Happy 3rd birthday Eloise!

Happy 3rd birthday Eloise!

Current location: at anchor in Kilchattan Bay, Bute, Scotland

Places visited since last post: Portrush (Northern Ireland), Port Ellen (Islay, Scotland), Crinan Canal, Eilean Mor (Kyles of Bute)

Greetings from the good ship Snow Goose.  Although it is only seven days since the last blog, a lot has happened.  We have changed countries twice in that time, and our "terrible"-two-year-old has become a big grown up three-year-old.  The other slightly miraculous thing is that we are - for now at least - in a settled area of high pressure, and after two weeks of sleep broken by the noise of the wind, anchor alarms, swell and ridiculously early starts to catch the tide, we have had no fewer than three good nights' sleep in a row.  Oh, and I nearly forgot, we have left behind having to shop in Euros in "SuperValu" and are back in the land of the Pound and the Co-op - I never knew I would be so happy to come ashore and see that green logo down the street!  

A week ago, we were feeling pretty windswept, and slightly apprehensive as we faced a 3.30am departure for 55 mile passage around Malin Head, notorious for its big seas and strong tides.  Our passage followed two days of force 6-7 winds, which we expected would have left behind some big waves.  For once, how wrong we were.  There was very little wind, so we had to motor, and the swell was less than a metre.  Our maximum speed over the ground was 9.5 knots, meaning that we had 4.5 knots of tide with us, so our trip was very speedy and remarkably uneventful.  We arrived into Portrush, Northern Ireland, in time for lunch, and tied up alongside a German boat, Tara, on the visitors' pontoon.  We really felt a huge sense of achievement that we had made it safely around the West Coast of Ireland, and were ready to regale our new neighbour with our salty tales.  Luckily, before we got a chance to mention our "great" achievement, we discovered that he had just spent eight days sailing single-handed from Iceland, straight through the middle of the low pressure systems responsible for the gales that we had "bravely"  sat out at anchor...  He had arrived at 4am that day, under emergency tiller steering, which he had been using for the past three days since his wheel-steering broke.  Respect!  Needless to say, we invited him on board that evening for a few beers so that we could hear his stories, and then he and Angus moved on to comparing their finest malt whiskeys, which became rather competitive.

Whilst in Portrush, we took in our second UNESCO world heritage site of the trip - Giants Causeway.  This was half an hour away by bus, and to Angus' absolute delight, the Bushmills whiskey distillery just happened to be on the same bus route.  It was quite busy at Giants Causeway, as the Minerva cruise ship was also in Portrush, and hundreds of intrepid octogenarians had come ashore to see the sights.  The visitor centre was absolutely swarming with grey hair, hearing aids, walking sticks and smartly dressed tour guides with "Minerva" flags standing proud above their heads.  At one point, Eloise and I encountered a lemming-like stream of cruise guests obediently walking in the direction indicated by their officious guide's arm, only to discover, rather indignantly, that they had all been sent for a compulsory trip to the loo!  The Causeway itself is a geologist's dream, with its mostly hexagonal pillars of varying heights spread over a spectacular swathe of coastline, stretching out into the sea.  They were apparently formed 60 million years ago, by the very slow cooling of volcanic lava over hundreds of years, which cracked in a specific pattern, but of course, there are plenty of Irish myths and legends to combine with the geological explanations.  A guided tour then a stunning cliff walk, followed by an excellent lunch in the visitor centre made for a great day out.  Unfortunately, we then proved to ourselves how inept we have now become at normal life by managing to show up at the bus stop at the only point all day when the buses back to Portrush went two-hourly.  With a full hour to wait for the next bus, we were facing the grim prospect of missing out on a Bushmills whiskey tour.  Angus was so distraught at our predicament that he managed to talk our way on to a bright green "PaddyWagon" bus, full of mostly American backpackers, on which we were entertained by a hilarous Irish comedian who had also hitched a ride...  It really was quite an experience.  As it turned out, we were still too late for a distillery tour, but Angus wasted no time in working his way through a number of "tasters" at the bar and getting the barman to explain the distillation process in meticulous detail, before stocking up in the gift shop..

