scotland | Wish in one hand...or travel?

Woah.

From Mac:

Around 4 hrs later including stops for castles and monster sitings, we arrived in what I believe to be in contention for one of the most breathtaking places in the world. I am reluctant to write about Skye for two reasons: One, there is no way I could do it justice. Two, I want it all for myself. From the beckoning ridge tops of the Cuillin mountain range to the bright greens and blues of Neist Point’s veranda, I have never been somewhere that I wanted to explore every inch more.

Luck was on our side as the drizzly weather we traveled through cleared completely as we crossed the bridge to Skye. We drove north passing lazy dinkers and produce stands with nothing but “trust’ boxes attached. It is extremely heart warming to know that communities still exist that can take pride in living in such a fashion.

Moving up the A82 to just about the middle of the island we reached the Sligachan bridge. This is where I really fell in love with this island. Point your peepers south from the bridge and you view where the mighty Sligachan River splits the Cuillin mountain range between the western Red Cuillins and the eastern Black Cuillins. They are named as such because these mountains are made of different minerals giving off distinctly different hues. On the left: red, on the right: black, an ominous and gigantic checkers match lays before you with consequences beyond mortal understanding. You really get a sense of how the legends of dragons, evil wizards, and warriors find conception in this place. Bonnie Prince Charlie, upon his escape through this foreboding valley is reported to have said “Even the devil shall not follow me here!”

From Jess:

I had worked myself up to believing that Skye would be a tourist trap. One of those places you talk about going just because everyone else talked about going there. But as we arrived on the island, I found myself holding my breath – too afraid to breathe away the beauty. This place was more than beautiful, it was literally breathtaking. I’ll talk more about the touristyness of the place in our post on our most recent trip to Scotland but for this magical weekend in 2013, there really weren’t that many tourists. I was completely shocked.

As Mac and Kris made their way to Seamas’ Bar to enjoy a nice half-pint before we got back in the car to journey for an indeterminable amount of time (like in the mountains where we grew up, in Scotland you should never judge a trip by the distance between two points, these are not linear passages but rather meandering works of art) I couldn’t be pried away from that first viewing of the Cuillins. While I had experienced some pretty incredible landscapes in Iceland – there is something about those hills that is…special. Like Mac said, words can’t do it justice. It was uncontrollable how much I wanted to just run for those hills! And not because of fear of something coming after me – but because I wanted to be close to them.

Once Mac and Kris dragged me away from the trails, we continued north in search of our home for the next two nights. After stopping at the local grocery to get directions (our Sat Nav totally bailed on us) we ended up meeting the nicest man who lead us up to the Skeabost House Hotel where we had one of the more magical stays during our trip. I won’t speak too much on this as it does seem that they underwent a pretty big remodel since we stayed there and a lot of the old-fashioned decor and warmth we took comfort in has been replaced by a much more modern look and feel (again, maybe it’s just the country mouse in me but I prefer the pre-remodel look). But the grounds were (and I imagine are still) lovely so we wandered around there until our rooms were ready and as if on cue, it started raining. Instantly depressed that we had missed our opportunity to commune with nature, we settled into a light lunch. In another strike of good fortune, as we finished eating – the rain stopped. We raced outside and made our way to a little trail known (NOT little known trail) as the Fairy Pools.

The funny thing about Scotland is that around every corner or bend we would exclaim ‘This is the most beautiful place I have ever seen!’ and then as we rounded the next bend or corner ‘Oh sh*t! This is the most beautiful place I have ever seen!’ and so on and so on. So it shouldn’t have been a surprise that as we walked up to this trail we were all gasping in awe. Mac and I could have spent the next 12 hours racing up the trails and mountains but alas, we had only a limited amount of time to explore before heading back to the hotel.

After a particularly delicious meal at our hotel, a lively snooker game in the hotel’s game room, and a fabulous night’s sleep we awoke feeling refreshed and ready to explore the island.

Falling head over heels…

From Jess:

We were given the advice to visit Dunvegan because it was “what one would imagine Camelot looking like”. Following with the theme of the trip which was “Not Disappointing (Always Impressive)” Dunvegan was just as beautiful as described. Perched on a beautiful bay – it is very foreboding but magnificent structure that boasts being the oldest continuously inhabited castle in Scotland.

