May-June 2021 Doune, Strontian, Fort William, Glasgow

Day 1 -- Wednesday, the 26th May

The day starts early and well. At 4:30, JS and I are on the bus to Euston, which we reach in a short time: traffic at that time is limited. At 5:31, the train departs. Travellers are social-distanced, which makes up for the lack of a quiet coach. Phones ring a couple of times, there is even a passenger humming and yawning loudly throughout, but all in all, it is an easy, sleepy journey. In fact, I sleep through most of it, having had a royal four hours' kip overnight.

Once in Glasgow, where we arrive on time, we head to the car-rental agency to pick up our vehicle. I find the gates shut and a note asking to call a number. Bewildered by it (the pick-up was pre-booked, pre-paid, pre-checked in, and our arrival time was specified), I take a step back and look at JS in disbelief. At that precise moment, a car pulls up, a bloke comes out and opens the gate:

"We were going to the airport to retrieve more cars, but we saw you walk up the road, so we came back."

Phew.

Once inside, we go through the formalities. They consist in repeating all the pre-check-in steps, which begs the question: what is the use of this pre-check-in you chased me three times to do? Anyway, it is all in good mood, and much easier than last time: I do have my papers with me, this time.

Our limousine is shown to us: a white Volkswagen Polo with 22 miles on the counter. We are its first renters. It is soon christened Ralph, of course (for Polo Ralph Lauren, in case it was not clear). I am a little stressed out, seeing as I have not driven in two years, but that is forgotten as soon as I am at the wheel. Off we go.

Our first stop is fifty metres away, to collect a recently-won lot from a well-known auction house. JS is in and out in seconds, despite being ahead of her scheduled appointment. With COVID-19 rules in place, one does not just pop in unannounced, you see.

Next, we go south. Yep, south. More lots to collect, from another auction house. We arrive there at 11:51, with more than an hour to spare, when JS advises me that they have a lunch break between 12:00 and 13:00. We just have the time to retrieve the bounty prior, then grab a bite, before leaving. That is an hour easily reclaimed. And indeed: unfazed by the fact we are much earlier than our allocated slot, they have everything within arm's length. We pack it up, load the car and comfortably eat our hummus wraps before leaving. The whole operation took less than half an hour.

Before we left, I spent a while programming the various addresses into the satnav. How inspired that was! A few clicks and our next destination is marked out on the tiny screen. To be clear, I am all about paper maps and the old-school getting-lost. However, when it comes to driving in or through Glasgow, a bit of help is always appreciated.

That said, we quickly realise that the satnav's fifteen-year-old maps are of limited help, but hey! Apart from having to get on and off a highway that obviously did not yet exist when this thing was bought, it is still useful to indicate the general direction. Whilst off said highway, I manage to dodge pedestrians, only to almost crash into another car that stops suddenly. Happily, VW's brakes have always been extremely reliable, and it only causes JS to lose a few years' life expectancy. :-)

As soon as we are out of Greater Glasgow, it is an uneventful drive to our next stop: Tullibardine distillery. We even see Stirling castle from the motorway, perched on its volcanic promontory, the only hill in an otherwise flat part of Scotland.

The distillery is not open for tours, at this time, but the shop is. The girl manning the counter recognises a sucker when she sees one and offers to try three distillery-exclusive bottlings: an ex-Madeira cask, an ex-Bourbon cask and an ex-Moscatel cask. The Madeira, on top of being my favourite, is limited to 303 bottles. Oh! And it is the last bottle too. Clearly, fate is sending me a triple signal, there. On the other hand, the only Custodians Collection offering, which I have been curious about for a few months, is beyond my means.

This comes home, though

We then drive, under the rain, to Deanston, where we have a tasting booked.

