Visiting Scotland by Car
After our first common Scotland tour by railroad had become a full success, Martina and I decided to do our temporarily last ride into the 'praised country' by car.
Our route should begin at the western coast and run about the northern side back along the eastern coast. Heavy heart's we refused this time onto the wonderful island Skye, the time did not suffice unfortunately. After all Donovan, a singer whose songs made me to learn to play the guitar many years ago, lives on this island. Meanwhile a bridge of the mainland according to Skye was finished so that Skye lost the charm of a genuine island. We were planning, to stay the nights at the tent by turns or 'Bed and Breakfast' takes. Our red Opel Cadet that received the affecting nickname "Auti" his first stage destination found in Esbjerg. There we complemented our inventory, in particular with this delicious yogurt, for which Martina so very much swarms. Against afternoon the car ferry took off in the direction Newcastle. The cabins were small, but congenial. A calm crossing became, passing oil-drilling rigs that were bright to the midnite hour lighted. A fascinating sight for all that still were awake on board.
At the early afternoon we reached Newcastle. At the pier 
bagpipers played and the Scotland fever awoke again. If I may otherwise seldom go by our car, from here my wife insisted on that. Newcastle is not large, but if one follows the traffic sign, it can become long ride. After having landed three times at the same place, we decided, to follow our intuition and promptly we landed on the correct route according to Nordwest. From now on we were pleased with the "roundabouts" each time, the popular circles, as in Denmark, only of everything to the left around. Our first hold occurred immediately behind the Scotch boundary with which this boundary consists of a simple stone rampart. The relationships between Scotland and England that are rooted deeply in the history are here documented by the lettering 'Independence' that one sees here at many bridges. 
It was not far until Gretna Green and we decided to make an excursion to the best known registry office for weddings of the world. Already before centuries it is the haven of young-amorous, that received, however, not the necessary blessing for a wedding, here they could get married. A small, flat building which performed completely inconspicuously was. Suddenly a woman who introduced herself as the responsible state official towards us. She had a problem, perhaps we could help her out. She was on the search for "wedding witnesses". On the contemporary day George Philip Hewitt and Lynne Pauline Ash wanted to get married, however they had arrived without witnesses. With pleasure we took over this part and became witnesses of a wedding. Still many years we had been in correspondence with family Hewitt , until they moved obviously from Merseyside. Since then we had not been able to get their actual postal address.
If somebody can help, please send me a mail!
Already soon we left Gretna Green and stopped in a dreamy little town with picturesque houses by the name of Corbridge, where we decided for Bed and Breakfast. To the breakfast we had the pain of the choice: porridge or baked beans. sausages and eggs? I decided on the porridge since I know the british sausages to the satisfies, while my wife wanted to take the save way choosing those fried eggs with ham and sausage. In order to be honest: the sausages on the island are inedible.
On our ride along the western coast we discovered a hidden tent place near Greenoch. Located at a hill, some sheep were to be seen in the distance. The tent was built up fast and we searched and we found a congenial pub. From this small restaurant we could observe in the far bay american submarine boats, that had their foothold there. As so often we found contact fast in the Pub. At the snooker I did also this years no improvements and my attempts to explain the rules of german billard to my scotch opponent were in vain. Everyone played as best as he cound and finally we agreed on a just remis. We came back pretty late to our tent. The night was very shortly, because already after few hours we were woken by strange noises, it rang like somebody would pull out the tent nails. The sheep ! Curiously they inspected our tent and we cound not convince them to stop that noisy game, therefore we started off already in the dawn to the Loch Lomond. Supposedly here are so strong currents it is said that a lot drowned were not found. Some people said they disappeared in the submarine grottoes. We refused therefore on the swimming and undertook extensive excursions in a hilly landscape.
The following journey along the Loch Long led us about a secluded route Kintyre. At the end of a long peninsula we encountered Machrihanish. Here I found the most beautifully sited pub of the world. We had a gradiose outlook onto the sea while the day was bending itself to his end. Nevertheless we could hardly wait to find out to continue the ride along the coast. Mull of Kintyre ! Who does not know the song of Paul McCartney. Actually, The place is not to be found easy, however then it was made and we enjoyed the outlook onto the sea. We had reckoned on many tourists, but we were the single ones on this day. Probably the other ones had dealt even more badly with the road. More further we passed by at the wonderful coast street further to Inverary.
