12 July: The Lifting Fog in Scotland
Sailing out of the fog
I was about to push the door open, but did not have much hope to find it anything but locked, since the hair dresser looked closed. The windows were dark and only a small sign on the outside revealed that this was a “Hair and Beauty Saloon”, quite in contrast to the anything but fancy fishing village of Mallaig, just south east of Skye in the inner Hebrides. I liked the truth of Mallaig, so different to Tobermory, which was very aware of its (tourist-)attraction. Mallaig was certainly as it always had been: a real fishing village and not spoiled by mass-tourism. The lack of uncountable “B&B” signs revealed that this was a town for the men still living by real fish from the sea rather than the modern counterpart arriving in cars.

To my surprise, the door to the hair dresser was open and in the dark I could see a lady cleaning up the floor further back in the saloon. I asked if they had the time to cut my hair that day. The response was polite, friendly but clear: “No, no – we are very busy! But there is another hair dresser in Ft William, if you want to try that one instead!?”.

Ft William?! The entrance of the Caledonian Canal? I hesitated, since, for me, Ft William was a several days’ journey away! It was difficult to believe that, for some, Ft William is just the next city close by, easily accessible by car. If you have one, that is.

It’s incredible how fast these noisy 4 wheeled land-vehicles can move you from one place to another. And people really seemed to need them, always being in a hurry. Haven’t we seen these fast driven cars in the towns we had visited? Dangerous, not only because they drive on the left side of the road, but especially due to their high speed. Are people really in such a hurry? Why? What are they all fleeing from and where are they going?

I remember clearly how important it was for us to keep up speed and to allow for all those things to happen within the limited time frame we had. If time was not money, at least it was very limited and hence highly valued. Always busy, busy, busy!

Is time really that limited? I can’t help the strange feeling that, for me, I get more things done now, than in my previous life, when I drove a fast car, had a dish-washer, a washing machine and broadband-connection. Today, I even find the luxury to read books, think and write. How can that be?

First of all, I do obviously not have a nine-to-five job currently, where I would spend very many hours of my daytime. On the other hand, I do have a sort of job now as well, namely to keep the boat running and that takes a lot of time and effort as well.

Maybe it is that I sleep better and deeper? I am no longer mentally exhausted when I turn in. Instead, it is my body that asks for rest and I am looking forward to lie down and get some sleep, which I hardly did before.

Living ashore, my brain was full of problems to solve, all at the same time. My thoughts were turning round in circles and it was not always easy to find tranquility. My body was seldom tired, except for the rare occasions that I “took the time” to do some running, which felt like steeling this time from something more important. And then this stress, I remember, that I had to sleep by a certain time, since my alarm clock would ring a certain number of hours later and then I had to wake up and it was thus most important that I sleep now. These thoughts have since long passed away. Now I may sleep when I am tired and not when I tell myself.

The same applies for waking up. Isn’t it so, that when you sleep deeply and have a dream you want to finish, you hate it when your alarm clock is ringing, commencing your day with a miserable start. Had the alarm just waited for some more minutes for me to finish my dream, or even rang some minutes earlier, maybe I had been in another sleeping stage, not minding to get up?!

These days, I am waking up by the crying sea gulls or possibly a propeller nearby. This is a totally different feeling compared to an angry clock telling me to get up. When the sea gulls call me, I am ready to get up! I have then had a wonderful sleep, dreamt heavily, found the time to finish all my dreams and thoughts and may wake up in a wonderful mood after possibly less hours of sleep than in my previous life ashore.

Certainly, also the lack of negative stories on the radio or TV help us to feel better while cruising? I can assure you, we don’t miss the News a bit, since most of them make us unhappy anyway. Constantly being fed by negative information can’t be healthy for your mind, can it?! Instead, we have great books to read plus all the DVD’s we have not found the time to watch, yet.

Today, we live with nature, breathing in the same pace, following the weather and the tides. I have still not quite understood where all the water goes and how it all can come back again so quickly, but I have started to accept the tides as the breath of nature: In, and Out, In and Out – every 6 hours. You live with these tides, sail with the currents, following mother nature, rather than to conquer her. Living against the rules of nature is senseless, immediately being punished by a knot or two in countercurrent and hence in loss of speed. There is no reason to hurry, you are much faster by choosing the correct timing, following the breath of nature.
I shut the door to the busy hairdresser in Mallaig being not disappointed at all, was my hair certainly still in a shape to be all right until Dublin or even beyond, who could tell.

And who cared, anyway?

Mallaig as seen on a postcard with the island of Skye in the background
We continued along the main street of Mallaig, passed fishing vessels in the harbour and a toy shop with similar fishing vessels in the display window for the fishermen of the next generation. At the end of the street, between the railway station and the fishing harbour, lied the “Fishermen’s Mission”. Outside, on the doorstep, sat a weather-beaten man with his now empty cup of coffee in his hands. “Are yo’ going in?!”, he asked us. We nodded. “Could ye’ take my cup inside, please?!”

