It's an ill wind that blows no good

Setting sail in light rain, we headed for the isolated Dorlin Bay, a pretty mainland bay opposite the limestone-dominated region of Lismore. A lack of wind meant our first venture out into island waters was under motor. Making way along the Sound of Mull, before too long we were settled into our anchorage for the night. Grey seals wallowed on the rocky shore, the occasional body twist or fin flick the only evidence that these were anything more than sausage shaped rocks (at least from a distance). As we approached their resting place, dark eyes viewed us warily.

Heading ashore for a walk in the now sunny evening skies my so-I-discovered non-waterproof tramping shoes were soon taking on water in the moist and often swampy undergrowth. Unfortunately a misinderstanding about the need for waterproof shoes meant I was ill-equipped for island walking. I was to spend the next 4 days walking on water! Vestiges of past lives greeted us as we made our way along the coastline, the shores awash in the orange glow of tide-stranded seaweed. Several species of heather and other wildflowers painted the hills various hues of pink and yellow. Aside from oyster catchers and seagulls, our only fauna sightings were of a dead mole and dead shrew, both apparently drowned in the heavy downpour. As we settled in for the evening the tone of the voyage started to reveal itself - that of a self-absorbed skipper with little interest in his guests, who's single-mindedness would taint our experience and make us relish the end of the journey. But not before we visited the beautiful island of Muck.Læs mere