We upped as normal and I thought nothing of a couple of mirage flashes I saw just before having a shower.
Breakfast was good and soon we were on our way.
I stopped for petrol at Lanark and at this point I realised that the hairs I seemed unable to get out of my vision was actually eye damage. The bright flashes came back to me – possible symptoms of a torn retina.
However, we drove on along our chosen route via edge of Stirling and Callendar (where we stopped to see if a medical centre was open on this Sunday morning. It wasn’t. So we went on via Crianlarich and made a brief stop at Bridge of Orchy for a coffee.
Yes, a railway station – a pretty West Highland Line one seemed appropriate. Trains are very few and far between on this line between Glasgow and Fort William so I looked, as well as a depressing eye problem allowed, at the scenery.
But we were not denied rail transport.
A road rail landrover was heading our way.
It was running well on the rails.
We drove on the rough lovely Glencoe – spoiled a bit by bad weather and even more by the depression that settled on me. I really wanted the security of home rather than the uncertainty of Western Isles.
We arrived at Fort William and parked at the hospital and went to accident and emergency. There was little queue but only one doctor on duty so we had a moderate wait. There was a telly in the waiting room and the Hungarian Grand Prix had not started. By the time I had seen a very nice doctor the Hungarian Grand Prix was over but our wait wasn’t for the advice was that I should see an eye specialist at the nearest main hospital. Our doctor, now inundated with emergencies, had no time to write the needed letter so we were advised to go away for an hour and then come back for the letter. This could be taken for an appointment at Inverness the next morning. For those that don’t know, Fort William, which we were at, is on the West Coast of Scotland. Inverness is on the East Coast, some 70 miles away.
We had no chance to continue with plans to go to a booked B and B at Morar. We cancelled it. We had no chance of catching our ferry from Mallaig the next morning. Instead, we had to drive through The Great Glen, much of it along the shore of Loch Ness. We were heading to the unknown, rather hoping to find a B and B and I felt increasingly disturbed and fed up.
We arrived in Inverness and found a B and B which I snapped up. All day I had felt in need of a quiet sit and at last I could have it. The B and B man was very nice. His B and B was ordinary. It wouldn’t be on the list of good ones or cheap ones.
Having barely had lunch, we took our picnic to the nearby Caledonian Canal for an evening meal.
Very nice, although nothing felt that way to me.
The Jacobite Queen ran Loch Ness cruises.
I can’t say I really wanted to hit
Inverness Town Centre, but we did. Sunday night in Inverness is a happening time
and place. The whole joint was jumping to the sounds of live rock bands in café/clubs.
Even in my depressive state, I could here enjoyable music. Hear it? It was
deafening even outside in the street. I had no idea that the Highland Capital
was so vibrant on a Sunday night.
The few photographic impressions are a bit more sombre.
The River Ness and Inverness Castle.
Some churches across the wobbly bridge. We walked across this bridge and, I kid you not, you could feel seasick on it.
The wobbly bridge had history
This view was from the wobbly bridge.
Here was one of the city’s old buildings – and another, even older, below.
We were back at the B and B early so that I could rest my eye.