Since we frustratingly cannot eat at the distillery's cafeteria (it is closed by the time we come out of the tasting) and the shop is closing, there is no time to digest the alcohol. Although I have hardly drunk, I am acutely aware of the zero-tolerance policy in place in Scotland. Fortunately, JS spots something on the River Teith that will pump adrenaline through my system and clear up any kind of effect whisky might have had. Are those ducks? They remind me of shell ducks... Let me take the binoculars out. Not shell ducks, not mallards. They remind me of the mergansers we saw in Pitlochry and in Dornoch, but the plumage is slightly different in colours. Goosanders, perhaps? Upon checking later, these are identified as common mergansers. They cannot be that common, because I have never seen one before.

What have we here?

Beautiful plumage, innit.

It is a very short trip from the distillery to The Woodside Hotel and, despite coming close to another collision, due to there being no markings on a road with poor visibility, and the traffic being heavier than expected, we make it unscathed.

I find the hotel full of that old-fashioned charm of Scottish establishments that were built or modernised in the Victorian days, not refreshed very often since, and in which every room tries to evoke a hunting lodge, or so it seems.

A quick shower and I am ready to explore the town. It has stopped raining and the sky is now clear. We walk to the centre, where, because of the pandemic, most places are shut. Some do take-away, though. We make notes for later. First, Doune castle. On the way, we walk through the Roman camp. There is not much left to see, mind.

The castle, which the aficionados will know to be the décor of many scenes of Monty Python and the Holy Grail, is closed for (badly-needed) repairs. We do spot bunnies on the castle grounds, though.

Time to eat. We opt for a pizza at L'Angolino. Our order is ready in no time at all and the food turns out to be excellent to boot. So good, in fact, that we fail to take pictures of it.

I spend too much time watching the telly (why do they put those in hotel rooms anyway?), though an excellent episode of Family Guy is aired (the one in which Brian dates an older lady), so it is not a complete waste. It has been a long day, though, and soon, I am asleep.

Day 2 -- Thursday, the 27th May

Excellent breakfast, this morning. The tattie scones are to die for. The black pudding is extremely good too, and the mushrooms are perfect. The sausage is boiled, not grilled, which I find a mistake, but one cannot win them all.

Full-Scottish without bacon for me

Full-Scottish with no bacon, no sausage, no tomato for JS
and scrambled eggs

Whilst packing, JS samples the Deanstons from yesterday and decides not to buy any. We therefore skip the visit to the distillery and its cafeteria.

We check out around 9:30 and head northwest. Despite lots of road construction and more traffic, the drive is uneventful. The scenery is gorgeous, of course. We stop at Loch Iubhair for snaps. I do not think I had heard of it before.

People are camping by the loch in tents, and in the car park in campervans. 

The rubbish is neatly grouped into a tidy pile, but it is clear
the place is not equipped to deal with campers

Also: bluebells!

Further on, we stop at The Green Welly Stop, in Tyndrum, procure more refreshments made from malted barley at Whisky Galore, then continue past Loch Awe to Connel, where we take the narrow bridge north. On the A828, we halt at Castle Stalker View -- for the view of Castle Stalker, incidentally, the other Scottish castle from Monty Python and the Holy Grail. We end up staying for the grub: in the parking lot is one of those containers converted into a food stall.

We have a brie and cranberries toasted ciabatta and a lentil soup. They hit the spot. The millionaire shortbread we have afterwards is the proverbial cherry on the cake. All the cutlery, plates, wrapping etc. are devoid of plastic. Yippee!

Lentil soup

Brie and cranberry ciabatta

Millionaire shortbread
Did not turn me into a millionaire, unfortunately

Castle Aaaaarrrrrggghhh

Gorse in bloom

Our itinerary takes us to Glenachullish and, if the sight of distant Glencoe is tempting, it is not on the agenda. Instead, we cross Loch Leven and continue to Corran, where the ferry transports us to Ardgour. The whole operation lasts fifteen minutes, waiting, boarding and all, for a mere £9. This is a route I took in June 2000, when I cycled to the Outer Hebrides. The crossing is still free for pedestrians and cyclists. They do not take cash, these days, COVID-19 and all that. Other than that, not much has changed. It suddenly dawns on me that I must have cycled along Ardnamurchan, then, on my way to Mallaig.

