We returned to a much busier downtown Inverness the next morning. Nicola wanted to check out the shops for personal purchases as well as Christmas. Harris Twee was the big winner; blankets, gloves, shaving kits, scarves, and purses among others I know not about. We then started our long drive to the Isle of Skye very much looking forward to the whiskies. We passed the Eilan Dolan castle with great views provided by the parking lot. The castle is accessed from a land bridge however we didn't visit it.
It was quite a long drive for Dave to the Isle of Skye which can now be accessed by bridge rather than the traditional ferry. The landscape is considerably more rugged than what I’ve seen in the rest of Scotland and the U.K. Our first stop was to check-in at the Skye Cottages. These are very cozy and have the look of a structure that could easily be brought in on a flatbed truck. There was one double bed and two singles and bathroom, no room for a table and chairs or a couch. The weather turned decidedly foul and would stay that way for our entire visit.
Dinner was had in the small town of Portree which has an upper and lower level. Most of it’s on the upper but a few restaurants and shops are located on the lower, one being the Lower Deck Restaurant. That’s where we had what I consider my favourite meal of the trip. We were told that we couldn’t bring in a dog so Winston had to be returned to the car on the upper where he would be put in the kennel for the duration of the meal. This was one of the few times he was left out of human activity. Dave, Jordan and Nicola all had the lobster, Dave for the first time in his life. I had the scallops. No one shared a part of their meal for the first time on the trip so I don’t know how the lobster tasted. I’m sure it was excellent because the scallops were exceptional. After finishing our meal, we couldn’t find a pub with room so we returned to our hut, drank beer and watched the movie, “Behind the Curve” about the recent revival in flat earth theories and the community of those who mutually believe. It was without commentary. The documentarian let the flat eathers speak for themselves and it was a real eye-opener.
Tuesday, October 26, 2021
We woke to an absolute downpour. The wind was howling and the rain was falling horizontally. To be honest, the cyclone in Taiwan that I’ve experienced would be the only storm to compare with it. The difference here is that it was cold. Fortunately, the space heaters that were included with the hut worked well. (Jordan had to exchange one of our original heaters with another hut because it wasn’t working.) Part way through the night, we turned it off. Winston travelled from bed to bed through the night enjoying the company of everyone. He’s quite a character. Definitely fun.
With the weather being so awful, we decided to delay a hike in favour of a visit to one of the only open museums on the island, “The Giant MacAskill Museum.” It features an exhibit dedicated to the tallest “true giant” according to the Guinness Book of Records. The cottage was open but no one was there to take our money so we entered anyway. Most prominently displayed was a life-size statue of Angus MacAskill standing at 7’9” and born 1825. Standing next to him was the dwarf, Tom Thumb his companion at the Barnum Bailey Circus who was said to be able stand in the palm of Angus’s hand.
About five minutes after our arrival, an old guy, at least in his 80s, arrived at the cottage, sat behind a table at the front, took our money recited in what is best described as robot voice a list of facts that might interest us about Angus MacAskill which was next to nothing for me. What I found most interesting was that the museum even existed. As we were nearing the end of our visit, a family arrived with mom and dad and two young children, the most obvious audience for the place. After hearing our host make his robotic introduction, the mom remarked that he must have recited this a lot. I mean, No duh. He told her how long he’d been doing it but I wasn’t listening. He did admit that Angus lived most of his life in New Brunswick where he’s buried and has another museum dedicated to his life, but Angus is an actual ancestor.
The family wondered what was to be seen on the television mounted on the wall by the door. The old guy presented a video about his son who does some seriously crazy shit on a bike. This video featured him climbing a mountain on the Isle of Skye traversing knife edge ridges and descending what would seem impossibly steep cliffs. When he was unable to ride his bike over a crevice in the stone or a series of boulders, he would literally jump his bike over the empty spaces. It was frightening and amazing. I had no idea skilled mountain bikers were able to do that.
From there, we decided to try a walk. What else were we going to do? Being the offseason almost everything on the island was closed. Dave drove to a walk along the beach with a parking lot confusingly full. What were these people doing trying to hike in this kind of weather? The same thing we were but I thought we would be the exception. Obviously not.
