This article was published in "Skrivarn", jan 1996, Varberg.
We had long been thinking about making a trip to Scotland. Breathless we listened to the stories Helmuth Haar told us about his wild trip over the North sea, some years ago. Should we alone, only Britt-Marie and Staffan master this wild sea?
Our boat is a homebuilt (not by us), 33´ "kosterboat" in ferrocement, the "NAUSEA". Plans were being drawn up during the winter, sea charts acquired. At this time of the year there exist no landlocked days, and the plans gets as omnipotent as if seasickness never was invented. The trip over the North sea seemed indeed just across the table, where the sea chart lay. Start was about where Staffan had put his whisky-glass, and finish about where Britt-Marie´s stood!
To our great surprise one crewmember joined us, Anton wanted to join us the first two weeks. We promptly offered him free Scopolamin-pathces (for seasickness, out of circulation now, anyone got some? Please mail me.).
Pilot books were bought ( the book, that is, Macmillan-Reeds), and equipment lists were made. The first thing we packed was a "grab bag"; a bag to grab when the boat is sinking. Filled with warm blankets, waterbottles (not the english type...), chocolate bars, distress signals and a handheld VHF. Extra diesel for the boat , in spare cans. Britt-Marie filled the boat with canned food, that would last us over the Atlantic, Staffan thought.
Now then, about winds, we had been told about the ferocious conditions that could exist in the North sea. Wind stars in the pilot book told us something different, summertime it´s about the same wind strenghts as in our home waters, the Kattegatt, only coming from more varied directions. May is the calmest month of all, followed by July, June and August. We wanted open winds, because our ferrocement boat doesn´t tack very well, and has a VMG which is better forgotten. In August the westerlies are in total domination, and there´s much of that i July also. It had to be June, winds from the western quadrant are then not yet in total domination. You can imagine how nice it would be, when in the middle of the journey, you would meet a low with rain and endless westerlies, in the end forcing you to turn back to either Norway/Denmark, depending on conditions.
Actually we got away, from Varberg, on the 4th of June, in a weak NW wind and sailed via Anholt, to Limfjorden, in Denmark. If you draw a straight line from Gothenburg to Scotland, this line goes through Skagen, Denmark, and 100M later just south of Norway. If you draw the same line from Varberg, it goes straight through Jylland, exactly where the Limfjord is!
If you get westerly winds here, which we also got, you can motor your way through, in protected waters. This way, we travelled pretty hastily to the westerly end of Limfjorden, which is also a small town "Thyborön". Then you have gained some 60-70 M in westerly direction, and to Scotland there remains "only" a jump of 330 M.
Thyborön is an industrial fishingharbour and this little village
consists only of the fishermens accomodations. This is on the other side
the only harbour in Denmark without a harbour fee! This little town is
in absolute contrast to Skagen, the boats are few, teenagers are nowhere
to be seen, noone seems to have come there to have a party, and the fishermens
sheds are - fishermens sheds.
It´s exciting to walk around and watch the other sailboats in harbour,
either they are outward bound, or have returned from a longer voyage. Glittering,
fancy equipment, is not so abundant, rather thick ropes, heavy anchors
and tie down reefs. Night life doesn´t exist, but you can listen
to the heavy breakers on the beach, just outside the harbour. Everyone
seems to have a GPS, except us, and the last evening before the North sea,
our old Decca says "it´s confidence level" is zero.....
Decca/GPS today has to be considered mandatory equipment for a longer crossing. If you should experience really bad weather, with reduced visibility, and if you finally end up close to land, it´s simply amazing to be able to see the harbour emerging just in front of your bow. And now our little Decca, a "Dinghy-D", cheapest gadget on the market, showed cofidence "0". The level of confidence tells you with what confidence you can trust the thing to do it´s work, it varies between 0-9, and "0" is _not _ the top mark....
