The big day dawned, somewhat indiscernibly. It was cloudy and dull with a forecast of rain later. There was still work to be done, but there was that feeling of anticipation in the air… along with the clouds of midges. The sails were all packed up, bits and pieces gathered together. The last bolts were bolted on. But somehow or other we were still attaching the rudder straps – quite vital, for no rudder means no sailing – at 3.00. The launch was scheduled for 4.30. Gavin and I drilled while Susan flapped a board to keep the midges away! Then there was the hoisting of the boat onto the trailer - by this time it had started raining, so the fortunately midges had retreated. So with much heaving and ho-ing, and balancing and cursing, we had the boat hoisted onto the trailer and tied securely. Great thanks to Ronan, who at about 6’4”, arrived in the nick of time to help with lifting. Then a brief reprieve for a brief repast, and it was time to trundle the boat down the hill to the shore.
It was an inspired decision by the Camuscross Steering Group that turned the launch into a community event. And what a day it turned out to be! As Gavin trundled in the tractor down the steep hill from the top road, our contingent in procession behind the boat, we could see that there was at two score of craft in Camuscross bay. It really looked like Dunkirk beach in 1940!
When we unloaded the boat and placed it on the shore, it looked like about 100 people were standing along the shore road. When they all gathered around to hear the launch ceremony, it seemed there were more like 200. I started, telling of how the boat had left the sea in no fit state those years ago, and how it was now ready to return. Then we had a song led by the Scandinavians, “Hvem kan segle forutan vind” – a sailing song about friendship, before Donnie MacKinnon of Camuscross led “Mo chulaibh ris a bhaile seo” a song about a sailing man from the village. Then, local minister, John Urquhart, blessed the boat with a blessing from Carmina Gaedelica, before naming her “Gobhlan Gaoithe” – Swallow - literally “Fork of the Wind” in Gaelic. He said he hoped that this swallow, like the swallows that nested in the barn she was built, would go off on many exciting journeys, and would always safely return with her precious cargo. Then the boat was launch, and as the crew was carried on board by bewetsuited kayakers, there were cries of “look”, as several swallows swooped and dived over the bay.
We had a fine, if wet journey round to the next bay, Eilean Iarmain. Malcolm and I played the pipes as we left, the entire flotilla accompanying us, and once we got the sails hoisted, we had enough wind to make some speed. We rowed continually just for that bit extra speed, and sailed the last bit to the pier after rowing through the dornie. We were welcomed on pipes by young Christopher MacDonaldfrom the village. Then drookit and cold, we headed back to the house for a dry out and a whetting of the appetite and thirst, before making our way to the grand dance.
Probably the best dance (that’s ceilidh dance for those coigreachs) I’ve been at, It was the very man himself, the world famous Fergie MacDonald and his band, who were playing. Chris MacDonald again played his pipes, and I did a spot playing for a Strip the Willow, and we all danced till the sweat dripped off us. It was brilliant! Well, by the end of the night, I think I finally believed that Gobhlan Gaoithe was now a finally sea-going craft!
It was an inspired decision by the Camuscross Steering Group that turned the launch into a community event. And what a day it turned out to be! As Gavin trundled in the tractor down the steep hill from the top road, our contingent in procession behind the boat, we could see that there was at two score of craft in Camuscross bay. It really looked like Dunkirk beach in 1940!
When we unloaded the boat and placed it on the shore, it looked like about 100 people were standing along the shore road. When they all gathered around to hear the launch ceremony, it seemed there were more like 200. I started, telling of how the boat had left the sea in no fit state those years ago, and how it was now ready to return. Then we had a song led by the Scandinavians, “Hvem kan segle forutan vind” – a sailing song about friendship, before Donnie MacKinnon of Camuscross led “Mo chulaibh ris a bhaile seo” a song about a sailing man from the village. Then, local minister, John Urquhart, blessed the boat with a blessing from Carmina Gaedelica, before naming her “Gobhlan Gaoithe” – Swallow - literally “Fork of the Wind” in Gaelic. He said he hoped that this swallow, like the swallows that nested in the barn she was built, would go off on many exciting journeys, and would always safely return with her precious cargo. Then the boat was launch, and as the crew was carried on board by bewetsuited kayakers, there were cries of “look”, as several swallows swooped and dived over the bay.
We had a fine, if wet journey round to the next bay, Eilean Iarmain. Malcolm and I played the pipes as we left, the entire flotilla accompanying us, and once we got the sails hoisted, we had enough wind to make some speed. We rowed continually just for that bit extra speed, and sailed the last bit to the pier after rowing through the dornie. We were welcomed on pipes by young Christopher MacDonaldfrom the village. Then drookit and cold, we headed back to the house for a dry out and a whetting of the appetite and thirst, before making our way to the grand dance.
Probably the best dance (that’s ceilidh dance for those coigreachs) I’ve been at, It was the very man himself, the world famous Fergie MacDonald and his band, who were playing. Chris MacDonald again played his pipes, and I did a spot playing for a Strip the Willow, and we all danced till the sweat dripped off us. It was brilliant! Well, by the end of the night, I think I finally believed that Gobhlan Gaoithe was now a finally sea-going craft!
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