Today was a traveler’s hell. We knew this was to be a long day on the road but this was absurd. Freddie talked us out of taking the ferry off the south of the island and suggested we go back the way we came – across the bridge. We had the Islay ferry to catch at 6 pm. This two-and-a-half hour ferry was the last of the day. Leaving the house at 9am, we arrived at the ferry dock at 4:30pm, disembarked from the ferry at 8:45pm, and arrived at the Rosses’ house at 9pm, a 12-hour trip.

Actually all went quite well until we got on the 60 car Islay ferry (with only about 20 cars today). Although the weather was mild, this was the day that the former hurricane Gustav (I think) headed north from America across the Atlantic south of Iceland and is now sweeping upon the shores of Scotland. No problem occurred until we passed the Isle of Gigha and hit open water. Waves crashed over the ships bow as it rose and fell into the water. This was accompanied by a continual roll - left and right. Ann was the first to succumb, heading to the head to spend the next hour praying to the god of porcelain. Marian was next but she went outside into the teeth of the gale force winds to try to “hold it all together”. She withstood all the storm could give her but not without discomfort. Allan and I were fine drinking Talisker, a fine Isle of Skye single malt.

Finally, we reached Islay and were out of the wind. Off the ship, we drove to Alistair and Judy’s home, Benbhragghie, for a well-deserved Bruichladdich single malt then another. Ann and Marian did not imbibe but water satisfied them. We finished the day without a dinner but nobody seemed to mind. We crossed the patio and entered our house, Dunedin, for our stay on Islay. Dunedin is a three-bedroom two-bath house with a living room, full kitchen and a study adjacent to the Rosses’ main house.

Seeing Alistair and Judy was so comfortable. They are wonderful hosts, delightful conversationalists, and island folk living large but subtle if that makes any sense. Allan and Marian were immediately their new friends, family actually, since they are relatives of Ann and Allan’s father, Big Al.

I got up this morning but we had no coffee maker. We brought coffee with us but that was of little value. This is a serious concern since coffee is my drug of choice in the morning. Tea, the usual drink here, is not the proper vehicle for sufficient delivery of the drug caffeine. So, off I went to forage in downtown Bowmore.

Downtown Bowmore is just down School Street and past the Bowmore distillery from our house. The distance is not measured in minutes but steps and there are not many to get there. There cannot be 25 shops at the crossroads of Main and School Streets, which encompass the total of the business “district”. One thing became apparent immediately: No stores were open at 8:00am. Back I went to have a cuppa (that being tea) at the house.

Alistair took Allan and me to the Machrie Golf Course for a round of true Scottish golf. The Machrie is the most true links course imaginable. On the shore of the sea loch, Lochindaal, it is built amid the sand dunes and sea grasses. There is not a tree for miles to break the wind. This course defines all that is not fair in golf. Blind tee shots on some holes, blind approach shots on others. In fact, some holes have blind tee shots AND blind approach shots. To add to this the wind was blowing at 30-35 mph sustained. I have never played in a wind this strong. The occasional rain was also a nice touch coming down at a 45 degree angle and feeling like sleet as it hit us due to the wind speed.

I hit a 5 iron into the wind, normally a 175 yard shot, and it went only 92 yards and it was hit flush. On the 18th tee I ripped a tee shot straight down the center of the fairway. Before the ball reached its apex, the crosswind caressed my ball. Holding it gently the wind took it slowly at first then more rapidly to the left of the fairway, then across the first cut of rough then into the grass then well into the deep sea grass and ferns. I walked over and shook Alistair’s hand conceding defeat 1 up. Allan played very well in these very non Southern California conditions. He now knows what REAL golf is like.

Dinner was at the Rosses. The oral invitation was “drinks at 6:15 and the conservatory door will be open so you don’t have to come all the way around the house”. Yes, the wind was still howling to such a degree that Alistair didn’t want the “ladies” to have their hair too mussed. What a guy.

Whisky and red wine were served in the lounge before tea (dinner). The red wine was Clancey’s, an Australian Merlot/Cab blend. It was outstanding. A&M gave a bottle of the same wine as he gave Ian and Jane plus some almonds. We gave them assorted, flavored hazel nuts from our Redmond Saturday Market grower/vendor. A 2002 red from Matthews Cellars in Woodinville and a Syrah from the Columbia Valley completed the gifting.

Dinner: a starter of individual smoked haddock, baked with a cheese cream sauce. Entrée was a steak pie, only the best cut of meat, with a perfect flaky crust. Sides were Alistair’s potatoes, broccoli, peas and turnips. Dessert was a rhubarb crumble with ice cream and fruit served with the first French sauterne I had ever tasted. Oh such a delicious, true Scottish meal it was.

After dinner we saw the video of A&J’s 40th anniversary party at the Dryburgh Abbey Hotel. We had had lunch there last week. A nice connection. We heard the toasts, the roast and images of people we had met over the past 28 years. I am sure it was not as heart-warming to A&M as it was for us.

