Crossing the Minch.

August 2021, Loch Broom, Ullapool, Scotland.

In the space of a few weeks, three different views of this loch passage. The first was up close, low down and near to shore, viewed from tiny raft propelled by our muscular arms and bright yellow paddles. On a greyish day with a small chop and a light wind to push us the length of Loch Broom.

Now we head west in yacht El Vigo, cutting through the sea with ease. Looking across the water at the wild shore, I can picture our little craft from a few days ago, just a cork on the current.

Now crossing the Minch proper.

Two men. Two sailors. A father and his son working at ease, decisions of sail and course agreed upon aloud but already made without words, from two lifetimes of shared and unshared journeys on the sea.

We sleep in slim bunks, the candle nub burnt down low. Warm light flickers across warm coloured wood, varnished and shiny. The sea slaps and laps at the hull. Rocked to sleep with tiny creaks that do not worry but comfort.

Thick throat. Stomach tries to rise with the growing seas. Really queasy now. The brown fleece blanket dog hairy bed looks like a good place to be and that red rubber dry bag could be a feather pillow. Still cinched up in the life-vest with a sopping rain jacket threatening the down one beneath. Chilly, sicky, rocked and rollered. Stay flat. Stay straight. Let those two heroes up above get on with it. They're clearly in their element.

Beholden to the motion of the ocean. Seas ease and a friendly face welcomes me back into the world. Then a fin. Another, several more! Come closer lads and lassies! Cut your trails this way. Play in our bow wave and roll close to our hull. Swim your pale bellies alongside and share a glance with me. Dive into our bubbles and flash bright beneath the water. Lift our spirits and nourish our souls!

Now two weeks on and we make the journey for the third time. Heading back East, high up on the sunny open deck of the ferry. Crossing the same distance in a sniff of the time, accompanied by the deep familiar rumble of the engines.