Still a word to the Scotch campsites: they are sited as a rule wonderful and very clean, from the english ones one cannot always say that. The campsite in Oban - our next destination - was anyway one which earns the rating outstandingly. One can get lost here, it is quite large. Unfortunately it was, however, overcrowded that day. Therefore we left it after a nite and we continued our trip to the northern top. A dream route followed William, Mullaig, Bridge Skiel, and further to Poolewe. The route became increasingly steeper and we drove on a cloudy day into the clouds directly. A tremendous momentum is, to be on height of the clouds while everywhere at the way edge the sheep are grazing. Unfortunately a drizzle set in and who knows the Scotch drizzle, that rain can last for weeks.
Our next hold was in Scourie. It went on about Durness, then to Bettyhill. We believed, first of all, to have landed in another world: a long, broad beach ! The tent place was in direct proximity and we spent the evening at a campfire at the beach. A little melancholily we said good-bye to the maybe most beautiful corner of Scotland, however before we visited still the caves of Smoo Cave. Then we went on about Thorso to the northernmost point of our trip.From John O'Groats the Orkney islands are very good to be seen, however, a strong wind is blowing here. Who loves the loneliness will come back. 
Now it went on in southern direction about Wick, Helmsdale, to Dornoch. Before the monster of Loch Ness was now at the line, we looked around into Inverness. We left behind all those shopping-centers with their luxury articles and finally reached a remote town area. Poverty, collapsed houses in which unemployed people lived in an unworthy region. An oppressing feeling was, but this was just the other side of Scotland. Finally the aversion of the Scots is reasonable not only out of the history to the English opposite, but also from the real presence. We found out that Scotland has great indeed oil reserves at the coast, but it can not move any advantages from that. When the oil was discovered, London proclaimed it for itself. With the reference Scotland appertains to the United Kingdom and the seat of the same one is in London, only english workers were employed. The unemployment rate in Scotland is correspondingly high.
When we left Inverness, hours later the screeching of the seagulls rang in our ears. At the dockland we saw such a large flock of these gigantic doves which reminds us to think unrandomly of Alfred Hitchcocks thriller "The birds". After having visited the Nessi-Exhibition near Drumnadroitch, we were not still convinced of the existence of this animal. Urquhart Castle gave us, however, an advice. We stood before these half collapsed walls, in which before times monks had lived once and saw through fog swaths onto the Loch Ness. Here it was secluded and sinister, our attention moved every lapping and every bigger wave on the Loch immediately onto itself. Here at this place, so I am secure to myself, the first time must have been 'screened' the monster. The fog swaths moved about the Loch Ness and the fantasy played one in this lonely place somewhat prank.
At the evening we sat together with a Scotch married couple at dinner. We had taken Bed and 
Breakfast directly in a house at the Loch Ness and asked the two of them for their experiences with the monster. With a knowing smile the scotch whiskey and his effects were pointed out at onto the fantasy. We amplified therefore our attention to the scotch whiskey and put our travel in direction Glenfiddich, around that to make so-called 'Whisky-Trail' to a visit. On the tour along the whiskey-way we found out now everything about the production of this scotch drink. At every destillery there was a free test drink. Who, however, believes to be able to get drunk here onto other costs, will be disappointed, because the drinks are tiny.
More further our trip went about Lossiemouth, Buckie, to after Elgin. We had chosen this place since on this day the famous 'Highlandgames' to place. The bagpipe music rang still long in our ears than we found a marvellously sited tent place at the Loch Morlich after short ride at Aviemore. We got out our inflatable boat and explored the lake.
Now the end of the trip was slow in viewpoint and, before we visited the large, gray Edinburgh city and inserted into the tourist river again, still a last highlight came. We paid Loch Rannoch our compulsory visit. In an unforgotten way the evenings in the pub remains. Also Angus remains unforgotten, that one attempted to cadge a drink at everyone. Or George, the driver of the bus between Kinloch Rannoch and Rannoch Moor, that delivered the mail at the same time. Also the evenings at the campfire with Mike and Chris remain as unforgotten as Peter does, in whose hotel we freely the Swimmingpool were allowed to use. If I am asked, however, what I would do immediately out of everything once again, so I would go with the railroad to Rannoch Moor. It is not not only the most beautiful route of Europe, from there also the most beautiful hiking way leads that one I know: along of the Loch Rannochs up to the small town Kinloch. However, one should attract good shoe stuff, because this hiking way is well 30 kilometers long.
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