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Part 1 of a trilogy
sailing up the West Coast of Scotland
As we steam to the North
The land is on fire
They are burning off the heather
On the Mull of Kintyre
Struggling round the Mull
We are boring the ebb tide
The waters dance merrily
Along our ships side
In the distance Islay’s rolling hills
Appear before our eyes
Home of ancient feudal lords
And fearsome battle cries
The distinctive smell of peat fire
Now fills the morning glow
Adding flavour to the barley
That makes life water flow
Turning to the North East
After steaming many a mile
We pass the Isle of Gigha
Also known as God’s own isle
Away to starboard is Loch Tarbert
It’s entrance an opening door
To port the island of Jura
With it’s rugged mountain shore
Around the Paps of Jura
Eagle and deer abound
Next we pass the light at Skervuile
As we head up Jura sound
Now we pass the canal at Crinan
Where I passed through as a child
To our right the Corryvreckan
The pool so fast and wild
Passing now the isle of Luing
We leave behind the sound
Out into open waters
For Oban Bay now bound
Rounding now Sheep Island
In the quickly fading light
Our course now set at East by North
For Kerrara, a welcome sight
As we navigate up through the sound
Past flashing lights and buoy
The twinkling lights of Oban
Now fill my heart with joy |
