People lined up for lunch at the Seafood Shack in Ullapool, a cute Highlands getaway. I ate my salad with real gusto.
The vistas continued to beggar belief. As did the weather!
Two women in the gift shop at Inverewe Garden, where I bought some Scottish fudge (soooooooo sweet!) and a tartan plaid umbrella, highly recommended Smoo Cave in Durness. You have to go to Dunnet Head to get farther north on the UK mainland. Chris and Thom descended to the beach much faster than I could. My knees still ached from our hiking on the Isle of Skye.
Obviously, the gift shop ladies had never been to Carlsbad Caverns or Halong Bay. Although it was cool to imagine Norse pirates hiding out inside. More about the Norse presence in this area of the world when we get to the Orkney Islands, our next destination.
Thurso was still more than an hour away east, all on a single-track road. At least we weren't driving into the late evening sun.
Blowing the car horn got the attention of these sheep. Somehow I lost the video of their startled stampede to the far side of the field. Obnoxious American tourists!
Here's our Skoda Octavia Combi, parked across from the Pentland Hotel where we crashed for the night. Chris called the beep that the safety sensor makes when the car gets too close to the white lines on either side of road the soundtrack of our trip. It annoyed the hell out me, especially when I hugged the shoulder to avoid oncoming trucks.
I took a walk after a pint of Tennant's and snacks at the Pentland bar to unwind from the twelve-hour day. They really do roll up the sidewalks in Thurso. It's named for the river that runs through it.
Just like the Italians in Naples say "mama mia," so do the Scots use "wee" a lot in conversation.
And Jubilee mementoes were in wee supply.
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