The afternoon sky was growing warmer as the sun climbed overhead, burning away the haziness of the morning’s clouds. The memory of our “leg-stretcher” in Fort William was fading, and all I longed for was to get out of the car.
Jay had talked Glencoe up from the beginning of the trip–no, even before that. “They call it the Switzerland of Scotland,” he told me. We were going to love it.
I heard no trumpet; I saw no sign heralding the entrance. There was no abrupt change in scenery–but suddenly we had arrived. It seemed so small–and very much like most anything else we’d seen along the drive. Beautiful, but not especially so.
Ken steered the car along a winding, narrow road, my mind wondering how two cars could possibly pass by each other. Tall trees and thick shade obscured any vision of what the area looked like. And then we came to our bed and breakfast in the woods.
Stop the car. Now.
So this was Glencoe.
Jay was right. Words and photos don’t really give it justice.
After unpacking and taking a bit of a rest, we endeavored to find the “lost valley” between these mountains.
We followed a stream bed up the hill.
For a group of non-hikers, we did pretty well climbing over rocks and scaling cliffs–ok, we didn’t really scale any cliffs. But it sure felt like it sometimes.
And there it was, the lost valley.
Bethany and I opted to stay on the hill while the boys descended to the valley. Those two specks are Jay and Ken.
We almost made the hike injury free–until Bethany slipped and fell on her knees on the way down. Ouch.
It felt good to be back on flat ground.
We were famished by the time we finished the hike, so we grabbed dinner at this local hiker’s pub.
I felt about the same.
But the delights of the day weren’t over. On the drive back to the cabin, I yelled again–stop the car.
Um…can you get any more pretty postcard than this??
Words don’t even start…
I think Jay was wrong, though. Switzerland doesn’t have anything on Glencoe.
Last stop is the Falkirk Wheel…stay tuned!