The Big Ben

A fine day, and the bust lock gates were indeed fixed. The downside was that a new team arrived before the lock keeper and started laying pipes for a suction dredge from the lock. This surprised him, when he started his shift. Ho hum. Frank used the time to cook us up some eggs.
We got away at 10am and headed in convoy with some smelly Colvic from Lincolnshire and a workboat from Blyth. Terrific views of Ben Nevis, still streaked with snow. Near the bottom of Neptune’s staircase, it was thankfully confirmed - Hibs had indeed “Hibs’d” it and the Sainties had won a “famous” cup double.
I was going to tie up but the lock keepers, perhaps conscious of the mess up earlier on, were holding open the sea lock, just for us. Out we went, onto the sea pontoon. We made it! Two minutes after regulation time, at 5:32pm. The Atlantic. Well, sort of.
So, glad rags on, we headed to The Tradewinds Bar and then onto the train into jumping Fort William. And indeed it was - drunken Hibs fans shouting about the place, and what appeared to be a surfeit of fat painted burrds and neddy blokes outside every bar. And not a table to be had in any restaurant. Yikes. A warning. Eventually we did get a table in something called Tiger Palace, which had capacity for obvious reasons, not apparent at first. Still, we got fed and watered.
And back at the boat, a real treat of just taking in that moonlit view.