Living it up on the Loch Ness

It rained on and off as we drove into the highlands.

Highway A82 – the best place to hopscotch around the Loch Ness.

We stopped in Fort Williams for some lunch, which turned out to be a bad idea.

The café was so disappointingly shit and as well as the little sweet shop where I bought some fudge.

Note to self – no need to stop over in Fort Williams again.

Port Augusta looked way better, but we were on our way to the epicentre of the Loch Ness monster, Drumnadrochit.


Drumnadrochit was a hard name to pronounce, but I soon realised all of the hotel staff and café staff were Russian.

To this day, I still don’t know the historical link between Russia and Scotland, because ut I was too preoccupied with the tasks at hand.

Finding the Loch Ness monster/s

Relaxing with some ciders in the plush dining area

We had booked a Loch Ness cruise that turned out to be worth every pound.

The captain, George, claimed he took the most accurate photograph of the Loch Ness ‘animal’ as he called it

As proof, he had its mug shot plastered around his boat.

It was a clear but cloudy day as we cruised out of the harbour.

The water was dark, with flecks of black material in it.

The captain told us the warmest it ever reaches is 12’C, but strangely it never freezes over.

Another random fact, Susie Maroney swam it back in the day!

Maddie and I had a fantastic time up top, trying to hold on over the ferocious bumps in the water and the 40 knot winds!

It was good practice for the following day which involved a horse ride.

By the end of the trip, I had created a new hairstyle and my hair band had been lost to Nessie forever!

Some sneaky ciders were in order.

Four drinks later, I decided Whisky Cask Thistly Cross Cider was the best ever, closely followed by Orchard Thieves.

Anything that has been barreled in spirits seems to be a winner!

Maddie and I solved the issues of the world, talked about brain training, wanderlust and all those stupid things you talk about drunk.

We attempted another drink at the only other pub in town, but there were no young’ens to have fun with, only old tour bus guests with the names tagged on their shirts who left promptly at 9pm.

We’d have to save our fun until Edinburgh!


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