"Next time you come to Tiree, I will bring you fresh lobster, ma ha!"
These were the words of that fisherman, whose content were – to equal parts caused by his Scottish accent, the Gaelic words and the alcohol – barely understandable, but somehow communication nevertheless worked. And it worked best in one of the two pubs at Tiree, a small island at the Hebrides, where we spent our last evening and reminisced the past two weeks.
We still had to find out that getting to Tiree was a real mission when we decided to go there. This destination had been burned into our brain sometimes ago by a couple of stories about the Tiree Wave Classic that we had seen on British internet sites. The pictures and stories of empty waves were already tempting enough. The geographical situation of the island that promised the most sunshine hours within the British isles and an almost guarantee of wind and swell teased us even more.