Torrential rains and nasty wind gusts ushered in the morning as we packed the car and headed west.
I began the day at the wheel and took us along the banks of Loch Ness: cloudy, rainy, perfect.
We paused at Urquhart Castle where I promptly got yelled at by two rotund ladies in official vests because I ducked into the entryway to zip up my jacket. God forbid.
No Nessie sightings all morning, but I highly question the scrutinizing intensity that was exercised in the search from the backseat...
The car was far more concerned with finding coffee and Steven found a hidden gem in the Glenn Rowan Café.
We were only in search of caffeine, but the place was so quaint, we were drawn to a table in the corner and ended up ordering four full traditional Scottish breakfasts complete with beans and toast, marmalade, roasted tomatoes, bacon, sausages, portobello shrooms, black pudding, two eggs, and one potato scone.
Not only was the food fantastic, Amy, the gal in charge, was pleasantly argumentative with a dry sense of everything. She was the Scottish incarnate of Sister Michael from Derry Girls.
She poked and prodded our table all morning, it was great and we totally felt like we were blending in!
Upon the completion of our monster meal, Steven braved the air with a joke, asking Amy, “How do we settle up...arm wrestling?”
The entire cottage was immediately involved...elderly sailors in Wellies stopped chewing, mothers quieted their children...everyone held their breath.
And Sister Amy Tartan didn’t miss a beat...
As if waiting for this moment her entire life, Amy rebuffed, “The irony of an American thinking he could beat a Scot in arm wrestling is...sweet.”
Her delivery was fire and I could never capture her brilliance in a mere written recollection.
Laughter erupted...somewhat nervous laughter from our shrinking corner, but still...
I tried to smooth the edges by adding, “He meant thumb-wrestling!” Which got a small roar-o-relief from all corners of the place and all was well in the world of Nessie.
We paid cash and added some extra marmalade and haggis chips for good measure before departing without any seriously (exterior) bodily injury.
A brilliant breakfast! Again, our favorite interactions are with real folks who are willing to engage, almost always found outside of the major cities.
And we pressed on...
After another pit stop at Eilean Donan Castle, we braved the Glen Shiel, both Sgurr Fhuran and Aonach Air Chrith summits were dipped in fresh, white snow.
Curb check number six for Steven came along the Inner Seas off the West Coast of Scotland. It was a beautiful doozy...nearly sent us into the drink! And the big guy takes the lead...6-5.
We landed in Portree around 3:00PM and putzed around the town for a while. Isle of Skye pints, window shopping, whiskey flights...it all happened.
It was about time to check in to our cottage in Edinbane so we drove the 20 or so odd minutes further west and, after a few wrong turns (my bad), we found home in a whimsically charming flat situated alongside a creek and an ancient bridge. Always a sucker for an old stone bridge...
Dinner reservations at the Lodge across the street were tortuously rejected due to the fact that I apparently can’t read nor comprehend the English language so we ended up noshing on canned sardines purchased in London and crackers and cheese from a week ago.
Overall, it wasn't my best day. I was a wee bit dejected; felt like I let the team down.
And to make it worse, they were really cool about it...even gave me the good glass as we polished off a couple bottles of wine and watched old episodes the The Twilight Zone and Murder, She Wrote...instead of dining at a Michelin Star restaurant...
I’m traveling with some really decent folks, if that wasn’t already apparent.
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