Day Five - What is the Right Way to Drive on the Wrong Side of the Road?

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My day of reckoning had finally arrived. It's stupid to go on vacation dreading an upcoming part of your trip, except maybe the return date, but from the very beginning of planning this excursion I was dreading the day we went to pick up our car rental. "Dread" is probably too strong a word - "Apprehensive" might be more accurate. I'm the kind of person that seems to enjoy worrying. The concept of driving on the other side of the road really wasn't that difficult an idea to grasp, especially since I've had experience sitting on the right side of postal vehicles over the years. Really the only time I could imagine I might get confused would be approaching a roundabout or traffic circle. I would have to remember to stay left in that situation. No way would I try to figure out how to go through a McDonald's drive-thru.

Not only was I apprehensive about the driving experience, but many other factors needed to work out as planned today. We had to haul or bags back down to the train station to take the bus back to Edinburgh Airport. How often did the bus come? How crowded would it be and could we get our bags aboard? How long to the airport during the morning rush hour now that everyone was returning to work? Where exactly was the car rental desk? Was my reservation still valid? Was my station wagon there on the lot? Was it an automatic transmission? In what condition were the roads North of town? Was my route too ambitious? How much snow had they gotten over the past few days?

All my nervousness didn't curb my appetite when everyone assembled in my room for our last Edinburgh hotel room buffet. We wiped out all our supplies except Grandma's mince pies. Check-out in the lobby went without a hitch. No hidden charges or room service orders from the kids.

Out on the street the sun was actually shining but it was still bitterly cold. The sidewalks were in the best shape we had seen them. No ice or packed snow so our descent down Cockburn to the bus stop went without incident. We couldn't have been at the Airlink bus stop more than 5 minutes when the bus arrived. The second half of our roundtrip tickets were accepted, there was ample room for luggage storage and we were the first people on the bus. Perhaps ten others boarded behind us.

We got to the airport faster than I expected, but took our time unloading our bags then searched for the car rental desks. The only negative so far was the fact that the Avis desk seemed to be on the other side of the airport. We were able to grab a couple of luggage trolleys and that made the long walk much easier. Like the bland Immigrations agent who met us inside the airport on the day we arrived, the Avis check-in person wasn't exactly a barrel of laughs. But the important thing was that our reservation that I had made 9 months before was indeed valid and our VW Passat wagon was waiting for us.

The rental car parking lot was a sheet of ice and deeply packed snow. We had to abandon our luggage carts because we couldn't navigate them over the snow. I had to immediately hop into our car and pull it out onto the open roadway just so we could gain access to the trunk. The first thing I noticed was the fact that it was a diesel and automatic. Great news. The bad news was that the tires on the VW were almost totally devoid of tread. They were new and looked like racing slicks. They were high performance summer tires. Not even all-season radials.

I should've taken a picture of the car before we started-out. Firstly because this would be the last time we'd see the real color of the car. After this day we would be completely covered in salt and sand. And it would get dirtier every day. Secondly, just to protect ourselves from accusations by the car rental agency that we damaged something, we should've taken pictures of all 4 sides. We did look the car over and when we found a scuffmark on the passenger side mirror I notified a lot attendant who recorded it.

Any concerns about the size of the station wagon were dispelled when our luggage fit in somewhat easily. It had to be packed in a specific order, but we even had some extra room for souvenirs. It would come in handy later.

When we were all belted into the car, had the GPS mounted, radio station tuned-in and cockpit temperature adjusted I began a deliberate slow drive around the lot to familiarize myself with the car. When we finally determined where the "way out" was (not an "exit" in Britain), we pulled-out onto the airport access road. Within 200 yards I made my first bump against the left curb. This would become a common theme of my driving experience - I continually over-compensated for my unfamiliarity with driving on the left side by drifting to far to that side. I learned later that English car rental agencies take extra care to check for damage on that side of the car whenever Americans rent their vehicles.

