Driving over the mountains, along the many lochs, through fog, rain and quite a bit of sunshine I found myself dreaming of a living in a remote little Scottish village. Preferably somewhere along the west coast, or Wester Ross as it is known there. A place so remote where sheep outnumber people, where the only shop in town is also the only tea room in a 50 mile radius, where once in a while a mobile banking unit roles through for the locals to get some cash out and everyone meets in the pub at night to drink ale, whiskey, to chat and to laugh.
Visiting Scotland was a wonderful experience and I was very sad to leave. I have fallen in love with all the animals, the breathtaking views, and the wonderful, friendly locals. Seeing cabers tossed, hammers thrown and flings danced (and the queen appear!) at the Braemar Highland Games, for a moment, gave me a glimpse into this rich culture. The past and the present seem very connected. Modern families still honor their ancestors by wearing traditional clothing and keeping history alive. Ancient castles have been passed down through the families and are still lived in today.
I can't seem to visit a place without dreaming of moving there. And quite often, I actually do. Even if it's just for a few months. Whether I end up living in the Scottish Highlands or not is not yet decided but I do know that this trip, the beautiful places I've seen and the wonderful people I've met will always stay with me.