Chronicle for 14 May 2012

Oh what a beautiful morning. The wind has settled, the sun is shining, the lambs are gathering together in little gangs and running from one place to another before deciding where to run to next. Looking out onto the loch we watch a fishing boat crossing between the headlands. We're fed and watered and we're ready to head out into the great outdoors. It is a beautiful day and what a great place to spend it.

Our first stop today was the Talisker distillery, not Justine's favourite drop however I am rather partial. It is great to see these distilleries insitu, they all seem to have amazing backdrops of scenery and it gives us a greater appreciation of the peculiarities of their products. This is the only distillery on the isle and is typical of the products of the western isles in that it is more peaty/smoky than their Speyside cousins.

After leaving the Talisker distillery we headed to Portree. We paused here for a while to admire the colourful little houses and to have a wander around the town. To be honest we had expected there to be a lot more here. It really is a village, although interesting in its own way nonetheless. We finished our time by having lunch in a little organic food and gallery type place who's publicity proudly stated 'food with seats'. The food was excellent and the seats served their purpose adequately. The service was serviceable, we have started to get used to the 'island time' that runs here. Things happen when they happen, not only do they happen in their own good time, but we have never seen people physically move so slowly. We have also found that if you go into any shop, gallery, food store, or gas station, be prepared for a very very long chat. Absolutely no one will let you go easily. The only exception to this rule was the young woman behind the counter in 'food with seats' who although very pleasant and with a ready smile seemed so shy as to be unable to put two words together.

From Portree we headed north along the eastern side of the Trotternish Penninsula, stopping regularly to check out the sights. We seemed to be meeting the same people at every point that we stopped at, who appeared as if they were also taking advantage of the sunshine and fair weather that we have been served up today.

Towards the northern end of the peninsula we came across the graveyard that contains the grave of Flora MacDonald, the self same wee bonnie lass that helped Bonnie Prince Charlie escape these isles in his time of need. She sounds like she was a feisty lass throughout her life and quite the local heroine.

We stopped along the way at a small gallery along the way, well it was more like the front room of a local artists house. An artists work that we have seen around the isle and admired. We were greeted by his wife, a very aged but spritely and chatty wee thing who kept us talking the whole time we were there. She only disappeared to take our purchase to her husband the artist, to wrap for us. When he entered the room we daren't look at each other for fear of the giggles. We wondered if this was the product of couples who live their lives at the extremities of these isles. He was very short and stooped, he had a full but wispy white beard that reached well down towards his belt buckle, but his movements were a little like a wind up toy soldier that is running out of puff, extremely slow and jerky, as if he was almost coming to a standstill. He was a lovely old man who was happy to see everyone, give them a warm smile and a firm handshake. He didn't have as much to say as his wife as we guessed that he adopted more of a listening role. What a lovely and interesting couple, they appear to be the perfect pair, and like all of the artists that we have met here just a little eccentric ... but in a good way. They were the kind of people that made us drive away smiling and what could be better than that.

We returned home down the western coastline admiring the view, contemplating the geography of the land, and keeping a wary eye on the ominous looking clouds that have dumped their loads on us a couple of times this afternoon. We arrived home, once again casting our eyes towards the loch (Loch Snizort) hoping to see some of the seals and otters that we have been told frequent this area. We haven't had had any luck yet, perhaps tomorrow.

Until then we have been entertained this evening by watching the fresh lambs bouncing about and chasing each other to the four corners of the field before returning to the safety of their mother's undercarriage.