My Garmin Nuvi GPS was set for our first stop, Pitlochry, a little over an hour away. The GPS directed me out of the airport area and I immediately spotted a sign for Queensferry. Since I figured we had some time and because I wanted the kids to see the impressive bridges crossing the Firth of Forth there, I headed in that direction. The GPS instantly reprimanded me and went into its re-calculating mode. When I glanced down at the display on the Nuvi there were no roads displayed. The GPS thought I was out in a field. Apparently this was a brand new road not yet on the map. As we headed merrily North on this shiny new thoroughfare, traffic was rather light and I became more comfortable with driving at the speed limit. Snow was on the ground but the sun shone brightly. Must remember to stay in the far left lane on the highway and when approaching roundabouts. Before I knew it we were crossing the Forth Road Bridge. There had been no exits where we might detour to take a few photos. We missed out.

As we crossed the bridge Tyler franticly searched for his camera to snap a few shots of the more photogenic railway bridge that ran parallel to our highway bridge. Halfway across, the sunny skies soon disappeared and we headed into a thick fogbank. Once we reached the other side we emerged from the fog into a swirling blizzard. From there the highway rose as we headed up a mountain. Within a half mile of driving, the snow squall disappeared and the bright sunshine returned. And the traffic increased. It wasn't heavy traffic but there were enough old Putzers on the road that I actually had to get into the passing lane a few times. Fortunately for all of us my left hand drift didn't come into play as we passed many folk who seemed unfamiliar with driving even in light snow. I also spotted a fair number of people pulled over onto the shoulder. Almost everyone was using either a water bottle or a handful of snow to clean their windshield (windscreen). It seemed like an inordinate number of people didn't keep their washer fluid levels up.

As we drove through the mountains that are the start of the Highlands, Tyler saw a sign indicating that Knockhill Race Course was at the upcoming exit. I consider myself a casual race car fan but I never heard of the place. But since we were making excellent time and I knew Pitlochry wouldn't entertain us all day, I got off at the prescribed exit. We left the motorway at the Kelty exit ramp. Another sign for the track indicated that there was a souvenir stand. This totally piqued Tyler's interest and we headed West.

Instead of a wide concrete motorway we now found ourselves on a two lane winding macadam road. Further proof that the Scots were unused to the snowy winter they were experiencing was the fact that the previous day's snow hadn't been plowed, no salt or sand had been laid down and the roads were completely devoid of potholes. The bright morning sun had cleared most of the snow from the drivable sections of the road, but the shoulders and shady patches were still slick. The trees alongside the road were other worldly as they glistened under a heavy burden of wet snow. While the area directly alongside the road's shoulder was lined with trees, just beyond that were huge rolling hills of pastureland. It reminded me of areas of upstate New York where there are few inhabitants but plenty of sheep and cattle.

Before long we saw the entrance to the race course. Up until now it had been a pretty and relaxing driving experience as I got more accustomed to the peculiarities of English/Scottish roads. Very little traffic and no confusing signs or roundabouts to worry about. My first clue that this comfortable feeling was about to change should've been the unplowed road we turned into. Oddly enough, the snow that was on the road was rather heavily packed and rutted by numerous other vehicles. We continued down the snow-covered road assuming that maybe some sort of event was taking place or that many others were also interested in shopping at the souvenir stand of this previously unknown race track.

There was no one else on the private road and this was probably a very good thing since the packed snow was only a lane wide. Had an oncoming car come our way we would've had to divert into loose snow. As it was we traveled a good half mile down this deserted Arctic highway with little concern for the slippery conditions. So far the VW had had no problems and we were moving easily ahead. It was when a slight incline loomed ahead of us that my blood pressure began to build. The car struggled to go uphill and began to fishtail. Being front wheel drive I wasn't too worried even though we were slowing significantly before reaching the crest. Finally we stopped completely. After failing to move ahead I attempted to reverse. After less than 6 feet of reverse movement we stopped again. Then I began rocking the car between reverse and forward. That only created a deeper hole for our wheels. After getting more and more frustrated I made Tyler take the wheel and I got out to push. When that accomplished nothing, we put Gail in the driver's seat and Tyler and I pushed. As we put our weights up against the back of the car and tried to free it, Gail went to work digging a deeper hole as she spun the tires. We of course started to scream at each other. All of this took about 15 minutes but it felt like an hour. There were no signs of life anywhere around us. I imagined us having to hike back down the snowy road to the county highway where we'd probably have to wait and hour or so until a local drove by to give us some help.

