Harbour time

Arbroath Abbey

For once, a day off sailing actually felt like a day off. Yes there was food shopping to do in the small town of Arbroath, plus passage planning for the next leg to Eyemouth, but we also went to see the splendid remains of the Abbey and ate delicious Arbroath smokies for lunch, sitting in a sunny cockpit.

This evening we ventured a mere 75 yards from the boat to the Harbourside Grill for lobster (Lesley) and halibut (Nic). And then we roamed another 10 yards to Marco's Ice Cream Parlour for dessert. It was all about indulgence. 

The pretty inner harbour

Arbroath as a town is making brave efforts to bring in yachts and tourists despite its obvious economic problems. It's not an easy place to get into; there are treacherous rocks as you approach and the inner stone harbour has a very narrow lock entrance. But Ron, the grizzled old seadog at the harbour office was a mine of good advice: after all he recommended the Harbourside Grill. (He's been a lifeboatman hereabouts for 33 years.)  He also suggested we go to the Foundry Arms pub to hear the famous fiddlers band, but sadly we have to go to bed with a sparrowfart start in the morning. As ever.

Footnote:  things are beginning to wear and break: the rope locker lid is hanging on by one hinge out of three; one bow fairlead is getting loose; the spinnaker pole had to be braced up to stop it clonking on every wave; the plotter refused to zoom out and pan now & again yesterday (by far the most serious); the thermos is not thermos-ing any more - cold bovril, anyone? Oh and the pressurised water system may be leaking somewhere in the miles of underfloor and behind-locker piping, because we have to pump out the bilge every day.