This is how we entered the Fishermen’s Mission of Mallaig, with a cup in our hands that had just warmed up a tired fisherman. We went through the doorstep of what was a second home for many men, who otherwise mainly see the high swell of the Atlantic. A big canteen opened up, with countless tables. There they sat, the heroes of the sea. Each line in their face could tell about icy storms on the harsh winter seas, days of good catches and days of disappointment. Some had a cup of tea, others a warm soup, yet others were there for a chat with like-minded sea-men. I passed the cup with some regards from the man outside and asked if it was true that men coming from the sea could get their laundry done here. “Of course!” was the immediate reply. “Some men sleep here – upstairs – many foreign seamen, for instance from the Baltic Countries, who work on fishing vessels and for whom it would be too far to go home in between. They all come here regularly. But we have also Brits staying here, of course. All are welcome!” the friendly lady continued. Looking at our bag, she then replied: “How much laundry do you have? We close at noon on Saturdays, you see, but if Bruce could wait…” she looked over to a bunch of men at a table further up, “…I could take your laundry first. Come again at 12.00 and I will have your clothes washed, dried and folded.” she ended.


The by now already well-known misty drizzle awaited us outside, but inside our bodies we felt warm by the hearty welcome of the Fishermen’s Mission's. We went for a walk while waiting for our laundry, passing the fishing harbour once more, observing a seal swimming around the vessels hoping for some leftovers, which, obviously, could not be too difficult with all these fishing boats. When we eventually returned to the Fishermen’s Mission, we found all our clothed in the very same bag we had left them in, with the distinction that they were now clean, dry and folded. We will always remember this true welcome by the Mission!
Going for a walk passing the Mallaig fishing harbour at low water
It was still drizzling, which seems to be a typical Scottish weather. I couldn’t believe this! I was following the weather development and knew there was a high pressure building up around us. The barograph now read 1033,5 hPa, indicating a beefy High Pressure. But despite the barograph showing its friendly sun-symbol on its display, the same in reality was not quit as visible through the rain. If this is a Scottish High Pressure during summer, what does then a Scottish Low Pressure in winter look alike?

Jessica and Jonathan were delighted to observe a seal swimming around the fishing vessels greeting the children
We met a charming Scottish family, Bruce and Christa with three children sailing Bruce’s father’s 52 foot Moody called Palandra, which he had bought in Florida and sailed over from USA a couple of years ago. They thought this was a quite fine summer day since it was 16 degrees C (60 F) and very little wind. Therefore, they invited us to have some fun on the beach together with them. The beach was not the problem, since Scotland has many fantastic sandy beaches, which could make even the most renown Mediterranean tourist center jealous. The question was just how do you play on the beach and in the water, when the climate is as harsh as the Vikings, who once conquered this remote place on earth? Bruce and Christa gathered their beach toys from Palandra and dressed for a great day at the beach.

The solution was as simple as it was efficient: Wetsuits for the entire family! The 12 degrees C (53F) of water and the never ending drizzle didn’t disturb us at all any longer, thanks to our wet suits (yes, we dug out our wet suits as well, which we fortunately enough had taken onboard the last minute when packing the boat).
Karolina in Scottish beach dress, ready for a day at the beach
What great fun we all had on the beach! Palandra had a large RIB (Inflatable with hard-bottom) with a 30 hp engine as dinghy, good enough to go water skiing with. Bruce and Christa had a knee-board which we all had a go on and I wonder if not the adults had even more fun than the kids going “water-skiing”.

Karolina doing knee-boarding, pulled by Palandra's strong RIB-dinghy. Regina and Palandra in the background at anchor in Sanna Bay.
The knee-board star Jessica
Looking better than the aches the following day...
Jonathan doing a lying-down-trix with Bruce and the kids in the RIB
With the outgoing tide, we built canals into the sand, watching the water rushing down as in a wild river. We had seaweed racing, competing with a piece of seaweed each rushing down the dug canal. Then we all played baseball on the beach and we all felt as if we had known each other for a long time.

We agreed on meeting again, this time at Britain’s most remote pub, which was said to be just a day’s sail from Sanna Bay, where we were playing on the beach. Bruce of Palandra showed it to us on the chart: just a few miles east of Mallaig into the Loch Nevis is a place called Inverie hosting the pub “The Old Forge”. It is so remote that the next road lies 60 miles from the place! The only way to reach Inverie is either by sea or by foot. Many hikers take it as a challenge to walk into Inverie over the beautiful Scottish mountains.


