The next morning dawned with more mist and rain (but isn’t that what the Isle of Skye is all about)?  We drove past green-covered hills sprinkled with purple heather. (The other kind of heather blooms in August and covers the hills.) White stone cottages were tucked in all the niches of the land, identical in their black-framed windows. Seagulls soared over the lochs.

We stopped at the Talisker Distillery and learned about whiskey production and to the cellar where bottles of whiskey bottled as far back as the 70s waited to be open.

Outside, it rained harder and a lone seagull hovered near the grassy shore.

You can see how hard it’s raining by the texture of the pond.

A not-very inviting loo stood by the edge of the road.

(As Anne would say at each restroom stop, “Time to skip to the loo.”) Fortunately, the ones we stopped at to use, were a lot better than this one.

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