Today was another get out and see something day. Aren’t they all? First off, we visited Ann’s favorite place to shop, the Islay Woolen Mill. This is an active wool fabric looming shop using Islay sheep’s wool. The owner, Gordon Clavel, gave us a tour of his mid 19th century stone building and the period machinery. The old loom was in action this morning creating an amazing amount metal on metal clanking and crashing. The sound echoed from the thick stone walls of the building seeming to engulf us in pure noise. Of course, the owner knew Alistair and Judy. I guess everyone here does. The tour of the facility from this chatty Welsh tartan maker was a delight.

We then headed next to Finlaggan, the ancient home of the Lords of the Isles, the ancestors of the clan MacDonald. This is now a ruin on an island in Loch Finlaggan reached through a wooden walkway through the marsh. We were the only people there but the midges and wasps in the swamp area discouraged Ann and Marian so we left.

With the next stop Bunnahabhain Distillery, none of us were too upset about leaving Finlaggan. Getting there is exciting since the only access is by a single-track road with huge trucks sharing our winding road. We had a nice chat with the young lady who opened the reception and gift shop for us. Casually but with purpose I mentioned that we were staying with our friend Alistair Ross, she immediately pulled out two bottles and gave us a tasting of their product. Since we received tours at Glenfiddich and Bowmore we now know enough so we could make our own whisky. We are now way too cool to take these “tourist tours”. We four are so much above the level of general tourists here in Scotland! Or so we think…

Our next stop, our sixth distillery on Islay, was Caol Ila (Coal-eela). A tasting of their 18 year old was offered there also. Then to Brigend Hotel for a late sandwich since we were going out to dinner at 8 with the Rosses and Susie.

After coming home and putting our feet up for a rest, we were off to Margaret and Islay Campbell’s house for drinks prior to the taxi picking us up. Islay Campbell was the distillery manager at Bowmore after Alistair moved to the head office of Stanley Morrison in Glasgow, the parent company of Bowmore Whisky. Islay’s pour of whisky is, as it was in 2000 when we were there, a fair measure – exactly like Alistair’s. That means a large glass is filled half way, at least, with the whisky, then water to fill the glass to the top. After a lovely hour with the Campbells, we got into our taxi for the ride around to the other side of Lochindaal to the tinier town of Bruichladdich.

With Susie, Alistair, and Judy there were seven of us in the party for dinner. It was a wonderful dinner. The food was excellent as were the four bottles of very nice wine. Allan and I split the $560 bill. By that time in the night we were in no condition to complain about the bill. Heck, we loved every dollar of it, one of the finest evenings imaginable. At least until we get the credit card bill next month! Since Alistair and Judy are allowing us the use of their house, it was the least we could do. Alistair was surprised we paid, as he did not plan for that to happen. Not often does one beat Alistair at anything.

Up this morning for church at 10 am. We attended Alistair and Judy’s church. It is located at the top of the hill at the highest point of the town looking straight down the street through the four-block town to the little harbor. The Round Church of Killarow was constructed in the round - so the devil will have no place to hide. A lay reader led the service from the Church of Scotland. The Church has no minister at present, as the Church of Scotland needs about 90 ministers to fill all of its needs. In addition lightning recently struck the church directly and blew out the church organ’s electrical system rendering it inoperable. What kind of sign does it signify when thunderbolts are sent from the heavens to harm a church? Tough times for the Round Church built in 1768. Oddly, we sang five hymns and all were written by writers born in the 1700s. Rock of Ages was included today - yea. Talk about your traditional service…

After church, Alistair and I picked up Islay Campbell for a round of golf again at the Machrie. Although the wind was less severe than Thursday, it was not less by much. Fortunately, there was no rain during play; it was due at 3pm and arrived on time. It is just plain exhausting playing in such windy conditions. I did not play my best by a long shot losing many balls in the knee high rough. Before the round, I told Alistair I would be leaving the remaining balls from the dozen I brought. So, for each ball lost I wasn’t losing my balls anymore, I was losing HIS! When we dropped off Islay Campbell (he lives two blocks away from the Ross Compound), I bid him farewell hoping to see him and Margaret in Seattle soon.

Tonight dinner will be Loch Fyne smoked salmon as a starter followed by roast lamb for the traditional Sunday roast meal. I have opened a 2003 Matthews Cellars Claret to breathe for the meal tonight. Matthews Cellars is a Woodinville Winery now owned by one of Ann’s “little garden club friends”, Dawn Rubstello and her husband, Jim. I hope it stands up to Alistair’s expectations. We will see.

Tomorrow we take the 9:45am ferry from Port Ellen back to the mainland so Ann is washing and packing.

Up at 6am we readied ourselves for a taxi at 7am to take us to the airport. I was still too tired after a week in Islay to think about breakfast but did have a cup of Jane’s wonderful coffee. Unfortunately, the taxi was on time and we said our farewells to the Cannon clan, knowing we would not see them again for some time.

Oh, did I mention it was still “dreich”? It was. The checking in and security was swift and easy at GLA. Our flight to Charles de Gaulle Airport outside Paris was on EasyJet, a UK discount carrier of the ilk of Southwest in the US. Susie calls it SleazyJet. Nice, Susie, thanks. Our flight was delayed a half-hour but we were soon off and offered food and beverages, for a slight fee, well not so slight. Since there was nothing we wanted to eat or drink, we passed.

