And to drive, I did…
I left Drumnadrochit later than usual. First I stayed in bed. Then I chatted for 1/2 hour with my superhost Steward. He was born and grew up in the area before embarking on a wild journey that took him from Scotland to Dubai, the US to London. A true man from anywhere. At 50 he settled down where he grew up, with his wife and daughter. He works from home (video game industry), and manages a couple of AirBNB properties. Great guy. Great family. He gave me a few tips for the itinerary south. Let’s see what the day brings. Mythological monsters, wizardry, mountain passes and some maaaaad roads.
I tried to book a place for the night on Airbnb. Easy (and only) way to meet locals. My superhost needs a motivation letter and a CV before making a decision. I made mine: I’ll drive south.
If you don’t have a destination, you can’t get lost.
Should she be unconvinced by my application and doesn’t let me in, I’ll sleep in the car. Got a mattress and a sleeping bag.
First, I went to check on Nessy. She was lurking under the blacks waters, not yet out of breath.
I’ve never read a Harry Potter book. Nor watched any of the movies. But Sebastian did. And he loved it. So I went there...
The A82 from Inverness to Glasgow via the Glencoe mountain range is ridiculous. At one point, alone on a deserted stretch of mad road in an open valley that would be a mountain of it wasn’t surrounded by domes of mossy rock, l wondered...
If I take the British nationality (I would probably qualify) would make me Scottish?
Man, I lost it in there. I felt like in a trance. I would drive, stop randomly on the side of the road and walked around the sheer immensity, before realising that the wind was going through me like an ice pick, that I’d forgotten to lock the car, and that I’d left the keys in. Id take a picture, hate it because you can’t squeeze awe into a sensor. I’d turn back, walking faster, the wind on my sail, my blood-spattered car still where I left it, raging to go.
I messed up a few times today. I wasn’t even trying to outsmart Waze. I just fucked up. Wrong turns, wrong left, wrong right. I crossed the Glencoe range once to see it, then back towards Glencoe village to get food (didn’t find any) thinking it was the way to Glasgow anyway. Nop. Glasgow is AFTER the Glencoe range. So I basically rode the same 25 miles stretchthree time, probably the most beautiful stretch of road on earth.
On the last bit, I must have had 20 miles of empty road, followed by another 20 stuck behind a truck. Ying. Yang.
I tried to make a pass early on. I gave myself a little panic attack. Retracted cowardly. Gave him some space. Put on meditation music.
I must say, the driver was an freakin' ace. He was able to navigate the truck on narrow winding road along Loch Lomond. I let him open the road and scare the shit out of the incoming traffic. I just followed.