It had been a hard day, wooden boat owners will know the feeling…. it’s getting away from me, I am not in control, this boat is taking over what’s left of my life.
As an antidote there is nothing to beat picking up a mooring, even if it was at the fifth attempt and being greeted by the beat of drums and the skirl of the pipes. Jolly decent I call it, I seem to have become an aficionado of Millport in the last month, this is my third visit, but a marching pipe band is perhaps a bit over the top, even for an ancient yottie and his ancient boat.
I was a bit miffed a few moments later when I heard a steady thrump, thrump, thrump…. the sure sound of the Waverley, Britain last sea going paddle steamer. Now if there is a sight to stir the soul more than that of a marching pipe band it is surely the view of the long slim hull and the twin raked funnels of the Waverley. On my trip aboard I had to be physically dragged away from the viewing window into the engine room, breathing deeply on the heady fumes… but a Glenfiddich, a double at that, helped no end.
Early the following morning I drifted over to Kilchatten Bay on my way clockwise round Big Cumbrae, no reason, I had just never been there…now I know why, no that’s unfair, it’s a fine wee spot just a hotel and a shop, a few houses and a fine prospect over Hunterston power station and the wind farm. But it was great sail back to Largs, 6 knots on the GPS approaching the Hunterston Channel, it must have impressed the tram driver on the Cumbrae ferry, he went round me!!
Largs is preparing for a big event, the World Championship of the Laser Radial class, already nearly a week before the start of the event there are Japanese, Chinese and Polish sailors out practicing. It was never like that in my day. On a fine spring day yonks ago I crewed a Loch Long belonging to some brave member of the Royal Gourock to an empiric victory over the mighty Trinity College Dublin in the Northern Universities sailing championship… we won… they didn’t show… they were too drunk to sail. None of that in the Chinese Youth Team I imagine.

To relieve the tedium of maintenance I downed tools after dinner and motored across to Millport, capital city of the Isle of Great Cumbrae, well it’s got a cathedral! It’s probably the most laid back place south of Skye and it was a glorious evening followed by an even better morning. Weighed down with problems of my own making and a leaky boat it was a good decision, no doubt fuelled by a pint of Guiness for supper.
I nearly reduced myself to exhaustion getting the boat fit to sail with my grandchildren, sailing day was postponed three times before I cast off, but it was all worth while, as always. Small childrens’ wonder at everything and my son in law’s struggle to appreciate how it all works were a reward for the blood sweat and, yes, tears. A photograph of my grandson helming the boat rewards any amount of effort. The destination was modest, across the Hunterston Channel to Cumbrae then ashore in the dinghy for lunch and ice creams, nothing when you look at it on the chart, a mere drop for even a modest yottie but a voyage when you are six or eight years old.
It didn’t start well. The trip to Millport was fine, a bit short of wind and signs of boredom from the paying guests but flick the switch and the Vetus started first time, still a novelty even after two years. Pick up a mooring not too far from the jetty and nip ashore in the dinghy, faithful Suzuki buzzing like a busy bee…..err no! Busy bee is locked solid, not a millimeter of movement…seized! OK we’ll row, two trips will be necessary. My daughter and I shared the thwart to balance the rubber duck and granddaughter took the lookout’s position forward. We progressed in circles for a while until helpless laughter took over and I took both oars. Sometime later I was back aboard for trip two but fit and active son-in-law took control whilst the OAP had a breather.
Two weeks later I rowed ashore with more composure and made my way to the slipway at the south of the town. Here were two Honeybees still ashore in mid June, this alone gave me a perverse bit of a boost as even I launched before the end of May. What struck me was the contrast on their rudders (Picture above). Mudjekeewis, a Boag built boat has a conventional rudder similar to all the other Honeybee’s I have seen whilst Jane, an east German boat has a much bigger one and a three blade propeller. I can’t say I have ever noticed any reluctance to turn, except astern in the marina but it’s an interesting contrast. I have not seen another Honeybee with a similar rudder but perhaps a previous owner thought it desirable to get a bit more of a grip.
No sooner had I entered for the Crinan Classic then I had to withdraw, neither I nor the boat are ready, maybe next year? Its’ a blow but expectations have to be tailored to reality.

After seven years of unequal struggle I have succumbed to wood stain in place of varnish on most of the cabin. It doesn’t look too pretty but hopefully it will hold the elements at bay and allow me to catch up on other essentials. At least we are weatherproof and fit for floating.
Just to add to the pressure of a deadline to sail with my grandchildren I have agreed to take part in the Crinan Classic event at the beginning of July. As this involves a passage through the Crinan canal I have recruited my brother-in-law for his expertise in canal passage, although he may be a bit intimidated by the big locks of the Crinan (Photo above)compared to the narrow canals of the English midlands.
Another concern is that we are looking a bit tatty and will definitely be the poor relations compared to the likes of Sceptre and Fife classics but hopefully a bit of spit and polish, or rather sandpaper, paint, stain and varnish will help us hold our own and not let the Honey Bees down.
It will be good to sail in the Sound of Jura, Crunluath has not been there for over a decade, it will be my first time so I am hoping for sparkling sunshine but will be prepared for the worst the West Coast can throw at us.
Launch day is less than a week away, back to the grind.

