It is an ill wind, they say, which has kept us in harbour a further day. After a lazy start, we made the best of it with a walk up to a small headland above the loch and Heydays, from where the views were stunning. We passed a scatter of houses which the harbourmaster assured us were probably still crofts in the old sense, smallholdings rather than museum pieces, still worked in whatever hours their owners can spare from the rest of life.

Against the general greyness of the day, the heather, lichen, seaweed, and even some old boats, took on an amazing vividness, each competing for the most inspiring colour in a Hebridean palette that otherwise runs to fifty shades of granite…

Two hours of walking left us feeling pleased with ourselves in the particular way that only mildly strenuous exercise in bad weather can produce. Back on board we occupied ourselves with the small maintenance tasks that expand to fill the time available, then sat down to an early dinner of pies and fishcakes from the local deli, preceded by what seemed at the time a excellent idea, namely mojitos, and undone by the discovery that the Bacardi had reduced itself to a single, unhelpful dribble. A dash to the shop before closing followed. Some things are not negotiable, and pre-dinner cocktails are among them.

The evening brought the promise of live music at the pub, which proved sufficient cause for Chris and Yee Tak to abandon sailing togs in favour of something resembling respectability. The guitarist, backed by the sort of electronic box that has replaced entire rhythm sections in small venues the world over, worked his way through the usual soft-rock repertoire, but came alive properly when he turned to folk material and a couple of songs in Gaelic. We rather wished he’d done more of the latter, though the room, mostly holidaymakers like ourselves, responded more readily to the covers. Gaelic speakers were evidently thin on the ground that night…