Across Continents

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North to the Highlands

Riding up the A82 along the western shores of Loch Lomond the miles fly by, as do the lorries.  Soon, a brief stop at one of my favourite hostelries, familiar to many who have walked the West Highland Way.  Priding itself in its Highland authenticity, it was last decorated during the Clearances.  Probably.  It also seemed to me that a previous owner was an enthusiastic, but quite untalented, amateur taxidermist.  Either that or the various dusty creatures died very unnatural deaths.  I duly pressed north under clear skies and bright sun.  By lunchtime it was getting decidely warm in the Trossachs…

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