Edinburgh, United Kingdom

Portree is the capital of the Isle of Skye, another beautiful little harbour town with quaint upright houses all along the shore. The campsite is just outside of town in lush green fields littered with sheep. The sheep really are beautiful, the lambs all white and round with perky ears and stick legs. The run after their mothers with wild gallops and seem to love cuddling next them for warmth and protection. I would love to take one home with me! Our day’s drive is simply too exquisite to even try and describe. Mountain passes and lakes, forrests and glens, vistas that take your breath away. There is something so wholesome about the Scottish landscape – the green, fresh, new life in every tree and shrub, brooks that babble, clouds and pouring rain. The first part of the day is bathed in sunshine which only lasts for about two hours. The rest of day is bathed in soft, gently rain that feeds the streams that gently flow to lochs and lakes. In Plockton we stop for coffee that comes highly recommended by the guide book. My history with guide books turns out to repeat itself. Very mediocre coffee, only redeemed by the beautiful setting of yet another quaint little seaside village. A few miles outside the village we stop for breakfast. My turn – French toast made from the now four day old raisin and sultana bread, with strong Scottish cheddar and oak smoked bacon drowned in Scottish honey. Orange juice (with pieces) in an epic setting overlooking the village. I see people staring at our breakfast. Eat your hearts out! The drive takes us up the steepest incline in the UK – with a vista at the top that is from another world. What is it about Scotland – is the lakes or the mountains or the forrests? I think it is a particular combination of contrasts. It seems that mountains and lakes have been thrown together in a haphazard style, all the best of the creation taken, shaken, stirred, tossed up in the air to land in their own special way to create a tapestry of colours and textures. Our destination is Ullapool, another ferry crossing harbour town where as I young traveller I worked in the 80’s. I have been back once, long ago. And now – another life, another time – I am back again. The hotel still belongs to Jean Urquahart. I remember so well walking into the hotel after I saw an ad at the local youth hostel (which I dreamt I would see on my way to Ullapool in the bus, listening to Elton John singing “Candle in the wind”). Jean Urquahart told me in no uncertain terms “I do not employ South Africans and I do not buy South African wine or grapes”. There we go for Apartheid. I (in no uncertain terms) told her “well a pity that is, missing out on the best wine, grapes and employees”. I was told to phone her back the next day – when she told me that I had the job and could start on the Monday. I stayed in a crofters cottage outside Achilitbuie for a few days before I started working as a waiter in the Ceilidh Place, staying in the bunkhouse with other working travellers. I remember one morning arriving for work about 30 minutes early. Jean called me in and said “your shift starts at 08h00. Please arrive at 08h00, there is no need to be here 30 minutes before the time”. I wanted to say that that is the reason we are good, but decided to keep my good manners to myself. I enjoyed the time as best I could in between serious youthful angst and depression. I took long walks and enjoyed the Celtic music. I remember eating Banoffee Pie for the first time and battling with the broad Scottish accent.The rest is very muc a blur…. And now I am back, almost thirty years later. Nothing has changed – it is still raining. Jean Urquahart is now a member of the Scottish parliament fighting for the rights of prostitutes and Scottish independence. Her daughter and son in law run the hotel. The wonderful bookshop is still there and the food is still good. And I am no longer depressed. The Ullapool campsite (just as I remember it) is on the foreshore of Loch Broom. Water gently lapping against the pebble beach, seagulls screeching as they did all those years ago. Life is good. Our evening meal at the hotel, now as a guest and not a waiter, is Scottish Salmon for Victor and Venison Pie for me. With good red wine form Argentina. Life is very good. Walking back at 21h39 it is still broad daylight. Sadly our time in the Highlands is coming to and end. This has been so good for the soul….