The last bit of Scotland

I hadn’t realised it was such a long drive from Peterhead to Lossiemouth. Mark had to be in Aberdeen anyway, but it was still quite a trek. We took the lovely quiet roads along the north-east coast of Scotland, through cute little fishing villages and beautiful countryside. Wim had never been here before and was pleasantly surprised.

In Lossie we had a quick look at the harbour so Wim could get a proper feel for the entrance; it’s narrow there and you have to make a right-angle turn, so that helped. We took the opportunity to have lunch in the restaurant. Mark recommended the Cullen Skink, a very creamy fish soup from the village of Cullen, a bit further along the coast. Then we went to Mark and Elaine’s house in Lossie; they have another one near Aberdeen. Once again a very warm reunion, even though we’d seen each other only two months earlier at Kommer Jan’s 60th birthday party. Delicious antipasti followed by a proper Scottish meal. The real highlight was the Scottish take on a “slavink”: instead of bacon it was wrapped in a thin flat slice of meat, and instead of mince it was filled with oatmeal. Unusual for us, but very tasty!

After dinner there was a whisky tasting for me (and Mark). Mark has a number of “subscriptions” to special whiskies. I enjoyed it enormously; Wim only got to sniff. Such a shame he doesn’t like whisky!

The next day some unusual aircraft flew over again. The air base at Lossiemouth has only become busier in recent years, and Mark lives really close by, but he’d never seen these before. Online I found out it was an Italian display team on its way to an air show in Canada, getting in a bit of practice here first. After lunch at the Glen Moray distillery, where Mark’s daughter has a summer job, we were dropped off back at the boat.

The following day we were weatherbound for one more day. There were three locals in the pub, and one of them would only let us in if we weren’t English. Dutch was fine, of course. Shortly afterwards a man came in with his dog, which happened to be the same breed as Wim and Mar’s. When he had to nip to the loo, the dog was promptly plonked on Wim’s lap.

On Thursday the wind had finally veered to the south-east and we could carry on. Wim wanted to go straight through to Inverness in one go if possible. Well, up at six then? By half past six we were out of the harbour and under way with a lovely 15 knots on the quarter. It was still very cold, but with (Musto) thermals, a (Musto) mid layer and Musto foul-weather gear on it was just about bearable. Around five in the afternoon we were already past Lossiemouth, and at 2300 we were in the marina in Inverness.

The next morning it turned out that the new batteries Wim had ordered, despite some grumbling from the online supplier, could reach Inverness within 24 hours after all, and he fitted them straight away. The old AGM batteries had already lost 80% of their capacity after just 3 years. To avoid a repeat, I changed the settings on the Sterling battery chargers; they were still set to ordinary lead-acid instead of AGM. Hopefully the new set will last longer… In the afternoon we walked to the Gael Force Megastore, an outfit that’s very active online and from which I’ve ordered a lot in the past. Much of the online range had disappeared, and the shop was a huge disappointment. Of the boat bits on Wim’s list, all they really had was the handheld VHF.

Saturday was “laundry day”, and in the evening Mar, Wim’s wife, arrived on the KLM flight. We started the evening with a pint in the pub. Once again we were entertained by the way young people in the UK go out; 15 degrees is not nearly cold enough to give up bare midriffs and short skirts. The evening ended with a truly excellent meal at the Rocpool restaurant. Highly recommended!

On Monday afternoon I took a taxi, expecting to land at Schiphol at 8 o’clock. At the terminal I thought, hey, that’s odd, I don’t see KLM on the departure boards. The self check-in didn’t recognise my passport either. Let’s have a look at that Booking e-mail… Oops: booked for the wrong date! How on earth did I not notice? Anyway, after half an hour on the chat I was rebooked (for a very hefty surcharge of 650 euros) onto the 06:25 flight the next morning. After a short, expensive night in the airport hotel, it turned out I was only on standby. I’d already smelled a rat, because the terminal was full of beer-drinking young men in kilts. Yes, the Tartan Army was on its way to the Euros match in Düsseldorf the next day. Another fan and I were put in a taxi to Aberdeen, where I was allowed on the second flight to Amsterdam. Hooray! Luckily Marion came to pick me up; lovely to be home again.

We’ll be setting off with Merrimac again soon, so the blog will continue then.