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Friday, April 14, 2017

Skye is for Skylarking

Looking over the Scotch Broom toward the bridge
from Kyle Lochalsh on the right to the isle of Skye to the left
Today started out as a pretty ordinary vacation day, with no 'adventure' on our horizons. Our plan was driving & sight-seeing from our Fort William BnB to as far north on the Isle of Skye as possible. Off we went, stopping occasionally to take pictures of anything that held still long for a shot.
V. scenic, surprisingly more brown than green
There was snow on distant peaks
The countryside, slopping over with scenic views
Rapidly changing weather at Glen Shiel
Loads of 'designer' stone bridges 
Stopped for a peek at Eilean Donan Castle
After a couple of hours we made our way to the busy town of Kyle Lochalsh, where despite our rental's GPS, I managed to get us all twisted around on the local roads, 'till we had to ask a local, 'how do we get to the bridge?'  We did get back on track, but not before I wound us up a road at a dead end by a water tower. There were little birdies there so I had a quick photo shoot. The 'best' bird was Common Greenfinch. Yay!








Common Greenfinch







Bathing Eurasian Starlings... which are nice to see, where they belong.









Following my bird shoot, we crossed over the Kyle of Lochalsh bridge. We drove along roads so narrow our relatively oversized, diesel burning car spanned the entire width of the road. Barely enough room for us and the pretty Black-faced Sheep that seem to be everywhere.



Old Byre Skye Restaurant






Soon our bellies rummbled with hunger and we bee-lined to the cute & teeny BnB and its restaurant, the Old Byre Skye.












Yes, yes, it's annoying to see pix of other people's food, but sorry, I must. We shared a lunch of bean salad covered over with stunningly tasty legume tendrils, two kinds of smoked venison, smoked chicken, and hearty highland cheese all eaten with a homemade roll for us each.





Sticky cake laiden with candied & grated ginger






You may ask, "So, pray tell Ms. 'look at my food', why did you share the meal if it was so wonderful?" How clever of you to ask. So we could each enjoy our very own slab of sticky ginger cake for dessert, without exploding.
The farthest north we got on Skye was the town of Portree. To stretch our legs and shrink our wallets, we took a walk and stopped in several shops.



This town had lots of cute shops but mostly I just took pictures.

Wee Chocolates












Nattily dressed lads doing the Highland Fling

Were had I seen these these faces before?
But the best thing Portree - for me anyway - was country corvids.

Rooks - that look like grumpy old men
A Western Jackdaw  - gotta love that white-eyed glare
Up to now, our day was as ordinary as if we'd been bopping about the back roads home in Sacramento County. That is if one ignored that the roads were somewhat narrow, largely lacking in  road shoulders. It hurts my pride to admit, I was crap at staying centered on the left-handed roads. I'd have my nose pointed at the road's center, but one second of mind drifting and BOOM! I'd hit the left-hand roadside, mostly edged by rough rocks and/or concrete curbs. Over and over again Ila would leap half out of her seat as I hit the curb on her side. Poor woman! That brings me to the day's erm... mishap.

We were well on our way back south to Fort William, stopping to re-photograph the Eilean Donan Castle at day's end... then continuing on our way.

Eilean Donan Castle near onto Sunset
For the umpteenth time that day, I hit the curb. WHAM! Ila leapt up in her seat. The dashboard screen went flashed a series of destressing messages: TIRE PRESSURE 27.... TIRE PRESSURE 20... TIRE PRESSURE 5!!!!

Oopsy.

Miraculously, and I do mean there was a miracle at work, there was a wide shoulder up just ahead. Do you get how MIRACULOUS it is to find a road shoulder in Scotland? Were there some benevolent angels hoovering somewhere overhead or was I, yet again, just one lucky bitch? If not for the 'miracle of the road shoulder' we'd have been stopped in the middle of road and ripe for a fatal accident.

Oopsy...
So... safely on relative safety of the shoulder, Ila and I sat mute for a bit. Then Ila asked, "So... could you change a tire?"

"Yes," I replied, while inwardly dying of embarrassment because I was the one who got us into this little predicament."

We both got out of the car, peered into the trunk and came to a startling realization - NO SPARE TIRE.

That's right. No spare.

By now two cars has voluntarily stopped to offer assistance and offer to change our flat. We checked the pamphlets that came with the rental car, and concluded that rental cars in the U.K. don't bother with spare tires. You're expected to phone the rental company for roadside assistance. So, I called. Soon a rescue tow truck was on the way, and we sat, ate crisps and waited.




I must say the only upside was we got to see the 'mountain goats'. Early this morning at breakfast, our BnB host told us there were Mountain Goats we might see on the road to Skye. I had thought, you mean like Rocky Mountain type Mountain Goats?



A nanny and her kid


But what he meant was goats, of the farm yard variety lived in what I see as being more like mole hills than mountains. And just as warned, there were lots of 'mountain goats that browsed nearby as we waited for the tow truck.

Eventually, a v. friendly tow truck driver and his massive tow vehicle arrived, hauled our rental onto his trailer, and drove us, lock, stock and barrel, in the opposite direction of Fort Williams. The drive felt like hours, but was more like 20 minutes. There, both shredded left side tires were changed out and we dutifully paid 250, which was, miraculously precisely the same amount as our rental car insurance deductible fee. Imagine that. OK, that is stupid quibbling, as we were thrilled to have our transportation was returned to full serviceability. Oh, and not to mention, I'd been driving and was relieved that Ila - with not a word on the matter from meself - volunteered to foot half the bill. I mean really, a less sweet co-traveler might have pleaded 'don't look at me, I didn't tear up those tires!". Thank you Ila. I am sure the angels that guarded us the road shoulder and arranged the goats for my entertainment have taken notice.
Ila inspecting our brand new passenger side tires
So that was how we Skylarked in Skye, and survived 'Trial by Claire's crap driving' on the back roads of Scotland. Whew!

[UPDATE: I continued to do 100% of our driving in both Scotland and Iceland. That may seem unfair at cursory glance, but I was down with it. After all, it was far easier for me to drive, so I could whip off road as needed so I could photography birds and wildlife. On numerous former travels with Ila I was always shouting 'STOP THE CAR' and would become frustrated if Ila didn't immediately know where & why the hell her crazy passenger (i.e., me) was screaming at the top of her lungs. With me doing all the driving, Ila's ear drums were spared and there were no missed photo opts for the unique little snowflake that is me. 

Oh! And I am proud to announce, there were no more flat tires on the trip. In fact, for the remainder of our time in Scotland, there were no more than 3 - you read right - no more than 3 additional tire curb slammings, I mean 4 at most, 5 tops, for the remainder of our driving in Scotland. You see, Ila and I had agreed, her job was to speak up if I started drifting left. She did so, and by golly our four tires were not ground into Scottish shredded biscuits.] 

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