Breakfast is our undoing. It is served so late in the morning (usually 7:30-9:00) that by the time we've tucked in, we're late hitting the trail and walking in brutal heat and sunshine. Every time we shuffle into a guesthouse parched and tired after 6 - 7 hours of broiling conditions we vow to "skip breakfast tomorrow and get an early start to beat the heat!" We are determined to begin walking at 5:30 a.m. and are resolute right up to the moment our landlady asks us what we would like for breakfast and tells us that "she will make scones for us, because that's the best way to taste her homemade preserves" or that "the butcher makes a special sausage or double smokes the bacon just for this guesthouse only." Then with all the strength that we can muster we say, " two scones each would be plenty and both the bacon and the sausage sound too good to pass up, but just one egg, and maybe some of those delicious broiled tomatoes, if it's not a bother...after the oat porridge, that is."
So before we take a single step each morning, we are well down the road to hell (you know, the one paved with good intentions) and we just keep going. The devil wears an apron and carries a spurtle!
So, as you might have guessed, we did not get an early start. However, once on the trail, we had a good walk during the morning — Laurel's shoe inserts were doing the trick and we took the "high road" to take advantage of glorious views from up above Loch Ness. At the highest point, we could see Loch Ness all the way to our left and to our right with Ben Nevis in the distance at one end, far behind us now. A small airplane flew along the loch, and we were actually above its level. We passed a rock that reminded Laurel of the runestones in the tv show Outlander. She did her best but could not conjure up Jamie Fraser! Our path then had a gradual descent through shady trees, followed by sunny open stretches. It was hot — our feet were now tired and our water bottle was low. Thankfully, just then we came to a pottery workshop with a cafe where we got cold drinks, refilled our water, and rested our feet a bit. We felt refreshed and able to hike onwards; alas, this was an illusion as the heat soon had us back to a slog. Eventually, our destination came into view and we trudged into our B & B. The lovely Kilmore Farmhouse is in the pleasant village where Laurel's forebears lived in the 1700's; after showers and a siesta, we explored nearby by stopping in at two neighbourhood pubs (to check out the local food and drink — yummy), getting a glance at Urquhart Castle (scenic ruins), and wandering about a cemetery (lots and lots of MacDonald and MacMillan headstones — hope to explore here further with the rest of our Clan MacDonald when they arrive).
And yes, our landlady's offer to makes us a "special breakfast" was sheepishly accepted because "Kilmore Farmhouse black pudding is really something special!"
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