Back across the sound

Where to go next? I’d promised Long Juan he’d get home on Sunday so I’d to start thinking of retracing our steps. But the dining options were limited, especially as I wasn’t going to let him have my last tin of cassoulet. Eateries at Tayvallich and Crinan fully booked. How about Jura? Again. He’ll agree to anything, as I know from long years of working together.
Half way across we were surrounded by fog, the sun just peeping through and the foghorn from CalMac’s Finlaggan sounding out a couple of miles away. Thrilling. Especially as our heads are full of romantic nautical nonsense.
Anyway, ashore, and it was very lovely again. A walk, followed by a sit in the beer garden with some Norn Ireland yachties.
Later, to the hotel bar surrounded by an increasingly well oiled assortment of visitors and locals watching Italy bundle “much fancied” Belgium out the tournament, and a polis man came in! I didn’t think there was one on the whole island. He came over to us as we tucked into our langoustines (yet, again, no lobster!). Did you lads (!) arrive on a yacht? We did I said. What time, he asked. About 3pm. Ah, that’s ok, thanks and out he went, apparently satisfied it wasn’t us.