We took the easy route by boat and moored at one of the convenient buoys that The Old Forge had placed there for its guests. Some jeeps, which had been brought in by cargo ferry, were parked outside the pub, which could take the very few inhabitants up into the mountains but not any further, since all items had to be brought in by boat, just in the old days. And besides, what we call “remote” these days having car roads as criterion, wasn’t necessarily very remote in the pre-automobile age. The church, the pub, the houses and even a school proved that travels by boat was, and still is, just as natural here. This has also the obvious advantage that you only find like-minded at this place, who’d rather walk or sail than rushing on the high-way.
A cold and wet crew looking forward to the Pub
“This remote peninsula, jutting out of the north-west coastline of Scotland adjacent to the Isle of Skye, is one of the most inaccessible corners of mainland Britain. Without a road link to the rest of the country, it is somtimes referred to as “Europe’s last wilderness”. The hamlet of Inverie – complete with pub, hostel and post office – is accessible only by ferry. After that you’re on your own, although the occasional bothy provides a welcome alternative to wet-weather camping. There are hills for hillwalkers, mountains for mountain walkers and valley hikes for hikers. Expect the ubiquitous Scottish midge at dawn and dusk in summer, as well as strong winds and rain at any time of year. In return, you’re likely to be rewarded with sightings of seals, awe-inspiring sunsets and wonderful like-minded people who have made their home in this largely-forgotten corner of the British Isles.”
As read in the article "Wilderness Europe" in
Outdoor Enthusiast Magazine, March 2005, page 36
Studying the menu: It was a difficult choice but we ended up with hand-dived local scallops from Loch Nevis, which we were overlooking while sipping our Hebridian Ale, brewed on Skye
We have obviously already changed life-style, having been sailing for one month now. Does it happen to you as well sometimes, namely that you feel that some curtain lifts and your scope of vision suddenly increases? You suddenly see things more clearly, as if a smoke screen had diminished? You understand things you questioned before, or you might feel that previous key issues have lost its importance? Do you also experience this from time to time?
When the Scottish fog lifts and you can get an inkling of a green island underneath, you suddenly notice things you have not been aware of previously. And, as if someone above pulls up the curtain, and you, for the first time, see the high Scottish mountains above your head with steep hills falling down to sea, your feel happy you live here and now and can experience this play of the nature.
Approximately at the same time as the Scottish fog lifted, also our own mist that had been surrounding our minds, lifted simultaneously, and we could suddenly see our new lives more clearly than ever. Until about now, we had been navigating for a set goal to go cruising. We had put a lot of effort to get our project in place as well as to commence our sabbatical cruise, without really seeing how it all would develop. We packed books, musical instruments, CD’s, recipes and other items we had not found the tranquility to use. Not until now.

One month after we left our home-port, we began to lie back, lift our heads, seeing what this new life-stile really meant to us. Interestingly enough, it took as much as a month to realize. Imagine: normally we would have tied our boat back to our home dock after these 4 weeks of sailing! What a bizarre thought to stop sailing now! Did our previous sailing holidays really come to an end, when we feel that they have merely started?

The lifting fog in Scotland, both literally and spiritually.
What we now saw was the beauty of simplicity, where our current very low cost of living did not have any impact on the joy we felt by seeing things we were too busy to notice before. To live side-by-side with other creatures became an eye-opener. To see fearless seals, birds and dolphins, closer than in any zoo in their natural environment and behaving as free citizens on our blue planet gave food for thought for our own existence on earth. This is also an effect of better visibility: by suddenly noticing that the world has much more to show and give than you originally imagined, you feel more insignificant yourself. Not unimportant, but relatively smaller. Your own person does not suddenly become trivial or negligible, but many other items that suddenly have become within your range have gained in importance, instead.

Sailing around in a foggy life is one thing, but it is not until the clouds lift that you can see where you really are going. One sailor, the famous Sven Yrvind of Sweden, once said that the advantage with fog is that it is never foggy where you are at present, just everything around you lies in the fog! How true! Being used to your limited visibility, you are not aware of all unrevealed treasures hidden in the fog and while you move forward, the fog travels with you, always leaving a limited visibility at your own position.

Why is it so hard to obtain this increased visibility in our modern lives? I have come to the conclusion that it must be lack of time. Without a sabbatical, you will have difficulties in finding to yourself, I believe. Christa and Bruce on Palandra took a three months sabbatical and moved to Switzerland last winter. The children went to the International School in Switzerland, while Christa and Bruce only had one goal: to settle down, find time for themselves and to be together with their children, going skiing and enjoying wonderful Switzerland while, as a side effect, learning French just like that. This sabbatical was of great importance for them, since they now see things more clearly, they say, in their profession as well as in their personal lives. If you could have seen them playing with their children, both on the beach as well as on the violin in the cockpit of Palandra, you could tell: this family was firmly welded together and happy.

The more we meet people on the way, the more we become convinced that taking a sabbatical is the best way to increase your scope of human vision. Everyone we meet, who have taken a sabbatical themselves, congratulates us to our decision, while the distrustful seeing all the problems and question marks are the ones still in the fog. I know, since I have been there myself!

Come to Scotland and experience the lifting of the fog! Chances are good you will see this happening, since the probability that it is raining and misty is high. All you have to do is wait. When the fog finally lifts, just sit back and enjoy the scenery.

A fantastic landscape is revealed, once the fog has lifted. Here Canna Island.
Since we now clearly could see the rough, yet green and thrilling Scottish landscape, where should we now go, if not out to the westernmost island chain of Scotland, called the Outer Hebrides? The weather forecast was good, for a change, which is a condition to cross the Hebridian Sea. We have heard many sailors talking about the Outer Hebrides as their dream destination, and stories sounded more like Tierra del Fuego than Scotland. With the tides and the totally open sea to South West, this can become a most uncomfortable cruising ground.

Follow us to Barra in the Outer Hebrides via the tiny island of Canna in our next story.

Until then, let’s meet outside the fog!