Terrafirma Travels

Porridge, coffee, Nic's sooty trousers washed by Ann after stain removal. (Sooty from sitting aft of the steam on the gondola).We had decided to attempt Black Combe, a top not counted as a Wainwright because it's just beyond the true Lake District.  We drove over to Whicham and parked by a church to take the well worn path upwards. On the way we saw buzzards and what might have been a pair of kestrels hunting.  It's supposed to take 1hr 50 to reach the top. After about half that we called it a day, as the ascent through bracken was very steep and the down section looked equally challenging. And the view from where we had reached was pretty good.  We ate our sandwiches and started down the hill. At least it didn't rain, and Nic's newish walking poles proved to be a boon.  At the bottom, we walked some more of a level path to get in a few more steps, and then drove the short distance to Silecroft beach cafe. Wow, what brilliant coffee, beautiful picture windows on to ...

A reasonable forecast for today. It's going downhill later in the week. We went for a swim in Coniston Water, from Monk Coniston car park as usual. Refreshing, perhaps slightly more than usual. Next we did the one-hour Steam Gondola trip round the lake,  which was splendid. The boat dates back to 1860 and the steam engine is reminiscent of a train engine - same principle, different drive. These days they use sawdust briquettes rather than coal. Our only mistake was sitting behind the funnel in the stern - we got a tad sooty.  From there we hastened to the Green Housekeeper, our favourite Coniston cafe, for soup with bread chunks. L hit the 'Honesty shop' and came back with earrings and an apple crumble. All good.  Next was our traditional walk around Tarn Hows where we got a shock because the NT have replaced all the benches with new ones, including ours! So we've lost our three plaques. Rather sad about that. No-one at the NT shed to ask, so may try phoning. Finally we...

 A lovely night's sleep in a comfortable bed at Ann's, and a birthday breakfast with presents: a woolly hairband from Uist, promise of a linocut course, a warm hat with peak for sailing, and a nail polish. Then it was time for our usual walk around the valley, in clear sun, lunch on the patio where we watched a buzzard through the binoculars, and much sitting around chatting to Ann.  Nic cooked pasta and lentils for the birthday dinner and we watched the first Strictly of the year on iplayer. A perfect day. 

Went to bed last night with roof up. 15 minutes later we got up, moved all the stuff, and put the roof down. The wind was gusting really strong. Once again we weren't asphyxiated in our sleep despite having no windows open. Roof up in the morning for breakfast, dashed to facilities before the forecast rain. As usual in our experience up here, the sky was clear blue at dawn, then the clouds quickly appeared. We left at 9am. The drive off Skye and across the mountains to Invergarry and the Fort William was splendid, despite heavy rain and slow Dutch drivers. Leaving this 'camping' section of our trip we reflected on a couple of things. We never used the awning, for a number of reasons: it was almost always very windy; we didn't have persistent rain, where we might have wanted to protect the sliding door; most sites we arrived after 5pm and left before 10am the next morning - no time for sitting around. However it didn't get in the way, sitting in 'L's' sea...

Last night we had trouble finding a parking place or a restaurant. Today we had trouble finding a cafe with some coffee, where we could park the van. There are simply too many tourists on Skye. Yesterday we asked if they offered dinner at one hotel - oh no, said the barman, shaking his head, we can't get any chefs. This morning, we drove to Sliganach, went to the big hotel asking for coffee, but unsurprisingly there was none. We walked over to the famous Sliganach bridge, built by Telford, to take a photo.  And resumed the search.  Eventually, we did find a cafe, plus parking. Cafe Cuil was Hackney-on-Skye, run by a London chef who was born on Skye. Achingly hip, brilliant coffee and pastries and a cracking view.  We tore ourselves away and drove the winding, severely potholed road to remote, deadend Glenbrittle, home of a campsite, and yes, another cafe. There were wonderful views of the dark, magnificent mountains of the Cuillin range. Had a short walk, battered by a F...

Message at 10pm last night cancelled our wildlife boat trip - too rough. Disappointing. Wrote and then swapped wedding anniversary cards - much love and joy.  Drove to Dunvegan Castle, the home of Macleods for 800 years. They do seal trips which would have sufficed to get us on the water, but cancelled today. Aargh. Mind you the boat is small. Did the castle which was lovely and homely but hugely crowded. Coach tours and cruise ships! Did the gardens which were great. Ate our sandwich on a sheltered bench with a splendid view. A Robin tried to snatch a piece of stroop from my fingers, the cheeky bird. He perched on my knee and demanded his tithe for sitting in his garden. I held a small crumb and he took it in a flurry of wingbeats. We've been having trouble finding a place for our WA dinner. Most places are in Portree and are closed, or no reservations, or ridiculous tasting menus. We checked out a place near the castle but it turned out to be part of a garage - very unsalubrious...

A slow start, on a sunny day. Drove to Tarbert, and suddenly by the side of the road, we both saw an enormous wingspan - a white tailed sea eagle! Huge excitement. Not quick enough to get a pic. We stopped en route on a hillside for a bit of quiet time. In Tarbert, we parked at the Distillery for a whisky tour. A hilarious guide took us through the distillation process, with tastings. Lesley, being the driver of the day, took her whisky samples away in tiny bottles. (N drank one and bottled two.) The sad news was that the distillery, set up 10 years ago to provide much needed jobs on the island, has made big redundancies and has stopped whisky production for now. It seems there's a world-wide drop in whisky purchasing. One bottle costs a whopping £75. We didn't buy any. After making our own ham and cheese sandwiches in the van, (plus a sneaky sausage roll from a deli) we got in the long queue for the ferry that goes from Tarbert to Skye - our last ferry in the tour of the Hebri...

N Lewis is high, flat and coast to coast peat. Saw our first traffic light on approach to Stornoway, a pedestrian crossing no less. L drove north from there on narrowing roads to Garry Beach, recommended for swimming. Forecast sun was hiding but no rain and little wind. The breakers were still too big for comfort, so we had a dip in the shallow surf rather than swimming. Not too cold.  L as driver of the day took us back to Stornoway and a free car park on the quayside. We enjoyed the heated seats on the way. Lunch was a post-swim feast, a cooked breakfast including Stornoway black pudding. A little light charity shopping produced a Harris Tweed handbag and a cheese grater (needed for tonight's omelette plan), and we checked out the marina. Walked up to and into Lews Castle, built by Sir James Matheson, and now a discreet hotel. We peered into a few rooms and had a cuppa. Then to Tesco for a topup shop - we will keep eating the supplies. Finally to the Laxby campsite, compact and w...

We had an early start from our mountainous overnight parking place, rushing across the island to Carloway Tweed Mill, the smallest mill making Harris Tweed yarn from raw wool.  The manager, an Islander who calls himself D.I., told us 33 men used to work there until Covid. Now there are 5 left, and production has dropped enormously as a result. Some machines date to the late 19th C, others from the 1940s. Everywhere there were huge bolts of soft Tweed, stacked in mountains. The raw wool is washed, carded and spun on giant spinning machines to make the finished yarn. They send away the yarn to 140 manual weavers across the island who weave it into bolts of cloth which go back to the mill for washing and drying, and inspected to get the official Orb stamp of genuine Harris Tweed. The cloth is then tailored in London into jackets, coats and any number of knick-knacks, and shipped back to Scotland shops. Some were on sale here at factory prices. Lesley went mad and bought a coat, now st...