Anyway, today, our destination is Strontian, which we reach soon enough. We struggle to find our B&B (Heatherbank); fortunately, a local farmer helps us with indications. The place is lost in the middle of farmland, accessible by paths that are clearly meant for tractors and not much else. Ralph soldiers on, though. It had a hard time climbing the hill (something it will suffer from until we give it proper petrol to drink, rather than that weak piss they filled the tank with when it rolled off the factory's conveyor belt), but once it is up, it gives a decent performance.

Once we reach the place, the view is quite the reward,
especially in this outstanding weather we are having today.

We check in, note that the biscuits unfortunately have palm oil, and go for a stroll past sheep and cows.

Time for a quick shower, then we are off to the Ariundle Centre, where, thanks to our host, a table is waiting for us. A place full of character run by characterful people. I love it.

On the way, we spot this fella

The menu

A thought for dom666. No doubt he will regale
us with his story for another seventeen years :-)

We eat too much, but when it is so delicious, what are you going to do?

Leek & Tattie Soup for me

Prawn, Avocado & Smoked Salmon Roulade & Oatcakes for JS

Roast Leg of Lamb Casserole (me)

Prawn, Haddock & Herbs Fishcakes
& a Cheese & Parsley Sauce (JS)

New Potatoes

Pan-Fried Veggies

Italian Vanilla Gellatto [sic] with
Homemade Strawberry Sauce (me)

Lemon Meringue Pie (JS)

Another (digestive) stroll is needed. Beautiful trees covered in moss, singing birds (song thrushes aplenty)... Happiness.

Time to go back up the hill for some rest. It is too late for whisky.

Day 3 -- Friday, the 28th May

The breakfast at Heatherbank is great. We were surprised, yesterday, to be asked to confirm twice that we wanted the black pudding -- some people have a hard time with the concept, we are told. More for us, I guess.

Local fruits (not)

The full Scottish

Marmalade on buttered toast

Today is dedicated to Ardnamurchan. Ralph takes us through a mad road to Glenbeg (the Salen to Glenbeg portion is on par with that unbelievable one in northwest Mull, although less up-and-down).

Ardnamurchan distillery, unfortunately, is not open for tours, but the shop is (not the toilets, thanks for asking). We do find a couple of things to rescue.

From there, we continue westward. We know the lighthouse is closed and inaccessible (just like everything else, it seems, it is going through refurbishments over the bank-holiday weekend), but there is a hike nearby we want to do. On the way, we stop for pictures in a small car park that has signs explaining the geology of the surroundings. Fascinating stuff... and I find a £10 note to boot!

I tell JS I would like to take a picture of her on the horizon...
...and she goes!

Well closed

Unfortunately, we will never find the starting point of the hike. Slightly disappointed, we head back to Glenbeg for a bite at the café. Not that we are hungry, but we have fond memories of it: two years ago, we sheltered from the rain, there. Today, we have the soup of the day and a haggis toastie "in memory of" adc, who enjoyed this place so much, as well as a tea and a hot chocolate.

The café is up for sale, so this might be our last visit, if no-one else picks up the business.

From there, we drive back towards Glenborrodale and, finally, we undertake our first hike. It is a modest 1.5km through hilly woodland, but it is rather physical. Besides, we have not hiked for so long that it perhaps feels more physical than it is.

An excellent example of Scottish humour

Our next stop is by Salen: another short hike near the beach The start is easy enough to spot, then all markings disappear and it is only the rocky beach and the road. We do not insist.

Our final stop is at a hide, in the car park of which we come across a photography class trying to shoot a bird up a tree. They block the access to the car park and look like they want to shoot us, really. When they let us through and we can finally park, they reverse onto some of their kit, probably damaging it in the process.

