Loch Messes

Every trip has its rough patch, like a bad summer weekend in the Pines.  Ours began in Inverness, where this unicorn greeted us just before we dined on the wrong side of town. Note to self:  don't solicit restaurant recommendations from 19-year old waiters with man buns, even if they're cute.

Our Airbnb in Loch Ussie was remote, to say the least.  It required navigating a "tunnel of broom."  This video doesn't really capture its abundant loveliness.

Here's the view from the bathroom on the second floor, just above my head.  The Airbnb listing had led us to believe we would have a loch view, or at least access. Nope.

We missed our noon reservation for a boat tour of Loch Ness.  It's hard to believe that a make-believe monster continues to generate such tourism, nearly 1,500 years after the first supposed sighting.  On the plus side, that meant we had to wait less than an hour for the next boat.

Interestingly, the company that operated our boat, the Rebel, calls itself Loch Ness by Jacobite (the statue of Bonnie Prince Charlie is less than a hundred miles away).  The losing side of history, at least in the US, has fallen out of favor as a source of brand names.  Just ask the Chicks or Lady A. 

Our particular cruise was called "Contemplation," aka boring.  While pretty, I often couldn't hear the commentary on the outside deck.  At least Thom got two hours of bright sun. 

We turned around at Urquhart Castle.  Passengers who paid more hopped on buses to see more of the Highlands.

Here's the money shot, including the mountains south of the 23-mile-long loch, that you see on postcards, usually as the sun sets.

For those of you who like your money shots selfie-free.  Few people swim in the loch.  It's too cold.

Loch Ness by Jacobite encouraged passengers to walk along the canal in either direction after disembarking here.  They should add an announcement about the hours of the parking lot.

We followed the canal north into central Inverness, a little more less than five miles.  

Our route took us through Whin Park to the right side town.  

A choral group released in the cathedral.

Castles by now were beginning to blur together.  Here's the sandstone one with the bike in the foreground.  We didn't visit.

I made the mistake of ordering lamb rump at Prime, a restaurant that changed its name to Pride for the month of June, when we decided to have an early dinner.  Every time I cut a piece, I pictured the adorable creatures we saw everywhere but then kept chewing with the rationalization that their lives in Scotland, brief as they may be, couldn't be more pastoral.

My entree choice wasn't the last mistake of the evening.  By the time our taxi dropped us off at the parking lot, Loch Ness by Jacobite had locked the gates.  Long story, but we finally found a way out, thanks to Thom's sharp eye, a measuring tape, collapsible side mirrors and the can-do attitude of our taxi driver.