Whether on land or water, if there's a boat around, Allen's checking it out, talking with the owner. This was adjacent to our hotel.
Took the first of the day's two ferries at Corran, a narrow section of Loch Linnhe, a five-minute journey. The ferry itself was interesting in that the ramps were at 45-degree angles to each other. We're guessing this ferry was made specifically for this crossing. You drove on in the usual straight line, but then had to turn to drive off.
A beautiful driving day once again.
We had about an 80-mile drive across this area that took us from sea level up over the mountains and back down again to sea level at the other side.
We stopped to look at this remarkable geology...
...and while doing so looked down to see this herd of red deer.
See the dark stag? We later learned (from the Duke of Drimnin, no less, more in a bit) that sometimes stags roll in peat to tame insect irritation and come up looking like this.
From the Web: Within Europe, Scotland has the largest population of red deer, almost 30% of the European total. The current concentration of red deer is centred in the Highlands and Islands and the southwest of Scotland. They have been present since at least the end of the last Ice Age but it is only in the Highlands that they have survived without a break in that time.
The red deer is the largest surviving wild mammal in Scotland. It makes an impressive sight even when seen at a distance, and an adult measures between 105-120 cm in height at the shoulder. Their weight is variable depending upon the food available and, in the Highlands, stags average between 90-140 kg and hinds 65-70 kg. However, most deer in Scotland are not reaching their full potential size because of a combination of living in high densities and surviving on a limited range of food plants in a degraded landscape outside their natural forest habitat.
We got stopped several times by sheep in the road, including this mom whose lambs just had to have a snack....NOW! Note the road, too, a one-track with Passing Places every 100 yards or so, but varied by terrain.
We arrived at Lochaline, the tiny village where we would board the ferry to the Isle of Mull. We had more than an hour before the ferry's departure, so we headed up to the little store and adjacent cafe to get a hot dog or some such. Instead, we stumbled in to the best meal of our trip!
The Whitehouse Restaurant is on numerous lists of one of the best in all of Scotland, a farm-to-fork, they-grow/raise-their-own kind of place. The chef/maitre'd and pastry chef were the only two people in this small cottage-turned-restaurant, and we and another couple who came in exactly when we did were the only customers. Talk about personal!
Menus were on huge slate tablets. Chef Michael said they never know what they're going to get in day-to-day, so there's no point in doing paper menus. We all and a good laugh as he dragged over the wine, food, and dessert tablets.
He also told us about the day's most recent seafood deliveries that weren't even on the menu yet, then showed us one of the lobsters they'd gotten in. Big Boy.
Turns out the other couple dining were Drimnins, previous owners of the Drimnin Estate on Morven, right across the Sound of Mull from Tobermory. He mentioned he'd sold the estate ten years ago because he was tired of managing it. Imagine. She mentioned the third hole on the Tobermory golf course is named for them (we walked there - it is). And the chef mentioned the new estate owner is also owner of the restaurant. Small world.
Anyway, we began with by far the best bread we've had on the trip, made there, of course. Allen had the best seafood chowder of his life, I had more cream/butter/Isle of Mull blue cheese on a veggie dish that should be legal, topped with all sorts of tasty herbs I'd never had before (new favorite: cicely), and we shared a fruit/nut tart like a light, rich fruitcake, yes, clotted cream too.
Our only regret is that we had to eat and run to make the ferry (just barely, too), and Chef Michael made it so. Chef also allowed me to take photos of the small kitchen. Frederick's Volt can take lessons from The Whitehouse.
And on to Tobermory, where we booked a room at the Western Isles Hotel, a shabby-grand historic place high on the hill over the harbor. We learned about the place from our friend, Deb, and the 1940's film "I Know Where I'm Going," some parts of which were filmed in the hotel (the large brown thing on the hill).
We found ourselves in the Mishnish Pub for the evening and made friends with Jakko and Daan, father and son from the Netherlands. Loved the dogs that came through.
Daan and I played pool, drove everyone around us crazy, and he presented me with a shell he'd collected earlier in the day on the isle of Staffa, a volcanic/geologic wonder. He and his dad also sailed to Iona, where Christianity first came aboard Scotland, and puffin-watched all afternoon. Their photos were incredible, as both are good photographers.
No comments:
Post a Comment