The last day of a holiday is always a strange one. You don’t
really know how to feel or where to focus. In reality, the last day of a
holiday isn’t really a holiday in the way we’d recognise it. You may get up to
things on that last day, but the inescapable reality of the journey home always
lingers in the distance. Anything you plan, has to be factored into your time
budget and whatever you choose to do, there’ll always be a small voice in the
back of your head reminding you that “you’ve got to leave at some point”
Due to the fact we were driving home, we had a little bit
more leeway than most do on a last day of a holiday. With no designated boat or
plane to catch, we had a bit more control over what we did and for how long, as
regardless of what time it was we would always have the means of transportation
home within our own control.
We used up as much of the remaining food as was reasonable
and packed the rest of it up for the journey back. We heated the meat pies in
the oven before wrapping them in tin foil so they could be consumed during the
journey home. I think Adam may have eaten his, but I was still full from
breakfast and decided I’d eat mine later. Pete seemed to be less enthused about
the prospect of a pie after they were cooked. Maybe the reality of what he was
about to subject his insides to had given him cold feet?
Seeing as it was the last day, and considering the lack of
hot water in the cottage, I decided to flaunt the “no streaming” rule and
loaded up some music on YouTube while I packed my case. I jigged to music from
Donkey King Country on the SNES while trying to re-pack all that I’d brought
and also squeeze in the extra stuff I’d acquired during the trip.
As a rule, I’m a terrible packer. But then again I’m
terrible at a lot of things, such as knitting, welding and association
football. I am however very good at WWF Smackdown 4 ”Shut Your Mouth”, so peaks
and troughs I guess.
After squeezing everything into the case, and getting into a
good rhythm while listening to the level theme entitled “Fear Factory” (Whether
the video game level or the angry sounding metal band came first, I couldn’t
really say). Adam soon came in to finish off his packing and I moved downstairs
to try and help with a bit of last minute cottage tidying.
I double checked and triple checked that I had everything I
needed, and when I was quite confident that I had, I quadruple checked. You
never can be too sure when it comes to these things. You can’t exactly catch a
quick bus back into town if a few days later you realised you left something
important behind. I did later realise that I had left a jumper behind. It
wasn’t a jumper I was especially attached to, but I did feel bad about leaving
it, mainly because it was the jumper I’d worn on the boat ride.
After wearing both a life preserver and a waterproof coat
over it, in what ended up being blazing sunshine, the jumper has been saturated
in perspiration. I’d stuck it in a spare plastic bag by my case, with plans to
tie the bag tightly up and stick it right at the bottom of my case in a vain
attempt to avert everyone else’s nose from the no doubt pungent odour when we
drove home. However, seeing as I was sharing a room with Adam and we had two
days left at that stage, I decided I’d stick the bag in a nearby cupboard
instead. Neither of us were using said cupboard and it seemed to do a good
enough job of hiding the stench. So much so, that we forgot it was in there.
You can see where this is going.
I feel terribly for whomever the unfortunate cleaner was who
found that jumper in the cupboard. The cottage owner may possibly have thought
it was an act of defiance brought about by the lack of hot water in the
cottage, but alas it was merely me being a Forgetful Franklin. I only realised the following day when I
checked my suitcase for the offending jumper, only to find it wasn’t there.
I would like to take this opportunity to apologise sincerely
to the poor cleaner who had to do away with that rotten piece of apparel. I
assure you, it was completely accidental that I left it there and I apologise
profusely.
After we’d negotiated loading up the car, and that was no
small feat, we took a moment to say farewell to our beloved cottage. It was sad
to know we’d be leaving it for the last time. I had quick last look out the
back at the Loch, where much enjoyment had been
had, and took the atmosphere in one last time. I was going to miss the peace
and quiet once I was back home and amongst the hustle and bustle of City life
again.
We started off on our journey, but instead of heading
straight on to the direct route home, we took a detour that allowed us to pay a
visit to the where Adam and I had been the previous day. Yes, we were taking
Luc and Pete to Loch Ness!
