The Scottish Islands Peaks Race: No wind, no sleep, and a whole lot of effort

The clue is in the name: 160 nautical miles of sailing and 60 miles of mountain running across the gruelling Scottish Islands Peaks Race

The clue is in the name. The Scottish Islands Peaks Race is from Oban to Troon via three islands – Mull, Jura and Arran, 160 nautical miles. And the peaks? Ben More on Mull, the three Paps of Jura, and Goatfell on Arran – 60 miles of running, 11,500ft (3,500m) of climbing.

The first race was in 1984. My own first was in 1990 on a Contessa 32, a good boat for the race because it is reasonably fast, seaworthy, not too uncomfortable for the runners, and it can be rowed.

Rowed? Yes, rowing is allowed when the wind drops. Using the engine is forbidden when the runners are on board.

I had thought my last race had been in 2011 but in 2024, my son Oli, who had been in our team years ago as crew, wanted to skipper our family boat, Pickle, a Rustler 36, in Class 3 and suggested I provide advice and fatherly reassurance.

The race briefing was in bright sunshine outside Oban Sailing Club on Friday 17 May. Ominously there was no wind, and nor was much forecast. Not good in a heavy displacement Rustler 36.

The runners could be recognized by their long legs starting in their armpits, the sailors rather more portly – and older. Friends from previous races greeted each other.

One told me his son was skippering like mine and had forbidden him to row. I was let off winching.

And they’re off…

The off was at midday – the runners ran briskly round Oban for about half an hour to spread out the 36 teams. While Oli and I stooged around in Pickle off the sailing club, along with all the other boats, having left Oli’s wife Katherine in the dinghy ready to pick up our runners from the shore – Alex and Ruairdh. Neither had really sailed before, so they were in for some surprises (and delights).

Dodging the other boats and their dinghies, Katherine rowed our runners back to Pickle, at which point we turned off our engine, hauled the dinghy up on deck, deflated it, and sailed very, very slowly over the starting line. And gradually out of Oban Bay, largely taken by the tide, with an occasional desultory tack.

The wind picked up a bit from the west, so we were all close hauled towards the southern tip of Lismore Island – the first tidal gate, where we arrived just before the ebb turned against us. Then onwards up the Sound of Mull, taking long tacks between the mainland and the island in not a bad breeze, reaching Salen just after 1800.

The trick at the islands is to have the dinghy inflated and launched alongside just before you arrive. The runners jumped into the dinghy, and Oli rowed them ashore.

I switched on the engine, Katherine got the mainsail down, and we soon picked up Oli and anchored with the rest of the fleet. After tidying up, and having a bite to eat, we went to bed.

In the meantime, the runners were running. First on the flat, then up to the col leading to the summit of Ben More where the sun was setting, then back down, and along the road to Salen by which time it was more or less dark.

They covered 22 miles in four hours 25 minutes. They had moved us up from eighth out of nine to third in our class by overtaking five other teams, making up for our slower sailing.

While giving the runners their dinner and putting them to bed, we were off sailing again at about 2300, very slowly back down the Sound of Mull. The plan was for us three sailors to alternate between two hours sleep, and four hours on deck.

We don’t have a spinnaker, but we do have a cruising chute which helped a bit. But it was so slow.

As the sun came up we were off Duart Point, thankfully with the tide, and edging south down the Firth of Lorne. Eventually we reached the next tidal gate by then in sunshine, the Sound of Luing, where the tide was under us again.

We could even see boats heeling ahead of us and soon found a brilliant wind from the west that shot us down the east side of Jura to Craighouse by 1915, but we had dropped back to sixth in our class.

Enduring Jura

Katherine dropped the runners off while Oli and I anchored, sorted out the boat and tidied up, before going to bed for a few hours. The Jura run is serious.

Apart from a short stretch of road there are no tracks, there is lots of horrible scree, navigation is tricky, and it was getting dark as our runners came back off the last Pap. By taking just under four hours they got us back to second in our class.

Just after 2300 we crept out of the bay and headed slowly south in almost no wind. A few boats drifted past us, lighter and faster I suppose, or sailing better, or rowing hard, it was too dark to see.

But at least the tide was with us. Until it wasn’t, about 12 miles from the Mull of Kintyre and the third tidal gate.

By which time it was light again and overcast. We drifted, tried to tack, drifted, tacked again, rowed a bit, and got depressed.

We discussed retiring, as several other teams had already. Fortunately we didn’t.

We somehow found ourselves on the starboard tack, the wind got up, the tide changed in our favour and we were heading for the Mull where the wind suddenly accelerated and in a moment of carelessness we let the cruising shute wrap itself round the forestay while we were belting along at 7 knots.

As ever, Oli to the rescue. He unwrapped the sail and put it well away as we rushed on with the wind behind us on a flat sea, in sunshine. Brilliant! I even made the crew Salade Nicoise for their dinner.

Would the wind hold? Of course it didn’t, so we were rowing again towards the small island of Pladda off the south tip of Arran, and it was getting dark.

But strangely there was more wind on the east than on the west side of Arran so we had a splendid sail to Lamlash harbour, close hauled with occasional tacks.

Navigation was easy. The narrow southern entrance is marked by a red buoy to port and the small lighthouse showing green to starboard.

Sailing across Lamlash Bay was easy too, but finding the landing place in the dark was not. Too many twinkling lights.

However, we got the runners off at about 0200 on Sunday morning, anchored and went to sleep for what remained of our last night. Down to seventh in our class.

Elated… and astonished

The runners were back at 0530, and off we set out of the north entrance to the bay. By now we were far away from the rest of the fleet, some had finished, a couple were somewhere behind us.

So we relaxed and sailed on in a good breeze, in sunshine, close hauled mostly. Then a tack off Maiden Island near the mainland, another tack and into the large outer harbour at Troon under just the mainsail where the wind died.

Katherine was off with the runners in the dinghy. Trotting up the pontoons, they finished at the marina office at about 1000 on Monday morning, seventh in our class (two had retired), after nearly three days of ‘racing’.

The runners had been brilliant – seventh fastest out of the 36 teams at nearly 12 hours in aggregate. The race organisers ushered us into our booked berth where we tied up.

And congratulated ourselves for finishing — very much to my surprise. In fact I was astonished.

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