Reluctantly, we then bid a fond farewell to Ireland, and headed north for Scotland, stopping in Port Ellen on the beautiful and peaceful island of Islay, before continuing to Crinan, to transit the Crinan Canal.  We decided that this would be a fun thing to do on Eloise's birthday, as we had long since given up hope of magically finding a handful of children to invite on board for a party.  We arrived in Crinan around 7pm and took a look at the first lock - the "sea lock".  The gates were open so we could enter.  There was no phone reception to call the lock keeper, and no answer on the radio either, but the pilot book said that the canal was open until 9.30pm, and boats were welcome to stay in the inner basin just inside the sea lock overnight, so we tied on our fenders, motored slowly into the lock, and I whizzed up the long ladder with our lines and secured them to the quay.  I left Angus and Eloise on board and headed for the office.  It was closed.  I wandered around the boats in the inner basin to see if anyone could help us operate the lock gates.  There was no-one on board any of them, so I headed for the nearest bar.  I approached the first table - four suntanned men - who were, of course, from a yacht.  They gave me the bad news - the sea locks are automated, the lock keeper had gone home hours ago, and unless we wanted to sit all night in the sea lock, we would have to reverse out.  This sounds easy enough, but although Snow Goose has a reverse gear, the direction in which she actually chooses to go in reverse is anyone's guess.  One thing is certain - she could not be relied upon to reverse in a straight line, and would certainly end up across the lock.  There was only one ladder on the lock wall, so I needed to be back on board before we did any reversing, otherwise I would be stranded five metres up.  We scratched our heads about how to proceed.  Luckily by this point, my buddies from the bar had spotted a pregnant lady in a pickle pacing the quay, and kindly dragged themselves away from their pints to assist.  We asked one to take our bow line, and one our stern, and they helped us nudge back until we were just about clear of the lock, at which point they threw the lines down to us and Snow Goose spun through her usual 90 degrees...  We had exited unscathed (just!) it was a beautiful evening, and we picked up a visitors mooring just around the corner.  We chatted to "Scimitar", the boat on the next mooring - who had been through the same fiasco as us about an hour earlier...  We bonded instantly through our shared stupidity at believing the pilot book, and to our delight discovered that Scimitar had no fewer than five strapping twenty-somethings on board and were happy to let us tag along with them through the locks the following day.

The following day was Eloise's 3rd birthday, and we decorated the boat with balloons and banners to ensure so that everyone could join in the celebrations.  We needn't have worried about teaming up with a strong crew for the locks - the lock keeper took one look at Eloise and me, and handed Angus an "assisted passage" flag to fly.  This basically indicates that the crew are small in size, number or strength (or all three), so the lock keepers will help with taking lines and opening and closing the gates.  Actually, the crew of Scimitar were so efficient and kind that we raced through one lock after another without us ever having to operate a lock gate or open a sluice or bother a lock keeper.  All we had to do was drive carefully into the locks (Angus' job), try not to do a girl-throw when tossing the lines up to the quay high above (my job), and keep both lines tight as the locks filled up with a turbulent rush of water.  It was great fun, and after eleven locks we were all ready for a good birthday pub lunch.  Eloise loved being wished a happy birthday by all who passed, both on boats and on the canal path, and she was even given a mermaid by one of the lock keepers, and a wind sock by a couple on another boat.  OK, so birthday tea on board for three was a bit loser-ish, but at least we all got lots of cake!  I have promised her a party with her own friends when we are back in Winchester.

We are now spending a few days exploring the Firth of Clyde, which is packed full of cruising yachts, anchorages, marinas, towns and facilities in such close proximity that we have been finding it hard to choose where to go next.  Last night we were the only boat in an idyllic, perfectly calm anchorage in the Kyles of Bute.  The boat was silent and barely moved all night.  Tonight we have chosen less well - we are in a bay on the south east tip of Bute - and although it is absolutely stunning, and was pretty calm when we arrived, it is now rather windy, noisy, and rolly, and I suspect we are not in for a good night's sleep...  Oh well, we live and learn.

During the next few days, we plan to cross back to the East coast of Ireland, and begin to wend our way slowly southwards.  We are two thirds of the way through our trip now, and as the days are getting shorter, the weather cooler, and the bank account emptier, our minds are gradually starting to think about home again.  A bath, a washing machine, a dishwasher, a comfy bed...  But where is the adventure in all that?!

Keep in touch, and GOOD LUCK Rosie on OneDLL Clipper.  Sail fast, sail safe, and enjoy - we will be following you all the way to the finish line! 

Xxx

Wind, waves and more wind...

