May 20, 2109
Once we had tired of parking practice in Dun Laoghaire, it was time to move on up north on our next passage, which would be an overnight sail from Dublin all the way up the coast of Ireland and North Ireland to Isle of Islay in Scotland. Neither Stephen or I had ever been to the Hebrides area of Scotland, which if you look on a map are those series of jagged and dramatic islands off the west coast of Scotland, so we were excited to see what this rugged landscape would bring. The overnight passage was long, cold and a little dull, as the wind was negligible for long stretches and we had to motor for much of it. Stephen and I had a major faff with the sails around 8 AM when the main sail electric furler got jammed and we just couldn’t get it to furl in or out. Not a great scenario when trying to sail. We regrettably had to wake Hozza early from his off watch to help us unwrap the sail in fairly strong winds. Oops. While we felt badly to have woken him, but we need to learn and to understand how to trouble shoot these things which inevitably present themselves almost hourly in these first days. The main sail in-mast furler has proven to be finicky and has to be deployed at exactly the right angle and tension or it birdcages in the mast and won't furl in or out. We're learning there is a lot to get right in order for the sail to furl seamlessly, including the tension on the vang and the main sheet, the tension on the outhaul, the angle of the sail to the wind, and the speed at which you unfurl. Despite frustrations, we are getting better.
By the time we dropped anchor in Kilnaughton Bay in Port Ellen on the Isle of Islay, I was so exhausted I could barely see. Am happy to report that Stephen and I pulled off the perfect anchor deployment in the bay, using some nifty skills Hozza had taught us that involve using the wind to set your anchor, which was very satisfying. Moments like that, even when tired beyond recognition, give you just enough pep and encouragement to propel you onto the next challenge. I will say this, there are few things more satisfying than using the wind to help dig your anchor securely in a protected and picturesque anchorage where you know you and your boat will be safe for the night (and not pitching about on the open seas!) We then all took much needed showers, and I attempted to untangled several large knots from my poor hair, which doesn’t deal well with the overnight passages. I gave up with the comb halfway through and just took to scissors to cut out the last chunks of hair that just refused to be untangled by less mercenary means (though I fear I can’t continue with that strategy much longer or I'll start to look like Cynthia, Angelica's poor doll from the Rug Rats). Though I had barely slept, it was only early afternoon, so we dinghied ashore to check out the Isle of Islay, which really was stunning.
Islay is one of the southernmost island of the Inner Hebrides. It is small, green, peaceful, and sparsely populated save a small port town called Port Ellen marked with quaint white buildings and a number of small fishing boats. Notably, Islay is world renowned for its whisky, and the small island is home to 9 whisky distilleries and is considered the center of Scottish whisky tourism. We had a casual lunch at the Islay Hotel, one of the few establishments in town, in a sunny little courtyard. I made the mistake of asking the Steves what their 5 favourite movies were, and we ended up with a 45 minute expose from Hozza on all these weird esoteric films (at least 17 films) that were all undoubtedly “in his top 5”. Interesting chat though for sure, and Stephen and I left with many additions to our must watch list! Afterwards, Stephen and I went on a 2 mile walk to the closest distillery, called Laphroaig.
The distillery itself consisted of large white warehouses, and the whole area smelled intensely of peat. We learned the whiskies of the distilleries along the southeastern coast of the island have a smoky character derived from peat, considered a central characteristic of the Islay malts, and ascribed both to the water from which the whisky is made and to the peating levels of the barley. We decided not to go for the full hog tasting tour, as neither of us is really a super fan of whisky. Plus I was already so tired I barely knew my own name, and feared adding a bunch of whisky to the mix could be embarrassing at best, highly self destructive as worst. We instead decided to sample two different drams, and after lighting our mouths on smoky fire had decidedly had enough. I can certainly appreciate the taste and quality and do love that warm feeling that spreads from your core after just a small sip - but whisky its not a volume game for me. However, the walk through the emerald hills past numerous horses and sheep to the white-walled distillery and learning the multi-generational provenance of the business was wonderfully interesting. Anytime you can combine a little jaunt ashore with a history lesson is good by me!
I cooked us a chicken stew with rice on the boat that night, and we had a wonderful moment on deck as we watched a brilliant sun set. The sun sets so late up here, as we really are quite north. It began setting 10 PM and lasted over 2 hours, as the sun moved down and across the horizon and the sky turned several shades of pink, orange, and purple.
As we sat on the foredeck and watched, Hozza read around to us the poem Ithica by C.P. Cavafy, which I think almost perfectly encapsulates what we hope this adventure will be for us (copied below). Stephen and I want to get the poem framed and hung in our saloon as a reminder of why we are doing this and what we want to gain from it. It is not the destination, it’s the journey, as the poem decrees. Words to live by. Be in the present. Let your surroundings and your interaction with them sink in. Look around you. Appreciate.
Ithaka
BY C. P. CAVAFY TRANSLATED BY EDMUND KEELEY
As you set out for Ithaka
hope your road is a long one,
full of adventure, full of discovery.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
angry Poseidon—don’t be afraid of them:
you’ll never find things like that on your way
as long as you keep your thoughts raised high,
as long as a rare excitement
stirs your spirit and your body.
Laistrygonians, Cyclops,
wild Poseidon—you won’t encounter them
unless you bring them along inside your soul,
unless your soul sets them up in front of you.
Hope your road is a long one.
May there be many summer mornings when,
with what pleasure, what joy,
you enter harbors you’re seeing for the first time;
may you stop at Phoenician trading stations
to buy fine things,
mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
sensual perfume of every kind—
as many sensual perfumes as you can;
and may you visit many Egyptian cities
to learn and go on learning from their scholars.
Keep Ithaka always in your mind.
Arriving there is what you’re destined for.
But don’t hurry the journey at all.
Better if it lasts for years,
so you’re old by the time you reach the island,
wealthy with all you’ve gained on the way,
not expecting Ithaka to make you rich.
Ithaka gave you the marvelous journey.
Without her you wouldn't have set out.
She has nothing left to give you now.
And if you find her poor, Ithaka won’t have fooled you.
Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,
you’ll have understood by then what these Ithakas mean.
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