Moonshadow’s bow dipped and rose through a sun spangled sea as we crossed the Sound of Sleat under full sail. We were heading for Loch Scavaig on the Isle of Skye and relishing a warm southerly breeze.
The night before had been spent in Inverie, Loch Nevis, where we met up with old friends and made some new as the crew was treated to the usual hospitality and musical entertainment at Britain’s remotest mainland pub the Old Forge Inn.
|Sunshine on Loch Nevis|
Pleasant memories of the previous evening lingered as the sea spray licked our skin making it salty to the taste. As we rounded the Point of Sleat, we eased our sheets and bore away. Over our shoulders the high hills of Rum and the sugar loaf Sgurr of Eigg shimmered in the distance.
|The Black Cuillin|
Approaching Scavaig, the dramatic horseshoe arc of the Cuillin skyline rose up to meet us and as we slipped past the resident seal colony we were close enough to hear their snorts and gaze into their mournful brown eyes.
We were coming into the inner anchorage at the bottom of the tide, feeling our way round the bay. The water was crystal clear – and with only a few inches under the keel it looked too close for comfort – but the skipper had calculated correctly and the echo sounder soon inched its way upwards.
The following morning dawned bright and clear and following breakfast on deck in the warm sunshine, we weighed anchor, already anticipating the pleasures which lay ahead.