We finally were able to free the car when Tyler and I went to the front to push. The combination of our pushing along with our weight over the driven front wheels allowed the car to back-up. We made Gail back-up about 100 feet and when she was back on the most firmly packed section of the snow road, we resumed our previous traveling assignments. There was nowhere to turn the car around. Trying to do so would only result in us getting into the soft snow again and getting stuck. I then backed-up the car for the half mile back to the main road. We all breathed a sigh of relief as we reached terra firma.

After that adventure our windshield was caked with snow and grit. Flicking the windshield washer I got a tiny squirt of fluid that only made the windshield worse when the blades smeared it. Subsequent attempts to clean off the windshield resulted in nothing spraying out. We started to think that these Scottish people, even the car rental folks, pay no attention to their windshield washer levels. Like the others we had seen along the motorway we too were out of juice. I stopped to rub some snow on the windshield. That cleared things up for perhaps 5 minutes but it soon became a mess again. As we slowly drove along we took time to enjoy the beauty of the snowy fields beneath the intense shining sun. Sheep were almost invisible against the background of white snow, but they were everywhere.

Eventually we came to a small village where we spotted a gas station. I grossly overpaid for a small bottle of washer fluid and started to pour the contents into the reservoir. I only poured about a 1/4 of the bottle when it started coming over the top. It wasn't until now that I figured it out - everyone's washer fluid was frozen. Those people stopped along the highway had plenty of fluid in their cars; it simply wouldn't spray because it was too cold. Back home it has to be below zero for my washer fluid to freeze up but here where 20 degree temperatures are very unusual for winter, the type of solvent they use had too much water in it and it froze.

The stuff I put in didn't freeze instantly so I was able to clear the windscreen completely before we continued off to Pitlochry. Yet by the time we returned to the motorway heading North, it had all frozen again. Fortunately it was still bright and sunny and there wasn't too much grit coming off the highway.

Heading North we saw a big sign for the Dewar's Scotch Distillery indicating that they gave tours. Since I was planning on visiting the tiny Edradour Distillery or Bell's both in Pitlochry, I didn't stop. We should have.

When we reached the outskirts of Pitlochry on the A924 one of the first things we saw were a pile of oak barrels and a cluster of low warehouse-type buildings. As we slowed to look I saw the "Bell's Blair Athol" sign. And a little further along we saw that they were closed for the Holidays. "No problem" thought I as there was also the Edradour Distillery nearby. I pulled off into a very busy gas station in order to utilize the WC and to check my GPS for the location of this second distillery. All the pumps were lined with drivers despite the ice and snow all over the parking lot. When I was ready to drive off into town we once again found ourselves stuck. I'm not sure why this kept happening but again I got out, Tyler got behind the wheel and I failed epically to dislodge the station wagon. A kindly local bloke came along and helped me push. For the second time that day we were free at last.

When we got to the main drag of Pitlochry (and it looked much smaller this second time) I noticed a sign leading off to the right for the Edradour Distilery. That side road was not plowed and from what I could see, headed uphill for a distance. And speaking of unplowed - downtown Pitlochry looked like one of those Al Gore-inspired end-of-the -world movies with abandoned cars jutting out in a variety of haphazard angles into the street. High snowbanks obscured storefronts. The sidewalks in front of most businesses were un-shoveled. The road through town was a mere lane and a half wide. As we continued onward we often had to pull over to the side to let oncoming traffic through. When I spotted the huge bus parking lot that we stopped in during that summer trip a few years back, we made a left toward it. The lot was plenty big alright but it was unplowed and most of the vehicles in it appeared to be stuck inside until the Spring. We drove around the block until we found an area that had been semi-plowed. We parked along the street where I felt sure we would be able to extricate our vehicle when the time came.

