A creeping sense of toilets started to pervade the boat and Heydays is definitely less than fragrant (and nothing to do with curries). A longish saga cut fortunately short, involves repairs to the toilet diverter valve and plenty of Dettol in the bilges (and us). The dodgiest moment is when local people start arriving on their boats…no-one actually says ‘you English smell’, but Nicola has probably got a couple of converts.
Lossie takes on a completely different air on a sunny mothering Sunday and the beach and dunes are busy and the ice-cream shops (3 within 100m) even busier, with queues lasting into the evening.
A walk around town and the sea wall together with some pottering amounts to the most excitement for today and we spend the evening planning a sail across the Moray Firth to Helmsdale.
Helmsdale is somewhere over there…
The tides are big at the moment and we go aground next to the pontoon at a jaunty angle, but it means we need to be quite precise about leaving here and arriving there.