The hide is busy, windy, and I reckon it is too late to see any wildlife. We drive back to Heatherbank for a (cold) shower. Not sure if all the hot water is depleted, but there we are. Refreshing.

When we arrive, those curious ducks get all excited

I make proper notes for the Deanstons we had the other day, then we go for supper at the Ariundle Centre -- on foot, this time. Our host indicates a shortcut through the hilly pasture, which certainly makes us gain twenty minutes.

The food is slightly less impressive than last night, but good all the same.

Mushroom & Fennel Pâté with Toast (we share)

Leek & Blue Cheese Tart (me)

Steamed vegetables

Spaghetti Bolognaise (JS)

Ice-Cream & Homemade Strawberry Sauce

Lemon Meringue Pie

We enjoy a nice, digestive walk up the hill, see sheep getting all excited, a car on the horizon, and a lamb sprinting to meet it. Out of the car comes the shepherd who gave us indications yesterday with a bottle of milk to feed the little lamb. "Oh! Hello," he says to us. Touching scene, that.

Day 4 -- Saturday, the 29th May

An earlier breakfast than yesterday, but it is still a delicious one. When we get up to leave the table, we can hear our host in the kitchen speak the legendary words: "All right, chicken, let's do this!"

We leave nothing behind

It is not 9:00 when we hit the road, and I am glad for that: hopefully, it will mean less traffic. Farewell, Heatherbank! Your hospitality was flawless (except for the palm oil in the biscuits).

Today, the goal was to tour Morvern, do a couple of hikes and visit Nc'Nean distillery. Alas, Nc'Nean have never replied to my inquiries and it is unclear whether they are even open -- especially on a weekend. We decide not to chance it and skip Morvern completely.

Instead, JS found a forest hike down the road, just by the Ariundle Centre. It is an easy walk on occasionally-boggy terrain. We cross a ford, as the bridge is out of service. Not much in terms of wildlife -- a few garden birds (robins, chaffinches), a heron, whom our presence disturbs three times, bluebells aplenty.

There is a bench half way; the perfect seat for a dram. It works splendidly, in these circumstances.

Sure, mate. We will come back after April 2021, then, yeah?

We then leave Strontian for good and drive towards Salen again. There, we take north. JS has selected a hike along the way that has views of Castle Tioram, one that is unknown to me (this may read cocky, but I have seen many castles in Scotland).

We come across a sign for a Castle Dorlin. Unsure, we take a punt: the road is more or less where we expected to see the road to Tioram. It is a windy, single-track road in poor condition, in the woods. Were it easier to U-turn, we just might. As it is, we have little choice but to continue... until we are face to face with Castle Tioram. We park as we can (against all odds, the car park is busy as fuck), do a quick horizon scan and the penny drops: we are on a peninsula from which the castle is accessible, while the hike is on the other side of the water, with views on the castle, no access to it.

Since we are here, we decide to stay, accepting it will surely mean the hike is a write-off. Walking along the shore, the sea air feels amazing. A bird takes flight from a nearby tree -- a crow, certainly. It is a bit big and slow-flapping, for a crow, and its wingtips look different. Quick! Binoculars. ZOMG! It is a white-tailed eagle, so close we could have a loud conversation with it. And a crow comes out of nowhere to attack the eagle! I follow them for a bit, until they disappear in the woods. I suddenly notice the cliffs behind those; probably where eagles dare.

The stroll to the castle is gorgeous, reminiscent of Ardvreck. Tioram makes it onto my top-five castles. I cannot believe I had never even knowingly seen a picture of it before.

