Jim ran Phil and myself down to the Mull of Galloway to recover our shuttle cars. Since there was no other car left at Port Logan, the others were forced to take refuge in the Port Logan Inn.
From above East Tarbert Bay, we looked down on a suspiciously calm looking Mull of Galloway. The only movement appeared to be the steady sweep of the lighthouse beam.
Back at the pub we warmed ourselves by the roaring log fire. Phil regaled an enraptured audience with tales of monster waves. Well, enraptured might not be an adjective that could be fairly applied to David, he looked dead beat!
