If Day Two was about "The Drift," Day Three was the "Grand Side-Track."
I woke up at the Clachaig Inn after another night of deep, mountain-air-fuelled sleep. One final, hearty Full Scottish breakfast later (the fuel tank was full, even if the wallet was about to take a hit), I pointed Dezzy Bee East. I was supposed to be heading home to Galston, but Glencoe wasn't quite finished with me yet.
If Day One was about the "Quest," Day Two was about the "Drift."
After a night of sleep so deep I think I may have actually become part of the mattress at the Clachaig Inn, I fuelled up on a legendary Full Scottish Breakfast, and had enough energy to power Dezzy Bee halfway to Fort William. The plan? More water, more light, and absolutely no rush.
They say the best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry, and in my case, "men" includes a red Suzuki Swift named Dezzy Bee and a fleet of drones with a mind of their own.
There is a specific kind of madness that takes over a photographer when the Scottish weather turns sour for forty-eight hours. You sit, you stare at the rain lashing the window, and you start plotting. Yesterday and today were washouts in the fair county of Ayrshire (and pretty much all of Scotland actually!!!), but there was a very definite case of the silver lining? It gave me enough time to sit down with my digital collaborators and map out a proper Highland escape.
Well, it finally happened. The postie arrived with a package that felt a bit more substantial than the usual Amazon fluff. Inside, wrapped i...