Making our way around the island – we drove to Neist Point which, so far, is the most scenic light house location I have ever seen. The sea cliffs on Skye are dramatic and impressive and impossible to imagine how they were formed. The land juts out, zigging and zagging, dropping and rising in a way that it is almost easy to imagine that the land was formed on a dare to mimic lightening. And then there is a the exclamation point of having a striking lighthouse placed at the end of this remarkable promontory. Breathtaking! There is an unspoken rule (unspoken because it is obvious) that while in Scotland one should be prepared for rain at any moment. In our excitement of seeing this place – Mac & I literally ran from the car giggling like school children – leaving behind our rain shells and umbrellas. We found a high vantage point to take in the scene and ignored what looked like a light fog rolling in off the sea. As we snapped photos and frolicked (seriously, like children) the faint mist suddenly enveloped us and we were instantly drenched. We had been in downpours and in fog – but this was neither and both. It happened so fast that we barely had time to put our cameras away before they were as soaked as us. We ran down the hill to the car park where everyone was seemingly laughing at us from the dry safety of their cars, ponchos or umbrellas including Kris – who had found safety in the car before being caught in the wet.

Shaking and shivering, we cranked up the heat in the car and made our way back to the hotel for lunch having a small traffic stop to allow a herd of cattle to travel along the road (be careful while driving – there are more than just cars that share the road!). After lunch, Mac and I embarked on a adventure so that Kris could stay at the hotel and finally get some R&R (it is exhausting to be around two adults who insist on behaving like small children). We snaked our way along the island looking at Old Man Storr, Kilt Rock and it’s magnificent waterfall, a Highland Coo traffic jam and a black sand beach. The island shares some similarities to the dramatic landscape of Iceland but really is unlike anywhere that I’ve ever been…

From Mac:

Dunvegan is the namesake of a rocky outcrop near the mountains that I grew up hiking, sledding and waging all out war with my three brothers in the high country of NC. I had no idea where the name came from until I visited the MacDonald castle in the northwest of Skye. This stronghold of the clan boasts wonderful panoramic views of the loch from its turrets and a super beautiful garden to waste time in before you figure out that Neist Point is fifteen minutes away.

A curvy, unpaved, single-lane road, complete with highland coo (a.k.a. “hippie cows” as they are called in the NC mountains) road blocks and aloof sheep sauntering slowly out of the way, leads you to one of the best, heart stopping seascape vistas of western Skye. Just off the main coastal cliff juts a giant, green nuckle defying the azure sky trying in vain to hide a white gilded light house as if the land didn’t quit finish flipping the sea the bird. Just f*cking gorgeous. Staring out at the awe-inspiring view we watched menacing low lying clouds roll in and we took our first real Scottish soaking. It was nothing like rain, more like a lake climbed a ladder, caught a breeze, and passed through us. We were as wet as we would have been if we had jumped into the ocean below, minus the time it would have taken to descend. As we returned to the car we found Mom safe, dry and spent. So we left her at the hotel to get some rest as we journeyed on. We spent the afternoon exploring the Trotternish peninsula taking small hikes off the main road, trying to soak up as much Skye as we could on our last night as we had heard harsh weather was due for that evening.

The next morning we awoke to the north sea slapping us in the face (just as promised), and so we pushed south off the island. Little did we know that every tiny crag, every descending rocky outcrop, every gully, ditch, or pitted place in the earth would be BRIMMING with water! The rivers we passed on the way in, all category twos at best in their rough patches had become pure death at their gentlest bends. DINKERS, DINKERS everywhere! The majesty of rushing water is something I have never been able to get over, but this was beyond comprehension. It was like rapid eye movement all over. Unfortunately, the schedule demanded we press on.

It’s over. No wait, it’s just the beginning of the end.

From Jess:

Escaping the threat of nightmarish weather we made our way eastward into the mainland of Scotland to the town of Pitlochry. A stoic silence had fallen over our trio as all of us (as it was discovered once we did talk) felt a very strange longing and depression from having left the Isle of Skye. If one were to divide our trip up into sections, this would have been the beginning of the end of the trip. No real way to describe or explain it but sadly, our visit to the beautiful town of Pitlochry was tainted by this melancholy. We each chose an activity to try and cheer ourselves up: Kris, reading a good book; us, finding a waterfall to hike around and look at. At the end of the day we just couldn’t shake the feeling that we really missed Skye. A place that we had never visited before and we had only spend a small amount of time there – yet there was a definite sadness deep inside. Aside from my home, I’ve never felt this way about a place before. It is so illogical, this feeling, that it made all of us wonder if there was something truly magical about the island…

From Mac:

All together depressing to leave Skye we set out on an adventurous drive through the Highlands that was nothing less than lousy with fantastic views framed by rainbows. Are you f*cking kidding?! Tired from the trek and the afterglow of Skye we arrived in Pitlochry, an incredibly quaint town about dead middle of the country. Though we saw a pretty waterfall, toured the Edradour distillery (smallest and disputably, the coolest) and stayed in a manse-like hotel, I don’t think this one night did the town justice. I recommend seeing this place on the way to the Hebrides rather than after.