See how clean the water is

Another song thrush (blurry)

We drive back to the "main road", then up north, where we hit the traffic of campers going to Skye. Poor Skye! Overrun with tourists. We try to stop in Glenfinnan, but it is ridiculously busy. The car park is paying and there are hundreds of tourists, obviously here to take selfies in front of the viaduct (vans of Indians queue to do exactly that) -- the Harry Potter effect. :-(

We stop by the road a bit further on instead: JS has ordered a sample pack for an Electric Coo tasting, which is today at 14:00. With no accommodation yet and in the middle of nowhere (or in between places, to be accurate), she tries to connect and attend it from the car, while I will obviously remain sober. She never manages. The organisers will organise a catch-up session in a few days, which is much appreciated.

We continue on our drive and reach Fort William, where we are staying, about forty minutes later. The place is a total bitch to find. Fortunately, we have satnav.

Five minutes in there and a) The key almost fell between the decking planks; b) JS almost flooded the bathroom, owing to a jammed faucet; c) The wi-fi is not working and; d) Kids are peeping through our front door. I do not want want to be that pesky tourist who complains about the wi-fi three minutes after arrival, but JS correctly points out that we pay for the amenity and should expect it to be available (or not to pay for it). Ah, well.

We walk down the hill into town, whilst the wi-fi is being fixed (as it turns out, it will take a while longer).

Fort William is not attractive, today: busy and full of tourist traps. We go back to our pod for a refresh, then walk down the hill again (this will grow old quickly), this time to Crannog, for supper.

En route, we meet these free-range hens

The waitress happens to be the girlfriend of our host, which is a good ice-breaker. Unfortunately, she cannot find my bookings -- neither tonight's, nor tomorrow's; and they are fully booked both nights. She phones up their sister restaurant: here are my bookings. She proudly announces that we just have to go there instead. I make it known how unhappy I am, having phoned up one number, to have been deceptively redirected to another number, where they took my booking without confirming which place it was for. I am especially unhappy to have come all the way to this place, only to be sent to another place I do not know or care for. I can see her process that complaint. Fast. She finds us a table available in ten minutes. Another twenty minutes, and we have a table for tomorrow as well, albeit a bit later than our initial time slot. Nae bother. Phew.

Fizz 'n' Freath (whisky, apple & elderflower)

Baked Seed Crusted Hake (me)

Large Fisherman's Feast (JS)

JS shows who's boss

Rhubarb & frangipane tart
(me -- unfortunately less impressive than it reads)

Chocolate Brownie

The walk back up the hill burns off some of the calories, which is direly needed. :-)

Day 5 -- Sunday, the 30th May

We drive to Glencoe Village, a quiet and relaxing journey on an easy road (the latter is an exception, rather than the rule, you will know). We find a parking spot in no time (we did well to start early: later, the parking lot will overflow) and begin the ascension of Sgòrr na Cìche, known to us tourists as the Pap of Glencoe.

Walking Highlands tells us it is a seven-kilometre hike to do in three-and-a-half-to-five hours, and it is graded as three boots out of five, where one is a beach stroll in flip-flops and five is a daring dive into a piranha-infested lava pit in which the hiker dies a thousand Deaths. We have done three-boot hikes before; it disnae scare us one bit.

It is the summit on the left

For anyone who wishes to make one
last phone call...

...TOUGH SHIT!

Sure enough, the start is easy, circling the hill through the woods, hopping from one parking lot to the next, in which others have obviously been camping overnight.

An arrogant bastard mocking pedestrians.
Cute all the same

We reach a field and it becomes immediately more lively. A bridge over a stream, and the real fun begins: craggy moorland, rock, a path that coincides with burns. Higher on the hill, it turns boggy in patches, as well as sweaty (the weather is very good and the sun is shining).

Imagine the suffering of this eight-centimetre caterpillar
wearing a woollen jumper!

There is our summit

We meet a few people, stop on a rocky table for a bite (we brought fruit scones along) and generally enjoy life. The views are not too shabby either.

Incredibly and annoyingly, the noise from the road, down in the valley travels all the way up here. Motorcycles are especially easy to discern, to the point an expert could probably tell the type of engines.

