We had reconciled ourselves to the concerted efforts of wind and tides making it difficult to reach Westray or Rousay, but we still clung to a forlorn hope that somehow the wind would not materialise, and the fearsome standing waves, called roosts in these islands, would somehow break their regular habit since the last ice age and not rear up, as if daring us to have a go.

Rain lashing through settled it and we decided to sit out the next couple of days in Stromness. The story really began 9 years ago when we met Alan (who our avid reader will remember we caught up with yesterday) and his friend Ian in Wick prior to sailing together over the Pentland Firth (they had a dodgy engine and wanted company).

We’ve been exchanging Christmas cards (as us ancients tend to do), but had either lost or got incorrect email addresses for. We hoped to meet up, but the days of writing a letter and getting a reply by tea-time have gone…

…there was only one thing to do…drive round until we find them. We took the morning bus to Kirkwall, picked up a car and headed to Rousay, Ian and Annette’s last known address. This is not as daft as it seems as there are only 260 souls on the whole island…the only snag is that we had a house name and nothing else.

The little ferry from a tiny Jetty at Tingwall on mainland requires cars to reverse on…all 4 or perhaps max 5 of them…

…less if there’s a coach as well.

Soon we push out across the 30 minute or so crossing. We console ourselves that we are still on the water, even if it’s not our own boat.

Rousay has just one road running round the island, which is a round trip of 13 miles. We stop for lunch at a little restaurant…just about the only one..run by a Ukrainian and her partner, and try to work out where the house might be.  A local doesn’t know, but we find an ancient map which has a place name on it similar to their house….and we know they have only just built it recently.

Lunch, by the way was great with views across to the neighbouring island…they even provide binoculars…

Our best guess is the other side and we set off on what is probably a wild goose chase, along the main road, which is mostly single track.

Along the way, we pass Eynhallow Sound which would have been our way in. The white water of the roosts confirms our decision, although the photo makes it look no worse than a fun water park…

We start peering up driveways and into farmyard, but no one here seems to bother putting names on their gates….and there is not a soul to ask.

We see a track, and at the top is a new house, and better still, there is a car parked. We resolve to knock and ask if they know Ian and Annette. ..

…not only do they know them…it is them!

The welcome is brilliant, and we spend the rest of the afternoon catching up and just general stuff about life on small islands.

The views are immense…

…and with a deserted beach at the end of the drive…

We leave to catch the last ferry back to mainland, just so happy that we found the needle in the haystack and have properly reconnected.