Out into Loch Fyne from the Kerry Kyle (West Kyle for sassenachs)and full genoa seemed a good idea to make some progress against the force four gusting five south westerly which was kicking up a steep chop against the last of the ebb. For a few minutes progress was good but a sharp crack followed by a flogging genoa indicated that good progress had just ceased. The starboard genoa track had let go some eight out of twelve screws securing it to the gunwhale and part of the track now faced upwards at an angle of 45 degrees.
It was a cracking sailing day following a balmy autumn afternoon the previous day but I can take a hint, the boat has been in the water for nearly twelve months and it is time to strip the gear, head for the hoist and spend a few months ashore.
Out to the south as I plugged into the chop with mainsail and engine the airwaves were alive with a multitude of voices on channel 16. Authoritative American voices announced portentously that US warship zero one six was leaving Faslane and anyone in its way would be exterminated. Polished upper crust tones asked politely if the unnamed warship whose AI could not be clearly read could please tell them where it was going to and where it had come from, sir. Efficient polite Canadian women asked Caledonian Isles to join them on channel twelve. Across this a more urgent American commanded that this was his last warning….I waited for the bang but none came so I guess he complied. A Scottish yottie demanded a change of course, “Veer away pleeeease!” He got his way from warship two six eight.
I wondered who won the war as I nipped between two Canadian vessels in the Clyde channel and entered the Tann, moorings had been lifted at Millport and most yachts were ashore. It’s traditional to end the season on 30th September but no longer necessary, especially for plastic craft, but Crunluath isn’t bomb proof glass fibre and she needs attention, a proper coat of varnish, some glossy paint and a lot of tlc.
War games had seemed a long way off the previous night as I rowed ashore to see the last of the evening light at Caladh Harbour. (photo above) This little gem of an anchorage is usually full by the time I reach the north end of the Kyles of Bute but only a pretty little Victoria 26 shared it with me that night. I’ll be back there in the spring when the trees and shrubs are full of chiff-chaffs and willow warblers setting up territories and red squirrels bounce across the lawns to the bird feeders in the loch side cottages.
For now it’s on with the overalls, out with the ladders and roll out the sandpaper, it’s time to get a boat fit to be seen out in good company and sound enough to brave the Mull.

….nothing the whole day long.
Well not quite nothing but very little. I had a long slog to windward trying to reach Lamlash harbour, a very sheltered anchorage or mooring on the east coast of Arran. Its great depth and sheltered nature, closed to the west by Arran itself and sheltered from the east by the mass of Holy island (photo above), made it a hideaway during wartime for valuable ships. Eventually I resorted to mechanical power, stowed the sails and slogged to windward sheltered under the hood whilst “George” steered the boat, George being a Simrad 2000 Tiller Pilot.
On reaching Lamlash and picking up a mooring off Arran Yacht Club I settled down for a windy wet night. The following morning I paid my mooring dues to a friendly chap with an english accent and a Penrith Mountain Rescue jacket and headed ashore in the dinghy, a bouncy wet ride. I didn’t improve matters by missing my step ashore and plunging an unwellied foot into six inches of water. I squelched to the Coop and post office and dried out somewhat before looking into my favourite bookshop, a combined yacht chandler, fishing supplies and bookshop, a lethal combination for the wallet.
I came out with a pristine copy of 12 Ships a Sailing by Jim Andrews, a man who knows his west of Scotland. With this, a couple of Arran beers and a copy of The Scotsman I repaired to the dinghy. “Mind how you go, keep that bow up” said another english accented local. Wise advice, it was a lumpy trip back to the boat and shortly afterwards the rain began in earnest. The wind also joined in the act and the forecast force seven soon made itself felt for the rest of the day and most of the night. Crunluath even dragged her mooring as far as the next buoy in the line, bouncing noisily alongside just to add to the cacophony outside.
Waking early the following morning I resolved to head back before the next forecast band of rain arrived and I slipped the mooring just before 8am taking the precaution of putting both reefs in the mainsail and unfurling only a handkerchief sized genoa.
It was a good deal quicker on the way home but tiring with the force five to six south-westerly dead astern and a need to steer almost every yard of the way. There were one or two “interesting” moments and some involuntary gybes. I pondered on the fact that there is a thin line between exhilaration and terror.
I found a few quieter moments to make a few videos and patched them together on my return. Click here for a two minute film.

There were a few anxious moments as I unfurled the genoa,hardened up the main and headed towards the Cumbrae shore but a few tacks down channel eased the worries as I realised that my new forestay fitting was holding.
A new forestay bracket had been made from some 3mm stainless steel angle and below decks further pieces of the same angle were located athwartships under the beam shelves, passing through 50mm square oak and secured to the fitting with four lengths of 10mm stainless steel rod. lock nutted in place. It should hold for the rest of the season when I may make the structure more permanent or replace it with a different system.
Sailing off Keppel Pier on Great Cumbrae Island I was able to photograph another Honeybee Jane, an east German built boat dating from 1965 like Crunluath but looking quite different above the sheerline with a more curved coachroof and cabin windows. (see picture above) These boats would be difficult to tell apart from a Twister, I wondered if they were designed to look like Twisters, perhaps as a marketing ploy?
I continued south and made a circumnavigation of Wee Cumbrae Island in declining winds. I had intended to call at Millport but looming grey clouds to the south suggested rain was near and I headed back home to Largs.
Entering my berth I had a lot of sympathy for the skipper of a Westerly Centaur attempting to get into a berth but being repeatedly blown off in the southerly cross wind, it is not only long keeled yachts which are difficult to manoeuvre but some bilge keelers can be tricky, especially at slow speed.
Toasting my good fortune with the last of the Arran I was sad to learn recently that Mudjekewiss another Millport based Honey Bee has recently lost her mast, her owner has replaced it with another wooden mast but now has suffered engine failure – oh the joys of old boats!