The Evil Murk

An early start to catch the tide north. The fog swirled in as I steered between the islands with their treacherous eddies and mysterious whirlpools. Argggg. Only me, the lonely mariner though later I pressed Otto to take over the helm. He certainly sticks to his course.
At the bottom end of Kerrera having finally managed to sail awhile, the heavens did open. Lashing and wet. Lots of it. Still, I got ashore; I’d been told in advance that their little restaurant doesn’t open on Mondays, but that beer and crisps would be available from the bar. There was no one else there but it was enjoyable to have a beer and a read overlooking the boats. Maybe I should have taken Otto along but I think he’d have looked well out of place. And it might have raised the barman’s eyebrows slightly.