Onward

!This was a blowy day. Verreeee blowy! But we were not put off, no. The crew did what they were telt. Both by me and the lock keeper at the Fort Augustus steps who coached them along. Heroes they were, according to him. And Frankie, neighbour* of the great Gavin Hastings, was soon engaged in earnest conversation about the talents of the great egg chaser. His son Adam played in the same football team as my son Joe at school, chipped in MrT. He was allowed to join the conversation. I have no Hastings story, I’m afraid. But at least I wasn’t walking up the locks holding ropes, I guess.
Tied up, and shopping done, we headed on. The wind increased further till we arrived at Laggan Locks where we could go no further. The lock gate collar had bust.
So, home cooking it was. Steak pie with a medley of vegetables oot a bag from the Londis.
My immediate destination is now in doubt, however, the mooring inspection at Salen having given it the thumbs down. On to plan C...


* this is the sort of celebrity chasing shit I adore