Most of the shops and in this town "shops" means "souvenir shops", were open for business. Since it was early afternoon and our meager breakfast left us all rather hungry, we stopped for lunch. We went into the first place we passed, The Bistro. It was warm inside so were content. We then proceeded to have what I considered a rather expensive lunch. The food was ok, but unexceptional. Service was very slow. The ladies had scones and coffee while Tyler and I enjoyed heartier fare with alcohol. When we finally got out of the Bistro, we sauntered through all of the many souvenir shops on the South side of the street. We were tempted a few times but basically bought nothing. We still had plenty of time to shop in Scotland. Looking back on it, I think the kids got a bad impression of this very charming little town. Because of the weather and season we couldn't see the salmon fish ladder just a few hundred feet from our parked car, nor could we get to Edradour or Bell's Distilleries. We didn't dare take a detour through the surrounding countryside because of the present conditions. As we headed back to our car the sun was already setting and dark clouds seemed to be coming in.

Heading North out of town flurries began to flutter. At this point the GPS started to get nutty and put me on to a very narrow poorly plowed country road. At one point we passed over a one lane wooden bridge with a deep rocky gorge below it. We were in the Pass of Killiecrankie. We were heading North to Newtonmore where our first B&B was waiting for us. The road we were on was full of hairpin turns, steep ascents and descents and hardly any other traffic. One drawback of my 4 year old Nuvi GPS is that it doesn't tell you exactly what kind of road it was putting you on. It could be a highway, an interstate, a country road, a driveway or a cow path. While I was fretting about getting stuck out here in the country the rest of my companions slept.

There were still vestiges of sunlight when Nuvi directed us on to the A9 highway. We were back in civilization. Oddly enough, this area was also considered part of Pitlochry even though we had driven almost an hour to get here. Looking at the map now I see that we passed very near Blair Atholl Castle. Too bad we hadn't known that at the time because it looks to be a beautiful castle with the Grampian Mountains serving as a backdrop behind it. There was also a distillery near here.

I was in a bit of a hurry to reach our accomodations for the night. I didn't want to get to Newtonmore too late with the possibility of more snow coming. I was also concerned that we might have a tough time finding a restaurant in that itty bitty village during the non-tourist season. But as we headed closer to our destination I saw on our right a bevy of shiny white-washed buildings illuminated by pale amber lights. At first I just wanted to take a look at what I thought was either a castle or some kind of historical interpretive center. When I drove through the gate into the parking lot I saw that it was a collection of stores with a sign announcing "The House of Bruar" . The others awoke as once again I found myself driving on a thick layer of packed snow. Even though there was little sunlight left it was just a few minutes after four. Nuvi said we were less than a half hour away from Newtonmore so a quick stop seemed warranted.

We headed for the most distant of the many buildings, the one indicating it was the bargain barn. Traipsing through the snowy lot we walked into a scene very familiar to Pocono shoppers like ourselves, a clothing outlet store. Long story short, we spotted a couple semi-tempting offerings, but nothing we "needed". Our expensive lunch killed any interest in pampering ourselves. Besides, this was mostly stuff that looked really cool to us while we were vacationing in Scotland, but there was nothing that looked like it would be cool back home. Tartan coats and cashmere jackets would serve no purpose where we live. It's either ninety degrees Fahrenheit and sunny or snowing and in the mid-twenties.

Curiosity took us down to the longest building in the complex. More really nifty stuff if you were a wealthy squire living on your estate, but way too over-priced for us. Picture Eddie Bauer and Burberry merchandise when Walmart or Cabella's will do the same job for a tenth of the price. It was a very lovely store and had our lifestyles drastically improved, than I would've been in heaven. I could see the horsey crowd of Potomac, MD being very into House of Bruar.

We casually looked for our usual, unusual memento to bring home. They had an amazing variety of very exclusive dog supplies - fancy blankets and dog coats, special biscuits and plush beds. A few of the dog toys were tempting but our dogs would just fight over the toy in order to keep it from the other, then completely forget about it. I also liked a few things in the kitchen department, but nothing seemed uniquely Scottish. The girls were taking an inordinately long time to look at whatever they were looking at so Tyler and I went out to search for a bathroom. We found it in the next building down. When we finished our business we took a quick look around and saw that a big gourmet shop and restaurant were also there.

