Torrin Pools

Now also available as a print.
Now also available as a print.
Mooie berichten uit de beste krant van Nederland en de enige met ruggengraat: De Correspondent.
Armoede uitgelegd aan ons zelfgenoegzamen.
Vacature loopjongen Wilders gezocht: minister-president.
Via Broadford – for some shopping – to Elgol.
There, the locals walk with mosquito nets in front of their faces. We soon notice the reason: very small midgets—fortunately not much trouble. We make a small along the coast over not very well-trodden paths.
To Torrin pools. Here, a river flows from the steep slope into Loch Slapin. The walk along the cascades of fast-flowing water is very pleasant. Some try to bathe in the small pools below the falls. The icy water almost hurts from shrinkage.
Back to Broadford. Walked to the pier. There is not much more to see than breathtaking views and fishermen—enough to do it for.
In the bar, Gabbro, we have a beer. Make plans for tomorrow.
Versimpelde vandaag de website van mijn IT bedrijfje. Wel tevreden over. Veel BS weggegooid.
In Nederland wachten we op een regering voor ons dorp, terwijl de Europese verkiezingen voor de deur staan. Je hoort er nauwelijks iets over. Toch wordt zelfs in het regeerakkoord op hoofdlijnen van Wilders wordt meer dan vijftig keer naar Europa of Brussel verwezen. Want daar worden echt de zaken geregeld die de rechtse partijen in ons dorp denken te kunnen veranderen.
Omdat ik hier nu toch al mee bezig was vul ik de stemwijzer in. Geen verrassingen, ik moet D66, Volt of PvdA/GroenLinks stemmen. Altijd lastig aangezien ik het nog steeds lastig vind om Samsom’s PvdA en Pechtold’s D66 het leenstelsel te vergeven (om niet te spreken van het schandalige verhogen van de rente op schulden in leenstelsel door D66! minister Dijkgraaf, professor, dus zelf afkomstig uit het onderwijs). Toch maar Volt?
Trouwens, verrassend te lezen in het hoofdlijnenakkoord dat de nieuwe regering tegen Geert gaat optreden:
Er wordt daadkrachtig opgetreden tegen degenen die zich schuldig maken aan discriminatie, racisme, antisemitisme en moslimhaat, zowel op straat als online.
Hoofdlijnenakkoord 2024 – 2028 van PVV, VVD, NSC en BBB
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.
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.