In which we have a lovely drive through Argyll and Bute to catch a FERRY! and I am not the first one to order a whisky.

We got up at the crack of 8:15am and made breakfast. Faither was quite proud of himself, having laid in supplies of bacon and eggs (and other snacks for the road) all by himself. He braved the aisles of Marks & Spencers with the practiced hand of a complete novice and wasn’t actually escorted from the premises. In fact, as he tells it, there may have been applause. In case it’s not immediately obvious, it’s mither that normally lays in provisions.

Having conquered the shopping, faither confidently told us to cook it ourselves; he’d had quite enough excitement for one year. So we ate bacon and eggs and strawberries, the latter of which were infinitely better than anything you’ll find in a grocery store in the States, so much so that I remembered why I used to like eating them. This is not true in the US any more.

We loaded up the car, bade farewell, and got on our way.

The drive was about a hundred miles, up Loch Lomond side, over to Arrochar, on to Inverary (home to Inverary Castle, seat of my clan),  down the western shore of Loch Fyne, and then a quick hop across the Kintyre peninsula to the eastern shore of West Loch Tarbert, where can be found Caledonian MacBrayne’s Kennacraigh Ferry Terminal. Got all that? There’s gonnie be a test later.

Entirely unlike us, we arrived about 45 mins before check-in would close, a good hour before the sailing. So we got to just loiter and enjoy the spectacular views down the loch, where the MV Finlaggan could be seen making her way North towards us. Really, the weather was stunning: bright blue skies, hardly a cloud to be seen, and barely a breath of wind.

I always love watching the ferries dock: for all their size and mass, they’re handled with such precision that they look almost graceful sliding in to place. The wean got a kick out of watching the Finlaggan open her mouth and stick out her tongue (ramp), then ‘twas time to board.

We were second on board for what looked to be a pretty quite crossing – not a lot of vehicles, so much so that there was a full lane between us. That never happens. Normally they pack us so tight that you need basic parkour training to get over your vehicles to the stairs up to the deck. Not easy for the old fowks, but I’ve seen some spectacular flips pulled off on the end of a walking stick, with minimal damage to car or hip.

Once we got under way, it was just plain, flat, picturesque sailing. I’ve never seen the loch that calm before: dead flat, with only our wake churning up a froth and leaving a clear path behind us. We saw one other fishing boat about a quarter mile off the starboard bow (confirmed not Klingons), and it looked like she’d been parked on a mirror. This was a terrible day to have left my real camera in the car, what with the vehicle deck being off-limits during the crossing. Ah well, I just had to enjoy it for real. Which I did, inside and outside. Typically, even on the best of days, you normally need a jacket or something the break the wind while on deck, but I was quite comfortable in short sleeves. The breeze picked up a bit as we came around the south end of Jura and began to head north up the Sound of Islay – Caol Ile – and the deck filled with passengers drinking in the scenery.

I’m fairly certain that I could spend an entire holiday just riding the CalMac ferries up and down the west coast, in and out and around the Hebridies. Hmm, maybe an idea for next year.

We docked at Port Askaig at the north-east end of Islay, rolled off the Finlaggan, and joined the column of vehicles heading south to various locations. We were heading all the way south to Port Ellen, where our B&B could be found “turning left at the Coop and heading to the top of the hill.” Who needs street numbers.

Now, I can pretty much find my way around Islay by now, so I planned to drive the main drag through Bowmore and on to Port Ellen. The navigation system had a different idea. There’s a 10 mile single-track road that bypasses Bowmore and cuts a straighter line across the hills and joins the main road about ½ mile from Port Ellen. Apparently. I’d never taken the road before, but what the hey. I kinda get a kick out of these single-tracks.

And this one was fun!

Two things made this a fun, fast, easy drive. First, it was mostly straight (though certainly not flat, but I’ll get to that in a minute). There were a few jogs and bends, but mostly dead straight runs. Second, there was a small white van in front of us that was clearly being driven by a local, so I could match their speed AND they would be my early warning if there was any oncoming traffic. Which there wasn’t. Not once. We barely dropped below 60 mph the entire drive. I did have to tell the wean to look up and out of the window because this road was not flat. All sorts of undulations and slopes made the whole thing feel like a cushioned roller-coaster ride. The Kadjar suspension just about handled it as well, though there was that point when I thought we might bottom out, but no.

After 10 miles, as promised, we rejoined the main road, where my lead took off a mite faster than I did, but that was just fine. And after about 1 more mile, as promised, there was a Coop, where we turned left. And at the top of the hill, as promised, stood The Grange B&B. I pulled in to the parking area behind the building, sliding in behind a white van that looked somewhat familiar. Turns out that our hosts’ son had arrived about 2 minutes ahead of us, and, yes, he’d been my lead. I must thank him if I see him.

Margaret is to be our host for our stay, along with her husband Harold. The Grange is her family’s home – an ex-Manse – and has three rooms for guests. Looks like we may be the only people here for a  day or two, which Margaret’s quite looking forward to after the rush of Feis Ile earlier this month. Our room is on the first floor (second for the Americans out there), facing the harbor, from the top of a hill. The view is stunning, and I spent a few minutes watching the MV Hebridean Isles, CalMac’s other ferry on the Islay-Kennacraigh route, sailing in to port.

We wandered into town to the Islay Hotel for dinner, and I can highly recommend the smoked fish starter and fish pie main course. The latter was amazing: rich béchamel sauce and huge chunks of fish. After dinner, we just headed back to the B&B for some journaling before crashing for the night.

Tomorrow, we walk my favourite 3 mile stretch of road on the whole planet, with a couple of pre-arranged stops along the way.