Still going…

From Jess:

Having slept away our resentment at not still being on Skye – we arose early and made our way to Stirling. Pulling into the city, you can see, perched on a hilltop like a golden crown, Stirling Castle. Wanting to avoid the crowds (since it was still early) we made our way to the castle to take a tour. We toured the castle until we had exhausted Kris and we could check into our hotel and have lunch. After lunch, Mac and I raced off to our next bit of excitement at the Wallace Monument where I would again try to battle my fear of heights.

Arriving at the Wallace Monument we were given the choice of taking a shuttle or walking to the monument. If able, we always try to choose the walk route (it’s like my Mom says, save the aided way until you actually need it) so we opted for the walk. I’ll touch on this later but if a Scottish person says it is an easy walk, know that easy for them is on an entirely different scale. While we had no problem walking to the monument, mentally we were surprised by what ‘easy’ looked like to a Scot. Arriving at the monument, we made our way up the spiral staircase that not only tested my fear of heights but also my claustrophobia. Clutching at the walls, I made my way to almost the top. As I stepped out onto the landing where I was sure the wind would blow us all to our deaths, my knees totally bailed on me and there I stayed. A grown-ass adult on her knees clutching a stone pillar as if her life literally depended on it. I crawled to the stairs where I waited on Mac to take some photos of the view that I would never see for myself. Score: 1 for Heights, 0 for Jess.

Having been defeated we walked around the town (on nice, safe, level-ground) where we couldn’t resist exclaiming just how beautiful it was (typical Americans, I know) and everytime – we kept getting the same bizarre response from everyone who could hear us: “Oh sure, but have you been to Edinburgh? Oh no? Well then.” This was never followed up with explanation and so it exponentially drove our curiosity up about our next and final stop.

From Mac:

After a soft breakfast in Pitlochry, we took our next (short) step to our departing flight. Though our minds were kicking and screaming for us halt, forward progress had its demands. Stirling was a surprisingly pretty town! This granite ladden relic boasts a fantastic castle, friendly people (ran across several high school students offering free hugs complete with signage) and a rich history. Well worth a stop if you need repose from the daunting Scottish wilderness. Sights to see include the Stirling bridge (where William Wallace made some history) Stirling castle and grave ground (we like saying grave ground), Holy Rude church, and the William Wallace Monument. This monument dedicated to a man that stood two heads taller than Mel Gibson, was a bit more effort to get to than just a brisk ‘walk’. A pretty steep, but mercifully zigzagged path up the hill west of town leads to an almost five storied spire of a museum dedicated to the patriot hero. By far the most exciting part is the NARROW spiraled steps to the panoramic balcony. This was a particular challenge for Jess given her fear of heights, but she came through like a champ even though the top balcony had nothing but a shin high concrete guard to keep you from a gust blowing you away to your doom. All in all, Stirling is a great, humble town with plenty of activities to keep the precocious traveler busy.

Last Stop

From Jess:

Here we were, the last two days of our trip in the lovely city of Edinburgh. Having the brief introduction to how beautiful it was in Stirling, comparatively – once again, there was zero disappointment. Like Stirling, Edinburgh has a magnificent castle perched high above the city. Both castles are a series of buildings and definitely worthwhile to tour. In particular the War Memorial within Edinburgh Castle is one of the most moving memorials I have ever seen. No photos can be taken within making it something you must experience in person.

We next toured St. Giles Cathedral and visited some shops with Kris before meeting up with our friend Melissa (she also grew up in NC) who is lucky enough to live in Scotland. She showed us some of the less touristy parts of the city as well as the super touristy Calton Hill, the somewhat bizarre collection of monuments that were built overlooking the city.

That night, on a recommendation from some friends, we booked a last minute reservation to an exquisite restaurant named The Witchery. To this day, the three of us talk in whispered tones about our meal here…not being the types to take pictures of our food, much less write exhaustedly about it, you’ll just have to experience this yourselves!

