Time to head north again – strangely! This time up to Ardrishaig and another place where I would try not to pronounce the place name in front of any locals.

The idea with this part of the trip was to vary things a bit (from just sailing “around” bits of land) while cutting inside the Mull of Kintyre. I was so pleased I did, as this was going to be one of the best days for scenery on the whole trip.

Once I had sorted the money side of things with the marina, we cast of just before 10am. With little wind forecast I was not holding up much hope of sailing all the way. However, with a large depression about to hit the UK I wanted to get to Ardrishaig (the southern entrance of the Crinan Canal) where I should be able to continue north independent of the weather for at least a day.

All was looking good as we left Troon with the wind finally, after three days in the waiting, moving to the east. With all sails set we were soon shooting towards our destination at 5 knots.

Unfortunately it was not long before a familiar pattern took affect. After about an hour the wind started to die and we continued under motor. Then after a short while it filled in again before dieing off after a fast few minutes sailing. This switching from motor to sail continued, like the flicking of a light switch, for a further four hours until I had finally had enough. We sat in the middle of a large millpond with all the sails up while I read a book. I was determined not to get the motor out again only to have to put it back five minutes later!

It should be pointed out that the engine on a Hunter Delta is an outboard positioned in a well on the port side. I have perfected the practice of “deploying” the engine down to about three minutes flat but it is not something I relish doing ten times a day!

While sitting in the middle of the channel reading, the view was not lost on me. With only a light haze I could see the mountains of Arran and the mainland all around, with moorland extending down to the shore. This was only occasionally disturbed by an odd cottage or farm dotted about the postcard scene.

Having read a long chapter of “Yacht Ratings” (a book on the technical side of yacht racing) it was time to start the engine for the last time of the day. The final ten miles were taken up with avoiding fishing boats and peering into the untouched inlets and valleys surrounding us.

We rounded the breakwater, which marks the south end of the Crinan canal just before 6pm. With the sun about to set over the adjacent hill we moored up for the night on the waiting pontoon outside the sea lock. There was only one other boat on the pontoon waiting for the lock the next morning. The owner had been kind enough to take our lines on arrival and from this point it was clear he was a local. The kilt gave it away but his character confirmed matters. Before I knew what was happening he had driven five miles to the nearest fuel station and had topped up our petrol supply! He had the kind of laid-back nature of a stereotypical Scottish lord. The evening was spent taking in the view down the loch while watching him consume the best part of a bottle of the local finest.