I felt a bit cheated this morning in that our Mull stay is shortened by one day because of different changeover days and, the need to spend a night on Skye so that we can catch the Saturday afternoon ferry to Lochmaddy, North Uist. If there was a very early ferry from Mull we could leave on the Saturday and still make it. 7.25 a.m. is not early enough.
Even better would be a transfer capsule complete with luggage packer. I wish.
We left Dervaig in a howling gale, open car doors banged shut and the tops of the mature conifers whipped like saplings. Queued up behind a rubbish lorry on the slipway at Fishnish, who should pull in behind but Sue and Ian. Of all the chances. Very long odds indeed. They intended stopping off at Strontian on Ardnamurchan to search for the long staying Black Duck. Thank goodness we've seen one - on Tresco before it was shot by hunters.
First stop was Morrisons in Fort William to stock up on petrol and shopping, before the lengthy drive to Kyle of Lochalsh and Skye bridge. Scenically lovely. Snow capped and gullied mountain ridges, lochs and rocky rivers, forests and glens. Slowish though, very few chances to overtake and a lot of holiday motorhomes and offroad bikes. Plus a long delay due to re-surfacing, where we had to wait for an escort vehicle before proceeding. All the flashing police car blues was explained at the other end. Three mighty lorries transporting what looked like giant turbine blades, waited to be escorted through.
Then it rained. A lot and for a long time.
My first visit to Skye was rather a long time ago, on a camping expedition with a group of 14 year old boys in Mike Shewan's campervan, sitting across tents and rucksacks that didn't fit on top. The road to Lochalsh was dirt, frequent stops were necessary to allow herds of Red Deer to cross. And, we under-estimated the time needed for the journey and had to camp overnight in the middle of nowhere. The crossing to Skye was by boat then too. I believe I serenaded the gang with a rendition of ' Speed Bonnie Boat Like a Bird on the Wing '. Eat your heart out Joan Sutherland. We then camped on the beach in the Cuillins where Highland cows ate seaweed, the walk to the loo was hazardously muddy and it never stopped raining. Great fun. The boys loved it.
This camping site is also where a friend of my daughter Sara went to the loo on the mountainside equipped with trowel, paper and matches, as recommended. She set fire to the paper - best practice - and set the hillside on fire too. She did have a penchant for accidents. Must have been drier in those days.
We have a new B and B this year, recommended to us by our usual one in Portree - he's in hospital for an operation. Never having been before, following complicated instructions, we drove miles too far and had to turn round. The wrong turning was atually in Portree !! Once we got back to the correct turning, it was easy to follow the given route to the bungalow where we were warmly welcomed by the landlady. Our en suite room is lovely. Spacious and well furnished, the bed looks high enough to get out of easily☺.
Breakfast at 8.00 in the morning with plenty of time to drive to Uig and the ferry terminal. Fingers crossed that the sea has abated by then, after to-day's gale.
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