June 11
Wick to Ardvassar

Yet again, I awoke long before my alarm and was washed, scrubbed and packed in plenty of time. Breakfast was a bit of a let down. It appears that some of the menus offered haddock and some, including mine, didn't. I had a small quantity of egg and black pudding - very bready - which should keep me going until I have time to kill in a café in Dingwall.

I checked out then examined my baggage and returned to my room to retrieve my waterproof, which had rolled under the bed. A near miss! With both sweaters necessary this morning, there is now room in my pack for it.

	Outside, there was both sun and cloud. There was also the customary biting breeze. I took some photos of the river walk and of the station, both in better light than last night. Finally, I took the obligatory one of the train. There were few people either about or on board so I had a choice of seats. We left on the dot of 08.12 and, wonder of wonders, the information system was working.
Wick River Walk	Wick Station
The real train ...	... and one of the fake ones

I didn't concentrate too hard on the journey as I had done it all yesterday. For the first hour and a half, we followed the timetable. We arrived two minutes early at Helmsdale but had to wait a few minutes to cross with the Northbound train, which was running a few minutes late.

Something the guard said made me re-think my plans. Rather than spending over two hours carrying my back pack around Dingwall, I could continue on to Inverness, where there were two good pubs near to the station and also a left luggage office.

After Helmsdale, the line left the moors and followed the coast for a long way. I even spotted some wartime pill boxes. With this exception, most of the scenery so far, could have been in New Zealand.

The Forsinard Hotel	One of the wartime pill boxes
Back to the sea at Helmsdale	Brora Station - very sad

Brora Station, 1895, used to be grand but is now looking a bit dowdy.

At Golspie, there was a huge statue on top of a neighbouring hill, presumably an English Laird (turns out to be the First Duke of Sutherland) who had laid waste to the peasants (he did). Trying to use a long lens on a moving train is a bit beyond me. so a sharp shot was not a happening thing.

The First Duke of Sutherland	Carbisdale Castle

By Lairg, we were on schedule again. Carbisdale Castle - a late Victorian folly - offered fleeting glimpses of its spectacular site through the trees. Having failed to get a photo on the way up, I had a go this time.

By Invergordan, we were five minutes early but the Northbound train, with which we had to cross at the station, was running five minutes late. We were told that we could disembark if we wished whilst we waited for things to happen. The station has magnificent murals, mostly linked to the town's military past.  The clouds had returned but it was warm enough to be comfortable in shirt sleeves.
	Invergordon Station
Invergordon murals
Invergordon murals

The Northbound train finally arrived 15 minutes late, so we lost 20 minutes in all. It might make sense for me to alight at Dingwall rather than to have a very rushed lunch in Inverness.

By Dingwall, we had recovered nine minutes so I decided to stick to the revised plan as I should be able to reach Inverness in plenty of time for lunch.

We arrived in Inverness about ten minutes late so I rushed out of the station, bought some post cards at the Victorian Market and walked a couple of hundred yards down the street to The Blackfriars, an old style pub which holds numerous CAMRA awards.

I was back at the station about 20 minutes before take off. The train was quite empty and I took the opportunity to take photos of both its front and rear. There was high cloud and photos from here on may be even worse than usual.

Departure from Inverness	Over the Caledonian Canal

We had another problem with a late running in-bound train, the one from Dingwall, which arrived 15 minutes late, thus delaying our departure by six minutes. Once again, however, the guard told us exactly what was going on. They do communicate well up here. Just to balance out the equation, the electronic information board said "Class 158" throughout the journey. There's useful.

Roads, lochs and streams came and went. There were bright patches of gorse and also lots of rhododendrons, but I was unable to photograph any of them.

Lots of lochs ...	... and lots of gorse

We arrived at Kyle of Lochalsh about 8 minutes late. The platform stopped where there appeared to be a boat moored across the end. I found the taxi without its driver, so hovered for a few minutes.

A boat moored across the tracks	Over the bridge to Skye

He arrived apologising profusely. He had met someone he knew, was busy chatting but then suddenly realised that there were lots of people around, which must mean that a train had arrived.

He was extremely pleasant and drove me over the bridge and down to the Southern end of Skye, about a 30 minute drive. We chatted about life, the universe and everything. It was an entertaining and informative journey, along quiet roads. He happily told me that the weather had been glorious for days but was now falling apart. At one stage, he slowed and opened the window so that I could smell the wild garlic which seems to grow very well in these parts.

The hotel  owner welcomed me and gave me a strong coffee. Suitably enlivened, I walked outside and came straight back in again to collect my rain coat.

I walked up the hill, through the village in the drizzle. It was pretty enough but with too much cloud to permit spectacular views. The drizzle eased for a while, then became heavier as I returned down the hill, so I took refuge in the hotel with a pint of Skye bitter. It was OK but too malty for my taste. The really bitter pint from Cromarty at lunchtime was much more my idea of fun.
A pretty village ...	... but limited views through the drizzle

My room was comfortable. The bathroom was excellent - although dragging my hip over the edge of the bath to access the shower took some effort. I watched the news on TV, had a rest and came down to the bar at the allotted time.

The barman, who had studied at the local Gaelic academy, had been joined by an Eastern European (later revealed to be part French part German) barmaid. She had an amazing figure and a very nice smile. She was obviously a beginner but seemed willing to learn. With looks like hers, it wouldn't really matter. I learned that she had been working as an au pair but was now planning to head to New Zealand to work with horses in the Waikato or thereabouts but hadn't arranged anything concrete.
	Back in the bar
Scallops ...	... and salmon

We had a good chat and she was delightful. If only I were 40 years younger I might have stood a chance with her Mother!

I had a lengthy chat with a couple from Melbourne sitting at the next table. They were touring the UK and have a couple of days on Skye. I hope they enjoy themselves. I had cheese and coffee, accompanied by a small port. I then went for a brief walk in the twi-light although it was too cloudy to have much light to twi. Right: Ardvassar Harbour
Ardvassar Harbour