The Highlands

From the Trossachs we drove about 2 hours into the highlands. The landscape kept getting higher and more mountain-y and less green. We climbed layer after layer of rolling hills, the higher ones still snow covered, the lower ones still blank from the winter. I stopped to pick up a rock for a work friend who collected rocks from places she's not. 

The Three Sisters behind us

Ben Nevis in the way back

At the Loch Leven Hotel in Ballachulish, (THAT's fun to say) we learned new things. I was going to try something new on the menu. I asked the waiter, "what's halloumi, a fish?" And in his adorable Scottish accent, the waiter said, "ah, no. It's  cheese, a rather rubbery cheese--I'm not very keen on it myself."  I opted for pan fried seabass with champ mash, samphire (a European parsley) and creamy mussel sauce. Judd had batter roasted supreme of chicken with baby leeks and dauphinoise potato We shared a dark chocolate and orange mousse and bread and butter pudding. A British couple next to us heard our epic fail with the halloumi and the debate over what made a potato dauphinoise. (French scalloped potatoes with cheese.) They asked where we were from and where we were headed. We've met many Brits for whom Scotland is a quick, long-weekend holiday. They suggested on our way to the ferry in Oban we should look for the floating castle. Also McCraig's folly and Castle Stalker.  We think the couple was Linda and Steven. We're not very good at recalling names after a full day of sight-seeing and a full evening of food and drink tasting.

View off our patio

Clyde after the GraveRobber, a Scottish equivalent of a Painkiller