Breakfast is barely inferior to dinner.

First, we go to Portree, the main town of the Isle of Skye. It is a nice, small, partly very colorful port town (where not colorful also equals concrete gray). We look around in the drizzling rain.

On to Dunvegan castle of the MacLeods. Painted portraits on the wall of the Chiefs van de MacLeod clan show stout men with thick sideburns. However, the last scion of the MacLeods family to be portrayed here is a sweet old lady, Chief Dame Flora, who has managed to bring the feuding chiefs back together.

The castle has an extensive library, where I discover Shakespeare and our own Grotius (Hugo de Groot).

We check out the bay by the castle and the garden.

We drive back home through the rain, and we still have to get out of the car to take pictures, among other things, of stubborn sheep complainingly bleating as they cross the road.

Yesterday, from Thurso to Sconser on the Isle of Skye. A long drive right through the highlands.

We decide to take the north coast up to Tongue, then down through Lairg, Dingwall, and then across to the Isle of Skye.

The drive along the coast west of Thurso is beautiful and rugged. Almost everything from Thurso is single-lane, so you frequently have to give way to oncoming traffic at passing places.

At Tongue, we turn off onto the plateau into the rugged hills. There are magnificent views of lakes between the mountains.

Only fifteen minutes before Sconser, it begins to rain.

The hotel is by the sea and overlooks the island of Raasay. The owner welcomes us and leads us through the authentic dining, bar, and sitting rooms. They look great.

The hotel also provides dinner. It is super – halibut and hake. Cranachan for dessert. The king of Scottish deserts…

Cranachan (Scottish Gaelic: Crannachan pronounced [ˈkʰɾan̪ˠəxan]) is a traditional Scottish dessert. It was originally a celebration of harvest,[1] made following the raspberry harvest in August. The dessert of cream and fresh seasonal raspberries is bolstered by Scottish oats and whisky.

– wikipedia

With mild amazement, we look closer at the hotel’s interior. Is this a real hunting hotel? Even the lamp at the reception desk is made of deer antlers.

Taking the steam train to Boat of Garten, a town down the road. Steady conductor and conductress. Conductress rudely throws the door, for which a fellow passenger apologizes to us: she always does.

Walk on the path along the railroad tracks back to the village. Mile or 10 on a beaten track. Cappuccino in the village at The Coffee Pot.

After lunch, we go to Loch Morlich. Across the lake, we can see the snow on the peaks of the Cairngorms.

We go back to the hotel to plan tomorrow’s trip. Again, there are many more things to do than we have time for. Six months is still not enough. Choices…

In the hotel pub, soccer dominates. It’s Sunday, and there is a table full of Guinness. One of the screens has a dominant blue tinge, but apparently, that doesn’t matter.
Tartan on the walls.

Frankie goes to Hollywood in the restaurant When Two Tribes Go To War.

Spotless blue skies in Aberfeldy while the Netherlands is flooding.

We drive to Pitlochry. We walk to the dam, along which a salmon ladder is built. Fly fishers stand in wading suits in the water. The jumping salmon on their way to the dam do not let themselves be caught. At the salmon ladder is a display with a counter: 569 salmon have already climbed the ladder this year.

We walk to the city center. Pitlochry turns out to be a tourist village with a luxury market. Got lunch stuff at the Coop.

On our way to Balmoral, we pass the King and Queen’s Scottish castle. The route through Cairngorms is beautiful. We ate sandwiches at Devil’s Elbow, which has a pretty name and a nice view over the valley.

It starts to rain, no pour, no, it pours from the sky. In the parking lot at Balmoral, we sit in the car watching the weather report. Soaking wet tourists pass by. We decide not to and drive off.

We drive into the hills. To the left of the road, a small river thunders down the slope at tremendous speed. Further on, the water washes over the road. The water is getting higher. Oncoming travelers tell us it is better to turn around. The water is even higher where they came from.

We pass Balmoral again. It has now become drier so we decide to give the castle a second chance.

We take a nice walk around the grounds and look at watercolors by Prince C (Charles’ signature: “C”; what does that say?). Review: cool little works, distant.

With a detour, we drive back into the Cairngorms over an even more beautiful road. At Corgarff Viewpoint, a camper stands on the deserted slopes. A man hangs on his bed, the camper’s doors wide open, facetiming with home, showing them the magnificent view.

Balmoral Castle.