Ross Of Mull, Isle of Mull, Scotland

Note: This post was updated on Thursday, July 17th

Current Location: Ross of Mull, Isle of Mull, Scotland
Current Coordinates: 56°′N 6°′W
Next Stop: Tory Island, Ireland
Listening:

1)"Everybody Wants to Rule the World," by Tears for Fears as performed by The Bad Plus

2) "Iambic 9 Poetry," by Squarepusher

3) "Sunny's Song," by the Benevento/ Russo Duo

Reading: The Israel Lobby, by John Mearsheimer and Stephen Walt

We arrived at Stornoway, Isle of Lewis from Stromness early Sunday morning, July 6th. This was probably the nicest port we've been in since Alesund--lots of shops, pubs, showering facilities, etc. It was here that we encountered another American boat for the first time since Bodo. We tied up along Indian Summer, sailed by Jerry and Terry Solom, father and son, respectively. These guys were great. They were knowledgeable about the area as they had been there for nearly a month when we had arrived preparing their boat for a transatlantic passage from Scotland to Maine. They expected that their passage would take about 5 or 6 weeks so I suspect that they are now about a quarter of the way across now. Godspeed, Gentlemen!







The castle above was the home of James Matheson, a British trader who played an instrumental role in starting the Opium Wars. Matheson used his outrageous profits from the opium trade to buy the whole of Isle of Lewis which is where he chose to build Lews Castle. The island and the castle are now owned by the local council.



Gitana left Stornoway on Wednesday morning at 3:30 am (July 9) and sailed south to Dunvagen, Isle of Skye. The passage was only about fifty miles and we had reasonably good weather so we pulled into Dunvagen about 4pm. Sailing was the easy part of this day--the rest of it was very rough.

I was having trouble keeping my eyes open during my watch so I went beneath to catch a cup of coffee. I heard a strange noise coming from above and so I put my coffee down and decided to have a look. I failed to realize/remember that I'd only closed the hatch halfway when I went down and so with my reascent I rammed my head with full force into the hatch which ripped the cover board off of it. After I came too (moment of dizziness and confusion) I realized what I had done and I had the worst feeling of shear panic and doom as I imagined Skipper's reaction to my carelessness. Really, I thought he was going to kill me, and I kept repeating that to myself. The worst part is that the noise didn't wake him up from his nap--I had to sit there in the cockpit behind the helm staring at the mangled wood as I envisioned being thrown overboard or something worse. Somewhat to my relief, Skipper popped his head up about 10 minutes later just to check on things. Before pointing out what I had done I admitted that I made a mistake and that I was willing to pay for the damages and do whatever necessary to fix the problem. He said, "enough already, what'd you break?" He seemed actually relieved when I told him what it was--there are so many other more expensive and important mechanisms on that boat that can easily be damaged that would really slow our progress.

But things got worse in Dunvagen. Up to this point, we've been lucky enough to find suitable piers to tie up against, eliminating the need for our anchor. But places as far south and as remote as Isle of Skye and Isle of Mull (where we are now) do not have sophisticated marinas--you have to anchor. So, I had my first anchoring drill at 4pm, July 10 upon entering the Loch at Dunvagen. It did not go well. When explaining the anchoring process Skipper's tone was more hurried and frustrated than it was calm and instructive--perhaps because of the broken hatch incident from earlier in the day. There I was, up at the bow with a $600 anchor in my hands trying to understand Skipper's orders coming from the cockpit, shouted over the engine and into the wind as the boat bobbled back and forth in the lee of the small island we were setting up behind. We finally got the anchor set, but not before I'd been thoroughly yelled at like a marine recruit on his first day at Parris Island. It was bad, and it got worse over the next couple of days.



For the next day or so Skipper erupted into a tirade every five or ten minutes over things like misplaced items on the boat or the use of precious paper towels (they are hard to find here) or unidentified ziploc bags left in the galley--"what's supposed to go in this!?" At first I'd flinch and tense up waiting for the next barrage since most of these criticisms were directed at me. But eventually I got used to them and could even see them coming well in advance..

"oh shit, Jack put the fenders out in the wrong place, I was supposed to do that, but I haven't got to it yet because I'm still trying to finish up task X which can't be done before I finish task Y which if not done carefully and thoroughly will result in task Z which Skipper explicitly expressed he does not want to have to do because it will F*@* everything up"

or..

"someone left the water pressure on at the control panel..I wonder if I can click it off without him hearing the noise, which would reveal the mistake..."


or..

"the seacock in the head that restricts water from sinking the boat was left down...."