We now figuratively will remove our kilt and don our beret for 10 days in France.

On arrival at CDG in Paris we went through customs and collected our baggage easily, if certainly not rapidly. On to car rental. Where in the Hell is car rental? A sign might have been nice. CDG makes LAX look like a commuter airport. In exasperation, we ask two people in broken French and getting the answer in broken English found it - after a half hour. Waiting in line at EuropCar for another half hour got us the ability to stand in front of the happy, smiling woman behind the counter. Ok, that was a lie. She was neither and to add to that we spent a half hour with her – AND THERE WERE NO PROBLEMS! Ah, the Parisians. So easy to dislike. Hoping to leave the airport in our car at 12:15, we finally left the airport at 2:30. Ouch.

On to Rouen. One slight miscalculation headed us in the wrong direction. Instead of leaving Paris in the direction north of, say, 10 o’clock on the clock face we left at a direction of 2 o’clock. After 30 minutes we were further from Rouen that when we started. Now this would have not been so embarrassing if we DID NOT HAVE A GPS navigation in our car-- but we did. (We always order the smallest, cheapest compact available for the two of us hoping for the usual upgrade but we scored a Toyota Avensis with GPS!). Not knowing how it worked since there was no manual, we had not bothered using it.

So, the next order of business was to figure this darn GPS thingy out now that we had screwed things up so miserably. Changing the language from French to English helped more than a little!

It came to our attention that Ann had not eaten since 6:30am this morning and I had not eaten since Café Gandolfi the previous night. To say we were bitchy and cranky at each other would be no slight understatement – it was now 4pm. As we drove through farmland with few towns and fewer open restaurants, we found a gas station and bought a packaged sandwich to split, a coke and chips in their tiny, tiny 7-11 type cashier area. This helped a little but we still were not really polite.

After previously yelling at each other over any mistake in direction giving and direction taking, we found our sweet GPS lady with a cultured British accent so easy to understand. She never got angry when I made a wrong turn. She just recalculated and gave me new directions both visibly and orally. I really liked “her”. Ann said she loved “her” - that being a little scary on several levels.

We made it to our B&B in Cantelou, a few minutes from Rouen. Exhausted, we had to venture into town to see the Cathedral of Rouen and find dinner – food! Dinner was a gallette, a crepe with cheese and ham for me and fried egg, mushroom, ham and cheese inside for Ann. A demi litre of a rose complimented a meal we were both too tired to eat. Somehow, we arrived back at the B&B and mercifully fell into bed. The day was finally over.

Breakfast was a hoot here in Beauvoir near Mont St. Michel. In the breakfast room are tables for the six rooms. The others who stayed the night were from England and Scotland so we could all converse. Danielle held court and soon her husband, Kin, did so also. Humor and frivolity abounded. What a delightful way to start the day.

Today we were off into Mont St. Michel. We arrived early just after the morning high tide so the parking lot near the Mont was just beginning to open. On the salty, wet surface, we drove on as the water was receding at an alarming rate. So, no tour bus parking yet!!! Up we went to follow the circular pedestrian road up and up and up. Ann was a mountain goat ascending the uphill pedestrian road to the Abbey then the stairs then more stairs and then again more stairs. I was impressed. Once at the top, we then came down on the same road littered with tourist souvenir shops – one after another. It reminded me of the town of Assisi.

Now on to Brittany or Bretagne as these folks call it. Driving, we went to Cancale, St. Malo and Dinan all very cute villages on the coast but very tourist laden. We are snobs and do not appreciate these tourist folk!

Dinner was an adventure. From Danielle’s suggestion, we went to the Auberge de la Baie about two miles away. This restaurant is definitely not prepared for anyone who does not use the native tongue. After lamb last night, we wished the other delicacy of the area, seafood. I ordered andouille sausage and apples in pastry for a starter followed by a rouge something-or-another (turned out to be red mullet) then crème brûlée. Ann started with a fish soup then tronchons de saumonette and Normand tart for desert.

This is how it played out. Ann’s fish soup had the strongest fish smell (not aroma) I have ever endured and it was across the table form me. My andouille and apples had no flavor and no spicy sausage. On to the mains. Ann’s saumonette was not salmon but a fish that looked much like an eel cut into four inch pieces (actually segments of dogfish, a small shark). My fish was also unidentifiable but white and whole, sans head, thank goodness. Fortunately, my fish was mild unlike Ann’s dishes. The poor girl was 0-2 in the food score tonight. The dessert was the highlight of her meal.

To add to this, after we ordered we realized we had not checked if this out-of-the-way restaurant on the salt flats outside Beauvoir, France took Visa. As per usual, we did not carry enough cash to pay for the meal. After evaluating several scenarios in case of disaster, we ask and they said yes. This entire meal was too difficult for a couple of simple Americans. We left exhausted and still little hungry even after spending $60 for the meal.

After dinner we drove out to the causeway as we did last night but it was earlier and lighter so we could see the tide coming in at a speed unimaginable. It was windy and cold out over the bay but we saw a sight that was well worth the effort.