Current location: Downings harbour, Sheep Haven, Co Donegal

Places visited since last post: Inishmore (Aran Islands), Roundstone, Inishbofin, Inishturk, Clare Island, Broad Haven

After a fairly lengthy radio silence we are back in reliable internet territory again.  We have made a lot of progress since our last post from Dingle, and are now making our way west along the north coast of Ireland.  Life for the past week or so has become considerably windier and more remote, and we have spent many days sitting out strong winds and gales in places with very little to find ashore.  This has tried all of our patience at times - 31 foot is a reasonable amount of space, but it soon starts to feel pretty small when there is no hope even of going ashore because it is just too windy.

The most remote place we stopped at was Ballyglass "Harbour" in Broadhaven Bay, Co Mayo.  We have noticed that the definition of a "harbour" in these parts is not always what we Brits would have in mind.  Small Irish islands exposed to huge Atlantic swells usually have no more than a single pier jutting out from the land on their most sheltered coast, and a handful of small fishing boats moored in the "harbour" near to the pier which defines it.  Mainland "harbours" are usually situated in vast inlets or bays, and are very exposed, compared with what we are used to at home.  The anchorages are usually in amongst a bunch of moored fishing boats, and although in certain places there are council laid visitors' moorings, their existence does not always tie in with what the pilot books would lead one to believe.  Often these "harbours" do not give much shelter, either from the wind or the swell, which in hindsight probably explains why we have not encountered a single other cruising boat since we left Inishbofin (a bona-fide sheltered deep water harbour, rather than one of the pier-in-the-ocean varieties) a week ago.  There is definitely a reason why there are not many people cruising the north-west coast of Ireland!  

Broadhaven Bay, with Ballyglass "harbour" nestling on one side of it, although lacking any facilities at all,  looked like a reasonable place to sit out a force eight southerly gale which had been very accurately forecast for days.  After a stunning twelve hour passage up the coast from Clare Island, navigating inside numerous islands and reefs to allow ourselves the rare treat of sailing in completely flat sea, with the tide whooshing us along as an added bonus, we made it to Broadhaven in moderate wind and glorious sunshine in good time at 5pm.  It was probably our best day's sailing so far on this trip, but the wind was forecast to freshen that evening, with a full force eight gale expected in the early hours of the following morning.  Two of our three books mentioned eight visitors' moorings at Ballyglass, which would be ideal for us to tie up to in a gale, although ominously our most up-to-date book did not... There are no harbour masters in these places, and in the absence of any local pub or shop, there is no way to phone ahead and check.  I tried calling the coastguard a few days earlier, but all they were able to do was read me the information from the same pilot books that we have on board, and give me the phone number for the lifeboat station at Ballyglass.  As the lifeboat station is unmanned, this was little help.  Needless to say, we discovered that there are no longer any visitors moorings, so we were left facing a gale at anchor.  We motored around Broadhaven Bay for a couple of hours trying to work out where we might get the best shelter - by this time there were already waves with white horses starting to form in the whole bay, including Ballyglass harbour itself, and we eventually settled on a spot just north of the harbour. This gave us a bit of shelter from the pier, flat sea, and the reassuring knowledge that there were no moored boats to swing into, and if our anchor didn't hold, we would be taken offshore into deeper water.  Ironically, the nearest boat to us was in fact the all-weather lifeboat, which was the other side of the pier.  (We did debate tying up alongside the lifeboat, to prevent us having to call them out to rescue us in the gale, and we figured we could just borrow their mooring if they were called out for someone else...)

In fact our anchor held beautifully, although we swung around so much in the gusts that our anchor alarm went off a couple of times overnight.  With the unsettled feeling of being in our first gale at anchor, Angus and I barely slept, never mind the noise of the wind howling through the rigging.  Eloise took it all in her stride and didn't wake up at all.  The following day the gale continued, and we worked our way through all the on board activities we could think of.  By mid-afternoon we all had our faces painted.  It was just too windy to inflate the dinghy, nevermind trying to launch it, risking the outboard engine not working and being unable to row against the gale, and risking leaving Snow Goose unmanned at anchor...  On the second evening the wind settled a little, but then a big uncomfortable swell started up, so just before dark we moved to the other side of the pier (even closer to the trusty lifeboat!) and re-anchored.  The wind was a little quieter that night, and in the morning we were at last able to blow up the dinghy and go ashore.  There was absolutely nothing ashore except a locked lifeboat station, a water tap on the pier, and some sheep and cows.  We were completely out of fresh food by this stage, so Eloise and I decided to go crazy and splash out on a 25 Euro round trip taxi ride to the nearest town, where we found a fantastic park, had a good pub lunch, and did a supermarket shop.

