01 April, 2013


On day 2 of our trip we made it to Skye, probably the most mentioned of the Scottish islands. I quickly learned what "the rugged Scottish Highlands" actually meant. I don't claim to be a "mountain person" and so I haven't seen too many in my lifetime, but Skye is lovely. While the jagged cliffs and snowcapped mountains stole our breath, Skye was probably not our favourite destination of the trip.

We drove to nearly the northeastern most point and camped in a tiny village called Uig where ferries load for cruises to the isles of Harris and Lewis. 

We set up camp, threw in a load of wash from a carsick little lady, and cooked dinner on our wee stove. After the littles were to bed in their hammocks Peter and I mixed up a couple strong gin and tonics and shivered outside the camper while we talked about life. I don't think there was a street light on the whole island and the sky was starry and clear. It goes down in the history of our married life as one of our best evenings yet.

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