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When one is on holiday the goal is to see and do as much as possible. In Plockton, since I’ve been so often, the do is done and all I then want is to be.
I awoke to a grand breakfast of smoked haddock with poached egg an a piece of black pudding. Well fortified I went for the standard walk of Jimmy’s and Ian’s Ways. The first looking back on the village and the other out on to Loch Carron. I stroll these walks every time I’m here as the scenes are constantly changing. This year I’ve seem them in January’s deadness and summer’s glory, and autumn’s browning.
Someone has built a large platform with benches offering this for a view
There is a path behind the houses on Harbor Street affording some vistas of note. I like the grass roof on the outbuilding
I wish I could just fall asleep in this mossy mattress.
On the opening page of this blog the view is of Plockton from the communications mast seen in the top right corner. If the weather and feet allow I might just revisit that scenic overlook.
And as the weather here is as changeable as a Mark Twain New England, I fought this sunset over my dear pal. Curley French’s house, a former kirk.
Oh, this is Andy’s new (to me) offering, a genuine cask ale of the highest order.
Served today by Roderick Mackenzie, who is, I assure you, not just another pretty face. Here Rod is showing me the beginning and end of my challenge to work, slowly, through the 56 whisky’s the Inn has on the top shelf. This will obviously require a return visit or two to accomplish. I’ve started at the beginning and I’m keeping notes so that I can learn which one deserve a return visit and which are one and done. And yes, he has been known to smile.
I forgot to post this Friday. The wee Thursday night music session.
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