So, before we get into the details of our soul-stimulating journey into the Scottish Highlands and the country's northernmost city, Inverness, a quick revisit to Glasgow and an Oops, I forgot to mention of its vibrant urban mural scene.  By last count, more than 30 wall-sized, both avant-garde and commissioned, art pieces are displayed throughout the city.  For a culturally-fun half day wander, download one of the available maps and set out walking and watching.

From our Moxy hotel room, we looked out to the mural on the left, and we passed the other on our downhill return from the Glasgow Cathedral.

 (Thanks, Kim McVeigh, for reminding me of these.)

With a 250-mile travel Sunday ahead of us - and three or four distillery stops along the way - we breakfasted early at the Moxy, then hit the road for Inverness, which included 25 miles along the western edge of the renowned-in-song Loch Lomond.  As we skirted the lake, with no choice but the low road, Nancy kept her eyes peeled for turnouts to walk its bonnie banks and bloggable signage for proof of our presence.  See both below.  

As we scooched down the trail to the shore we crossed paths with tent campers on the beach, leashed dogs in tow, equipment sogged from a night of scattered showers.  Smiles beaming.  And why not; just look at that view.

By this point - near two weeks now in the land of left lane driving - my brain and bodily reflexes had adapted, and the roundabouts came quite easily and Nancy’s preemptive “Kerb!”s infrequent.  We meandered through the tri-villages Arrochar, Tarbet and Ardlui, then flanked and traversed and spanned the literally awesome River and Hamlet and Bridge of Awe, then left-turned at Connel to arrive at the seaport of Oban (OH-bin) and its eponymous distillery.  Super cute ferry town, nicknamed the Gateway to the Isles, meaning Inner Hebrides. 

We wandered the docks for a minute then ascended the few steps into the whiskymaker’s tasting room, paying 30 British pounds ($40) for a four 25ml flight of the Distillers Editions of Oban (dry, oak spice, pepper) and three of its sister distilleries: Talisker (sea spray, peat, sweet sherry), Caol Ila (smoke, creamy porridge, figs), and Lagavulin (coffee, vanilla, smoky, barbeque).  As we experienced at each of the distilleries we visited in Scotland, tastings came with a flask of room temp still water and glass pipette for adding water to “open up” the whisky’s flavor.  Here’s a quick video as to why that’s done.

We left Oban and drove 80 minutes up the road along the western shore of Loch Linnhe for a gander at the town of Fort Williams and the Ben Nevis Distillery at the base of its namesake, the highest mountain in the UK at 4,413 feet.  Beinn is Gaelic for mountain, and Scots refer to any local largest mountain as The Ben.  (As we Seattleites do when referencing Mount Rainier, as in The clouds have cleared up today, the Mountain’s out.)  No whisky samples there, but the room was full of hike- and bike-garbed adventurers returned from a morning or a day or a week on The Ben or either of the major walk/cycleways trailheaded at Fort Williams: the West Highland Way to Milngavie (154km) and the Great Glen Way to Inverness (124km).

Those of you familiar with that neck of the Scottish woods are surely thinking, Hold on, you guys!  By right-forking to Dalwhinnie you totally missed your chance to see Loch Ness and its elusive Nessie.  Yeah, but remember, we still had the next day, right?  (More on that in a minute.)

Now, one of my co-pilot’s areas of responsibility is tracking our upcoming weather conditions, and she’d been mentioning Floris for two days, as the offshore storm rolled eastward across the Atlantic and aimed to strike the western coast of Scotland with steady winds of 60mph and gusts up to 95mph.  Inverness lay dead center in its path and the storm would begin in the wee hours Monday and last throughout the day. 

We settled into the sprawling streetfront Andross Glencairn Guest House, three detached buildings in the Ballifeary district, west of the River Ness.  We noticed sandbags prepped for later distribution and the front desk clerk asked if we’d parked our car under any trees.  After settling in, we ambled along the Ness Walk and across the Ness Bridge into the amenities-rich side of town, downing a draft and some decent live music at the Highlander Bar, then strategically snagging a patio fringe two-top at MacGregor’s, with Sunday Session live trad music in the background and abuzz with people of every sort (photo below).  And what proved to be the favorite fish and chips of the whole UK and Ireland.

The weather began its turn on our quickened walk home and we made the mistake of stopping for an inedible dessert at a raved about restaurant, then followed our noses to Bici’s Pizza next door for a whiff and a chat with the owner, who told us about dolphins.

As predicted, Storm Floris struck at dawn.  The bangs and howling at our window clued us in, so we bundled up in a few layers and our new rain jackets - purchased just for the chance of inclement Scottish weather - cinched the hoods tight around our faces, and leaned into the roiling wet for 3 blocks to the local bakery and coffee shop, The Bakery.  We sat at the window to watch the chaos, lots of drenched and short-breathed folks slipping in, as we had done only moments before.  Great coffee and tasty pastries, the perfect compliment to the bluster outside.

Now, we’ve both been in high winds before.  Alaska, Chicago, even Seattle at times.  But never this strong (80+ mph), while also laced with pelting raindrops.  Several times we were brick wall-stopped in our tracks.  Exciting for a minute, but mostly it sucked.  And any desire to visit Loch Ness or the fishing village of Ullapool or really anywhere else except our hotel room was out the window.

After our brief and welcome refuge, we staggered back to the Andross Glencairn to binge several episodes of the UK and Ireland-only for now Prime series, The Assassin, with Freddie Highmore in a wonderfully off-type role.  And by mid-afternoon Floris was but a memory and we sauntered triumphantly to join other survivors at the way cool Walrus & Corkscrew wine bar we’d spotted the night before.  Warm vibe, delicious wine, and an exceptional charcuterie board with the best Scotch egg we’ve ever experienced.

Then guitar and fiddle trad tunes at the Highlander again, with a shared steak and ale pie and chicken wings, unexpectedly original with Frank’s hot sauce.