Scotland for the Brave: Wednesday/Thursday
Howard had ambitions to ride around the whole island, but this was truncated by my need to eat a full English breakfast to a quick five minute explore before the ferry arrived. During this excursion, I glanced down in time to see my odometer hit 30,000 miles. I'll always remember that it happened on Bute, in sight of the sea.
Colin and George, who had spent the night at the youth hostel, failed to show up for the 9:30 ferry, but since they were nearly home anyway we left them to their own devices and crossed from Rothesay to Wemyss Bay. On the top deck, Howard and I met a couple who said they'd seen a porpoise on the journey over, so we all kept our eyes peeled. I was delighted to be the one who spotted a gleaming fin at one o'clock, and we watched the round, wet back undulate through the waves before vanishing under the boat.
Back on dry land we tacked across country towards Douglas and the motorway, with a slight delay when Howard decided to demonstrate the proper method of overtaking, and vanished at some speed in the direction of Edinburgh just before we were due to turn off up a side road.
Lunch in Moffat, home of Moffat toffee (so that's my officemates sorted), then an hour of motorway into the Lake District for the last of the scenic roads and a final ice cream. Shortly afterwards we parted company, Howard and I hammering east along the Tour de France starting route to spend the night with his brother in Leeds. We had a leisurely morning on Thursday, for a change, and were fed sausage sandwiches before departing for the A1 and our respective homes.
My trip meter said the total mileage was 37.5, which seems unlikely, so I assume it rolled over when it hit 1000. Add on another 300 or so because I forgot to set it until we left Dave's on the Sunday. Phew.
Ice cream of the day: Thunder & Lightning (cinder toffee and chocolate) in Keswick.
Colin and George, who had spent the night at the youth hostel, failed to show up for the 9:30 ferry, but since they were nearly home anyway we left them to their own devices and crossed from Rothesay to Wemyss Bay. On the top deck, Howard and I met a couple who said they'd seen a porpoise on the journey over, so we all kept our eyes peeled. I was delighted to be the one who spotted a gleaming fin at one o'clock, and we watched the round, wet back undulate through the waves before vanishing under the boat.
Back on dry land we tacked across country towards Douglas and the motorway, with a slight delay when Howard decided to demonstrate the proper method of overtaking, and vanished at some speed in the direction of Edinburgh just before we were due to turn off up a side road.
Lunch in Moffat, home of Moffat toffee (so that's my officemates sorted), then an hour of motorway into the Lake District for the last of the scenic roads and a final ice cream. Shortly afterwards we parted company, Howard and I hammering east along the Tour de France starting route to spend the night with his brother in Leeds. We had a leisurely morning on Thursday, for a change, and were fed sausage sandwiches before departing for the A1 and our respective homes.
My trip meter said the total mileage was 37.5, which seems unlikely, so I assume it rolled over when it hit 1000. Add on another 300 or so because I forgot to set it until we left Dave's on the Sunday. Phew.
Ice cream of the day: Thunder & Lightning (cinder toffee and chocolate) in Keswick.
We've been to Bute! Which we amused ourselves by calling "the Isle of Bootay".
*hug*
Moffat
The place where I first discovered Soor Plooms. They even do sugar-free ones now, apparently!
It was great to take this journey vicariously, so thank you for posting! I'm so, so glad you had decent weather for it; I can't imagine constant murk and drizzle would have been any fun.
I must admit though, I don't think I've ever had a Moffat toffee. (Though equally, the ontology of sweeties named after Scottish (and British generally, come to that) towns and tablet, fudge, toffee, etc, does bewilder after a while. Has to be some Whovian potential in that one, though...
We only got potato scones at one B&B, and kippers weren't offered at all. I was disappointed. (Maybe I should just call it a British breakfast, at least until September...)
I'm surprised at the lack of localisation, apart from your one farl. I thought that non-English establishments In These Islands pretty much always included one "variable", such as those mentioned above, so they could call it "Full Irish", etc, with at least a sliver of rationale. I suppose you'd have to send the (black or otherwise) pudding off to a lab someplace to be entirely sure, mind you...