Sunday 13 October 2024--The onward flights to Europe have indeed been held for us. We are among roughly a dozen passengers who must go directly to the gate for our flight to Glasgow, as others scatter to other gates. For once, there is a benefit to Brexit: the UK is no longer a member of the EU and never was a signatory to the Schengen agreement, so we don't have to clear customs in Iceland. The Glasgow flight leaves only forty minutes late; those for mainland European destinations will be somewhat later. I find myself wondering whether our luggage will have transferred as quickly as we have.

Approaching Glasgow, we pass over the Firth of Clyde where the ferry runs between Gourock and Dunoon. I've ridden that one a half-dozen times, making a twenty-minute passage over the Highland Boundary Fault, leaving exurban Glasgow behind and arriving in Argyll & Bute in a refreshed Highland state of mind. We aren't going that way this trip, but just seeing it from the air makes me smile. Then we are over Strathendrick, with the Campsie Fells to the south and the Fintry Hills to the north. I don't recall ever driving through there. It looks idyllic from above, and reminds me of Alan Reid's song The Pleasure Will Be Mine: "If ye come wi' me tae Fintry, Wullie says tae Caroline...."

We are soon on the ground. At the baggage carousels, I hear my name being paged. I have a good idea what that means...indeed, at the desk, I am told that my bag is still at Keflavík. Why mine is the only one that didn't make the transfer, I can only guess. At least they know where it is; it shouldn't take five days to catch up with me, as Ron's did in 2005. I fill out a form telling them where I'm staying, and go on my way. We are not late to the rental car desk--I made my reservation for 1:00, allowing an hour or so for coffee in the terminal, so that we would not have to drop the car in Edinburgh before 1:00.

Away we go, over Erskine Bridge and north. We stop at Loch Lomond Shores, a retail complex at the southern end of Loch Lomond, to have lunch and buy a bottle of whisky. I'm rather appalled by the place...it's the epitome of everything I try to avoid when traveling. The whisky shop is not impressive, either, but it stocks Arran 10, which will do. The Loch itself is beautiful--in all the years I've been coming to Scotland, I've only ever seen it from the A82, the road I purposely avoided by taking the Gourock-Dunoon ferry. Lots of tourists want to see Loch Lomond, and there is much here to attract visitors and keep them busy, I guess. It hasn't really been part of my Scotland.

We're in Drymen (pronounced Drimmen, Ron tells me) at 3:00, a bit early to check in. We have a pint in the bar, and then a nap when our room is ready. Dinner is in the bar again. Drymen is a small place, but there are two upscale hotels, the Winnock and the Buchanan Arms, and two more budget-friendly ones, the Clachan, where we are staying, and the Drymen Inn. I looked at all of these when planning, plus the Black Bull in Gartmore, a few miles up the road. We're happy with our choice. The bar features a number of bottles from the Glengoyne Distillery, which is not far away, and the one I choose for a post-prandial dram, bottle #2 of a single cask, is really lovely.