ADVENTURE FOREVER CHANGED

Anchored in a quiet loch on the west coast of Scotland, Katherine Knight discovered the seabed was barren mud. She raised a small community and set out to replant the underwater desert with life-giving seagrass

- WORDS AND IMAGES: Katherine Knight

The ragged inlets and wild rocky islands of Argyll are the place that I call home. I have woven between their tide-swept shores for almost a decade onboard my 50ft steel Bruce Roberts, Narwhal. During that time there have been changes in all of our worlds; social distancing, the proliferation of mobile phone coverage, social media, the list goes on. Alongside these, how we relate to the underwater world has changed too. The magical ecosystems which our boats invite us to explore are changing. In my voyages I have witnessed changes that have not only left the oceans altered forever, but have left me forever changed.

The 15th of June dawned, as many Argyll days do, overcast with the promise of rain. Today's sail promised to be short, but momentous. My parents were joining me and my partner, Eric, onboard Narwhal. I should say at this point that my parents have never been on a sailing boat. Despite this they have supported me as my childhood dinghy sailing turned into a way of life and a career on the ocean. Today I would have the chance to share something that means so much to me with the people who mean the most.

We slipped out into the Sound of Jura and were immediately picked up by the wind and tide. The surface of the water was boisterous and whitecap speckled. The flood tide was in confused turmoil as the waters tried to decide whether to run into the jaws of the Corryvreckan whirlpool or rush north up the Sound of Luing. Narwhal bucked and tossed like a horse sensing a storm, and dipped her toe rail towards the grey, choppy water. This was the make or break moment; how would my parents react to this alien experience? 'Ooh, this is fun,' beamed my mum from behind Narwhal's oversized wheel. Phew.