To Rona!

South Rona, as it is sometimes known, to prevent confusion with another Rona somewhere very much to the North.
So, farewell marvellous Marvig, and back across the Minch. This time though we actually got to sail rather than motor it, and there was sunshine at either end. Rather like me, eh?
Here's some fluffy clouds, blue skies, and sparkly water.
And what a fine secluded little anchorage we've arrived at. No fewer than nine yachts. And what yachties they are. Club pennants abound. Chap paddled over straight away. "Honeybee isn't it?"
"Which yard is she from?"
Still, being indulgent to others costs nothing. And as the evening drew on, I was entranced. The still water, the fading light. The skip turned in, leaving me sitting out in this wonderful bowl of hills, watching the heron. Quietude. A rare thing.