Monday 28 October 2013--I linger over breakfast, chatting with a French
couple, Pascal and Nezha, who arrived last night. They have a nascent interest
in whisky, and we talk about Skye and Talisker. Leave the house late in the
morning and drive over the bridge to Skye, not really sure where I want to go.
Decide to take the turn at Sligachan and go down the long dead-end road to
Glen Brittle. I must have done that one a long time ago--I don't really remember
it. There's nice scenery at the top of the glen, and a rather unattractive beach at
the bottom. There's also a trailhead along the way, leading up into the Black
Cuillin. It looks like a fairly straightforward route up to the ridge, a good way to
get up and see the rugged country within, without getting into too much trouble. Another one for the future file.
Nap and shower back at Plockton. The stars are out when I head to dinner at
the Inn. Run into Pascal and Nezha, and we compare notes over a few drams.
Later, Kenny, the owner, buys me a pint--I'm finally being recognized as a semi-
regular here, after thirteen years. (I could probably have pushed the process
along, if I were more outgoing.) Then two sisters, from Australia and New
Zealand, arrive, tired and thirsty from their long voyage. They're here with their
mother, on a genealogical quest. A discussion of the Scottish diaspora goes
long into the night.
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