We drive on to Fort William. This is touristic and busy; quite a shock after the peace of Glencoe.
From Fort William we hike through Glen Nevis, the valley next to Ben Nevis, the highest mountain of Great Britain. This is really special. For a while, we're walking with difficulty over rocks through a relatively narrow shaft. Suddenly, the landscape opens to a wide plain, across which we see, on the other side, a lot of waterfalls coming down the mountain. All these glens were carved out by glaciers in the ice age, which is sometimes very clear to see from the shapes of the rocks.

Glen Nevis

We drive on through the Great Glen, which stretches in a long straight line from Fort William on the west coast to Inverness on the east coast. This glen is formed by a geological fault, and so separates the central from the northern highlands. In it are four lochs head-to-tail, among which the famous Loch Ness.
No, didn't see a monster. But we did see some beautiful sights across the lochs. Urquhart Castle stands imposing on the bank of Loch Ness, and in itself does enough to create a mysterious, suspenseful atmosphere. I can imagine that this castle, under the right circumstances, sometimes was mistaken for a monster.

Urquhart Castle on Loch Ness

Inverness is a pretty, relatively small city, with a castle on a hill, and other beautiful buildings arranged along the mouth of the river Ness.
We have a hard time finding a suitable place to eat, but that is only because it is Saturday, like everwhere in Britain: the restaurants are full, and the pubs stop serving food early, because they are too busy helping large crowds of people get drunk.
The restaurant that we do find, does not give a good first impressions. The interior and decorations are rather messy, and the lighting is just plain ugly: a pink spotlight shines from the ceiling straight down to the people in the middle of the room. This light makes everything look so disgusting that it almost takes away your appetite. Fortunately we are just far enough outside of the beam.
The second blow comes with the beer. As usual I order the local ale. But this '80 Shillings', which is recommended to me by the staff, has a soapy aftertaste; the stuff is really undrinkable. I'm not easily inclined to complain about food or drink, and even less to send something back. But I'm afraid I have to return this beer (on the risk of being taken for a whino), and switch to wine.
The biggest surprise however comes with the food. Because this is excellent! Meat, potatoes and vegetables taste perfect, and aren't overcooked as you so regularly find in this country.
Relieved that we can be positive about something, we ask for the bill. Here it appears that we are not even charged for my beer. This place manages after all to leave a positive impression with us. But let them do something about their decoration and lighting!

Inverness

Cairngorms - Ullapool 18/6/6

We wake up in the youth hostel in Inverness to a bright sun shining towards us. We had let our plans depend on this, and so we are going to take a long hike today. With rain we would have gone driving our car along the north coast.
We go to the highland-area the Cairngorms, a little to the south. As soon as we get there, it -naturally- starts raining softly, and the car radio reports that this will go on for the whole afternoon. But while we're here, we're going walking anyway, albeit not as far as we would have done in good weather. We walk through Glenmore Forest, from Aviemore a loop between Loch Morlich and An Loclan Uaine. Beautiful views across the glen (ehm... I suppose this is a 'glen' too). When we have a break to eat something on the bank of An Lochan Uaine, which is pretty and undisturbed situated between the mountains, it is lunchtime for the midges too. That's nature: eat and be eaten.

Cairngorms

It's raining only softly, but after two and a half hours hiking it gets you soaken wet anyway. We drive back via Inverness, and across the highlands beyond the Great Glen, north toward Ullapool.

In the middle of the high plain I ask Hanna to stop, so I can sniff up the atmosphere. Yes, it's raining, but that's part of that atmosphere. A rough grassy plain, surrounded by mountain peaks. I'm standing on the bank of Loch Glascarnoch, on the other side of which I watch the rough barren mountain tops. The farmost peaks are half taken from view by the drifting streams of cloud. You hear nothing but the wind blasting around you.
It is ironic to think that it is halfway June now. On the other hand, maybe this is the only time of the year in which you can stand here for a while without catching hypothermia.

The highlands past the Great Glen

Ullapool, on the north west coast, is pretty little ex-fishers' village on Loch Broom. Ms Pennie Browne of our B&B is a nice talkative lady, who with a friendy smile complains hundredfold about all that is wrong. Among which are her children, who all moved to south England to pursue succesful careers and almost never come to visit anymore. There isn't so much to do in Ullapool anymore either. Another complainable subject are new buildings on formerly beautiful spots. So it appears to be not so very forsaken here after all.
We eat and entertain ourselves on the spot to be in the evening. The large and only pub on the docks accomodates, I think, all nightlife of the village, both of the local population and of the tourists. The local band plays nice blues-folk-rock. What more do you want.