When we finally hustled the ladies out of the Country Living section we brought them down to the gourmet shop. We were very impressed by the variety of local sausages and cheeses. They must've had 50 different kinds of Scotch whisky and almost as many types of beer. They stocked all manner of chocolates and hard candy as well as a whole wall full of teas. But once again, the prices scared us off. Had they actually had any special sales we might have bought something we were semi-attracted to. As it was, there wasn't anything any of us wanted to carry around for the rest of the trip. Definitely an interesting place and a spot I'd like to return to, but in the summer when I could pick up a couple wedges of cheese, some crackers and a beer or two and have a picnic.

When we got ready to leave our car was virtually alone in the huge expansive parking lot. The House of Bruar wasn't closing, yet the place was empty. Once we all got into the car, got buckled in and got the heat cranked-up I put the Passat into reverse and spun another hole into the snow. Once again I got out while Tyler took the wheel. Once again that didn't work so he got out and Gail took the wheel. She backed out of the spot but got stuck again trying to go forward. Once again I thought about us being stuck out here in this gigantic parking lot while all the Bruar employees left. Persistence paid off and when she got the car moving again we made her drive across the lot while we chased after her. When it looked like the road was clear enough she stopped and all of us resumed our rightful places.

In the United Kingdom the "M" designation means the highway is like our interstates with multiple lanes in each direction and a rather straight road. The A9 we were on wasn't a super highway but it was far better than some of the "B" roads we had been on. Our route took us past Glen Garry and through the Pass of Drumochter which separates the Southern and Northern Scottish Highlands. We also passed the Dalwhinnie Distillery. We were driving through some of Scotland's most gorgeous scenery lush with heather and thistle. The only problem was that it was all covered in snow and it was now pitch black with a moderate snowfall coming down.

Before the roads could get too dangerous we came to the exit for Newtonmore. Naturally, as we came off the exit ramp and on to the snow-covered local road, our car began to slide. It wasn't much of a slide but it served to remind me of the crappy tires we had on our VW. When I programmed the Craig Meagaidh Bed and Breakfast into my GPS, I had to guestimate the location since the given address was not in my Nuvi. When we arrived in the vicinity of the B&B we had to drive around on more unplowed roads while we searched for the place. Gail spotted a sign for it catacorner from the little village's main hotel, the Balavil.

Lo and behold, the parking lot was actually cleared for us. A light on the house came on just as we stopped the car. We felt a little weird about this upcoming experience. Years before we had stayed at a B&B in Denmark. It turned out to be very inexpensive with a fabulous breakfast, but the whole time I felt like I was infringing on the owners' lives. We basically just stayed in our rooms until breakfast time then proceeded to devour everything they put on the table. From the outside the Craig Meagaidh looked to be about the same sized accommodation.

Once we got out of the car and knocked on the door, we found Geoff the owner waiting. He was extremely nice in showing us all around the place and inviting us to make free use of all the facilities. After Gail and her mother took their room on the ground floor, the kids and I headed upstairs. They grabbed the room with two queen beds. I got the third room. Little did they know that my bathroom had a heated tile floor and the biggest shower.

We spent a few minutes checking-out our rooms, then saw Geoff again as we headed out the front door. It looked like he and his wife stayed in a separate part of the house isolated from the guests. We wouldn't have to feel uncomfortable coming back at night from dinner or feel confined to our rooms. When we told Geoff we were heading out again to look for dinner, he recommended a restaurant at another inn on the other side of town. We asked about the Balavil across the street. He kind of poo-poo'd that idea perhaps assuming we were gourmands seeking elegant local and healthy dining. I forget what he recommended but the name conjured up images of gigantic plates with miniscule pieces of meat in the center. We decided to walk over to the Balavil Hotel just to see what they had to offer. Geoff had also told us that as guests at his place we were entitled to use the indoor pool at the hotel. Once inside the old historic building we were greeted by a friendly non-Scottish hotel employee. He showed us around a bit and let us take a look at the menu. The price and selection was perfect.

