Whitehills!

A doddle of a sail round Rattray Head. The cap'n had done it twice before and each time was murder. So, we ended up in Whitehills. There's a remoteness about these places along the Moray coast. Everybody talks to you. Everybody says Hi. That's a Bowie song btw. I brought one bottle of Guyanan rum and it's nearly bloody gone. Lossiemouth here we come. There's bound to be a co-op.

[loved the local girls standing down at the washing green with the guys over on the harbour wall. Wished I'd had a proper camera.]