I decided to take a slightly different route home from Skye. I still had to cross the island and drive along the River Shiel, but I thought that for something different, I would then follow the Spean Valley across the highlands to the A9 (yet again) and take the motorway home. A couple of reasons for that: at least some of the trip would be through a part of the country I’d never seen before; it would give Scout & me one last visit to our favourite hike/ scenery/ shopping/ food spot, The House of Bruar (the Harrods of the Highlands); and I would be arriving home at twilight (5pm these days) and a familiar motorway is far less stressful that strange backroads (local construction means many roads are re-routed at the moment).
As always with me, the words of Rabbie Burns applied: ‘the best laid plans aft gang a’gley’. My friends had warned me over and over again about the potholes on Skye, so I had driven oh so carefully across the island. Then it was smooth sailing all the way past Eilean Donan, through the mountains and past more stunning scenery. It had been raining, so just outside Invergarry I passed through what looked like a shallow puddle, but turned out to be a pothole that could have eaten a Volvo. I could feel my front left tyre withering away as I limped into the village. People make fun of my love of (read: obsession with) maps, but in this case, having poured over the route several times both on Google Maps and on the Rand McNally Road Atlas in my car, I remembered that there was a petrol station less than a kilometre away.
Last summer, when asked if I wanted to renew my Roadside Assistance plan, of course I said, no, why bother. Sigh. That’ll larn me. Fortunately the petrol station attendant knew of a Tyre Specialist in the next village over, so what could have been an overnighter in the middle of nowhere turned into a 2-hour setback in my trip. I was back on the road, and made it to The House of Bruar in time for a late lunch (one last mince and onion pie) and a shortened walk for the dog. (Who is a conehead these days – slight cut she won’t stop scratching means she looks a right daftie.)
Still a stressful last 20 minutes home as the cars behind me seemed to feel there was no need to slow down on darkened country lanes and let me know it more than once, but all in all, a great last road trip in Scotland!