The dining room itself was a little on the British Tacky Style with worn old furnishings and drab walls. A little Fawlty Towerish if you will. But it was clean and our waiter was very nice. We started with our usual beers and by the end of the cold snowy night had had multiple brews. My Tennant's was especially tasty. As usual the women got fish and chips. I can't remember what I had because once again I spent half the evening taking pictures of ourselves waiting for food, but when it arrived I forgot to snap any pictures.

After dinner we opted not to take a walk through town because it was just too cold and icy to stay out for long. We returned to the B&B where we found Geoff and his wife/partner, Ali sitting in the entertainment room near the front door. They invited us in and asked if we wanted tea or coffee while we watched TV. Somehow the TV never came on, but we all sat around the hot woodstove and chatted until bedtime. My spacious room was extremely comfortable and cozy until around 2:00 in the morning when I woke up and found that my radiator was cold. Like many other places in Europe, it seems like the Craig Meagaidh saves money by turning off the heat late at night. I just put on my sweatshirt and crawled back under the covers.

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Photos

A View from the Bridge of a Bridge
My desire to stop in Queensfeery in order to photograph the twin bridges there was frustrated by the lack of an exit on our road. Instead Tyler had to quickly snap this picture as we whisked across the bridge and into a fogbank.

See What I Mean?
When we left the motorway in search of the Knockhill Race Circuit we enetered a scene right out of Narnia. The night before a heavy snow had fallen and coated all the trees in the area. The roads were pretty clear but we soon discovered that the backroads were untouched.

Here It Is
Too bad we didn't just buzz on past; oblivious to this big old sign in front. What I still don't understand is why the road leading in had been so heavily traversed since the snowfall the night before yet we saw no one when we got stuck further along. Where were they when we needed them?

Good Thing They Remembered Their Jackets
Our quest to find the Knockhill Racecourse took us through farm country. A snowstorm the night before meant that the trees were festooned in white and the fields were blanketed yet somehow these woolly fellows made it through alright.

This is Why Tyler Gets to Sit Up Front
This and all the earlier pictures today were taken by Tyler since my hands were full trying to keep the car on the road and out of the snowbanks. As we travelled from Knockhill to the motorway up to Pitlochry this is pretty much what all the scenery looked like. In fact, most of what we saw on subsequent days in Scotland looked very much like this. Not a whole lot of signs of people. I guess that's why I like it there so much.

More of the Highland Countryside
At one point the winding country road brought us up on top of a ridge that affored us great views of the mountains in the distance.

Zooming In Again
And here's the same view zoomed in on what we thought might be the tower of a castle. That's a big Loch (lake) right behind whatever it is.

More and More Sheep
They say there are more sheep than people in Scotland and we could believe it. They seemed to be in every field we passed. There were no shepherds or even sheep dogs around so I take it they are low maintenence. Either that or they were just frozen to the ground.

Why Did the Ruffed Grouse Cross the Road?
Because he couldn't find a bare branch to fly to. Or maybe he wanted to get away from all the filthy sheep. On this same section of road we also spotted a pair of pheasants.

We Picked Up a Hitch Hiker
When we reached Pitlochry we drove around looking for a place to park. When I saw a couple trying to extricate their car from a snowpile I got out and helped push. While I was out of the car Tyler took a picture of a confused bird that landed on his outside mirror.

Pitlochry Parking
Because of the unplowed parking lots and limited shoveled spaces along the main road we decided to park on the blind curve of a side street. I would have never parked there in better weather for fear of someone coming around the corner and creaming my car, but there was nowhere else to park and nobody was driving much faster than 15 mph.

Car Maze
This is the main street of Pitlochry. It's actually a numbered highway. In the summer traffic is slow due to the influx of tourists arriving in over-sized coachs. When we visited during the worst Winter in recent Scottish memory, the roads were nearly impassable due to the piles of snow and abandoned vehicles along the main corridor of town.

Tyler Tries to Remember How Many Times He Had to Get Out and Push
We spent far too much time and money taking a break for lunch at the Bistro in Pitlochry. But it did give the girls a chance to try scones and to warm up. Tyler and I took advantage of the stop to order cider and stout.

