Fortunately when the sun went down, the temperature dropped like a stone and the midges disappeared.
Gradually the light faded until...
...there was only a red glow behind the Paps of Jura.
We sat round a fire of crackling logs, leaving a space for the Brownie. It was just as well we had picked up a sack of logs at a petrol station on the way up as there was little driftwood on the beach.
Phil and I enjoyed a dram of the 18y old Caol Ila whisky and we swapped tales till the sky grew dark and the embers faded.