With the wind a bit lighter (force 4-5, occasionally 6, easing later) for the following day only, we felt we had to press on before the next strong wind arrived.  We planned a 94 mile passage across Donegal Bay, around the next major headland, ominously named "Bloody Foreland".  The waves were pretty big - about 3m - following two days of gales.  It was a big swell for a nine metre boat.  We were sailing downwind, and the waves were really pushing us along - we were surfing down them at times, and at others when they caught us awkwardly we rolled rather wildly from side to side.  The wind was strong and the boat was heavy to steer, so we did not risk entrusting it Susan, our wind-vane self-steering.  Eloise was up on deck for quite a while - she now much prefers this to staying below and getting sick - but we rather lost our nerve when a massive wave broke hard against the side of the boat, soaking Angus, filling the cockpit, and fortunately just splashing Eloise a bit.  After that we kept her down below, and amazingly she didn't even seem to feel sick.  I think it was the first time on the trip when both Angus and I questioned whether we were wise to be doing the passage, with our small child and my ever-growing bump.  The words of the taxi driver from the previous day, when Eloise and I proudly pointed out Snow Goose to him, rang in my ear, "Bloody hell, that's a small boat, I wouldn't want to sail from England in that!".  Happily, as the day progressed, the wind did what it was forecast to and eased a little, and with it the waves seemed a little smaller.  We went so fast that we arrived six hours earlier than we expected to, meaning it was 3am rather than 9am.  It is tricky to arrive in the dark and we do not plan it that way..  Luckily it was an easy entry into Sheep Haven, which is a big open bay, so it was safe to do in the dark using GPS to guide us.  Even more amazingly, when we finally reached Downings Harbour, after much motoring around and hopeful scanning with the searchlight, we found a lovely yellow visitors' mooring waiting for us.  And that is where we have sat out the force 6-7 winds which began yesterday afternoon, creating impressive waves which bounced us up and down all of last night.  (We were definitely what Eloise calls "a little bit stopped and a little bit going"...)

Tomorrow we are leaving at 3.30am to catch the tide around Malin Head, the most northerly tip of Ireland, and if all goes according to plan we should arrive in Portrush, Northern Ireland, tomorrow afternoon.  The tides are said to run at up to 4 knots around the headland (which is not far off our usual boat speed), and we are at the top of spring tides (full moon = biggest tides = strongest currents) so it should be pretty fast and exciting, as long as we have planned it right and the tide doesn't turn against us before we reach our destination...  Luckily there is not too much wind forecast so it shouldn't be as hairy as our previous sail.  We will register our passage plan with the coastguard when we leave here, which is standard practice in these waters as there are so few boats about - we saw just one fishing boat on our previous 94 mile passage, and have not seen another yacht at sea for a week.  

Signing off now for bed as the alarm will be going off in four hours. This is excellent sleep-deprivation training for the arrival of number two in December..

Love and fair winds to you all, 

Laura, Angus and Eloise xxx

Farewell and Get Well Soon Jack, our faithful, trusty crew-member

Farewell and Get Well Soon to Jack, our faithful and uncomplaining crew-member..

Current location:  Dingle Marina

Places visited since last post:  Castletownberehaven, Dunboy Cove, Derrynane, Portmagee

It has been a sad day on board Snow Goose today as we had to bid farewell to one of our most trusty crewmembers, Jack.  I know that we have not mentioned Jack at all thus far, but he was such a trusty and integral part of the crew that this now seems a huge omission.  There are three living souls on board - myself, Angus and Eloise, plus two extra crew-members who require no food or bunks, but are crucial in helping us to steer the boat.  We fondly refer to them as Susan and Jack (as in "Lazy Susan" and "Lazy Jack").Jack is the electronic tiller arm which follows a compass course for us when we are motoring, and Susan is the wind vane self steering (requiring no battery power), holding us on a wind angle when there is enough wind to sail.  Jack had been intermittently unwell for a while, but for the past week or so had become very unhappy so we had put him on bed rest until we reached a port where there was someone who could take a look at him for us.  A marine electrician came to have a look at Jack today, deemed him possibly terminal, and has taken him away "to hospital" as Eloise calls it.  His friend who is an engineer is going to see what we can do, and we are hoping to be re-united with Jack somewhere up the coast if he can be cured.  Meanwhile we will have to start teaching Eloise to steer a compass course!