We thought the gods were with us as when we started out, the wind was howling but no rain. Unfortunately, that was only a momentary reprieve. Not ten minutes in, the rain did return in the sheets we’d first witnessed in the morning. By this point, I was relatively dry with a rain jacket and my hiking pants that I thought were somewhat water repellent. Boy, was I wrong. My legs were drenched about two minutes after the rain had begun.
One amusing event was witnessing Winston complete a full flip upon hitting a puddle I’m sure he considered shallow however not so much.
Despite the wet state of affairs, we continued on our walk until we had a view along the coast to where the trail led to a rise. We were just too miserable to consider that a goal so we turned around.
We stopped at the Talisker Distillery only to discover that it too was close; no distillery tours, no tasting rooms. We waited about ten minutes in the cold under a tent to be able to enter a small room where we would get a short explanation of the whiskeys. During our wait outside, the young lady hostess asked us about ourselves to which we replied, Canada. She asked where which we always hate because almost no one in our world travels has any idea of Canada’s geography. When we said Western Canada, she asked where. Nicola said in the southern part of the rocky mountains and the girl asked where and Nicola said, Fairmont Hot Springs, to which the girl replied, oh yah, that’s a nice area. I asked where she was from because by this time, I figured not Scotland. She replied, Colorado and the lights went on. I didn’t understand why I hadn’t picked out her accent but I hadn’t.
The guy inside was as affable as the young lady. He gave us a brief description of all the different Talisker whiskies which was good but we already knew what we were going to buy, the Talisker Port Ruige that Matt Henderson had recommended when we visited his house. The Port Ruige pronounce port ree is aged in port casks.
Dinner that night was at another restaurant on the lower deck in the town of Portree. This one offered a seafood platter for two which we both ordered. Both were enormous and included scallops, salmon and an enormous mound of mussels. Truth be told, we barely finished it. We stopped for drink at the local pub that was very local. Unlike the U.K., in Scotland we were forced to wear masks anytime we were inside a public space. It was no different here. Old guys sat at the bar leering at any of the young ladies ordering a drink or passing by on their way to the bar. We crowded into a small table area between a table of older ladies and a young couple sharing some intimate time together. The music was an Americana and country mix much like my own.
This bar reminded me of the one we’d visited in Edinburgh. It too was full of locals surrounded by televisions covering a soccer game with United against someone. Four old guys behind us were barely paying attention nor were the young guys on the other side of us. Evidence of their intoxication was shown by swearing amongst the older guys and increased volume of speech by the younger guys. It was here that I learned that an IPA in the U.K. doesn’t mean the same as in North America. The U.K. IPA has far less alcohol per volume and it’s not nearly as hoppy or bitter. If you want an American IPA, that’s what you ask for if it’s on offer.
After a drink at the bar, we returned to our hut where we played the game Chameleon and drank some of Dave’s Talisker Port Ruige. Chameleon was fun and the whisky delicious. Winston played the same game of jumping from bed to bed during the night.
Winston does a header on our windy walk
Wednesday, October 27, 2021
The goal for today was to complete a couple of walks and then drive to Port William, about two and a half hours up the road. The Old Man of Storr circuit features a couple of monolith looking rocks, one obviously representing the old man of Storr. Rocky ledges reach above the man and eventually rising to the peak of Mount Storr. The cloud lay low as we began the walk and the wind blew with considerable force. It wasn’t raining though so we felt fortunate. The uphill grade is considerable but I didn’t notice it on the way up because it really is quite beautiful. The old man of Storr looked eery with whisps of cloud blowing in front of it, Loch Leathan was visible in the distance to our left and the Atlantic coast ran the distance behind us.
Despite the weather, the trail was busy with people dressed in all kinds of clothing and footwear. Some, completely impractical in winter boots or sneakers and down jacket with no protection should it rain which, almost predictably, it did. We’d covered about three-quarters of the distance to the old man when the rain beginning to fall in sheets like it had done on our walk the previous day. Nicola and I were immediately soaked from the waist down but Jordan and Dave were protected by their nylon puddle pants. These had also protected them the day before but not completely. We vowed to bring our own form of puddle pants should we attempt hikes in these types of climes again.
