The long way home

Marsali Taylor encounters difficulties with unseasonable weather during a midsummer night sail from Brae to Aith in Shetland

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Philip, my husband, needed the car so I decided to take my Offshore 8m Karima S from Aith to Brae, where I teach sailing. Last time had been a bit off-putting as my engine had refused to start outside Brae marina, and I'd had to sail into the berth. Still, it had run nicely all the way home, and if it was playing up when I got down to the boat, Plan B was go into town with Philip, drive to Brae, leap from the water back into the car and rush to retrieve him and his music gear from outside the Methodist Kirk.

The morning forecast looked good: a Force 3 from the south-west to take me there. I zoomed home from the school where I worked and headed boatwards, just catching the forecast: Force 4 to 5, and drizzle later. Hmmm; a bit breezier than I'd like, but the Met Office always gave a force more than I'd get in sheltered Aith voe, and the pattern for the last fortnight had been for the wind to fall in the evening - indeed, I'd warned Philip not to worry if I was late, as I'd be dawdling home on a dying wind.

I checked the fuel: perilously low, after last week's journey home, but enough to get me into and out of both marinas, if I sailed the rest of the way.

It was a lovely sail up. We swooshed silently along at five knots on glittering blue water, with the wind warm on my back, and black and white guillemots raising their auk bills to inspect us. I let Karima sail herself while I ducked below to make a cup of cocoa and dig out oatcakes from the supply locker.