Ullapool port

Broadford 19/6/6

We drive from Ullapool south toward the isle of Skye, slowly along the coastal road. Regularly we stop to look at beautiful spots: especially rock formations and waterfalls.
One of the most cheerful parts of the landscape -at least in this time of year- are the many rhododendrons which with their purple flowers are blossoming abundantly. Alas, what turns out to be the case on one of the information plaques: the rhododendron is not indigenous here; it is imported, and is now a pest, that expels other plants. We are not supposed to be happy about this.

On one spot in the middle of the highlands, about which nothing is written in the tourist info, we walk for a bit away from the road into the countryside. The track ends on the bank of a loch, where there are the ruins of a house, and a docking place and a little boat. At the time, some highlander must have lived here happily for hundreds of years, until they all got expelled from their own land by the authorities. Judging from the little boat, a descendent of the original clan still comes to visit here occasionally. Maybe he plans to claim his spot back. Would anybody deny him this right still now?

Ruins on a loch

In the afternoon it rains more and more, but when we cross the high bridge (air bridge?) to Skye, the rain stops. We check in in the youth hostel in the village of Broadford.
As quiet as the Scottish highlands are, an island always has a special extra peacefulness on it. So has this one. Broadford is on a bay. Little boats lie undisturbable, lapping in the water. The peacefulness here is cearly only ever disturbed by the, ever near, wind and rain. Now that there's no rain or wind for a moment, time stands still.

Broadford port in the evening rest

Skye - Portree 20/6/6

The weather reports say "dry in the morning, but rain in the afternoon", and that's why we got up on time to start hiking early. We park the car at 9:00 near a little church in the middle of the landscape, and start walking through the hills toward the coast.
Regularly we have to disturb the sheep, who had thought they could graze in peace on this spot today. The wind becomes harder and harder while we approach the coast.

Almost blown away on Skye

Via an intermezzo across a beach where there's a lot of stuff to gather, we continue on a narrow track over the rocks. The wind blasts on around us, making it difficult to keep standing and stay on the track. It is especially difficult after we have turned a corner, and suddenly have the wind behind us. I observe that open-air tightrope walkers probably don't like to have the wind in their backs. Across the water we see other parts of the island rise up as large spooky figures.

Hiking on Skye

At 12:00 we are almost back near the road, when two walkers come towards us. They tell us they want to start doing the same loop, the other way round. It's just starting to rain now, but they are not too worried about that. "We'll see how far we get!" In this part of the world you just have to accept the rain. I wish them good luck.
When we reach the road, it has started to rain seriously, and we still have some way to go to get back to the car. According to the map it's not such a long way, a few kilometers, but we notice that, when it's raining, that is still a fair way. The length of a certain distance apparently depends on the weather. What would Einstein have to say about that?
13:15 we get to the car, and looking like two drowned kittens in a tin we drive to a pub in Broadford, and let ourselves dry up with a lunch.

We drive to Portree, the capital of Skye. From there we are going to drive a round along the north side of the island, to see a couple of beautiful rock formations. When we get out on the east coast, we only just manage to keep standing in the hard wind and rain, to see the impressive rocks. Hanna cannot stand it any longer and rushes back into the car, which makes her miss the beautiful waterfall that on the left side thunders from rocks into the sea.

Waterfall on the north coast of Skye

Further on, in the hills near the north tip, we are completely in the clouds. The rocks should be even more beautiful here, but we can't see anything, so we don't even know where to stop. And it is raining and blowing too heavily to stay out of the car looking for something for long.
Driving back to Portree finally the rain stops, and the sun breaks through a little bit.

Portree

In Portree we walk around the pretty fishers' town for a moment before we enter a restaurant. In the restaurant, two dutch women sit down directly beside us. Now and then I secretly listen in to their conversation, while talking with Hanna in finnish, and while they are wondering where we are from. At a certain moment they say jokingly, quasi to somebody who is outside looking at the menu: "Come on in, the food is great!"
"Yes, only a bit too many dutch people here!" I reply in dutch.
Always entertaining, that surprise, and the shock that their conversation wasn't so private as they had thought. We chat away with them for another while.
Dear fellow Dutch people, if you want to have undisturbed private conversations in public, I advise you: learn finnish, lithuanian, esperanto, or another language that is not spoken by a people that you encounter everywhere!

