I was hoping to do some of the walks around the Dunvegan Castle area but a combination of upcoming drenching forecast and the broken feeling of my body ruled out being able to stay in the area. The old “mind is younger than the body” issue. Too bad, as the Athol House had the most comfy bed and what I’m sure would have been a great breakfast. So I contacted the Plockton Inn & world class seafood restaurant and Mary Gollan, one of the proprietors and old, no make that long time, friend informed me that they could put me up a few days earlier. The bus left at 8:04 so hustle I had to, as Joda might phrase it. We pick up a load of school kids and deposited them in Portree. Me too. The next bus was to Kyle of Lochalsh with a termination in Inverness and was totally jammed. ” I can no’ make more seats!” the driver was heard saying to those wanting to board along the way.
A very good bowl of Cullen Skink at the Buth Bheag takeout in Kyle gave me fortification whilst awaiting the train to Plockton. Cullen Skink, for those who have not been fortunate enough to try it, is a smoked haddock and potato chowder that is to die for when done correctly and this one was sublime.
The bridge connects Skye to the mainland but everyone will tell you that Skye is still an island. The bridge built in around 1995, was originally a toll bridge and much to the locals dismay when the toll reached £11.40 it was the most expensive toll in all of Europe. Protesters and a law suit eventually ended the toll and in fact, as a result of this action, there are no toll bridges in Scotland.
Unfortunately, when my train stop arrived in Plockton, there were so many bags on top of mine that we pulled out of the station before I could get off. I knew that the next stop was only 2-3 miles from the village of Plockton at Duncraig Castle (see posts from earlier years). I had done the walk from Inn to the Castle and back in the past and I knew that with my whole kit it was beyond what my body could tackle. I spied a couple walking by the castle and, hoping for relief, initiated a conversation first noting that the school which had been attached in the ’60’s was gone and then asked if the paved road would take me to my destination. Belle lived about a half mile away and took pity. Realizing that my comments had indicated both that I was a Yank and that I had been here before, probably helped my plight. Her philosophy was that if she did a traveler a good turn, the kindness might be returned when she next was in a foreign land and so she took this old sot to the Inn’s front door. Her actions saved me what I knew was additional days of recuperative pain & I hope to buy her a drink next local music night as a thank you.
Here’s a better photo of gorse. I really smells like after tan coco-butter. Ann, you’d love this aroma.
And here are some wild primrose.
I plan to send some photos of the Inn tomorrow.
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