29/8 One More Rainy Day
One, maybe two hours. More sleep was out of the question. What do you do on a day when you feel broken from the start? First, take care of the motorcycle’s technical support. I need a welder or a welding machine to restore stability to the side stand. So I head to the bar and order a—no, not whisky—coffee and scrambled eggs. I explain my problem and the helpfulness is, as on Shetland, fabulous. A call from the barmaid, and five minutes later a young man with a welding machine is at the door. He’s missing the necessary shielding gas. The second call follows immediately and a middle‑aged man is at the door, wanting to look at the problem. “Yes, aha, okay, I’ll be at his workshop in an hour.” Done. The man works the prettiest weld on the moped that the AWO has ever seen. It’s almost embarrassing, but the man doesn’t want any money. I know his wife works in the local village shop, so I treat him to a Skye Red behind the scenes. Back at the Old Inn I sit in the lounge with my luggage, because I have to get rid of it—I need to change rooms. I let my eyelids drop and drift off. Not for long, though, as the cleaning staff sweep through the house, remake the beds, vacuum and wipe even where I’m sitting. Okay, so I get up and stumble over to the Talisker Visitor Centre. The distillery is surrounded by a scent that already strongly reminds you of whisky. Inside there’s the usual overpriced tourist gimmick. A flask for €35, not even filled. Bottle prices are on average about 10 % higher than in the German market. Tours are sold out, so I leave the sacred halls empty‑handed. I make a second attempt in the hostel lounge to finally close an eye. But the staff are still bustling around. I write a few postcards, look out the door and feel completely directionless and unmotivated. Constant rain showers, and I’m not sure where to go. It was supposed to be a hiking day, but the area offers nothing off the road. If the evening forecast holds, I might still catch a sunset—2.5 hours over the mountain. And if the sun disappears, I’ll head back. I could ride, but I don’t want to today. Around five I pull myself together and set off. After twenty minutes another strong gust passes over me. One more glance at the weather radar, and it says the promised sunset tonight was a joke. I turn back, dejected, because it’s clear I’ve wasted the whole day. Well, there’s one consolation: back to the bar at the Old Inn. Guys who get nowhere always end up at the bar. I treat myself to two Skye A.P.I. and a whisky as a crowning finish and farewell to Skye. The final touch: yesterday there were problems reading my debit cards. After several attempts today, the bartender, a bit annoyed, said, “It’s on the house!” And I thought at that moment that I should try this more often.