Actually, Eloise is very keen on steering and likes to practice as much as possible.  Mainly, she likes to do this by sitting on top of the tiller and swaying from side to side, singing "Horsey, horsey, don't you stop..".  As you can imagine, we try and encourage her to to most of her steering practice when we are moored up.  She is capable of lots of other things on board the boat now, too.  There is nothing like the sponge-brain and enthusiasm of an almost-three-year-old for rapid learning.  Her favourite job is pulling the red piston to stop the engine, and then scuttling beneath the chart table to turn off the engine battery.  She also likes to help pump up the dinghy, which requires both feet and her full body weight on the pump, so she tires quickly and is a long way from being a significant help in the dinghy pumping department.  Her washing-up, too, is coming on in leaps and bounds, and the layout of the boat means that she can stand on the seat in the saloon, opposite the main washer-upper, and reach the sink easily, wielding her own brush and sponge.  This results in a great deal of extra fairy liquid being used, and a lot more water merrily poured around the outside of the sink, but she insists that when she is three she will be big enough to wash up by herself.  She also likes to don her "torch head" as she calls it, and get her head right into the engine to help Angus with checks, although mainly she just follows the beam of her torch around as she waggles her head.  She has also taken to shooshing us to listen to her "weather forecasts", the funniest of which was "If you don't like the  weather in Ireland, wait five minutes".  (This was an exact repetition of a joke told at an after-dinner speech when we were in Kinsale two weeks ago; we have no idea how she suddenly reproduced it..)  Her other key job is assisting in the filling of the water tank, which we do every week or so.  She adores this job as she usually is left in sole charge of the boat end of the hosepipe, which I have carefully led into the open water tank in the middle of the saloon, while I go back to the tap to turn it on.  Needless to say, by the time I get back on to the boat, there is water splashing everywhere as she holds the gushing hosepipe high above the tank, waving it from side to side, and squealing with delight at the mess she is creating.

So now you are clear about Jack, Susan and Eloise's roles, it seems wrong to proceed without a brief description of what Angus and I do on board.  Angus does all the manly stuff - engine maintenance (aided by Eloise as mentioned above), diesel management and filling, anchoring duties (including setting either our extremely weighty "anchor chum" which he reliably tells me doubles our anchor's holding capability, or a second anchor), calling tradesmen to come and look at Snow Goose's latest technical problem, and parking us in particularly tight spots.  My roles are mostly domestic, taking the lead on food supplies, cooking, laundry (ie finding a launderette!), childcare, face-painting, toy storage and location, teddy bear wellbeing, cleaning the heads, replacing the loo-paper bag when it is full, rubbish and recycling, and making sure we don't run out of water (or anything else for that matter, with the sole exception of diesel, which is outside my remit).  I also do the driving for anchoring, and jump ashore with the lines when we are coming alongside.  I'm afraid it really doesn't sound very glamorous when I write it all down - it's lucky there wasn't a formal job description before we started the trip or I may not have accepted...  I should probably add that Angus and I share route-planning, destination decisions and sailing pretty equally, unless it is raining particularly hard, in which case I kindly volunteer to take the lead on making tea, and keeping an eye on Eloise down below.

We arrived in Dingle Harbour yesterday, which is home to the most famous dolphin in European waters.  He is a bottle nosed dolphin named "Fungie", and  he has lived at the entrance to the harbour since 1983, where he can be relied upon to welcome most boats they arrive.  We had told Eloise all about Fungie, and she was so excited about the prospect of seeing him.  What we could never have imagined was that, as we motored from Portmagee across a glassy calm Dingle Bay, in blazing sunshine and with not a breath of wind, we would see the fins of a whole pod of Fungie's friends, splashing through the sea towards us.  When they arrived, they played by the bow of the boat, jumping and swimming with us, and Eloise watched, entranced, as they accompanied us on our journey for ten minutes or so, before they swam off again towards the entrance to the bay.  It was so magical that it would not have mattered at all if we didn't see Fungie himself when we reached Dingle.  But as we turned to enter the harbour, we saw no fewer than seven tourist boats hurtling out of it in pursuit of... yes, you guessed it, poor old Fungie.  We knew he must be very near us when all of the tourist boats started driving from all directions at full pelt towards Snow Goose, and just then, sure enough, up he popped just yards from the boat, welcoming us to Dingle.  He is massive business for the locals, although having watched them drive at him in their huge powerful boats, loaded with tourists screaming with excitement every time he surfaces, it is difficult to work out why he still stays here, and whether he minds at all.  Still, it was great to see him, and Snow Goose will no doubt be in a few people's holiday snaps. 

