Well Thursday afternoon I finished the Great Glen Way at the hill-top castle of Inverness. The day was short, and after getting my photo with Flora Macdonald's monument I found a phone booth and called up Ian and Anne. I had met them several days before when I was camping along Loch Lochy. They were out enjoying the weather, fishing, and tolerating the American that had unknowingly pitched his tent in the secluded spot that prompted them to stop in the first place. They were very nice, and after several hours of conversation they told me to look them up if I was ever in Inverness. Well, that's just what I did.
Ian and Anne welcomed my unexpected call and picked me up from the city center. Back at their house, they told me I could use the camper to sleep in and keep my stuff, have a bath, and just hang out. It was a hot, sunny day and we sat on the back patio, surrounded by Anne's gorgeous flowers and Ian's ingenuitive inventions. After a bath, I spotted a guitar in the corner of the living room and asked if incould strum a bit. This quickly turned into a little fiesta as Ian pulled out a few bottles of his homemade wine and song after song was sung. It was a late night and I think we all slept in a bit the next morning. The next day, Ian told me that I could stay again if I wanted to, and that if I did we would drive over to the Black Isle to see the bottlenose dolphins off the shore.
After seeing the dolphins on a dreary, Scottish day, we drove over to have coffee with Val and Kenny, Ian's sister and brother-in-law. They have a house out in the middle of farmland in the Black Isle where Kenny's family always raised quality bulls. We had coffee and they joked about the how the "yank" had pretty much moved in. They were great folks and I hoped that I would get to see them again before I left. That night found Ian and I drinking more homemade wine and watching The Magnificent Seven until 2am.
On Saturday the weather had imoroved. We went into town to the outdoor goods store, "Go", where I bought an ultralight foam pad to protect the bottom of my thin tent floor and we gawked over nifty gear and other gadgets. Motivated, Ian and I went into the garage when we got back home and went to work improving my simple tuna-can cook stove. We ended up coming up with a new design, a spin-off of typical soda can Penny Stoves. After some struggle and doubt, we found that a priming base was all that was needed to heat the stove enough to pressurize the methylated spirits inside the stove and send them up in nice, uniform jets. It works brilliantly, is incredibly light, and with a few ounces of fuel burned for nearly twenty minutes.
That afternoon, Val called and asked of we wanted to come over for a bit of "balls". "Balls", or carpet bowling, is different than 10 pen bowling by a long shot, but its quite popular here. We left the house at 5:30pm and got to Val's at 6:00 with several bottles of homemade wine (any surprise by this point?), some appetizers, and the guitar. We found the huge barn to be emptied of the tractor and bailing equipment. In their place was a huge green carpet, 8 large weighted bowlers, and one small red "jack". It turned into quite the party: Val, Kenny, Ian, Anne, Kelly, Kim, Neil, little Sophie and Amy, and myself. It was a family affair, and they tought me all about the game.
Ian and Kenny, a deadly team
Val
Anne
Sophie and Amy
The whole bowling gang
Kim, Kelly, and Ian
The night went on until nearly morning. The guitar came out and we sang while the Sophie and Amy turned the green carpet into a dance floor. Neil, Kim's husband and the lassies' dad, sang the Eagles with me and had some impressive vocal moves. It was one of the most fun nights I've ever spent, with one of the best group of people I know. They welcomed me in, fed me and gave me good wine and scotch, and beat me mercilessly in bowling. I'm just waiting for them to come to Tennessee so I can return the favor and whoop them in ten-pin.
Anne drove us back home, mercilessly cutting off anyone in her way without losing her regal, happy demeanor, and Ian and I sang some improvised traffic blues as we drove through roadwork on the bridge to Inverness.
This morning, Sunday morning, the weather was great but it didn't quite alleviate the bit of sadness that I felt leaving these two incredible people, and Khan of course. We met by chance, some might say, but I'm so glad that we got the opportunity to reunite in Inverness. They treated me with an extraordinary amount of kindness and love. Ian and Anne dropped my off on the main road so that I could hitch back to Fort William to begin the West Highland Way. I found a ride with a guy named Stephen, and now I'm sitting in the Grog and Gruel pub in Fort William. I'm happy for the next leg of my adventure, but a part of me wishes that my glass was full of homemade wine instead of Scottish Red Ale. Thanks for the great time, Ian, Anne, Val, Kenny, Kim, Neil, Kelly, Sophie, and Amy. It will forever be fondly remembered. Keep Tennessee on the map.
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