You can tell a lot about a town by its name. In Newport, it was a port and everything seemed new while in Charlestown the most popular boy’s name is Charlie. As we sailed through the fog we hoped that in Tancook there would be a restaurant run by a sun worshipping chef and in our next destination Shag Bay we had no idea what to expect or even hope for.

As Ruffian was tied up to a fishing boat in Tancook our thoughts of restaurants and sun quickly disappeared. With no bronzed Adonis anywhere to be seen, in his place we found an island that could have been pulled straight out of the 18th century and people who all wore a permanent smiles.

On the unmade roads we took in the whole island and waved to every single car (which are all unlicensed and drive around on borrowed time) we gave a friendly wave. Without exception, every single driver, waved back and greeted us with a smile from ear to ear. We thought that maybe somewhere on the island was a big vat of happy juice that had been harvested from all the perfect veggie patches that every house sported.

While traversing the island we’d been given some insider knowledge about a beach with great fossil hunting that could be done at low tide and so with all the rocks exposed we scoured the tide line. We split rock after rock and as Iain opened a particularly big one he thought he’d struck gold. Out of the rock he thought a real life snarling fang toothed T-Rex had jumped, or at least that’s the only explanation he could come up with for the gash he’d suffered to his hand, well finger.

Blood poured all over the rocks and bone was exposed to the air for the first time ever, worst of all the T-Rex that had inflicted the damage was nowhere to be seen. Iain’s disappointment was quickly replaced with delight as Fiona took the role of nurse and patched him up, almost good as new.

Although Ruffian was tied up in the depths of a fishing harbour there were no other yachts and no people to talk to. We felt that we needed to be social and speak to someone other than each other. We perused the pilot book and found an anchorage where there was a fabled ‘tavern’ and it was at the head of the brilliantly named ‘Shag Bay’. Our minds raced as to what we would find.

Through the fog we sailed and could hear crashing waves on both sides. Occasionally we’d get glimpses of white water and what looked like an easy passage on the chart didn’t fell like it as we could see anything in the pea soup.

As we anchored our expectations of a warm ‘tavern’ selling yummy beer that was full of friendly locals reached new highs. In our minds we even pictured a roaring open fire and comfy leather sofas where we could while away a few happy social hours. Thug was then landed, we followed the map and it all felt so very very wrong.

There was no tavern, no restaurant, no social interaction. Our disappointment was a deep as the fog was thick and so with downtrodden spirits we started venturing back to Ruffian. Just to confirm that the tavern was as illusive as the Scarlett Pimpernel we stopped yet another friendly local to confirm. We explained our need for some internet and some social interaction and she took pity on us. The next thing we know we are being offered tea in her front room while we used their internet to download emails. Nice as it was however it wasn’t the ‘tavern’ with an open fire and beer.

The need to find a ‘tavern’ now seems to be the focus in our minds and we are sure we’ll find everything we need at our next destination, Halifax. We just hope that ‘Halifax’ isn’t true to its meaning and we find more than just a high street building society.

Ruffian nestles amongst the hardy fishing boats.


Weed. Now that’s what I call weed.


Fog + Sharp rocks = Boat breaking coast.


Larry is almost camouflaged in the white fog.


Not quite the Bahamas.


Oh lobster tree. Oh lobster tree.


Ow Ow Ow Ow Ow Ow. Iain is attacked by a dinosaur!


Phew! His body is still attached to his finger.


Romp on 'tastic.


Fog in the forest.


You can paint your house any colour as long as it’s LOUD.


Spot the odd one out. Yep as usual is Ruffian.


The joy of stepladders.


Docks by night.


Shag Bay was empty of Shag’s, in every sense of the word.


Solid fog.


Which way is up.


Were getting used to this sort of view.