EEK dead

We're still alive and on tour. Unfortunatley, our own NetBook is not. It died. So this post on a borrowed pad will be the last for the tour.  For all families of our tour guests, everyone is fine and we're walking them till they drop.

Western Isles Day 1

We're Romin' in the Gloamin' dah dah dah dada daah. The mist is on the hills. Tonight we camp below Ben Nevis. The old woman has her hat on so wee canna see her summit. Let me introduce the crew to you on our first day. They are all from the States. We have Gwen [PIC],

communing with horse on the side of Loch Voil (we decided to go through Rob Roy Country).

We have Sue, communing with herbs as we get into the depths of Glencoe.[PIC]

And mother and son, Judy and Gabe, digging the depths of Glencoe:

As usual, we like to get the words of the guests where we can.

Judy: The journey up to the highlands just filled me with the history of Scotland. The names of the many places became a reality in my mind. Very breath-taking, and filled me with awe for the life of all who live here. I just love the flowers and the drama of the mountains of the Highlands. There is no way to describe this area; only through experience. I am ready to continue walking through this great land.

Journey to the Western Isles - Aug

ARRGHHHH!  is perhaps the most appropriate emotional outburst the night before a tour when the packing is a pile in the middle of the floor, resembling the mess left when your house has been visited by the local Constabulary, and there is much to do AND you've got to get to bed early to get up at oh-my-God o'clock in the morning to pick up the guests.
And of course, we're actually all just fine and organised, as usual.

This tour takes its name, Journey to the Western Isles, from the 18th Century diaries of Dr Johnson and James Boswell who made a Grand Tour in 1783/4.  Young Boswell was keen to show his native country to the elderly Londoner, a man resplendent in opinions and more opinions, most of which were wrong.
Boswell persuaded Johnson to leave in Edinburgh the pair of pistols he had purchased for protection when north of the Highland line.
We hopefully will go with a more open mind to the outer isles.  Na h-Eileanan a Siar.  The Isles of the West.
We'll see you in the blog from tomorrow onwards.