One of those “you can’t get there from here” villages. Down the Kintyre to Campbeltown then up the east coast a bit. When I got to the www.ashbankhotel.com there was no one there to speak with, but before I began to panic I spied a note with my name on it. The note invited me in and directed me to the tiniest single I’d ever seen. The toilet was in what was once a closet and the shower was in another. The sink in-between was close enough to grab a glass of water at night without getting out of bed. But the bed was comfy, the room spotless and the view over a golf course was nice. No complaints. Especially when I later found out that they were shorthanded as one of the owners, the Lavery sisters, had just had a wee bairn!
The weather was drizzly but not cold so I wandered about for a few hours. 
I got a kick out of this RBS sign. It states ‘we are here to serve’ but the only time they are open was a two hour window on Fridays!
The dining/pub areas are one room at the Ashbank and there was a lot of cross-talk at dinner. I had related the story about Graham of Warrs and no one had heard of the place. The next morning whilst having my breakfast, I heard someone ask if the Yank was still here. It was a gentleman I had talked with the night before. He pulled out a map and placed his finger on Loch Tay. “Here’s where you hale from, Lad” he told me. Apparently that village had been “cleared” That is, the people had been forced out to make room for the more profitable sheep. A very common occurrence back in the day. I guess I’ll be headed there next trip.
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