|Introducing Kathy, Kris and Rebecca|
Karen: Visiting the cottar's village was fascinating. The peat smoke was "quite refreshing" and ensured none of us came down with the plague (historically speaking). Later, watching Jack and Sal become handfasted was inspiring while Scot read the gaidhlig blessing [from Claire and Jamie's wedding].
Karen: Haiku written a few days before departure inspired by the incident at Cranesmuir:
Donas' hoofbeats, clash of words
Heading for the stones
. . . On today's hike near a beautiful loch, we finally came up close to the mounds of heather and the light mist drifting cross distant hillsides in the Scotland of my imagination. . . . Reality included clouds of midges that interrupted a reading of the passage about Jamie and Claire watching the pack of wolves . . . We moved on to the midge-free top of the hill and enjoyed the view and a picnic.
Scot: This evening we dined with Jon in his place-where-whisky-goes-when-it-dies. Kathy finally found a single malt that she likes. Port Ellen 1967-1983 R.I.P. The lass has expensive taste at 300 pounds a bottle. Now she just needs to find man who can buy her said bottle.
|Kathy on her mount. Did we mention the transport situation?|
Aye, a goodnight with Jon, and the venison stew and chicken on oatmeal was verra fine too. I think our day in the last wilderness of Scotland met with approval of the Outlandish Squirrels. They were all satiated by their adventures judging by the hmmms and expressive faces.
Jack has hit his stride. No longer is he waxing lyrical with streams of consciousness. He now drinks single malts, smiles at the scenery and quietly nods to himself with a "hmm". Scotland does that to you.
Goto the next post in this tour