We awoke at stupid o’clock, finished packing, breakfasted (this time not setting off the fire alarm thankfully) and wended our way on largely empty back streets to the vehicular ferry station for our trip to The Isle of Mull. The morning was grey, it was raining and a little windy, meaning the seas would be rougher than my tummy would like (thank goodness for Travelcalm).
We lined up, were shepherded aboard and retired to the poop deck (well, in truth a rather comfortable and mostly stable cabin) for cups of tea and sympathy. The trip was fairly uneventful, we broke through the rain a few times and had sun, then got rained on again but arrived on the island in the dry.
We had previously received information about “passing places” on the island, necessary protocol while driving there as nearly every road is a single lane, with regular pull-overs alternating side to side. After meeting a few drivers, and infuriating at least one local, we realised we totally misunderstood what the instructions said, used common sense and got it right, mostly from there on – mind you when you are pootling up a hill and out of a blind crest some bastard hurtles towards you it is everyone for themselves sometimes. Read more