Yesterday we visited the Flora MacDonald memorial at the north end of the island. You might remember her as the one who sang about a boat over the sea to Skye as she helped Bonnie Prince Charlie escape from the English after losing the battle of Culloden Moor. Transpired she married well, twice, lived part of her life in the States and died, back on Skye, aged 72. Lady done well.
The island is almost overrun by tourists, coming from all over the world, and it’s not even main season here. Most conspicuous are the German motorcyclists, here in myriads (appropriate collective?) and, of course, all in their fifties or older. The b&b we’re staying in had some English in two nights ago and Swiss last night.
Stopped at this bridge, at Sligachan, photo below.
Just happened to be next to the island’s other craft brewery, called The Cuillin Brewery after the adjacent Red and Black Cuillin mountains.
Many of the roads on the island are single lane, with many passing places; instructions suggest you let pass oncoming as well as following traffic. Seems to work well. Up to a point, anyway, as we were held up in a 40 minutes traffic jam this morning after climbing, well walking, up in the Quiraing mountains. This seems due to the 60 or so cars parked by fellow mountain walkers and, especially, the idiots who parked in the passing places. Indoors wrote a stern note and left it under one of the culpret cars. That’ll teach ’em.
Went to a naff cultural centre in the main town, Portree, but the visit was saved by this fantastic metal sculpture, apparently based upon a local myth involving a swan turning into a man.
Isle of Mull
Chris & Kath's Travel Time 