Once down the mountain and safely protected by the interior of the car, we started the drive to the Fairy Pools, a beautiful but popular hike by a stream past a bunch of “fairy pools” and waterfalls. At the halfway point, we passed the Oyster Shed, a well-known restaurant and store that sold freshly shucked oysters. Jordan and I are the only ones who like fresh oysters so fortunately, there were other seafood options. The Oyster Shed has a store selling seafood food and memorabilia with an attached outdoor with a roof, tables, and a bar that people can stand around. It’s located on a hill with a lovely view of the ocean. So, that’s what we did. Jordan and I ordered oysters and Dave and Nicola ordered scallops, warm smoked salmon, and French fries. The scallops and oysters were predictably fresh and delicious but the real surprise was the warm smoked salmon. Who would have known? It was cool and breezy where we stood but nevertheless, fun.
The road was very narrow on the way to the Fairy Springs with frequent turnouts where cars in one lane could let those in another pass. At one point, Dave veered slightly too far to the left causing quite a thunk as the wheel rammed against the edge of a pothole. By the time we got to the parking lot for the Fairy Pools, the car was shuddering slightly like the tire was low or flat. After we parked, we took a look. Sure enough, the left-front tire was losing air fast. Dave and I unloaded the trunk to check for a spare tire. Not there. Instead, we found a an air pump with a canister of patching material that is blown into the tire when attached to the air pump. By this method, we were able to inflate the tire to a point where we could drive down the hill where the RVs park and there’d be more room for a tow truck to maneuver should one be necessary.
Dave had travel insurance, so he phoned the insurance company who said they’d arrange for a service vehicle to be sent to our location. Dave said he would wait and told us to go investigate the fairy pools. Following instructions, we followed the steady stream of people following an unnamed creek up the mountainside. The treeless slopes provided excellent vistas of the surrounding mountains, Benin a Bhraghad and Maoi an Tairbh. These are Gaelic names of course. (Mr. MacAskill from the Angus MacAskill museum said he knew Gaelic but said that no one really spoke it anymore.)
The path follows a hill down to the stream where it crosses and follows that same stream up the mountain. The crossing of the creek was accomplished by jumping onto a series of rocks. Not everyone was successful in fulfilling this task. One dad became annoyed when his small children (about 3 and 5) wouldn’t cross holding his hand. So, in disgust, he picked them up slipping on a couple of rocks on the way over wetting his leather oxfords and feet. But, his wife with a coat that matched the colour of her dog wasn’t across the creek and even though he/she was a big dog, it wouldn’t cross. So, in disgust, he returned to the otherside of the creek, picked up the dog, and this time, completely soaking his brown, oxford shoes, he carried the dog across.
By this time, we’d had enough and went searching for an alternate route across. Of course, there wasn’t one. If there was, that’s where people would be going. There were enough of them someone would have figured it out. So, with much grumbling, we returned to hop the rocks where everyone else was crossing. It wasn’t as hard as I’d expected. Even Winston managed without much trouble. That didn’t prevent me from wondering why a bridge hadn’t already been constructed for the trail. After all, there were hundreds of people crossing that bridge everyday and probably thousands in the summer. In fact, so many that “Lonely Planet” doesn’t recommend it.
We liked it. Water falling into clear blue pools, deep enough we watched an older guy in a dry suit do a jump much to the delight of his daughter (or girlfriend although that would be kinda creepy.
We continued up the hill, admiring the waterfalls and fairy pools until there seemed no point in continuing. I thought maybe there was a tarn where Mount Benin a Bhraghad begins its steep rise to the peak. No such luck.
A service truck still hadn’t arrived by the time we’d returned to Dave. That took enough time for Dave to do his own trip up the side of the mountain to see the Fairy Pools, at least half an hour or more. In the meantime, Jordan, Nicola and I watched part of a movie I’d downloaded to my ipad.
Dave returned about the same time as the van. Yes, it was a van, not a tow truck as what we would have in Canada. That said, this van had the equipment to put a new tire on the car’s rim. The service guy also had the correct size tire if their present one couldn’t be fixed which would have been all good except, we couldn’t find the unlocking lug nut. Jordan and Dave had owned the car for a couple of years however had never had the need to change the tires. After all, living in the warm climes of the U.K. would not necessitate winter tires. It was shocking that an unlocking lug nut hadn’t been included in the car. I certainly wouldn’t have thought to look for it. Not until now, that is.
