The little pub is still open! If you have a drink, you replace it with something else.

Had a nose around empty houses and the empty school.

The fog kept trying to creep back in.

Easier walking up here - vegetation much shorter.

The bell tower of the church has collapsed and, if you open the door and look up, the bell is perched precariously on the fallen timbers.

Grand Bruit means 'great sound' and it is indeed loud! The thundering echoes around the little bay. The church is to the right.

A tow courtesy of Terry, from the Fisherman's Wharf, to get us 'back home'.

The Coastguard from Burgeo came to our rescue when the shaft and propeller 'uncoupled' from the gearbox.

The final get together on Saturday evening was a dance opened by Mummers - a fancy dress tradition. I was dragged up to join in with an 'Ugly Stick' (a homemade percussion instrument).