Incredible weekend in Aberdour

All week the weather forecasters warned of gales, torrential rain, doom and gloom, so we had no plans to go anywhere over the weekend. In particular, we’ve been frustrated that there hasn’t been a suitable weekend weather window to visit Culross, a recently rejuvenated destination on the River Forth with a partially rebuilt pier. We’ve made the trip to Culross by road several times, checking out the rocks and the best place to come alongside. That adventure would have to wait for another day.

Having studied the forecast locally in detail, it looked as though the worst of the weather was going to miss the Firth of Forth, so we decided that we would take a gamble on heading out on to the water knowing that we could always park our Macwester Malin for a few days if necessary.

We made it onboard late on Friday night, and settled down early as we knew there was an early rise in the morning if we were to catch the tide. We set off before 7am. I say “we”, but the crew remained snuggled-up warm and cosy in the aft cabin while I cast off single-handed. There was a noticeable east coast haar concealing the top half of the Forth Bridge, which only became visible up close [above].

The crew eventually got out of her lazy bed as we were heading past Hound Point towards Dalgety Bay, just in time to see our first puffin of the season. Unfortunately I wasn’t prepared, so can’t provide any evidence in the form of a photograph. I promise will make up for that later in this post with a gratuitous fluffy animal photograph of some sort.

The haar wasn’t so dense that we were unable to see where we were heading. The shot above shows us approaching Braefoot gas terminal to our port, with the headland south-east of Aberdour just visible in the distance. Actually, we hadn’t planned on heading to Aberdour, however we spotted a yacht against the pier wall on our approach to Dalgety Bay, and weren’t convinced that there was enough room for us alongside.

Handy windspeed info for Braefoot & Inchcolm here.

It felt really, really good to arrive in Aberdour; it seemed like it had been far too long since we were there. Of course, we had been there over the winter months by road, most notably when we had stumbled upon former UK prime minister Gordon Brown strolling along the promenade deep in conversation with Labour deputy leader Tom Watson.

On arrival, a local skipper was kind enough to catch our lines. His yacht, Markate is pictured off our stern above. Inevitably we got talking, and he told me of his recent trip to the pier at Culross which he informed me had recently been rebuilt. He proudly stated that Markate was the first visiting yacht to Culross for over 100 years. On hearing the news of his visit …my pupils narrowed, my veins started throbbing with anger, and I swear the pigment of my skin flushed with a vivid green. I picked up him up with both hands, effortlessly lifted him above my head, and tossed his helpless body over the sea wall.

Okay, so that all unfolded in my head. In reality I was heartily shaking the skipper’s hand and congratulating him on being an adventurous trailblazer.

Baa humbug!

Above is the gratuitous fluffy animal photograph that I promised you earlier, as some sort of reparation for my hissy-fit. Best we could tell, this nosey parker spent all weekend looking out from beneath the gate.

The weather was substantially better than we expected, and we had sunshine for much of the time, including walks on the beach and along the coast. When the rain put in an appearance, we simply zipped-up our cockpit tent and took the opportunity to relax. We didn’t do all that much. We caught up with the harbour-master, and as usual we enjoyed gin and tonic along at a local friend’s beach-front house. Other than that, we just took it easy.

We were due to set sail back to our mooring at around 4.15 on Sunday afternoon, however I prepped our Macwester Malin earlier than required as I wanted to watch Andy Murray play in the Wimbledon final. I streamed the match live to my iPad, as I found the radio commentary annoying. The shot above shows the settled conditions as we left Aberdour behind.

Once we were out on the water, I found it easier to stream the match to my mobile, which was less of a handful at the helm. We decided to motor our Macwester Malin back home because we were heading into the wind, I reckoned that the conditions were going to deteriorate, and yes …I wanted to watch the end of the match, which was beginning to look good for Andy. More than could be said for the weather, which as expected, was going downhill.

While we were being bounced around a bit, approaching the Forth Bridge at around 5pm, Andy had already won the first two sets, and the third set was now in the latter stages of a tie-breaker. Would this be the end or was there going to be another set? Just as the match reached championship point, the iPlayer live feed stopped dead [above]. Surely not? After three hours? Right at the very pinnacle of the whole tournament?

Frustrating?

Well, it’s fair to say that my pupils narrowed, my veins started throbbing with anger, and…