That evening we had a piece of frenetic measuring of cables including the antenna. The "marine" plugs turned out to be ordinarily home stereo plugs, for indoor use, only! The plug on the Decca was dipped in hard plastic, and had to be cut up with archeological precision, to be able to see where the "ex-" cables had been. The coppercables were in a sad state, saltwater, and 12 volts supply voltage had turned these into a black dust!
On the other hand, the advantage with audio stereo plugs, is that you can get them in the nearest hifi-shop. There was a small shop in town, and we could obtain the right plug. The Decca fired up beautifully! Otherwise it would have been sweaty...
Common sense: Keep so called "marine electronics" indoors, preferably at home.
Now we listened intensely to the danish "Vaermelding", weatherreport, which, as everyone knows, is better than the swedish, at least they have long term prognosis, up to a week. You have to have a little bit of luck here, and we had. A lowpressure had just passed us, and the weathersynopsis found no new ones in the west, and they predicted northerly winds!
In weak northerly winds we left during the afternoon, next day, with the outgoing tide. There is a tidal difference here of 3-4´.
30 M west we made a last call home via our VHF, to tell people at home that we were underway. After that it could not reach any coastal station until we were near the scottish coast. Just after our call, there came a week call to our station (7SY9574). It turned out to be another swedish sailboat, which was 35 M NW of us. They thought it was nice to have a chat, so not to feel so lonely. They had left Skagen the day before, and were headed NW for Shetland islands, we were heading due W.
Pretty soon we could no longer hear each other.
The weather would later have an unpleasant surprise in the offing, for this Dixie 27, manned with wife and husband.
As the distance increased to Jutland, the temperature dropped. A low was forming on the continent, creating northerly winds, and clear skies. At last we had used up all our flannel shirts, fiber clothing, long johns, knitted caps and skiing gloves. Feets were still could although! This changed when the wife found our winter leather boots...
As we were three on this trip it was easy to organize watches. 3 hours during night and 4 hours during the day. This meant that you had 6 hours off duty. Our wind vane gear, an Aries, made steering obsolete, and during our watches one merely only had to sit under the sprayhood, to and thru looking out. The North sea was pretty desolate, we met about 2-3 merchant vessels, otherwise the horizon was empty. The water slowly attained a peculiar light blue colour, very beautiful, almost luminescent.
The weather held, with light northerly winds, but further north, winds were stronger, force 7, and it was interesting to notice how fast the swell travelled down to us. Long, deep waves, with not a breaker on them. Porpoises emerged from time to time. They could come in schools, plentiful, and were very nice to watch as they dove obliquely under the stern, then turning their white underbellies up, and you could see them some twenty feet down in the clear water.
Storm petrels followed over the North sea constantly. They look like small, stiff seagulls, and fancies to swisch around the boat at great speed, both over and under the bowsprit. Round and round, as long as the wind held. If it stopped blowing, the birds stopped flying.
The last bit became a little bit windy, a low had passed from central Europe, to southern Scandinavia, and out into eastern parts of the North sea. The Met office said "Forties (Fladen), northerly 5-6, occasionally 7". As usual we got seasick, in spite of both pills, Scopoderm and danish beers. The last bit we noticed the tidal current, it was spring tide and according to Macmillan 2 knots southerly current. Here the Decca came to great use, we had to steer 300 degrees, instead of due west, to reach Peterhead in Scotland. Had we continued on 270 we would have landed further south, and the winds were now too strong to tack against.
On the afternoon, 3½ days from leaving Thyborön we passed the two giant pillars, marking the harbour entrance to Peterhead harbour. Before entering the harbour we had called for "harbour master" on channel 16, something that actually is expected of you, "permission to enter, Sir?"
During the evening the northerly wind howled in the mast, and we were glad to be in the shelter of a harbour. Peterhead has a nice, newly built yacht harbour.
In the morning it was still blowing and temperatures had dropped to 4 degrees Celcius, even a bit could for Scotland in June, we were told. In the harbour there were now the "Peterhead life boat", a sturdy boat, sealed like a submarine, in stainless steel and painted red. Beside it were our friends with which we had spoken to 4 days earlier on VHF.
