We left Rainbow Rock as the thin winter sun was sinking towards the south western horizon and the air was full of the mournful calls of wheeling gulls.
With each headland we felt the power of the tide increase until it was like a huge lazy river, pushing us ever faster and inevitably towards the Mull of Galloway.
The rocks turned red as the sun sank lower.
We were often tempted to break out of the tide and take a diversion through rocky channels.
At last the Mull of Galloway, surmounted by its lighthouse, lay before us. We would be rounding it at 3 hours after slack water and there was now no turning back....