Yes, the Heat Was On Inside
It really was quite comfortable inside the restaurant. Grandma just doesn't like to remove all her layers of clothing when we go inside. It might also have something to do with that thin Carolina blood.

Do They Serve Baked Beans with Every Meal?
First it was baked beans at breakfast and here they gave us beans with our fries and sandwichs. They were actually pretty good and less potent than ours back home. Tyler's drink was Magner's hard cider. He liked it.

Doing What We Do Best - Shopping
After lunch we walked through the piles of snow visiting all of the souvenir shops in town. We did a lot of looking but no buying. The only time I was tempted was in the bookstore where I saw a couple of history books I might like, but I decided to wait until we were in Heathrow Airport and ready to fly home. There were always great sales in the terminal.

A Study in Colors
Cassie decided that someone's spilled bag of Smarties would be an interesting photographic subject. They gave us good traction when we drove over them exiting town.

Is This the Way to Killiecrankie?
Our trip from Pitlochry North toward Newtonmore seemed to throw Nuvi for a loop. We got confusing directions which resulted in our ending up on a narrow country road that looked as if a snowplow hadn't come through all winter.

House of Bruar, Very Excluar
We made a spur of the moment stop at the expansive House of Bruar shopping complex out in the middle of nowhere. It was full of very expensive stuff we couldn't affor or even use if we wanted it. It was interesting to say the least. This photo makes it look like a base camp in Antarctica. We almost ended-up having to sleep out in our car in the parking lot.

Real Luxury in My Book
This is the bathroom of my room at Craig Meagaidh. Not only was my shower awesome but the floor tiles were heated too. I should've slept on them after the hear went off in the middle of the night.

Sleeping Arrangements in Our B&B
This was the setup in my room. Not only did I have to chose between these two beds, but a third one was behind me and to the left. Not wanting to make our hosts work too hard, I chose the wide single next to the radiator.

As I Wandered Out on the Streets of Newtonmore
After settling into and exploring our rooms we decided we needed to find dinner before it got too late. We decided to take a look at the indoor pool at the Balavil Hotel first. Outside the B&B it was icy cold. I wasn't in the mood to venture out again in our car and risk geting stuck and none of us really wanted to walk to the opposite end of town. When we saw their extensive menu at the Balavil and reasonable prices we didn't need to go any further.

Future St. Pauli Girl
Cassie is wishing we would turn our backs so she could steal our beers. She didn't have an alcoholic drink the whole trip. I wonder if she's that good when she's away at college?

Not A Guinness Man
Despite the glass in the previous photo (they often pay no attention to what glass they are putting your beer into in the UK), this night I was drinking the less bitter John Smith instead of Guinness. It's just as foamy and thick, but has much less of a coffee flavor.

Waiting for Food
So as we wait we play with the camera.

Cassie the Photographer
Since it amuses her and keeps her from complaining, I let Cassie mess around with my new camera while we wait. She has a very unique approach to taking pictures.

Counting How Many Times We Got Stuck that Day
I can tell Cassie is a great photographer because she somehow avoided the glare coming off the chrome dome.

Now We are Getting Really Hungry
I can tell because all of us are acting stupid in these pictures.

The Hand is Quicker than the Eye
My hand is just a blur as I perform a card trick while we eagerly await our dinner. Lots of time for this nonsense but then we totally forgot to take a single picture once the food arrived.

Rapid Fire Photography
This was the first in a multi-burst sequence of pictures of Cassie acting herself. At the time it seemed cool to watch the 10 or so pictures played back almost as if it were a movie. Now it seems ridiculous. I saved the best three shots.

Still Waiting Patiently
It's a wonder that the others in the restaurant didn't tell us to knock it off. We are so easily amused.

OK Dad, Time to Put the Camera Away.
You are soooo immature.

Late Night in Newtonmore
It was around 10:00 when we left the Balavil and walked out into a deserted village. We decided to forsake a walk through the town because of the cold and seeming lack of shoveled pathways. Instead we spent the evening talking with our hosts around a hot stove.