They had an exciting story to tell:
They had continued towards the Shetlands and after a couple of days had experienced and increasing northerly wind. They had to sail close hauled to keep the boat on course, as the wind had backed, and was continually increasing. The situation onboard became a little bit less pleasant than before, and cooking was difficult. The weather report talked about force 7 winds, rain and dropping temperatures.
At last it was impossible to keep on course for The Shetlands, because of wind and sea state. They had to contemplate an alternate harbour. Shetlands were impossible to reach, the Orkneys are difficult in bad weather due to strong tidal currents. Remains Scotland, 100 M to the south.... Not a very nice escape option, they told us, as you are tired and want to reach sheltered waters as fast as possible.
They turn to the south, going downwind during the day, and then the ensuing night. Wind is increasing, and waves starting to creat bigger breakers. In spite of only a storm jib up, the boat starts to broaching regularly, and water enters into the boat, when nocked down in the throughs. Hatch was open, just a little bit, but several hundred liters enters the boat. At one occasion the wife is thrown, head on, against the cooker, getting a cut on her forehead, and becomes unconcious for a short while.
Then it started to be a little bit unpleasant, her husband told us. Cooking was impossible, and because of diesel shortage, they could not use their heater. During the last 10 hours they had contact with rescue center Aberdeen, they had a "channel of their own" on the VHf, and a very nice gentleman talking to them to and fro. They didn´t know it at that time, wasn´t told, but he had the lifeboat crew sitting in the lifeboat, waiting, during the last hours. In Peterhead, on the slipway.
Outside Peterhead they were unable to enter, and the lifeboat towed them in. As the coxswain later said, "with a bit of hypothermia and exhaustion, and to darn close to "the Read rocks "".
Indeed something exciting to tell when returning home, and good example that VHF is better than a cellular telephone on sea.
We later visited the lifeboat. The crew of five, has each his sturdy, air cushioned chair, with body restraints, and each one carrying helmets. In the roof there were to lights,one green, one red. If the light shifted from green to red, it meant that the boat then was upside down. "Going outside then, is not recommended". You have to wait 7 seconds, then the boats turn 180 degrees, with all systems still functioning.
The weather the first days were typical "scottish", with rain,
wind and chill in the morning, and sun, wind and chill in the afternoon.
One afternoon we took the bus going south along the coast, to " The
bullers of Buchan", famuos cliffs, crowded with birds, and a trail
along its outmost limits. People had been known to fall down the cliffs.
We could see, at close hand, a variety of rare birds. There was a constant
roar of all the birds, of which many were soaring in the wind. Our walk
went on for 3 hours, and luckily at the end of this trail, there is a pub!
Meat pie and beer.
This is a very nice harbour. There are functioning showers and a pleasant pub in the harbour area. There were pontoons to moore at, with access to water and 220 V. The entrance to this harbour is a bit shallow at low water, the harbour captain allowed us in, after we had given him our draft, "five-feet-three". Metric wouldn´t have done in this part of the world, I suppose. We scraped the bottom on the way in, so obviously he knew his harbour well. Others, not checking with the harbour captain, got caught, giving onlookers a show...
Just before this town , the sea chart warned for "tide rips",
and conditions were suited this day, for rips, that is. Tide against sea
and wind are the necessities. These are sheltered waters, and not dangerous.
When we neared this area you could see that the water was white, and upon
entering this area, the sides of the waves were almost vertical.
Speed through the water was reduced to zero, although the engine was running
hard. Speed over ground came from the current, 2 knots, in forward direction,
wind and waves in the opposite. Felt like riding a horse. In the middle
of this area there is a mud bank, and anxiously we watched the echosounder,
giving increasingly shallower readings! Turn to port or starboard, when
we had 6´ left we had to decide, and went to port, which happily
enough, was the right direction. Otherwise we would have had to wait it
out until high water. If the bottom is inclined, and your boat settles
with the wrong side, then you´re in trouble when the tide returns.
