Ship to shore - it's not always as easy as you might think

We’re coming to the end of our third full day onboard Queen Anne, and whilst everything is pretty hunky dory on the ship itself, there’s been a few hiccups with the arrangements for going ashore. As mentioned in a previous post, Tuesday’s visit to Newhaven – the designated transfer port for Edinburgh, involved a transfer by tender – basically a number of the ships’ lifeboats. Unfortunately, whilst there was sufficient small craft available on Queen Anne, there was only one sea-level, “loading platform” at the side of the ship to enable passengers to board the tenders.

So, whilst I left it until mid-morning to make my way over to terra firma, there was nearly an hour’s wait until I was able to enter one of the lifeboats. The organisers had arranged a system, whereby participants waited in the ship’s theatre, until their particular group was called. 

Apart from nearly losing the will to live, I was also on the verge of giving up, when the group I was allocated to, was finally invited to board. Having now been ashore, and experienced the delights of Newhaven, I’m glad that I persevered rather than bailing out. I’m guessing that the morning incident was just one of everyone wanting to travel at once, because the transfer back to the ship passed off relatively smoothly. It’s just as well that Mrs PBT’s had decided not to come with me, as she is by nature a rather impatient person, as well as someone who is prone to grumpiness when things aren’t going her way.

This came to the fore in this morning’s bus transfer into the small town of Invergordon, from the port. It wasn’t far, and I could easily have walked it, but given her mobility issues, Eileen couldn’t, so the bus it was. Again, the shore experiences crew seem to have seriously underestimated the numbers of passengers wishing to go ashore, and we were crammed into the bus like sardines. With the driver urging people to move right to the back of the bus, because he was licensed to carry up to 34 standing passengers, it wasn’t a pleasant experience, even though it was a short one. I thought the driver was telling porkies at first, but a formal notice about passenger numbers was painted on the bus interior. Scottish law is obviously different to that which applies in England, because bus drivers back home, will only allow a maximum of a dozen people standing, inside their vehicles.

There wasn’t much to see or do in Invergordon, so I accompanied Mrs PT’s back to the ship, with the aim of walking back into town, and trying out the single pub that we’d seen, only to be told that I couldn’t. I discovered that pedestrian traffic is not permitted in what is classed as a “Working Port,” even though there was little evidence of much work taking place! A couple of oil-drilling platforms were undergoing maintenance, but that aside, the bulk of the workforce were parading around in their hi-vis jackets and safety helmets, bossing queuing passengers around.

A ridiculous situation, especially when I consider other ports that I’ve walked through, or train tracks I’ve crossed in certain central European countries. It wouldn’t have taken more than five minutes to exit the port on foot, and then five more minutes to walk into Invergordon itself. Instead, I was obliged take the shuttle back into town and then wait for a bus back. 

There are only two pubs remaining in Invergordon, when once there was eight, and the only shop of any size was the Co-Op. The rest of the town seemed given over to charity shops, plus the obligatory Turkish Barbers, but when set against the backdrop of the hillsides, and the inlet of the sea, together with the almost wall-to wall sunshine we enjoyed, I’m really pleased that the voyage organisers had decided to call in there.

We’ve one more tender transfer port on our itinerary, and that’s Dún Laoghaire, where Queen Anne will be at anchor, offshore. From Dún Laoghaire, there will be sight-seeing and shuttle buses into nearby Dublin, but I shall give the Irish capital a miss. I spent a most enjoyable long weekend there, ten years ago, in what was a booze-infused visit. A couple of hours there, by tour bus, somehow doesn’t go anywhere near doing Dublin justice, so a tour around some of the city’s finest pubs will just have to wait for another day.