Dingle is supposedly a major yachting destination, although we only  saw one other yacht on passage here, and I think only two yachts have arrived in the past twenty-four hours, so it is hardly busy by south coast UK standards.  The major excitement for us in coming to Dingle was that there are no visitors' mooring buoys and no reasonable anchorage, only a marina.  We have had a few dreadful nights at anchor recently, and to be honest were growing weary of blowing up the dinghy each time we arrived somewhere, and then load it with full waterproofs and lifejackets for everyone, plus rubbish and recycling (which are pretty tricky to get rid of in Ireland), laundry, towels and shower gel just in case we happen upon a shower, bags to bring the shopping back in, etc etc. The joy of being alongside a pontoon, to which we are firmly tied for two nights, with rubbish facilities, loos and showers at the top of the ramp, is amazing.  It means that we can get on and off the boat as many times as we want, and Angus and I have both had the excitement of leaving the boat by ourselves, at our own pace, without Eloise in tow today.  I also had my first shower in a month without her, which was a delight too!  There won't be many marinas north of here, so it'll be back to the trusty dinghy, laden with kit, travelling ashore as a happy trio again.

I mentioned dreadful nights at anchor.  Our last stop before Dingle was a beautiful place called Portmagee.  It is the best place from which to take a tour boat to visit the Skelligs, a UNESCO world heritage site, which we were very keen to do.  Our pilot book described (complete with a photo) four lovely yellow visitors moorings, strongly recommended as the tide runs fast and the anchor holding is moderate.  Needless to say, when we entered Portmagee, we discovered that Kerry County Council, in their budget cutting wisdom, had decided no longer to put down any visitors moorings.  We anchored.  Our first night wasn't too bad - we only re-anchored once early on in proceedings to try and get a bit further out of the tide.  The next day we went off to The Skelligs on a tour boat, which was just fabulous.  Little Skellig is home to no fewer than 60,000 gannets; an incredible sight to behold.  Big Skellig, or Skellig Michael, has 600 stone steps up to its 200m peak, very friendly puffins nesting all over its sides, and an amazingly preserved dry stone beehive monastery on its peak, home to monks from the 5th to the 12th century.  It was an amazing sight to be able to see, and the day was only slightly marred by seeing Snow Goose nestling up against a small moored boat on our return at 4pm, which she had been nowhere near when we left her.  The wind had gone around during the day, and strengthened, hence the her position had moved considerably, although the anchor had not.  No damage was done, except to our confidence, and we were now anchoring on a lee shore, with the prospect of the tide turning again in a few hours, and the wind forecast to go around a further 180 degrees overnight.  It was a difficult mathematical conundrum and we re-laid our anchor a further four times until we felt happy with our position, and then slept badly due to the wind, anxiety, and having our anchor drift alarm on an over-cautious setting in case we dragged towards the shore - hence it woke us when the tide turned, even though the anchor hadn't budged.  We cursed Kerry County Council's shortsightedness in taking up their moorings, as we would happily have paid to use a mooring, and then would have spent our money in the Skelligs Visitor Centre, and Portmagee's pub and shop...  Oh well, at least it made for a memorable stop.

We have had a good day of jobs in Dingle today - diesel, water, shopping, rubbish, showers, marine electrician etc - as well as scooting on the promenade and a visit to the aquarium.  It rained for most of the day, and was misty and windy, so we were not sorry to be having a day off sailing.  Our plan tomorrow is to do an overnight passage to the Aran Islands, 80 miles away.  But first we will need to recheck we are happy with the weather forecast in the morning, and see whether we still have time to make the first tidal gate once Angus has retrieved his bank card from the Bank of Ireland, whose ATM machine swallowed it this evening...

Love to you all, keep in touch, and Get Well Soon Jack!

Xxx