The more mature readers amongst you may remember the splendid journalist and broadcaster Alan Wicker. You will be pleased to know that his World is reincarnated in Wick, albeit not in it's original form (travelogue for intellectuals) but nevertheless alive and kicking as an accommodation facility cum fast food outlet ... not sure Alan would approve though.
Also in Wick we found the excellent Heritage Museum. It is a veritable cornucopia of treasures from decommissioned lighthouse - that of Noss Head, which would have been scrapped had not a local worthy rescued it - to the extensive Johnson collection of photographs taken during the town's heyday. It is probably best known for the huge number of 'silver darlings' that were caught offshore, making it the busiest herring port in Europe in mid-nineteenth century. Also spotted in the museum:
On Friday, with a backward glance to Wick, we were off across the Moray Firth to Whitehills, a small harbour on the north Moray coast.
The entrance to Whitehills is narrow but perfectly manageable in calm conditions if one is prepared to make the sharp left turn into the small outer harbour where we berthed overnight alongside another yacht.
Exiting though, into a rough sea with force 5 onshore wind, required some steadying of nerves.
However the Skipper rose to the occasion and after one false start we were off again, bound for Peterhead, the only 'obstacle' on the way being Rattray Head (that very pointed bit of land north of Aberdeen) which has a reputation for rough seas and standing waves around it under some conditions. So we planned the passage very carefully to arrive at the right time. Even so, this passage was one of the roughest we had had so far on this trip, and we concurred with a road sign seen in Whitehills the previous evening, for us referring to wind rather than vehicle speed.
Arriving in Peterhead Harbour - a not very attractive place - late on Saturday night, we only had time to eat, sleep and move on since we had to make rendez-vous with our next crew in Stonehaven by Sunday evening. More by luck than good management, we all arrived here within about 20 minutes of each other ... and in case you are wondering, no we have not acquired a new dog!
You may recognise these young people from an earlier post - Ivor and Marina - who were the first to join us for the passage Poole to Weymouth way back in early May. Moored up alongside a Trip boat in the outer harbour, there is an evil ladder to negotiate to step ashore, with a rise and fall of tide of 3 metres, and a swell making the operation feel even more insecure (at least for me, I am not afraid to admit). This morning we need to get underway again in a short while to catch the south-going tide to Arbroath, home of the famous 'smokie'.
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