The service guy was very young, early 20s I would guess. He’d seen one of the older more experienced guys remove a locking nut once and he attempted the same. He really tried and was really apologetic that he couldn’t remove it. He said that he had another vehicle that had been waiting like four hours to be serviced so he had to go. Now, I said earlier that Dave had phoned the insurance company however, not easily. The signal could only just make a connection and sometimes that would be dropped. The service guy had the same problem so he said he’d phone for a tow truck on the road. This was all good but how would we know the results of the call? Could we be waiting all night for a tow truck? Impressively, the service guy returned with the news that his boss couldn’t come for the car until the morning. He suggested we leave the car keys on the tire so when the guys come to tow the truck they don’t have to be there. Just a great piece of advice which we followed. He again went through a long explanation about why he had to go followed by many apologies to the point we were all telling him he should be on his way.
The result of Dave’s phone call to the insurance company was that they were sending a taxi from Port William, about two and a half hours away. Jordan had already canceled the Airbnb that we were supposed to be staying in. Dave continued to try to arrange with the insurance company to find us transportation and shelter until he got so cold that he decided we should refill the flat tire and drive the car to the upper parking lot where he thought the reception would be better. From there, he could phone from in the car. It was now well past sunset and dark and we were becoming resolved to the possibility that we’d have to spend the night in the car. Dave played the movie “Rocketman” on his ipad to help pass the time.
As time passed, more desperate measures were considered. Because Dave had so much difficulty making connections with his phone, he decided to phone his dad to arrange for a taxi to come pick us up. And Donal came through! Were we grateful to see the lights of another vehicle appear in the parking lot. It could only be the taxi. Dave deposited the key in a poopy bag and put it under one of the front wheels. We then moved all the necessary luggage into the taxi, a small van with lots of room. I chatted with the friendly driver for much of the way back to Portree while Jordan used her revived connection with cell service to find us an Airbnb in Portree. This one didn’t allow dogs but the key to what we learned was an apartment was accessed through a lock box. It’s too bad that the proprietors didn’t allow dogs because the apartment had a small fenced yard.
The apartment had a spacious kitchen living room, dining room, kitchen area with two bedrooms upstairs. What a relief! We ordered Indian takeaway and watched the movie “War Dogs” and slept a peacefully in beds rather than the cramped seats of Jordan and Dave’s car.
Thursday, October 28, 2021
Today, involved a lot of driving as we were supposed to be two and a half hours up the road already. In fact, it probably took us more than two and a half hours to get to Port William so we probably would have saved even more time on the road. That said, for a hiccup on our trip, this was a fairly minor one.
The first big event of the day was seeing some coos at the side of the road being photographed by a couple of young Chinese women. Dave turned the car around so that we could do the same. They really are a very cute and cuddly looking. After we all took our photos, the Chinese girls were still taking pictures and a couple of other cars had pulled over to do the same.
We passed through many miles of beautiful Scottish countryside. Every so often, Nicola would try to take a picture out the window of the car with fences or blurred colours of green and orange as the result. The vistas were fabulous because many of the deciduous trees had changed colour as well as some larches. We stopped to take photos just past the Glen Garry viewpoint. For some reason, trees were still allowed to grow in the area making it great for hiking and camping.
Our next stop was at a park in Ballachulish on the shores of Loch Leven. The straight angles and bright colours of sailboats moored to a dock provided excellent foreground contrast to curves white tipped clouds against a blue sky and the deepening orange, green and blue of the background all reflected perfectly in the still water. Shards of slate covered the beach where we walked. Jordan picked up some of the smaller pieces to use as coasters at their house while Dave walked ahead with Winston calling him occasionally to return when he’d gotten too far ahead.
We stopped at a town called Aberfoyle near Loch Lomand where Jordan had booked a spacious Airbnb. Supper was had a local pub decorated for Halloween with a giant mechanical monster that greeted the customers as they entered the establishment.
I spotted a bottle of Glen Scotia Scotch from the Campbeltown region that’s supposed to be lighter than the other Cambeltown whiskies that are robust and smoky offering notes of “dried fruit, vanilla, toffee, and brine.” I don’t know about that but we enjoyed a dram or two that evening.
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