And so we headed north. Showery and not too busy.

Full to the gunwales. we made steady progress northward, interspersed with bursts of vitriol and fury from one of the children.

Lunch at Storehouse of Foulis before striking out for Wick and an hour of chips, charging around and calming things slightly.

A decent crossing under grey skies, but we made it in and set up home. The peace was deafening. It's a marvellous feeling standing in the garden as the light fades, a glass of beer in hand and listening to the wind, the birdsong and just feeling at ease....

Butter wouldn't melt on the Pentalina heading across the Pentland Firth