After a lengthy sleep (jet lag induced, not booze), we headed out in search of Nessie, or those who may have encountered her.
Our fi rst stop along the very lush and leafy road was a little village called Invermoriston.
It was perfect timing, as the torrential rain was just stopping. We wandered into a little craft store chock full of leather goods and sets of antlers attached to skulls.
We asked the shopkeeper if she’d ever seen Nessie. She answered that we wouldn’t believe her even if she had. After some reassurance, she told us how she’d seen ‘something’ 25 years ago on her honeymoon around Loch Ness. She was quick to point out that she couldn’t be sure what it was. Perhaps a deer crossing the loch.
We wondered if she felt she had to qualify her story so that people wouldn’t think she was crazy. For the record, she didn’t seem crazy at all. Quite the opposite. And we put our money on Nessie versus the deer.
Further down the road, we decided to stop and dip our feet in Loch Ness. A sort of introductory ritual we felt necessary to mark the occasion. Michele and Terri opted for bare feet. After a slight mishap atop a very slippery rock, Dale went for the whole shoe.
It was colder than anticipated, and the loch itself was as long as the eye could see. Although, it wasn’t really
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that wide. In fact, we later found out a visiting group of Russian swimmers were planning to swim across it the very next day. For what reason, we weren’t sure. Maybe just because they could.
With Dale’s wet shoe, we continued on around the southeast coast of the loch as the sun peaked in and out of the multiple layers of cloud above. It was obscenely picturesque. Parts of the highlands reminded Terri of Gros Morne, Newfoundland, with slightly more sheep. And Michele did a magnifi cent job of navigating the tiniest of roads – on the left, of course.