Shiny stone, almost slate-like

We head for the top, which is in sight. "Forty-five minutes away," say the people we come across. They also tell us it is occasionally hard to follow the path, though alternatives are possible. They met someone who went straight for the top and "got into a pickle." JS will use the expression for the rest of the hike.

It is a hard ascent to the top, with bits that require balance and strong propulsion. It confirms my earlier thoughts that adc could not have done this hike -- and neither could dom666, actually.

Once at the top, all perceived hardship is forgotten, cleared by the wild beauty of Glencoe, on the entrance of which we have breath-taking, three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view. It leaves us speechless. What a place!

A couple who was trailing behind us catches up with us. We chat and take pictures of each other ("You're not going to run away with the camera, are you?" I ask).

On top, we enjoy a swig of Macnab 5yo from my hip flask and a biscuit. It seems perfectly adequate (*) and contributes to an unforgettable moment.

(*) Proving once again that there is a huge difference between one's favourite whisky and one's favourite whisky-related memory. This is good, yet far from the best whisky I have had. Nevertheless, I will now always remember it fondly.

To add a touch of comedy, I decide to call DH from here to make arrangements for tomorrow. JS shoots me and calls her work "The Commuter."

The Commuter (© JS)

The signal is astoundingly better than in many places in London.

I call this The Copycat

Suddenly, the guy who took our picture produces a drone and that drone is soon above us. I cannot imagine the pictures taken from it are better or as impressive as the real thing, but this is definitely the place to try.

The way down is sporty. We lose the path several times: what looks most like a rock? Another rock. And there is no shortage of those, here. We end up rock-climbing a few times. I do not pay too much attention to it on the spot, but tomorrow, from the comfort of hindsight, the pictures will give me shivers. :-)

The hillside becomes more crowded, now. Some people do not even have adequate footwear; we see three young girls in what seems to be yoga outfits and marvel at the fecklessness of youth. Sore ankles tomorrow! We also come across a guy in running gear, sweaty and looking worse for wear. We will see him again further down, as he catches up with us: he ran up and down the hill faster than we go down it. And he stopped a couple of times to make phone calls to boot. Hardcore.

Once away from the dome, the descent is long, demanding on the joints, but not particularly so on the muscles. Both joints and muscles need a break by the end, though.

It takes us less time than on the way up, all in all.

La bèle vie

Back on the parking lot, I dispose of the rubbish I picked up along the way, we change shoes and eat another fruit scone.

We push to the Massacre Monument, on which the plaque is weirdly phrased. Sadly enough, there is little detail about the massacre itself: we are only told thirty-some Macdonalds were murdered, and that was ordered by William III. These days, t'Interwebz can fill in the blanks, though.

If you hereby understand that Ian Macdonald
and his clan were massacred by his direct
descendant Ellen Burns Macdonald,
you are not the only one.

We then drive to Invercoe for a fleeting view of the ridge from the bridge, stop at a petrol station to fill the tank (for the first time -- Ralph performs better as a result), then return to Fort William, which we reach in no time at all. The traffic is heavy, now, but everyone seems relaxed, under the amazing sunshine, which is just as well: with the effort and the emotions of the day, I am not 100% alert.

Back at the pod, it is time for a shave, a shower, and some chilling (browse whisky auction sites, yes). It strikes me that there is a cuckoo here too. We have heard cuckoos everywhere we went.

Soon, we take the long, appetite-inducing walk down the hill for supper at Crannog again.

Blackberry Malt (blackberry, whisky, bitter & lime)

Cullen Skink (me)

Onion and Thyme Soup (JS)

Cod fillet with crushed potatoes, red pepper coulis
& vegetables

Baked Seed Crusted Hake (JS)

What? No scallops!? (for adc)

Strawberry & almond tart with green yoghurt crème fraîche (JS)
It is only on the second day that the staff explains it should read: "Greek," not "green"

Cranachan Cheesecake (me -- disappointing)

As we look to start our desserts, the three lads drinking beer on the peer outside seem to have mustered up enough courage to strip and jump into the loch.

