Holiday Day 4
uesday 26 October Glencoe to Skye 128 miles, 3 hours 16 drive (before stops)
Suggested song: White Woman's Instagram - Bo Burnham
Today’s lesson has been that things take as long as they take. A change of pace today, a slower morning in Glencoe, the rain dampening my keenness to do much more than watch yesterday’s boat from my bed then breakfast before we hit the road to Skye.
After having suffered from hotel coffee for a few days, I leapt at the chance of a drive-through cappuccino in Fort William, its bitter steaminess delivering a welcome dose of caffeine through my body as we drove through the horizontal rain towards the Kyle of Lochalsh. At Lochalsh we stopped and invested 50p (each) on a wee. Outraged by the cost, I staged a one woman photoshoot in the loos so I’d have something to show from the investment.
More rain, more scenery and a big bridge later, and we were over on Skye. We’d meant to check into the hotel early, head over to the other side of the island, see a volcano crater and head out on a boat trip to look at some hills from the water. Instead we drove through more rain than I have ever seen before and for longer than you could possibly imagine 36 miles could ever take until we got to the hotel.
Just getting the bags in from the car during the downpour seemed like a heroic effort, so once the lady had shown us to our room, and we’d read the welcome card wishing us a brilliant honeymoon it became obvious that we weren’t going anywhere for a couple of hours.
Instead we spent the couple of hours until we were due out again exploring the Egyptian cotton sheets on our bed, the hotel’s efficient heating and the slow meandering conversation that comes from a chance to rest during the day. The landscapes of 20 year relationship are just as joyous to explore as anything outside the window. The hundred tiny compromises of a single day, the a wander through the foothills of ideas during debate, the warm calm waters of shared experiences. We travelled hundreds of miles, it seemed, without leaving the spot.
Later, somehow it took six hours to go to dinner and come back. I’d booked a place across the Island, a place with just six tables. A place where they do one service at 7pm, and no choice of food. A place so brilliant, it turns out that we’ll be talking about it for ages. A place so remote that we had to negotiate with the highland cattle to get off the road so we could continue our single track journey. A journey so wild that the single track road showed us deer and sheep and cattle and more rain than you could possibly imagine.
Six hours it took, but sometimes that’s just how long things take.