We drove alongside the Loch
and looked for somewhere we could pull over and have a closer inspection of the
water. We darted down some winding side roads until we found somewhere to pull
over and have a look. We were the only people there and the morning sun
trickled down onto the surface of the water. Again, the silence was deafening.
The hills stood in the distance, their tips obstructed by Scotch mist.
The Loch water was clear
but nothing seemed to be stirring underneath it. I’d been led to believe that,
aside from eels, nothing else more substantial could make itself a home in the
water, due to the depth of the Loch itself.
This seemed to shoot the theory of the Loch Ness Monster down in one blow. I
mean, how could a giant monster live in the Loch
when there was no food to sustain it? I doubt Domino’s would deliver to the
side of a Loch, even for a big order of 20
Large Pizzas with extra anchovies.
We took some pictures and I dipped a finger in the Loch. I can’t really state that
Loch Ness felt any different than any other Loch I’ve had the privilege of
touching, but it at least I can say I did it (For whatever that’s worth)
After taking the pictures and making the most of the time we
had at our disposal, it was decided it was time to move onward. The GPS gave us
a route that took us through some more winding roads off the beaten track,
which though slightly more troublesome to traverse, did provide us with some
more luscious scenery. The sun was gently beating down on the hillside as we
made our journey back to civilisation.
When we finally made our way back onto the main road, it was
with designs of starting the journey back proper. However, no sooner had we
began making our way up to the mountainous roads that separated The Highlands
from the rest of Scotland, we passed an intriguing sign.
Most of you reading this will no doubt already be aware that
Scotland
is a place renowned for its whiskey. Distilleries are dotted all over the
country. In fact, the original motivation for the trip north of the border was
for us to sample numerous distilleries, as Iain Banks had done in his fine book
“Raw Spirit”. However, the holiday had panned out much differently than we had
planned, and thus no distilleries had been visited.
In this moment though, our very last day, we noticed a sign
for the Tomatin Distillery. We decided that it was unlikely we’d get a chance
to visit another Scottish distillery anytime soon and thusly pulled in to take
a closer look. We passed a collection of houses on our way to the car park,
which were actually houses that were still used by distillery employees. I
couldn’t imagine living so close to work. I’d imagine taking a sick day would
open you up to tighter scrutiny than usual for a start. We saw some of the
employees milling outside and they seemed happy enough.
When we pulled into the car park, a tour of the facility was
just ending. We knew we didn’t have enough time to take part in a tour
ourselves, so instead made for the gift shop. While in there, one of the
employees said that if we didn’t have time to tour, we could still watch a
short film about the history of the distillery and then taste some whiskey
afterward. We decided this would be a good use of the time we had.
The video itself was very interesting and I’d certainly be
interested in doing a full tour should I ever visit Inverness
again. Tomatin is actually one of Scotland’s highest distilleries,
clocking in at an eye watering 315m above sea level. The water used to make the
whiskey runs over a soft peat, granite and heather, which gives the whiskey a
distinct mellow taste.
I’ll be honest and say that Tomatin wasn’t a brand I was
especially aware of prior to the journey to Scotland, but I certainly liked
what I saw and tasted. Seeing as I was driving, I could only have one of the
three generous samples offered to us by the distillery employee. Normally, I
don’t tend to drink whiskey straight, but thankfully the promised mellowness of
the whiskey was there and I finished off my lone sample with ease.
Adam, who may drink less whiskey even than me, struggled
with the samples but still manfully choked them down so as not to cause
offence. Pete and Luc seemed much more into the process. I bought some small
bottles from the distillery and I am still yet to drink them. I’m saving them
for an occasion that has yet to happen.
Overall, I’d recommend a visit to Tomatin if you happen to
be in the area. The staff were friendly and the prices were reasonable. The
whiskey itself comes in different types and multiple years. The 10 year is a
smooth dram and well worth your time.
With our whiskey detour now completed, it was time to take
to the road once more and finally end our journey. More to come!
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