More almost up-to-date blogging from the Scottish Highlands as the Countdown to GBG Completion wobbles on.
This post comes from the front seat of a campervan parked in the car park of the Applecross, waiting for noon opening while Mrs RM fixed Spanish IT issues.
From the Uists we caught a ferry to Harris, which at some point becomes Lewis as you whizz through mountains, pulling over at passing places every 2 minutes.
And Lewis is home to Stornoway, carefully guarding the only GBG entry for hours. Duncan wrote about the Crown recently, highlighting the tendency of locals to hog the pool table. It sounded unmissable.
Expecting a weathered hotel bar full of grizzled old boozers, we instead find a fun pub in the Stonegate style with the entire population of 18-25 youth. The lads have brought home a cup, possibly for football, possibly for a pre-emptive tick in Tarbert.
Were any of them drinking the cask ? Of course not, but we did, superb pints of Ossian (NBSS 4) and Landlord, always a good test. To be fair, the young barman said “that Ossian is good, isn’t it ?”, so perhaps he drinks it all.
I think the lads, and possibly the lasses, were still drinking vodka out of that cup at midnight when we used the loos as the ones on the harbour had been vandalised..
As Stevie Nicks memorably sang on Belladonna, the Crown took me to the Edge Of Seventeen (ticks to go).
The excitement builds.