Seven Days, 101.84 Miles, and 236,261 Steps

That's how my pedometer describes my walk through Scotland's Rob Roy Way. A walk that took us through (start singing now) the high roads...

 ...through the low roads...

And smack through the middle of the extraordinary election for Scottish independence from Great Britain!

 

 On the side of the road, we thought we met an elf who had way too much static electricity.

He told us a story about his fabulous sweater, which his mum made for him when he was eight. It developed a hole when he was 14 and he darned it. And he has never stopped darning it. He told us his name was Malcolm Applebee, which, he said, we could google. I did and expected to find he had escaped from somewhere. I didn't expect to find he was an MBOE and an award-winning engraver!

There were several other signs to add to my collection, too.

My mother wanted to know if this meant slow down...or speed up.

 And just in case you wondered exactly where the Universe got started...

Like Scotland itself, the hike was a largely a sheepfest.

The trail wound us through many pastures, each with signs requesting that we "do not worry the sheep." That's because, near as I can see, sheep as a species are already dangerously overwrought. They're a bunch of old ladies, wringing their wooly little hands dawn to dusk and just begging for some Xanax.

In their defense, they do have something to worry about.

The other animals were much more at one with the Universe.

And finally, the forests themselves were full of things I had never seen before. An old hag made out of lichen...

 A man-sized termite mound...

 A storybook array of funghi...

 

And this.

So that's the sights. When I return from mowing the weeds, I'll tell you about what it felt like...and everything you need to know about the Drum of Clashmore, the Wee Burn, and, of course, Cullen Skink.