Written on the ferry...
Jun. 18th, 2022 06:32 pm...and posted from our cottage above Stromness (about which more later):
On board the Hamnavoe, but with limited battery and limited (i.e. not really available) wi-fi. Also, sea rough enough that the ferry has been rerouted, and we will approach Stromness via Scapa Flow, rather than passing the Old Man of Hoy. But first we cross the open water of the Pentland Firth. So let's see how this goes...
We left home yesterday before midday, but only by minutes. Earlier would have been better, but midday was my deadline, and we made it, so I'll take that as a win.
Excluding garden flowers, in all the road north, I saw just one patch of poppies, in the corner of a field opposite the hospital, barely glimpsed as we pulled in at the bus stop to let an ambulance pass.
The radio talked about heatwaves, but the Borders were overcast, and we arrived at Jedburgh in half-hearted but persistent rain. We lunched at the café of a woollen mill, which was fine, and would have been quicker if we hadn't been following a coachload of Americans. So we didn't linger for coffee: though I wondered what kind of cake an Eiffel Tower would turn out to be (nothing in the display was visibly towering). The place is obviously aimed at the tourist trade: the 'pay here' sign repeats its message in Russian and Japanese.
D., who had set off earlier, warned us, and Google real-time traffic confirmed, that the Edinburgh bypass was very congested.![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
durham_rambler hates sitting in traffic, so he devised a route through Leith. We agreed that this may not have been any quicker, but it was certainly more interesting. It also seemed an appropriate point to declare that the raain had definitely given way to sunshine.
Our satnav no longer feels the need to announce, in the middle of the Forth Bridge, that it is recalibrating. I rather miss it. From here on, traffic flowed freely: the sign just north of the bridge says "No Stopping 134 miles" and I believe it, though we turned off after 130 of them. It's a long and a beautiful (and long) drive. Even when we reached the outskirts of Inverness (now also signposted as Inbhir Nis, which is new to me), we seemed to be trapped on some never-ending ring road, taking the second (i.e. straight ahead) exit at roundabout after roundabout. Luckily there ws roundabout art to distract me: a rather magnifiecent eagle sculpture, a completely un-magnigicent Nessie which looked as if it had been liberated from a primary school playground...
Arriving late at our B&B, we had no great hopes of dinner, but our host thought that the only possibility locally was the Beefeater. He very kindly offered to drive us into town, but it happened, by pure luck, that the Beefeater is attached to the hotel where D. was staying. Moreover, when he had tried to book in for dinner himself, he'd been told there was nothing before 8.30, and had replied that in that case, he'd have three. So dinner was a ten minute walk away, past the cemetery and over the canal bridge - and that turned out (I should have realised) to be the Caledonian Canal, which was a treat to end the day.
This morning was another drive against the clock: not as long a drive, only about 100 miles from Inverness to Scrabster, but with the satnav counting down the estimated arrival time against our check-in time (Sixty minutes sixty miles / Thirty minutes thirty miles... - thank you, Kate). An even more beautiful drive, much of it within sight of the sea. Yesterday's frustration was simply that there wasn't time to get out and stretch and enjoy the journey, but today's was very much that this is not the first time I have driven up this coast and wished I had time to divert into Helmsdale and Berriedale and -ohhh, Brora looks good... Another time, maybe.
The main thing is, we caught the ferry. A brief and slightly nervous wait: the previous sailing had been cancelled and amalgamated with ours, but the ferry sailed in, the passengers (including an entire orchestra: had they been playing at the St Magnus Festival?) disembarbarked, and here we are. The crossing has not been as bad as threatened. Pity about the internet, but never mind, we are nearly there.
On board the Hamnavoe, but with limited battery and limited (i.e. not really available) wi-fi. Also, sea rough enough that the ferry has been rerouted, and we will approach Stromness via Scapa Flow, rather than passing the Old Man of Hoy. But first we cross the open water of the Pentland Firth. So let's see how this goes...
We left home yesterday before midday, but only by minutes. Earlier would have been better, but midday was my deadline, and we made it, so I'll take that as a win.
Excluding garden flowers, in all the road north, I saw just one patch of poppies, in the corner of a field opposite the hospital, barely glimpsed as we pulled in at the bus stop to let an ambulance pass.
The radio talked about heatwaves, but the Borders were overcast, and we arrived at Jedburgh in half-hearted but persistent rain. We lunched at the café of a woollen mill, which was fine, and would have been quicker if we hadn't been following a coachload of Americans. So we didn't linger for coffee: though I wondered what kind of cake an Eiffel Tower would turn out to be (nothing in the display was visibly towering). The place is obviously aimed at the tourist trade: the 'pay here' sign repeats its message in Russian and Japanese.
D., who had set off earlier, warned us, and Google real-time traffic confirmed, that the Edinburgh bypass was very congested.
durham_rambler hates sitting in traffic, so he devised a route through Leith. We agreed that this may not have been any quicker, but it was certainly more interesting. It also seemed an appropriate point to declare that the raain had definitely given way to sunshine.Our satnav no longer feels the need to announce, in the middle of the Forth Bridge, that it is recalibrating. I rather miss it. From here on, traffic flowed freely: the sign just north of the bridge says "No Stopping 134 miles" and I believe it, though we turned off after 130 of them. It's a long and a beautiful (and long) drive. Even when we reached the outskirts of Inverness (now also signposted as Inbhir Nis, which is new to me), we seemed to be trapped on some never-ending ring road, taking the second (i.e. straight ahead) exit at roundabout after roundabout. Luckily there ws roundabout art to distract me: a rather magnifiecent eagle sculpture, a completely un-magnigicent Nessie which looked as if it had been liberated from a primary school playground...
Arriving late at our B&B, we had no great hopes of dinner, but our host thought that the only possibility locally was the Beefeater. He very kindly offered to drive us into town, but it happened, by pure luck, that the Beefeater is attached to the hotel where D. was staying. Moreover, when he had tried to book in for dinner himself, he'd been told there was nothing before 8.30, and had replied that in that case, he'd have three. So dinner was a ten minute walk away, past the cemetery and over the canal bridge - and that turned out (I should have realised) to be the Caledonian Canal, which was a treat to end the day.
This morning was another drive against the clock: not as long a drive, only about 100 miles from Inverness to Scrabster, but with the satnav counting down the estimated arrival time against our check-in time (Sixty minutes sixty miles / Thirty minutes thirty miles... - thank you, Kate). An even more beautiful drive, much of it within sight of the sea. Yesterday's frustration was simply that there wasn't time to get out and stretch and enjoy the journey, but today's was very much that this is not the first time I have driven up this coast and wished I had time to divert into Helmsdale and Berriedale and -ohhh, Brora looks good... Another time, maybe.
The main thing is, we caught the ferry. A brief and slightly nervous wait: the previous sailing had been cancelled and amalgamated with ours, but the ferry sailed in, the passengers (including an entire orchestra: had they been playing at the St Magnus Festival?) disembarbarked, and here we are. The crossing has not been as bad as threatened. Pity about the internet, but never mind, we are nearly there.
