Monday 28 October 2013--I linger over breakfast, chatting with a French couple, Pascal and Nezha, who arrived last night. They have
a nascent interest in whisky, and we talk about Skye and Talisker. Leave the house late in the morning and drive over the bridge to Skye, not
really sure where I want to go. Decide to take the turn at Sligachan and go down the long dead-end road to Glen Brittle. I must have done
that one a long time ago--I don't really remember it. There's nice scenery at the top of the glen, and a rather unattractive beach at the
bottom. There's also a trailhead along the way, leading up into the Black Cuillin. It looks like a fairly straightforward route up to the
ridge, a good way to get up and see the rugged country within, without getting into too much trouble. Another one for the future file.
Nap and shower back at Plockton. The stars are out when I head to dinner at the Inn. Run into Pascal and Nezha, and we compare notes over a few drams. Later, Kenny, the owner, buys me a pint--I'm finally being recognized as a semi-regular here, after thirteen years. (I could probably have pushed the process along, if I were more outgoing.) Then two sisters, from Australia and New Zealand, arrive, tired and thirsty from their long voyage. They're here with their mother, on a genealogical quest. A discussion of the Scottish diaspora goes long into the night.