The Swedish couple we met reminded us amateur tourists that Europe's largest glacier poured into the head of one of the fjords we'd be passing.

We're not that great at tourism, as Mike and Diane will testify. We usually arrive somewhere just after or leave just before some great, once in a lifetime event.

We were therefore really pleased to be reminded about the glacier so I could reprise my younger mountaineering days by climbing around on the rocks, beside the glacier while trying to assure Anne that if we were really quick, it would be OK to take a shortcut down by dashing under the glacier then ducking back out onto the safety of the rocks.

She wasn't going to have any of it so back up we went and took the (sensible) long way round with Anne moaning that, "no wonder the boys get up to what they do".

We had a great day climbing in the sunshine in the mountains and got back in time for a snooze before the wind and rain moved in signalling a change in the weather for the next few days.

Saturday morning dawned much the same although the rain let up long enough for us to cast off in the dry.

For me, a day like today is what I think of as an "oatcakes and marmalade" day

When we were courting, walking out, we deduced to take a weeks holiday camping. In that way of being a father and for the first time your daughter says she is gong away with a bloke for a week, and you don't know what to say, poor Anne's dad gave us some money to cover B&B expenses for the week as he didn't quite want to say, "no way are you spending a week in a tent with that long haired gigolo".

However, like me, George has never been that au fait with what things really cost, other than marina prices, and his generous donation to the holiday was only going to cover a night, two at best. So, armed with this new found wealth we headed up to Blacks of Greenock and hired a tent for the week. We had a great time touring round the west coast and one of my abiding memories was being parked up in my mother's Morris 1000 Traveller, (you know, the mock Tudor style "estate") eating oatcakes and marmalade while the rain drummed out its song of the west coast on the tin roof.

Anyway, today is just like that. A wet, grey west coast day, the rain is pattering on the deck, Anne is on deck steering and I'm under the duvet and we're under engine again making for Bodo. Such are the pressures of being the Captain.

This will be the start point for our anti-clockwise tour around the Lofotens over the next two weeks. Here's hoping for better weather.