Laughs all round. The whole staff is watching, trying to figure out if they know them.

The walk back up the hill is enjoyable in that it is the last time we do it.

Day 6 -- Monday, the 31st May

We pack our bags early-ish in the morning, then enjoy the pod's terrace one last time. Soon, we are off, back towards Ballachulish and Glencoe. I make a mental note of the mileage (yes, Ralph, a motorcar with twenty-two miles on the counter a few days ago, speaks in miles, rather than kilometres): from the bottom (Glencoe Village) to the top (Glencoe plateau), we go through an eight-mile or thirteen-kilometre ascent, which confirms that it was a hell of a descent, when I cycled it downhill, in 2000.

The Glencoe plateau is breath-taking, still -- the humbling spectacle of nature. Lots of traffic, though.

We stop a few times for pictures, notably once, near another car doing the same and a van, the occupants of which are changing a wheel. The driver of the car is taking pictures too, obviously enjoying the scenery. When he is done, he takes off his mask and throws it into the moor by the roadside, climbs into his car and drives away. No wonder there are billions of PPE in nature! As soon as he is done consuming beauty, he thinks nothing of spoiling it for others. Usually, I would have ostensibly picked it up in front of him to make a point, or confronted him. With the pandemic going on, I am reluctant to handle his crap.

I wrote a whole section about what I wanted to happen to that wart of a human being; it involved COVID-19, stillborn children, testicular cancer, castration, gangrene, amputation, and ended with Death. In the end, I decided not to publish it. Karma is a bitch, and I am convinced fate will be much less kind than me in serving him his inevitable comeuppance.

We stop another couple of times after that, mainly so I can calm down. There are vans full of Asians everywhere, by the way. The Subcontinent is supposedly shut off, on the red list of COVID-19 travel restrictions, yet half its population seems to be visiting the Highlands. I am puzzled.

Regardless, we proceed to Tyndrum, where I heroically buy nothing at Whisky Galore. From there, we head west towards Loch Awe. Kilchurn is incredibly pretty, under this gorgeous blue sky. We stop for pics. Well, I stop for pics; JS is not bothered.

When I get out of the car, she turns her head at last and shouts: "Oh! Look, there is a pretty castle, there!" Erm, yeah, that is Kilchurn. We have been talking about it for half an hour... :-)))

A short stroll across a field, and we are closer to it than I have ever been, even in 1991, when I first saw it from the Loch Awe Hotel's slipway, or any time after that from the train. And the conditions have never been as clement as today either. This is a Scottish-castle-calendar-picture sort of a day.

We spot people crossing the loch from the castle to the nearby island: sand bank or other, the water is very shallow and it looks like they are walking on water. As other places, this one is busy.

We continue down the A819 to Inveraray to have a relaxing moment at Fyne Ales, and a hugely-blue five minutes as Youth Group's version of Forever Young plays.

Shortly thereafter, we head to Loch Fyne Oysters for lunch. For starters, I have the Smoked Salmon Selection, JS has the Hand-Dived Tarbert Scallops; then, JS has Mary's Grilled Tarbert Langoustines, whilst I go for half a Tarbert Lobster, thinking of adc. No dessert.

My Smoked Salmon Selection

JS's Tarbert Scallops

My half Tarbert Lobster

JS's Mary's Grilled Tarbert Langoustines

I am so glad I booked a table: people are being turned away who have no reservation.

The bloke behind me orders the crab, and it is at least as big as I remembered it, prompting lots of jokes and teases from his mate and the waitress.

Meanwhile, in Vera Cruz...

...We make sure those bottom-feeders did not die in vain!

Interesting information in the toilets

Once finished, we drive to Arrochar, along the west bank of Loch Lomond. The plan is to go to Glengoyne distillery's shop. Unfortunately, it takes over an hour to cover the eighteen-or-so kilometres between Culag and Alexandria, where we have to turn to reach Glengoyne. By that time, said shop is closed, on top of being even further. The roads are completely clogged, and we would go faster on foot. Anyway, we get out of it, in the end, but Glengoyne will have to wait for another occasion.

