Of course I didn’t sleep much; I was far too curious as of the progress of the water level – when I woke up once again, the ArgoFram and logically all the boats with her are practically at the level of the quay wall. With a swish, the lift takes me up once. The whole harbour, the whole town suddenly looks completely different!

I leave early; the impressively fine dinner remains in my memory, as do the conversations with the staff of the rescue company. And the change of language – I just love listening to these Scots.

So I continue north along the east coast of Scotland, to what I hope will be a bigger port, because I need fuel. And a shower.

The harbour is indeed large, navigable at all times, with countless specialised vessels, from various custom-made fishing boats to strange looking offshore oil rig and wind farm support vessels. From mini, where just one person can stand inside, to overpowering, where even helicopters can land on them.

The harbour master gives me a place in an ‘ideal location for passers-by’: all the fishing boats coming and going pass me, and I am visited and spoken to accordingly. So good! But intense too!

One thing after the other: Opposite me is perhaps the smallest boat in the harbour, an Argo (!) – so cute. Showers and toilets in the harbour are not available, Corona (something dawns on me looking back to Anstruther). There is no petrol to fill up directly in the harbour, but far outside, at the car petrol stations outside town; I am allowed to use the handcart, of course.

One way to the petrol station leads along a beautiful, long bay and takes about 40 minutes; the way back is through the town and because I always look around, it takes a bit longer… Never mind; this way I combine sightseeing with the useful. But one tour is not enough, I need about 300 litres. I get to know all the more of this town. Unfortunately, there isn’t much to discover; the shopping centres are in front of the town, and many retail shops are empty inside. Nevertheless, I discover nicely decorated junk shops and in addition a fashion label, a small handicraft business for chubby ladies and their unquenched need for sexy underwear. In this Scottish barrenness, this also radiates something joyful! – To my surprise, the three hotels are fully booked, even an ‘interim use’ over lunch (for a shower) is not possible. So I am tied to the boat, with fresh water from the supermarket.

Once again, there are impressive encounters – my boat stands out, with its Swiss cross anyway (which not a few people confuse with the red cross), and so the fishermen and harbour staff almost give each other the runaround.

I like these rather shy, at least not worldly men; in England they always came across to me with a certain ‘exuberance’, not to say bluffness. But here, interest is hidden behind rather general and non-committal questions; the encounters are somehow quirky, the taciturn fishermen gnarled but infinitely warm. Later, one of them brings me four fish from his catch – four fish! What am I supposed to do with four fish? I would have had enough with just one (but it would have looked a bit puny). Now I have to think about how to prepare them and store some of them. These are problems…