Forecast of low pressure that is. Every day brings a fresh one. Instead of being ten days to two weeks apart as you could reasonably expect at this time of year, we seem to get one good weather day and then another prediction of a storm.
So the daily dilemma of where to shelter the next one faced us in Canna again. We thought it was all beginning to get a bit like that bit in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows where they are constantly moving location, listening to the radio for news of the outside world whilst the horcrux slowly drives the wearer mad. It's hard to plan much in weather like this.
Initially we thought we'd stay in Canna as it is lovely. But it was only Tuesday and there might not be another window to move until Friday. As boats started to leave mid-morning, we reversed the plan and decided to go too. One boat which we know is really an East Coast racing boat from our time in Port Edgar had had to put out second anchor out to stay put in the previous night's wind. Poor souls took nearly two hours to get them and their ropes back up through the Canna weed. It must have been really annoying to see us slip the buoy and flit. Actually we were so tightly tied on, Gordon had to go up to the buoy in Pip to loosen our first rope.
A fine motor sail followed and we contacted Mallaig Marina en route. They were very busy but would squeeze us in. We arrived and were directed straight into a berth, one over from a 50+ foot catamaran that dwarfed us and hid half the bay from view. Anna Mae came in from Canna soon after and rafted up to us. Rosemary made friends with Molly the dog whilst everyone else did ropes and stuff. A fine evening followed. We watched Lizzie May, owned by Jerry from the Parliament, sail off her buoy and deftly out between us all on the pontoon and the fishing fleet that keeps Mallaig harbour busy. But it was sheltered and we could stand down from weather watch for a while so it would do us fine.