I arrived in a boat

I arrived in Findhorn Bay in my ‘wee traveller’ back in 1999.

I had been to visit my youngest son who was at university in Edinburgh. From there I was on my way to Orkney, it was getting late and I wanted to sleep somewhere. I found a reference to ‘Findhorn bay’ in the pilot book, but it said ‘beware of sand banks, local knowledge required’. Ah, I thought, I can find my way in any harbour because they are all clearly marked with green stakes on starboard and red on port side. All harbour entrances are marked like that, except Findhorn. I guess it’s because no drifter ever comes to that place, they are all local.

So, of course, I got stuck on the sand. As luck would have it, word spread of me sitting there and pretty soon a voice called over the VHF radio; ‘Norwegian trawler by the mouth of Findhorn, have you dropped your anchor or are you stuck?’ I confirmed the latter and within seconds the voice came back asking if I wanted some assistance. This I readily accepted. So a fast boat came out and after having backed off the sand bank, I was escorted into the the channel and into the Bay.

‘You can moor alongside the jetty!’ I questioned that, as my boat draws over six feet but I was assured that there was plenty of water there. So, I sneaked alongside, tied up with the four ropes, and went to the nearby pub, the Kimberley.

Fridtjofen stranded in Findhorn Bay

Six hours later Fridtjofen was standing, for the first time ever, on its bottom!

Next morning some quiet soul had left the local rag and a loaf of bread on deck, and I subsequently found my way to Iain Oughtred. We had many chats about small boats and big boats and the sea in general. He also told me that there was a community down the road, which I went to visit. As I walked down the Runway, I just KNEW that this was my place.

I signed up for the brochure that the Findhorn Foundation (FF) sent out periodically, talked to some nice people, and walked on the beach.

On Findhorn Beach photo Sverre Koxvold

It took 10 days of moon and sun to lift the boat high enough so I could sail away back to Norway, 60 hours of ‘broom-broom’.

A few days went by and the FF brochure arrived. With shaking hands I opened it up and on page 3 was this photo of a grand old building called Cluny. I instantly wrote on that page; ‘I will go and look after this place.’ – which I did for over 20 years.

Iain was my lighthouse! He and Spirit beckoned me in. I am pleased to add to his tribute.