My mind races a million miles a minute trying to anticipate what's going to create the next problem, the next eruption, the next barrage of criticisms. I try and balance doing what is expected of me and taking cautious initiative, ala, "what made you think that was a good idea?" Again, I don't intend to demonize Skipper or make him sound unreasonable. I do, however want to make my account as verisimilar as possible. Mike has a lifetime of experience at sea and he knows exactly what needs to be done (and what cannot be done) in order to safely get the boat where it is heading. It is absolutely an honor and a privelege to sail with Michael Johnson. He's told me in calmer moments not to take what happens at sea too seriously, but you can only be yelled at for so long before you start to internalize what's being said. Humility. Endurance. Perseverance.




We left Dunvagen on Thursday morning July 10 and headed south for Isle of Mull, which is where we are now. The hotel is awesome, a real haven, a breath of fresh air with new faces and a positive vibe that was much needed after the previous two or three days of "badness." I decided to spend a night in the hotel to get a hot meal, take a shower, and sleep on a stable surface. This proved to be a good move. After the bar closed I enjoyed pints with the publicans (bar managers) who were still lingering around. I also encountered a drunk Irish woman named "Theresa" who initially called me an "American wanker." By the end of the evening I managed to endear myself to Theresa, not having engaged her but instead choosing to type down her many outlandish statments, sketching out a character who is most certainly fodder for future fiction. I wish I could delve more into her character here, but I promise that I won't go nearly as deep as I did last post. No abstractions, all descriptive, informative, no blabbering. Oh yeh--one thing to mention. Theresa was particularly put off by my intent to study the EU--an institution whose existence "{tramples} on the graves of all of the men who fought for Irish independence." It was healthy for me to hear this as most of what I've read in the academic books I've read about EU politics this far has given me the impression that the European Union is a widely favored (if not popular) body amongst Europeans. This tells of the real disconnect between the people and the politicians. Still, for the record, I believe that the EU is a great plan, the next logical step for the spread and maintenance of democracy in the west.




Mike and I went to Iona yesterday to see the abbey. Iona is the site where St. Colombo brought Christianity to Scotland from Ireland in the year 563. He established a small monastery there housed in thatch roofed buildings and the like. Later the Benedictines built the Abbey which still stands today. It is an ecumenical church now that houses a retreat facility used by pilgrims from across the world. A real charm to the place. There is also a small nunnery that was established by the sister of the Benedictine monk who ran the monastery. It is located a discreet distance from the monastery in a smal meadow that nears the shore. Very nice place. Pictures below.

On our progress: Skipper says that we "have been be-deviled by bad weather." According to our original itenerary, we were supposed to be in Cork, Ireland on June 26. We are still about 400 miles north of Cork. Really, there is nothing to blame here except the weather--which nothing can be done about. As I mentioned in an earlier post, the pattern so far has been to arrive at a port and stay there for 4 or 5 days waiting on favorable winds to blow us to our next spot further south. This means that I'm spending more money than I wanted to and seeing fewer countries than I had expected. However, I still wouldn't trade this experience for anything. What I have learned so far about myself, life, discipline, and perseverance (amongst other things) has been invaluable. For instance, if I ever encounter a pushy boss in the future, it will be nothing compared to having lived with a drill seargeant in a small cabin the size of a glorified port- o -john. There are so many other things that come to mind but I'm limited by time here.


So at this point I'm thinking that I'll make it to Gibraltar before August 17th, which is when I'm due back in the States. It may also be that I'm back a bit early, which wouldn't be bad considering the number of people that I want to spend good time with before I head off to school in Italy. I hope to see all of you!

Very strong SW winds kept us aboard Gitana all day long yesterday. Our dinghy is in dire need of repair and skipper didn't want to risk it breaking to pieces as we tried to row ashore. There's nothing worse than a broken dinghy. Made the most of it by reading, cooking beans and rice and drinking some red wine.

We sail for Tory Island, Ireland tomorrow afternoon if all goes as planned. From what we hear the island has its own king who has only 190 subjects as Tory is scarcely populated. I'm hoping that there is somewhere for me to connect so that I can post. If not, I'll update as soon as I can. In the meantime, thanks so much for following my travels and stay tuned--there's much more Paulgrimage to come.

L'chaim. --Paul

pinecones.



"Myths and legends die hard in America. We love them for the extra dimension they provide, the illusion of near-infinite possibility to erase the narrow confines of most men’s reality. Weird heroes and mould-breaking champions exist as living proof to those who need it that the tyranny of “the rat race” is not yet final."


--Hunter Stockton Thompson, from The Great Shark Hunt, pt. 3 (1979)

(July 18th, 1937- February 20th, 2005)



Happy Birthday Gonzo.