Talisker - Helensburgh - Rhu 21/6/6

The weather reports get more cheerful all the time: "Everywhere in the country bright sunshine, except in the west of Scotland, where there will be much rain and storm." If it had been different, we would have considered staying another day, but in this case we decide to leave this island today. We book the ferry from Armadale, but for the time being it is not yet clear whether it'll go at all.
In the morning we first visit the whisky distillery Talisker, here on Skye. We arrive at 9:20, before it opens. After having enjoyed watching the pouring rain from our car for ten minutes, we are let in. We are the only visitors and receive a private tour.
There always has been a rivalry between Irish and Scottish whisk(e)y. The Irish say that their whiskey is better because it is distilled three times and the Scottish only twice. Here we learn now, that the Schottish whisky used to be distilled three or even four times, but with the present-day techniques, twice is sufficient to obtain a good result. I don't make a judgement about this. I am glad I can distinguish between some kinds and brands, and have some preferences. But I will not claim to be able to distinguish Irish from Scottish whisk(e)y.
We also get to smell and taste, where I decide that I like the twelve-year old better than the ten-year old. Of course they hope that you will get so in the mood that you take home a couple of the extremely expensive gift-packaged bottles from their shop. That's something we don't do; we'll see later what affordable is to be gotten from the regular shops.

Whiksy barrels in the Talisker distillery

Back to Broadford. When we phone to the ferry, they still don't know whether they'll be sailing today. "Only if the weather improves." We look out of the window of our café, and compose our own weather report: the wind and rain become heavier and heavier, and that is not what we call 'improvement'.
We cancel the reservation, and take the bridge near Kyleakin, along which we came, back again. This is a slightly longer route, but it'll have to do. When we approach the bridge, we are reminded how high it actually is, and wonder how stable it is in this weather. Wouldn't we from up there be lifted up with car and all like a grain of sand, and flung into the sea?
We ascend the bridge, and feel that up there it is actually less windy than down below. Maybe this means that the wind has taken us already and is carrying us along. Either way, we do get safely back down on the mainland.
The weather becomes steadily quieter while we move away from Skye. So that island is really a meteorological singularity, where laws of nature end. Driving on via Fort William and Glencoe, behold, the sun breaks through! Did we now for once take the right decision weatherwise?

One aspect from which you can clearly see that Scotland in history has had strong ties with France, is the traffic. People race along the roads. If you, as stupid ignorant tourists, keep to the speed limit, you are being overtaken all the time. But fortunately this does not go with the pushing, familiar from some not to be mentioned but well known countries. At least people here keep a distance until they can pass.
The French influence also shows from the parking behaviour we have seen in Glasgow. Sometimes they park their cars simply sideways in the rows along the roads.

Along the bonnie bank of Loch Lomond we take the low road southward, to Helensburgh. Here we planned to meet Ian and Nandini, two ex-collegues of mine, who now work at Strathclyde University in Glasgow.
After a dinner together in Helensburgh we go with them to the place where they live in Rhu, a pretty village quite a way outside Glasgow. To us it seems an ideal place to live. But they are only renting a flat here, while they are looking to buy a house. In the local pub we do get the impression however that they are already completely integrated with the local crowd.

Lochgoilhead - Glasgow 22/6/6

We drive with Ian and Nandini to the house that they want to buy, in Lochgoilhead. This is much further away from Glasgow than Rhu is; you have to go around several lochs and through the mountains. The pass which we cross is called "Rest and be Thankful".
Whatever that may have meant originally, it is at least valid for Lochgoilhead. This spot is more than worth all the trouble. It sits as a dream location between the mountains on the bank of a loch, where you would sooner have a holiday house than a residence, also considering the remoteness. But if you don't mind a long commute, of course this is ideal. This way you can be on a holiday at home!

With Ian and Nandini in Lochgoilhead

Back in Rhu we say goodbye, and drive to Glasgow to return the car, and to give Hanna still a chance to lose her temper, because I don't see the junction on time (I invite you to verify the situation: I really think the map suggests that this was another junction!).
On this last day we shop some more beer from 'Heather Ale': the whole series contains apart from heather and spruce beer, also gooseberry, elderberry and seaweed beer. Hmmm! And of course we acquire a bottle of Talisker whisky.
And we go once more to a pub to eat 'haggis, neeps and tatties' (= with turnips and potatoes). What concerns the haggis: I suppose it is against public opinion, for which hereby my apologies, but: in spite that I know what is in it, the stuff tasts very good to me!

And then we take the train back to Bath. Back to the deep south, where it really is summer.