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Isle of Skye
10 Sep 2022 21:35We are in the middle of nowhere, Isle of Skye edition.
Remote doesn't even begin to describe it, LOL. There are pastures (commons) with sheeps outside the window. The BnB owner keeps chickens. Linnea is planning on stealing a sheep and smuggling it to Bellingham with her.
So yes, we're on the Isle of Skye. Took the ferry over this morning, after last night's adventure.
For those who don't know, at about 12:30 AM last night, Perry woke dh and me up to tell us there were people inside the house. People who were not us. And that they were smoking weed and talking loudly. This was not good. We panicked a bit, called 999 -kudos to dh for remembering that 999 is the 911 of the UK!- and had the hardest time conveying to the Scotland Dispatch person in Glasgow where we were. Even with the postal code, it was not evident to them. Finally she asked for the place's "what3words" locator and we did have those and they got police dispatched.
We were terrified. Retrospect and a bit but not enough at the time, it's that it's Scotland and they're probably not armed so eh. Still, it's middle of the night and there are unknown people in our Airbnb, ya know?
In the meanwhile, the dudes downstairs start to leave and I'm like no, nope, not happening, you are not stealing my camera with my Harry Potter train photos (only semi-uploaded) and worse, our PASSPORTS. We had an early ferry so we packed early and, well, passports were mostly in bags downstairs. Last thing I want to have to do right now is travel to London to get to a US Consulate, oh, I mean, did I mention the Queen of freaking England DIED two days ago? I start down the stairs, realize that with my knee I'm not fast enough, and dh heads down and we confront these two (stoned) 20-somethings who.....
... fall over themselves apologizing. They were going to crash on the floor of a friend's Airbnb two doors down and came in the wrong one. It was so freaking funny, once the adrenaline started to wear off. They heard an American woman upstairs calling the police and slowly the realization dawned that they might not be where they were supposed to be and probably thought we were going to come down guns-ablaze, Rambo-style, LOL. As it is, dh was pissed as hell.
Why didn't we lock the door, you ask? Well, we thought we had. Like most Euro doors, and many patio doors in the US like ours, the instructions says lift up to lock, we did that. Turns out, you have to have the key in the lock for it to, well, actually dead-bolt lock. Since that goes against pretty much BASIC firecode, this would never have occurred to us.
The police eventually showed up, everything was sorted, and we sat around processing until we thought we could get back to sleep.
We did.
Early up to catch the ferry to Skye. We did so well, they let us on the earlier ferry, which did hadn't expected to be able to catch. The crossing was beautiful, the weather has turned a shade of perfect. Blue skies, cool, just enough breeze to chase away the #$%%^%%!!!!! midges.
The goal was to head to a place called the Fairy Pools. The landscape was breathtaking , a valley in the Black Cuillins Mountain Range, walking by the side of a large stream. If you are all lucky, Anne-Chloe will send me some a few photos that I can upload. If you are super EXTRA lucky, Linnea will send a photo of Poppy (*). It was a nice hike. Took a few hours, it was one of those hikes that heads straight down and then up up up. Up is dangerous. I can get up. And up and up and up. It's getting back down that's the PITA. Up is just managing pace. Down is managing pain. When we got back, we had a picnic. (*) Story later.
We finished late enough that we missed the distillery tour we wanted to do this afternoon, we'll try to that tomorrow.
We did see one -well, there was a group of a few- "hairy coo" (Scottish accent, people!) aka highland cows who have bangs falling over their eyes, so cute. Hopefully we will see more.
Then we headed northwards. Stopped to grab some fixings for dinner in Portree, which appears to be a major tourist trap, albeit a cute one, and headed out to our Airbnb, where were are surrounded not by stoners but by... sheep. And chickens. And not a lot -or a little- of anything else.
Remote doesn't even begin to describe it, LOL. There are pastures (commons) with sheeps outside the window. The BnB owner keeps chickens. Linnea is planning on stealing a sheep and smuggling it to Bellingham with her.
So yes, we're on the Isle of Skye. Took the ferry over this morning, after last night's adventure.
For those who don't know, at about 12:30 AM last night, Perry woke dh and me up to tell us there were people inside the house. People who were not us. And that they were smoking weed and talking loudly. This was not good. We panicked a bit, called 999 -kudos to dh for remembering that 999 is the 911 of the UK!- and had the hardest time conveying to the Scotland Dispatch person in Glasgow where we were. Even with the postal code, it was not evident to them. Finally she asked for the place's "what3words" locator and we did have those and they got police dispatched.
We were terrified. Retrospect and a bit but not enough at the time, it's that it's Scotland and they're probably not armed so eh. Still, it's middle of the night and there are unknown people in our Airbnb, ya know?
In the meanwhile, the dudes downstairs start to leave and I'm like no, nope, not happening, you are not stealing my camera with my Harry Potter train photos (only semi-uploaded) and worse, our PASSPORTS. We had an early ferry so we packed early and, well, passports were mostly in bags downstairs. Last thing I want to have to do right now is travel to London to get to a US Consulate, oh, I mean, did I mention the Queen of freaking England DIED two days ago? I start down the stairs, realize that with my knee I'm not fast enough, and dh heads down and we confront these two (stoned) 20-somethings who.....
... fall over themselves apologizing. They were going to crash on the floor of a friend's Airbnb two doors down and came in the wrong one. It was so freaking funny, once the adrenaline started to wear off. They heard an American woman upstairs calling the police and slowly the realization dawned that they might not be where they were supposed to be and probably thought we were going to come down guns-ablaze, Rambo-style, LOL. As it is, dh was pissed as hell.
Why didn't we lock the door, you ask? Well, we thought we had. Like most Euro doors, and many patio doors in the US like ours, the instructions says lift up to lock, we did that. Turns out, you have to have the key in the lock for it to, well, actually dead-bolt lock. Since that goes against pretty much BASIC firecode, this would never have occurred to us.
The police eventually showed up, everything was sorted, and we sat around processing until we thought we could get back to sleep.
We did.
Early up to catch the ferry to Skye. We did so well, they let us on the earlier ferry, which did hadn't expected to be able to catch. The crossing was beautiful, the weather has turned a shade of perfect. Blue skies, cool, just enough breeze to chase away the #$%%^%%!!!!! midges.
The goal was to head to a place called the Fairy Pools. The landscape was breathtaking , a valley in the Black Cuillins Mountain Range, walking by the side of a large stream. If you are all lucky, Anne-Chloe will send me some a few photos that I can upload. If you are super EXTRA lucky, Linnea will send a photo of Poppy (*). It was a nice hike. Took a few hours, it was one of those hikes that heads straight down and then up up up. Up is dangerous. I can get up. And up and up and up. It's getting back down that's the PITA. Up is just managing pace. Down is managing pain. When we got back, we had a picnic. (*) Story later.
We finished late enough that we missed the distillery tour we wanted to do this afternoon, we'll try to that tomorrow.
We did see one -well, there was a group of a few- "hairy coo" (Scottish accent, people!) aka highland cows who have bangs falling over their eyes, so cute. Hopefully we will see more.
Then we headed northwards. Stopped to grab some fixings for dinner in Portree, which appears to be a major tourist trap, albeit a cute one, and headed out to our Airbnb, where were are surrounded not by stoners but by... sheep. And chickens. And not a lot -or a little- of anything else.
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