We arrive in Glasgow two hours behind schedule. I drop JS off by the hotel, manage to let the satnav misguide me at the same spot it did two years ago, struggle to get back on track, until I decide to trust my own sense of direction over technology, and eventually return the car with minimal hassle.

A couple of Asians are taking a piss by the bins of the rental company, blocking the only place where I could park. Argh! When they finally drive away, I park the car, return the key, and walk back to the hotel.

En route to the city centre, I find this.
In case it is not obvious, it is a stencil of  two girls kissing
in a school-door opening that read 'BOYS'

I join JS just as DH contacts me: he is downstairs. There are pastries in the room, so that comes first. The quality leaves to be desired, truly, but well, they are there; I might as well eat them.

A few minutes later, the three of us have drinks in the hotel room. With level-three lockdown in action in Glasgow, all the watering holes we like are closed, so this is an ideal backup solution. Good thing we have tricks up our sleeves!

After DH has left, JS and I take a stroll into town to witness some level of carnage. The joys of a bank holiday in the bustling Scottish metropolis. :-)

Off to bed!

Day 7 -- Tuesday, the 1st June

We struggle to find our breakfast destination, this morning: The Wilson St. Pantry. Technology is of little help for the second day running. We do find it, after a couple of detours, and they are less strict with the schedule than we had assumed.

JS is disappointed with the smoked salmon and avocado on toast she orders (the fish is cooked), whilst my order of a veggie haggis roll with avocado, chilli jam and fried egg arrives in the form of eggs benedict with veggie haggis on toast instead. The haggis is also well below my expectations. We are unimpressed. Unfortunately, it is only when I am done that I realise the mix-up of dishes.

The never-ordered Veggie Haggis Eggs Benny

Hot Smoked Salmon & Avocado Toasted Sourdough

On the way back, we notice "The Opera Guy," a tenor busking on Buchanan St. and killing it. I could listen to him for a while. Puts me in a good mood.

Instead, we buy doughnuts from Tantrum Doughnuts.

Banana Cake Old Fashioned and Lemon & Poppy seed 'Old Fashioned'
I don't think there is any whisky in them, sadly

Once they are eaten, we write a few postcards. In the afternoon, we meet with MR.

Day 8 -- Wednesday, the 2nd June

After the wonderful experiences of yesterday, I decide to procure doughnuts for breakfast: Creme brûlée, Chocolate Millionaire, Almond Glaze Buttermilk 'Old Fashioned', Peanut Butter and Jam, Salted Honey Ring. They are all good.

Yum!

We buy stamps, drop off the postcards, go shopping in town (hiking clothes and records -- always good to visit Rubadub), then check out of the room before lunch at Bread Meats Bread It is in a new location, across the street from the old one. At first, we are sceptical, but it is obvious this is more spacious and convenient, even though it loses some of the hipster/greasy-joint charm.

There are so many mistakes, in that section
that I want to scream. This is Scotland.
Supposedly, the home of whisky.

I have the Black and Blue burger; JS goes for a Cheeky Vegan burger. We top that with a small Poutine and Garlic Parmesan Chips. The food quality is still outstanding. Phew. My vegan chocolate shake is very sweet, but I like it.

Vegan chocolate shake

Black and Blue burger (me)

Garlic Parmesan chips (to share)

Cheeky Vegan Burger (JS)

Small Poutine 9To share)

We then head back to the hotel to collect our luggage. DH is waiting for us in the lobby to say good bye.

Our train is thirty minutes late to depart and has less-than-considerate passengers (no mask, despite staff reminders, shouting across the compartment, children screaming). I will let you guess which ones were the worst offenders.

We reach London shortly before midnight and make it home relatively quickly.