going to Foula

We escape the hotel in a bit of hurry after receiving a message that the Foula ferry will leave earlier than planned due to worsening weather.
After some calculations we discover that our originally booked ferries towards Mainland will get us to Walls in time, though. 22 minutes through Yell and 44 minutes through Mainland. There’s a tiny boat at the pier in Walls. The bags go into a big metal container. Eight passangers, four crew, the boat is full.
It takes two hours and 15 minutes, the first 10 minutes will be fine. That is the captain’s introduction to the ride. The vessel swings from side to side, the waves seem just to play with it. Huge gray masses of water rush towards us, some water lands on the deck and sprays the ones pucking there. The two French girls are having a really difficult time. No wonder coffee is not served onboard. For a moment a ray of sun pushes through the clouds and casts a tin-like glow on the waves. It’s still possible to read Ginzburg’s reflections on islands not being islands. Diverts attention from the frightning sights around me. Foula that was bluish in the beginning, turn green after two hours.
We move in a tiny cottage near Gaada Stack, owned by Ken and Mai. The French occupy the other half of the house and start watching a movie. We, on the other hand, make coffee, eat chocolate and read. An inventory shows that we’ve brought too little chocolate.
Dinner is delivered at seven. Delicious lamb with vegetables and souce. The fridge is stuffed with breakfast material.
Sandwick and rain
on the rocks

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