Storm in a Dram Glass

No prizes for guessing where we ended up today.

Needed this too, after nearly tasering my testicles on an electric fence in the pursuit of a different angle on the Cuillin mountains. Didn't realise it was an electric fence (are these things not meant to be marked or summit?) and thought it was the barbed wire that was sticking into my inner thigh and making me jump three feet. Of course I reacted by shoving the barb wire out of the way and onto the electrified wire for a nice double jolt. Fair gets the heart ticking over that does.

The smell of singed skin had faded by the time we made it down to the shores of Loch Harport and the Isle of Skye's only distillery, booking a tour (thoroughly interesting though the other bits were, all things considered, this sampling bit was my favourite) and spending some money on the inevitable.

Took a gentle wander along a rocky river in the shadow of the Black Cuillins after that, dodging the human traffic (was like Sauchiehall Street - minus the buskers and pound shops - at some points) and being gobsmacked watching a family strip down to their swimming costumes and take a dip in the not insubstantially baltic River Brittle. On Skye. In the middle of October.

Off to nose my Talisker now. See, I did learn something today.