From Mac:

Last stop! Edinburgh- totally overwhelming to take in in two nights. I feel like we barely scratched the surface of this city considering what whipped puppies we were by the time we got there. This city that was relatively untouched by WWII remains a pristine beacon of Scottish culture and perseverance. As you take the Royal Mile from the castle to the Holyrood, hearing bagpipes and smelling whisky and fish n’ chips, you can’t help an overwhelming feeling of nostalgia. Whether or not it was distant family roots or the recent memory of a trip around a magical country, catharsis was palpable. After a trip around the mystical petri dish of Scotland it was nice to end it in the cultural epicenter. And I think the pinpoint of this city is a little restaurant called The Witchery. You’ll spend a lot of money here, but Jesus Christ, it’s good.

The next day we woke early to drive to the airport. Normally, no matter how much fun I’ve had while away I still feel the magnet of home with its familiar faces and creature comforts, but I am here to report that at this juncture I had never been more upset to be on my way back. My theory is that Scotland had all of home that I could want in it and more: friendly, loving people, beautiful landscapes, comforting grub and booze, not to mention my two best girls! Though I’m back to the grind of wishing in one hand I will forever be drawn to Scotland’s magnet. Don’t despair, we’ll be back!

From Jess:

Despite the rough start (on American soil) once we arrived in Scotland, the trip was…in one word? Magical. Scotland was everything we could want in a country of ancestral origin and as Mac said, I’ve never felt sadder leaving a vacation. Once home I had dreams of being there again and we started to actually count the days until we could return…

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The Surprise Trip Across the Atlantic

From Mac:

So this trip began when Jess and I were talking to my mom about Scotland over dinner in Wilmington, N.C. (where ma lives). After several minutes of small but interesting banter about read facts and speculation on culture and country I said,”Let’s go!”Under 10 more sentences were said about the subject, all punctuated by another “let’s go”, and an agreement was met- we all should go to Scotland! As I have participated in many (many) inane conversations about excited noun ridden plans – where’s, how’s,and when’s – I thought fruition to have about a 15% chance…

Until my mom called a week later telling me and Jess she- a 64 year old women- had purchased her first passport and had paid to have it expedited just to make sure it would be in hand in time for the trip! This was particularly shocking considering her slightly xenophobic nature and because she spent her early pre-mother days as a major airline stewardess (domestic to be sure)!

From Jess:

As Mac has said, Scotland wasn’t exactly an extensively planned trip…starting as a mere suggestion in passing conversation about being of Scottish descent and wishing to visit the ‘homeland’, it quickly gained momentum with Kris becoming the catalyst for making this dream a reality despite the possibility that we (Mac and I) might not be able to afford such a trip. I had just quit the full-time job that was making me miserable and embarked on a journey of self-employment. This combined with the rising air fare and conversion rates were certainly working against us. Limited budget, bad prices and short planning time made this look not only difficult but nearly impossible…as Mac said we were trying to make soup out of sand.

Most of our trips are planned (sometimes haphazardly) by Mac or myself but with this one having added importance of not only including my partner’s mother, it was her first trip abroad so I thought it would be best to have a travel agent take care of the planning (I mean, I didn’t want to take the heat if things went wrong!). I spent some of our precious planning time researching travel agents and after contacting them, settled on one that sounded like she not only had knowledge of Scotland, she could also work with our budget. She and I settled on a basic itinerary over e-mail and made an appointment for me to call with credit card numbers because the flights were going up – and quickly. I called and got her voicemail at the designated time. After a little bit of time, I followed up with an e-mail. The next day, after no response, I called again. And then e-mailed. I looked at the flights and saw they were indeed creeping up to a rate that I was sure we couldn’t afford. Panic was setting in. What if we had made all these promises to Kris (Mac’s mom) and we couldn’t deliver???

I tried again and again to contact the travel agent (who will go unnamed) but no response whatsoever. After a week or so of silently panicking – I checked the airfare prices on the now defunct Bing Travel Predictor (as I had every day since we decided that we might actually go to Scotland) and on this particular Tuesday, just a little more than a month away, the airfare had dropped over 20%. I frantically called Kris and we decided that we should buy the tickets and plan the trip sans travel agent (who never did get back to me). I quickly bought the 3 plane tickets, made a rental car reservation and then proceeded to spend the next eight hours planning our route and making hotel reservations (the lack of a full-time job really came in handy here). After all that panic and anxiety – we were actually going to go to Scotland!

