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It was a dramatic sail, with a sprinkling of snow on the highest peaks, and the slopes sometimes lit up with sun and shadows, and squalls racing across the water, dark blue and fierce white wave-tops. As we picked up the mooring in Plockton the wind calmed, the sun felt warmer, and we went ashore for showers and refreshment. The Plockton Hotel was our home for the next six hours. Life stories told over a few beers, or the difference between cormorants, shags and razorbills.
Some of us had health-giving walks round the excruciatingly picturesque village; neat gardens, palm trees, wooden boats upside down on the grass. Mel and I suddenly felt tired and didn't quite make it to the castle. The view from a hummock just outside the village was so serene we couldn't believe that we had thrashed across those shining waters only a few hours before. Slightly stomach sinking to see, revealed by the falling tide, the rocks we'd dodged. We finished up having a sea-food supper there too. Well, gales were forecast for Sunday. It seemed calm in the shelter of the bay, but you could hear the wind whistling over the water on its way out of the valley, over the waters of Loch Carron. There wasn't really much decision to be made- we had to at least attempt to get the boats back. Ian decided to try to have a lunch stop in the crack between two of the Crowlin Isles, which are to the west of Plockton. Given the north-south direction of the anchorage, it might be at least a little sheltered from the easterly. We thought about having a look at the storm jib if we could get anchored there. Sapphire left before us under full sail, and soon radioed us to say that they'd got 30 knots of wind. Home More General Stories Search News Story Submissions Comments (0)No comments. |
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