this once-inhabited island.

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