The three of us were more giddy than the school children on a snow day. We hastily researched places and activities and faster than we knew it – the trip had arrived. Even at the airport, going through security four hours before our flight, waiting at the gate for said four hours, the additional five hours of delays (accompanied by adjusting our connecting flights twice for these delays) we still maintained an insane amount of excitement. It wasn’t until we had boarded the plane close to midnight only to be told by the loud speaker, after everyone had settled in, that the plane couldn’t take off that we lost a lot of that excitement. Having the 1-800 number on speed dial (from all of the previous delays), our worst fears were confirmed: Not only were we not going to Scotland that night – the next available flight (according to the person on the phone) was 4 days later. As we made our way through the long line, on the verge of tears, to the airline counter to get hotel accommodation for the night and to finalize plane changes, we finally had a break of luck and the woman behind the counter was able to put us on another flight that would leave the next day – with a minor change that we would arrive in a different city: Glasgow rather than Edinburgh. We rejoiced and accepted this change and made our way to join the rest of the weary travelers to be shuttled to the hotel. After a few restless hours of sleep I began the next round of frantic phone calls to change our plans to pick up a car in Glasgow and switch our first day’s itinerary in Scotland to a new, last day’s itinerary so that we wouldn’t miss a day in Glorious Scotland. After a few hours, the changes were made and we were on our way to the airport where we were able to successfully make our way through the air to Scotland. Giddiness resumed!

Best Laid Schemes and the Best Welcoming

From Jess:

As is typical with Americans (or so the stereotype goes) we had planned on covering a lot of ground in just a small amount of time. We had set aside 10 days – with 2 travel days – to explore Scotland. The original plan had us landing in Edinburgh where we would spend the night so that we wouldn’t have to drive weary after the plane trip and we could relax some before heading to the next stop. There were a few ‘must haves for the trip’ and some of our stops were chosen so that we wouldn’t have to drive too long in between those destinations. With the delay and the change of airports – the carefully chosen routes (with directions carefully printed out from address to address) from our Edinburgh hotel to the next night’s accommodations were no longer of use to us. As a famous Scot once said: “The best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men Gang aft a-gley.” (If you don’t get this reference Google Robert Burns and educate yo’self!)

Once landing in Glasgow and picking up our adorable, European-sized car, we crammed our large, fatigued, American bodies inside and took trust that our rented Sat-Nav (what we Americans call a GPS) would get us to our new, first destination. Because I drive a stick shift here in the States and have driven (quite competently) before in other countries including those who drive on the wrong side of the road (sorry – but it’s true) I had felt very confident about taking the wheel. It was easy going until the Sat Nav instructed us to “navigate off road” onto some of the most terrifying roads in horrifying wind conditions – that I can now verify after two trips to Scotland – I am sure it has to offer. Being exhausted, jet-lagged, recovering from motion sickness on the plane and dealing with high winds and rain probably didn’t help. We wordlessly arrived at our destination – we were all so terrified that this was the tone that was set for the rest of the trip that we had not spoken for the entirety of the car trip – we had our first real meal in two days, went to our respective rooms and napped, showered and cried (maybe I’m joking?).

From Mac:

The red hot mess of panic and horrific airport mall malaise that ensued, Jessica has well covered. When we finally arrived, limp and covered in what can only be described as travel grease, we hopped in the car and went on, even by Scottish standards, an arduous road trip. Looking at the map, Glasgow to the small town in Aberdeenshire, where we were staying would appear to be a breeze, but given our fatigue and the weather, it became, possibly, the most beautiful automobile hellscape conceivable to man. This backwards, narrow, and twisting road revealed around every excessively sharp curve and blind summit a more spectacular view than the previous. Even in our scared sh*tless states we could recognize the beauty here. When we arrived in the very small town meant to be our 2nd destination after a 4 hr drive, there was a real sense that we had made it. Relief set in. WE NEEDED TO CLOSE OUR EYES. Then we needed a drink.

After an hour and a shower Jess and I left ma to sleep and went for a walk that ultimately ended at the pub. We had time to grab a quick pint and then head back to the hotel for a late dinner, which on my terms left far too little time to catch a “proper” buzz. Or even a sufficient one, as everything in the country of our forefathers origin (especially in wee towns) closes by 9:30. So imagine my elation when the smiling barkeep asked us if we were going to come back later for the music and extended hours. After a sycronized “whawhawhawhat?” she went on to explain that, in this particular pinpoint on the map of Scotia, Tuesday night is when all the most brilliant, traditional musicians in the surrounding area come out of the woodwork for a spectacular hoedown (what we, from Appalachia call a good time). After two trips this was by far, the friendliest, most authentically Scottish experience we had. We reckoned (because of our remote upbringings in Appalachia) that the locals were fascinated by our presence merely because we had stories that they hadn’t heard a bazillion times told in a funny accent. But it is much more likely that we had descended on a town of kind, generous, talented and welcoming people on a night were they really got to cut loose and not worry about the drudgery of the day-to-day. I would like to thank these good people again for sharing there fellowship with two punch drunk tourists, washing away our sweaty miseries with a cup o kindness. Scotland man!

