I was lucky enough to go to Scotland again in the company of my Personal Untrainer (P-UnT, and the Man Who Really Likes Cockles (MWRLC). This time we went to Scourie, which for those of you without intimate knowledge of North West Scotland is here:
After leaving Mr B with the Moorhen Photographer in Chief I flew up with Cheesey-Squeezy jet to Inverness. I was then collected and awarded a red kite sighting about 20 minutes out of the airport. A gorgeous drive across country eventually got us to Scourie on the west coast. The view from the campsite was urban, noisy and stressful, as you can tell by the anxious hand-wringing being practiced by P-UnT and MWRLC. If I tell you that we spent ten minutes discussing the patterns of the eddies amongst the rocks, you will get the idea. The bottom right picture is taken from where we pitched the tents.
Did I run? I did. And as often happens on holiday, what was an angsty and grump-full thing at home turns all lovely once you are away.
The pic on the left is the loch shown on the Strava map.
To be continued..