Sailing plans are always flexible. Game plan 1 went thus:

Catch the moderate westerly, (where the wind is coming from) so no going westabout in the firth but let it and the tide take you out and then up to Kirkwall. Next day's southerly across the tide (but not a huge one) giving you a good sailing angle to clear Einhallow Sound and open water home.
 

Game plan 2:

Things happened at home so we couldn't get away till Monday 30th, couldn't sail till Tuesday: So use the lighter southeasterly to ride the Firth west, with tides not too crazy and maybe make Loch Eriboll. That would allow a day for the bigger water to settle and let us clear Cape Wrath and go for it all the way home.

Game plan 3:

Have a grand night at William Bremner's in Burray. Then sail in company with Hamish's 36 ft Rustler "Kora", to go round Flotta and into Longhope, on to Stromness, a different route than before, ready for the gateway home.
 

We did some in-flight transfers under sail, in grand conditions, so William also had a go at the helm of El Vigo. He was amazed at how light a boat with such obvious power could feel.
The two vessels anchored at Longhope,another Baltic-looking settlement. I can't hear that name without thinking of the lost lifeboat. It's a reminder. Of course I admire the Grand Prix racers of the sea, sailing high latitudes on tuned 60 foot sailing machines but the real heroes are the volunteers who are ready to drop everything in any conditions.
 

They take small lifeboats out to wild water for pleasure-sailers or merchant ship or fishing vessel alike. What they call prudent seamanship isn't a lack of nerve, it's respect for the elements and people who might have to bail you out.

Here's a poem, made during a workshop at StAnza poetry festival.  We were working on the idea of "A log as a line to take." – but in the sense of the people behind you, where you're coming from.
 

At Longhope

It's your track record,
how she leans to the cloth she carries,
how her forward sections dip
and the bounce of recovery.
The swither of that, if any,
in small turbulence astern.
It's the hiss of the line of bubbles,
the ones you're not often going to see
in the clutter of several waters
but you have to get the sniff of them.