Isle of Skye

I had a mammoth drive yesterday. Leaving Broadford, I headed west further into Skye to Dunvegan, then back round to Portree and onwards to the mainland over the Bridge of Skye, completing a big loop of the Isle. I have been really spoilt with the weather for the last few days, so I can't really complain about how poor it was today, but the cloud and rain meant I didn't stop off in many places to explore. The only time I did stop off was for food and tea, so unfortunately my time heading around Skye wasn't the adventure I'd hoped for. I still saw some beautiful countryside though, but I couldn't help think that it would have been even better in the sun

Back on the mainland, I headed east through the monumental valley in Kintail (I'd imagine, I dunno, I couldn't see it through the cloud) to see the Falls of Moriston, which are some pretty impressive rapids in the tiny village of Invermoriston. The lady that ran the cafe there was proper cockney and for some subconscious reason I twatily put on a bit of a London accent as if her acceptance was of the upmost importance to me. Further up from there the road meets Loch Ness, which I drove alongside up to Inverness. The route along the Loch wasn't all that picturesque and, for probably the most famous loch in Scotland, it is serviced pretty poorly by its major road. There's still plenty of access to tacky souvenir shops though, strangely enough. I may have been able to get to the shore and have a wander at Drumnadrochit, but with the rain and the long drive I'd already had, I just wanted to get where I was going, shower and relax for the rest of the evening.

Some almost visible scenery

The Falls at Moriston

All I got to see of Loch Ness

In Inverness my almost-exclusive interaction with English and American people continued, but with a few nice Germans thrown into the mix. After the crap weather earlier, the evening turned out very nice; still overcast, but dry and warmer. I sat by the river Ness with a pint, looking over to the castle and listening to some cliched person in an upstairs bedroom practicing the bagpipes. You don't realise how far north you are until late in the evening, when it's still broad daylight at 10 at night. The height of summer must be mental.