MV Isle of Lewis

The voice came over the tannoy warning us of our delayed arrival. The swell had strengthened very suddenly as we sailed toward mainland Canada. Entry to the harbour was looking less and less likely.

I can’t say I even noticed anything worth worrying about. It wasn’t until, one by one, the seats around me became occupied that I thought to take a peek out of the window and see what the fuss was about. Night had fallen as we sailed from Vancouver Island and the waves were certainly dancing ferociously but, you know, it was nothing to write home about. When you grow up having your access to the mainland dictated to by the sea’s temperament and the bravery of a captain, it makes you slightly arrogant. Talk to me when we’re sailing sideways and my lunch goes flying off the canteen table. Then we have a problem.

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