This was also a "Dolphin hot spot". This is just west of Inverness,
and the dolphins like the turbulent waters here. When they saw the boat
they came like a group of curious dogs! Regularly there fins and
bodies emerged, hurrying to catch up with the boat. When they reached the
boat, they behaved just like the porpoises, diving constantly under the
hull. One came to close, and made a dull "thump" when hitting
the boat.
The first thing we saw upon entering harbour was big bundles of wooden
planks, coming from Värö sawmill, in our home town!
This canal goes straight through the northern parts of Scotland, connecting
the North sea and the Atlantic. We went through this canal, turned at its
westernmost part, and went back again.
The Loch-Ness, being a very long lake, constitutes one third of this canal.
Here depth is 600 feet, the water is cold, and has a brownish colour from
peat. The echo-sounder gave curious readings, lots of echos, perhaps different
temperature layers, but probably caused by all the monsters crowding beneath...
One of the many castles of Scotland, Urqhart castle, has a beautiful location
on the northern shore of the Loch. You can moore just below the castle
ruin, and walk up for a look. There was only one scotsman, playing the
pipes, and three bussloads of japanese tourists. This was in June, outside
the tourist season!
In June everything blossoms on the moutainsides, at this time colouring
them almost violet from hundreds of Rhododendrons. The sides of the canal
were yellow from broombushes.
We visited the little fishing harbour Mac Duff on our way home. All
these small harbours have gigantic harbour walls, about
12-15´ high and with a small opening, which you couldn´t afford
to miss, indeed.
Here we didn´t make a call on channel 16, and thought, for once we´d
decide for ourselves where we were going to berth.
But no, as soon as we had entered the harbour, there came a call, "swedish
yacht Nausea, this is harbour master MacDuff on 16". You had
to answer, soon getting orders to berth at a vertical, slippery wall, with
only small iron bars put in intendations, to use when you should go ashore!
Tidal difference meant going up and down two times per 24 hours.
We, and the scottish sailors also, avoided those harbours which dry out
during low water. You are then obliged to tie your mast (from about the
spreaders) and to something ashore. Someone, then, has to keep this line
under constant observation.
We were to depart with the tide, a day later, but in the entrance there
came two large fishingboats, just at the same moment. We had to go full
reverse to avoid a collision, no room for evasive manouvers.
Then off we went, 6 knots and sunshine, the danish weatherreport said 13m/s,
westerlies for the coming days, something we were grateful for. It was
indeed with some tension that you listened to the weaterreport, out on
the North sea....
The first night Staffan took the watch 0200-0600 hours, and Britt-Marie,
the watch before, and after. The next night we changed this around. Anton
had departed from us in Peterhead.
At 0300 hours the VHF sputtered to life and a stern voice announced: "
This is guardship Pelican calling little ship in position
57 degrees, 30 minutes N, 01 degrees, 12 minutes W. Your speed is 5 knots,
your course is 85 degrees"
Sure this was our parameters, so I finally anwered the call, and luckily
to - it turned out they were prospecting an oilfield. A seismic vessel
was towing 6 cables, each 3 M long! We were on course for these cables,
on the surface....
During the following half an hour, the guard ship directed us, via its
radar, around these cables.
Another good use of the VHF- transceiver!
The rest of our trip back was rather uneventful, up to the last 24 hrs,
when we got a westerly gale. But of course this then was in the right direction,
just to cling on. In this type of weather, our type of boat, being a swedish
"koster", ie a heavy displacement, doubleended longkeeler
with inboard ballast gives an acceptable ride. A couple of breakers went
over the boat, with impressive force and sound. Every little opening, and
there are a few in our cockpit hatch, delivers then a good squirt of water
inboard. When a larger wave obstructed the sun, it shon through the wave,
giving a glowing green colour. But of course, then came the breaker and
everything was wet.
After 3½ days we entered Skagen harbour happy but tired. We celebrated
upon scampi fritti with remouladsauce bought in a nearby "fishermans
shed". Then we went for a walk along the harbour, watching plastered
swedes. It felt nice to be home again.
Britt-Marie and Staffan Rudholm on S/Y Nausea.