Crinan with a keel

For the first time since we acquired our lovely little Cornish Shrimper sailing boat she has a proper keel. The boatyard did an excellent job repairing the keel box and putting her back to how she was originally built nearly forty years ago so all we have to do now is to get her home safely. If, along the way, we can see how well she now sails with a lowered keel plate slicing the water beneath her then this would be a bonus but the main objective will be to get her home, of course. If we can combine this with a short holiday, cooking our own meals made from the vittles we carry on board then sleeping peacefully tucked up inside our cosy Duvalay sleeping bags, then this would be nice too. But let us not forget the main objective.

The boatyard at Ardfern lies at the end of Loch Craignish which opens out to the south west onto the Sound of Jura. The loch is not, however, one of our favourite places to sail as it is quite narrow and is surrounded by hills of various sizes which makes the wind rather unpredictable in both strength and direction. There are also some rocky obstacles to avoid but then anyone who sails on the west coast of Scotland will be quite used to these. We slept the night on board, berthed in the boatyard, so as to make an early start the next day but there was still a list of boaty things to do before we could leave the busy and rather noisy boatyard. Next to us a very large yacht was having it's two masts stepped and the crane was making bleeping noises, these being essential to any craning operation, but despite this we managed to get ourselves ready and cast off around nine in the morning. Once outside the confines of the marina there was a nice breeze blowing although we knew better than to expect that it would be plain sailing to reach the entrance to the Crinan Canal. Almost as soon as we'd got the sails up the wind changed direction, twice, then faded for a while. What we hadn't expected was the fierce gust that followed which briefly tipped our pretty little boat right over on her side. But we reasoned that the main cause for this was the newly fixed keel plate gripping the water so we just accepted this and sailed on although the hills around the loch kept on delivering gusts and lulls, right until we finally escaped into more open water.

The entrance to the Crinan canal was now in sight and we drifted gently towards this, finally starting the engine to bring us inside the deep sea lock. All that remained was to toss our mooring lines up to the waiting hands of the lock staff, a task that was to become more and more difficult as we proceeded through the canal and our flinging arms weakened. A voice from above then explained that another boat was on its way in and since they would be sharing the lock with us we must wait for them to arrive. So we got out the sandwiches and made ourselves comfortable.

Before long we could hear the deep rumbling sound of a large engine which signified the approaching vessel, a large and very wide motor yacht, which would be squeezing into the lock alongside us. Seeing this manoeuvering towards us into the tight space was rather like standing in front of a tank, but thankfully the skipper judged it correctly and we escaped damage. Soon the lock gates were closing and we knew the fun was about to start. 

As soon as the outer lock gates closed the sluices were opened at the other end to fill the lock basin and bring the water level up to that of the canal inside so that we could move forward. There is no easy way to do this. Many tons of water have to be moved about and any small boat in the lock is inevitably going to be bounced around. It is like being in a giant washing machine and it requires considerable strength to hold onto the ropes tying us to the side. It seemed to go on forever but gradually, as we were lifted up, the pressure eased and soon our heads popped up above the rim where a rather surprised young dog was waiting for us, a little frightened by the sight of us emerging from below. Once the lock was full the inner gates were opened allowing us to escape into the calm of the basin beyond. Many more locks awaited us (there are fifteen in all) but hopefully not all squashed in with a 56 foot long motor cruiser towering over us.

Passage through the canal can, with a lot of hard work, be done in one day, but we are allowed four nights to make the passage so why not take advantage of this and stop off at a quiet mooring or two along the way. There are seven bridges in all to navigate past but the canal staff will call ahead to warn the bridge keeper so these barely hold us up at all. For the first night we tied up to a pontoon next to a bird hide, a place from which to look out across the River Add and watch the ducks and other wildlife. Suddenly we both felt very relaxed and chose to tuck ourselves into bed early, which meant before the sun had fully set, although given that this was late June there is very little darkness anyway. In the morning we strolled off to the nearby toilet and shower facilities then fired up the outboard engine for action. Once past Bellanoch Bridge we came to the first flight of locks, each of which took us a little higher, until we finally reached the summit, the highest part of the canal, where again we tied up and stopped for the night. By this time, however, our throwing arms were completely worn out. Tossing a coil of rope up to the waiting lock keeper might sound easy but if you miss and the rope drops down into the water, you are then faced with trying again with a wet rope, considerably heavier and rather unpleasant to handle. Whilst doing this the boat will drift away from the side of the lock meaning the next throw is even longer, requiring ever more muscle power. Suffice to say that we need to practice more, or else find an easier solution to this problem. Fortunately having arrived at the highest point in the canal, in all the subsequent locks we were going down, a much easier process with no rope throwing involved at all.

The canal passes through a green, wooded landscape with trees draping the surrounding hills and vegetation leaning out over the water as we pass by. The water comes from lochs in the hills higher up, some of which were created specifically to service the canal when it was opened in 1801. At dryer times of year there may be barely enough water in them to keep the canal open and for our passage we were asked to share each lock with other vessels to make best use of the precious water. But we were not rushing to get through so a short wait for another boat to catch up did not bother us at all. The weather treated us quite well too, often just enough breeze to keep the midges away (these little beasts can be a problem) and cool enough to keep us comfortable.

Normally we might expect to be managing most of the locks ourselves but the shortage of water meant that each lock was managed for us by the friendly keepers who must experience far worse rope throwing than ours. As we proceeded, however, we were watching the weather forecast closely since once we emerged from the canal we would become a sailing boat again and would need a fair wind to take us home. This proved difficult, in the end, due to the unreliability of forecasting but after sharing the final locks with two other (larger) sailing boats we finally popped out of the canal at Ardrishaig and sailed away home.

So has the lower keel plate made a difference to how the boat sails?

Well there is no scientific evidence to prove this since sailing is mostly about how the boat 'feels' but when the wind was kind to us, blowing steadily from one direction, we did seem to make good progress upwind - 'pointing higher than before' would be the technical term. Our track, once we had emerged from the canal at Ardrishaig, can be seen here and the from 'tacking angle' (another technical term) it does seem that the lowered keel plate is making a difference. If only the wind was as reliable though. Sadly our journey home was plagued by an ever more variable wind and the dull day did little to raise our spirits. Eventually there was little choice but to start the engine before we ran out of daylight altogether.