The crossing was lively. The priest said it was his worst in 20 years of coming to the island. Down on the beach the next day the wind was really howling. Even parking the car, over 100 metres away, there was sea foam blowing over. Walking up the hill to reach the Dunanoir (golden castle) beach the wind was whipping up and over me. They talk about 100 mile an hour winds, maybe it wasn’t but walking and even breathing was difficult as you were pounded by it. After cautiously staggering onto the beach, and across, through the foam, my trousers, from toes to waist, were completely covered in foam. I should have taken a picture of that! Next time.