There are moments in cruising when the weather stops being a backdrop and starts being rather awkward. Last night was one of those moments.

The original plan had been a rather civilised tour of the Small Isles, Eigg, Rum, and Canna, before mooching to the Outer Hebrides. Lovely in theory. The snag, as any sailor will recognise, is that theory and the North Atlantic weather don’t always agree.

The forecasts were uninspiring but this alone wouldn’t normally trouble us unduly as we know our limits and Heydays’ capabilities rather well. The more pressing issue is that none of the Small Isles offers shelter from every wind direction, and the winds being forecast were pointing directly at the less comfortable options. Nature, it seems, has opinions.

Two options presented themselves, neither without its complications:

Option A — Sprint through on Friday, grab a cursory stop at Canna, and bolt for Barra and its reliable shelter. Definitely efficient, but visiting the Small Isles at a full gallop rather defeats the purpose of wanting to get to know them. All a bit perverse.

Option B — Sit tight in Tobermory’s excellent shelter for a few days and wait it out. Perfectly sensible, except for the minor matter of needing to be near civilised transport by the 18th. Tobermory is many things; a convenient rail hub it is not.

We pored over charts and interrogated forecasts with the sort of intensity usually reserved for significant life decisions, which, to be fair, this was. Then, in a moment of what we can only describe as nautical enlightenment, we turned to an unlikely source of inspiration… Joshua Slocum.

For those unfamiliar, Slocum was the first person to sail solo around the world, completing the feat in the very early 1900s, without an engine, without GPS, and presumably without the mild comfort of a decent weather app. His guiding philosophy was simple…go where the wind takes you, or sit it out. ..and where does the wind propose to take us? North-east. Straight up the Caledonian Canal.

Now, the original plan had been to go clockwise, up and around the north of Scotland and Orkney, then back down through the canal. A fine route. But what, we asked ourselves, is actually wrong with doing it anti-clockwise? Answers none. Benefits several… not least that it drops us conveniently near Inverness as a jumping-off point for a couple of weeks at home. Dead easy, as these things go. We looked at each other. The decision was made. Plans change. Slocum would have approved.

Mid morning and a  boat moored up alongside us, crewed by a couple from Beaminster in Dorset. This is, in itself, unremarkable. What is remarkable is that we’d met them back in Islay, and that Beaminster is practically next door to Maiden Newton, where Yee Tak and James live. The cruising world is, it turns out, a very small pond.

The harbour, meanwhile, was getting busy. The CalMac ferry went about its regular business, a cruise liner had anchored in the bay, presumably so its passengers could photograph us photographing them, and more magnificently a Dutch brigantine had moored alongside.

(OK…we did have to look that one up. Two masts: the one near the pointy end is square-rigged, the mizzen carries fore-and-aft sails.)

Friday itself was given over entirely and without apology to domesticity. Showers. Laundry. Shopping. The unglamorous stuff on which all our adventures depend.

Recharged and reprovisioned, we headed into town and then out along the Aross coast path to what had been reliably described as a lovely waterfall, approximately thirty minutes away. A pair of Dutch girls we passed endorsed this estimate. Half an hour later, a French couple shrugged and suggested a further twenty-five minutes!

The views across the bay in the early evening light were stunning (if we manage to blot out the cruise ship…

The waterfall, when we eventually reached it, was entirely worth the walk. Sailing is a wonderful life, but it can be a bit sedentary. An evening stroll through the Scottish hills is a great antidote.

Back  on board, the day concluded in entirely the right way: gin as the sun descended, a Moroccan stew John had prepared earlier (the man has hidden depths), and several hands of canasta.

Joshua Slocum, we feel, would have been perfectly at home.