Exploring East

From Jess:

The next day, we were in better spirits but we had a small scare when it looked like Kris might be having a medical emergency – this prevented us on taking up an offer to explore the nearby area with a guide – but after a quick trip to the local pharmacist, it was deemed that a trip to the doctor (or emergency room) wasn’t necessary. With our bellies full of our first full Scottish breakfast – we set out east to explore the first castle of our trip: Craigievar.

Since my family are Forbes (emigrating from Scotland to North Carolina in the way back) I was excited to see the areas where they lived and explore at least one the fancy abodes that other Forbes lived in (I’m sure that my ancestors where of the poor farmer types, not the showy castle types). We arrived at this fairy-tale-like castle in the typical Scottish weather of cold rain and grey skies and discovered that there was another small casualty in the well-laid plans that we had made back home. Arriving on a Wednesday, instead of Tuesday before we checked into the planned 2nd hotel – the castle was closed and so we had to make do with looking round the outside of the castle, taking a few, quick photos before heading Eastward. Despite this disappointment – it was a beautiful scene and the silver lining to it being closed was there weren’t many other tourists about to ruin our shots.

From Mac:

As we headed east towards Aberdeen we were met with blue skies and crisp weather, just what you need after a summer of outdoor manual labor in hot, humid Chapel Hill. Since we were still a little shell-shocked from being around lots of other humans in airports we decided to skip checking out Aberdeen and head south and take a break in Stonehaven. After finding a place to park we dinked*(see footnote) around the town grabbing a cup of tea, finding yarn shops and public bathrooms before making our way down to a boulder ridden crescent coastline looking east. Sitting there imagining the blood thirsty Viking hoards splashing onto that shoreline brandishing sword and shield for glories untold was oddly cathartic. We jumped into the car for another mini-adventure and made our way to a car park where we could make out a dark structure that, at first glance, you could tell was centuries older than our own country. Our first ruin was called Dunnottar, green with decay but as foreboding as the landscape that encapsulated it.

While the walk up to this ruin isn’t terribly difficult there are a lot of stairs, plenty enough to leave Jess and I out of breath, let alone my Mom. In fact, I would go ahead and recommend being in at least decent shape before planning a trip to Scotland as the landscape, even at its most forgiving, is an ass kicker. Of course, this adds even more of a reward to the already incentivized beauty. After dinking around Dunnottar, imagining medieval life and snapping pics, we headed back to our B&B for another warm, nourishing meal and a comfortable night’s sleep.

North by Northwest

From Mac:

The next day, we pointed ourselves north to Inverness. The most striking thing about this town to me was how clean it was. Split in half by the river Ness (yep, it comes from the ever famous Loch Ness) it is the metropolitan hub of the north. But regardless of the amount of commerce that goes down here, you can still see people fly fishing the river’s waters. And I’m not talking about upstream either, I’m talking about smack in the heart of down town! Now, I am a Patriot, but I dare you to name a major city in the US you would consider eating a fish that was pulled out of its predominant waterway. To be honest, we didn’t spend too much time in Inverness as it was a mid-point stop-off before Skye. But we ate, drank and slept well and hit the road upstream towards the Isle of Skye via the shores of Loch Ness.

From Jess:

Inverness was indeed a beautiful city but after years of self-denial, I realize that I am a country mouse, not a city mouse and much prefer open landscapes to cement cityscapes. So as we continue on this adventure in blogging, you might notice that we do tend to kind of skip-over the bigger towns and cities. Sorry! It’s just not our thing!

Every drive we took so far in our trip was absolutely stunning and the journey from Inverness to Skye was not a disappointment (even if we didn’t see the fabled monster of Loch Ness). Along the way we saw the dramatic site of Urquhart Castle as it crumbles on the shore of Loch Ness and the absolutely picturesque Eilean Donan Castle residing on it’s island throne where three lochs meet. Stopping to take pictures (we were too early to tour), we couldn’t imagine a more magnificent landscape. Until we got to Skye that is….

*Dink-this is a made up verb and noun for Mac. One can “dink” i.e. pass some time with no real agenda or one can see a “dinker” which is, in most cases, a waterfall.