DAY NINETEEN - LOSSIEMOUTH TO STONEHAVEN

The day started in all the right ways.  Firstly, having taken a knock on a blade whilst landing on the Summer Isles, "Teals" prop was in need of attention, and Si had arranged for the Marine Engineer at Lossiemouth to sort it out.  Bright and early and true to his word, Jim Watt delivered Si a beautifully repaired prop, and for no charge.  Once again, we were amazed at the kindness and generosity of people towards the Take Two Ribs team.  In addition, Lossiemouth Harbour Master, Duncan Pocket, had used his forklift the night before to ferry fuel cans from the local fuel station down to the boats.  We have been so overwhelmed with what people have done to help us on our way, and we left Lossiemouth Harbour this morning feeling very lucky for the support we are being shown.

ConTTentment is prepared for the day ahead in Lossiemouth Harbour

The good vibe continued on into the morning with a fantastic run across Spey Bay on a flat calm sea at 28 knots.  I really started to think today was going to be a walk in the park, and settled in to enjoy rib-driving at its best - easy driving conditions, beautiful scenery - who could ask for more.

Gardenstown - the calm before the storm

Our late morning tea stop was at Gardenstown, a delightful fishing village overlooking the Moray Firth.  The boys passed the time of day with the second mate of a oil-rig supply ship, who put us in our places when he informed us that they only stop delivering supplies to the rigs when the seas reach over 4.5 metres, and that in the winter months swells in the North Atlantic reached up to 16 metres!  Our micro-battles with Land's End, Cape Wrath and the Pentland Firth paled into tiny insignificance.
The only tiny sadness in this blissfully easy morning was that we had heard reports that dolphins had been sighted in Spey Bay the day before, and only that morning whales had been spotted off Cullen, which we had just passed.  Sadly it wasn't our turn to see these wonderful creatures.

The mind boggles - a sign quay-side at Gardenstown!

On leaving Gardentown, we headed out into Moray Firth heading south.  At the headland, we saw our first colony of gannets on the cliffs - an impressive spray of white against the cliff, and as we approached closer, a cacophany of sound met us as the alarm call was raised.

A gannet colony off Gardenstown

Once we had rounded the headland, my hopes of an easy day began to fade.  We had a southerly wind on our nose all the way, creating choppy and uncomfortable conditions, which are definitely the most difficult to drive.

Massive and immaculate - the North Atlantic fishing fleet moored at Fraserburgh

There is very little you can do to "iron out" the ride, and after poking out noses into Fraserburgh to see the impressive North Atlantic trawlers moored up (they are huge!), we perservered onto Peterhead for a bowl of soup for lunch.   We left Peterhead prepared to battle it out to Stonehaven, but it very quickly became apparent that the North Sea was determined to exact her dues and wasn't going to make our passage easy.  We were having to fight for every yard, with a steady Force 6 on the nose. It was as if the sea was a wild and white eyed bronco, determined to have us off at every wave, bucking, rearing, kicking and twisting her way beneath us, making our ride as uncomfortable and miserable as it could be.  As helmsman, all one could do was try and ride each wave as it came to make it as productive as possible with as little discomfort as you could manage, but there was no rhyme nor reason to this sea.  She did as she chose, with no pattern or rhythm to follow, and left her playthings feeling battered, exhausted, exasperated and nerve-frayed.  As passenger, one felt completely out of control.  The pain of landing badly after a wave made you want to cry and rant in equal measure, but knowing all the time you were completely in the hands of others.  Only when it was your turn to take the helm did you realise there was nothing you could do to make the situation any better.  Finally as we approached Stonehaven, I was at the helm and the accumulated agony and frustration of a miserable afternoon got the better of me, and I floored the throttle and made for port like a banshee.  It was reckless, artless and awful, but at least it was shortlived!
Stonehaven lived up to its name and a haven indeed it was.  Never on this trip have I been more in need of a haven!  Neck and shoulder muscles were screaming, nerves were frayed, and the only consolation was that every  miserable minute was taking me closer to home.  What a dishevelled, shattered little band we must have looked!
The tranquillity of Stonehaven Harbour in the late afternoon made a mockery of our fraught afternoon, and never again will I stand on the land in port and assume that the peace it offers is universal.   I salute all those that work on the sea and tackle her in her many moods.  She can be your friend and your playfellow, but equally your tyrant and your mortal enemy - all in the space of a day.

Distance travelled:  100 nautical miles
Time travelling: 6 hours 10 minutes
Average speed: 16.4 knots
Total trip:  1,394 nautical miles

A haven indeed - deceptively calm at Stonehaven