Baltic beauty

Lamp oil flickered on teak and wind shrieked in the rigging, punctuated by the occasional slap of a halyard. The smell of beef in red wine sauce suggested that supper was ready and that all was right in the world. We had celebrated our silver wedding anniversary by beating round Muckle Flugga into a dying northwesterly and enjoyed the afternoon sailing south along the western shore of Unst in light drizzle and a rolling swell. The lamp swayed as a gentle scend found its way into our anchorage at Cullivoe. The sudden crash, when it came, was no surprise, but the exclamation that followed it was. “This is not funny anymore!” complained Katherine as the Jenga tower collapsed on her round, her competitive indignation fuelled by my helpless laughter. The seeds of departure after five years in Shetland were sown.

A year later we stepped off the ferry from Aberdeen in the knowledge that we had the perfect forecast to cross to Norway. Hurried evening victualling gave way to a 3am alarm call and morning twilight. We eased out of Gremista marina, past pelagic trawlers and beyond Bressay.