Not a MacCleod in the sky

I'm using the title ironically as it's currently blowing a hoolie & slinging it down again - but all will become clear later...

Knowing that the best of the weather was to be this morning we took off for the coral beaches near Claigan. Despite 1 close encounter with a buzzard and another with a grannie who appeared to have honed her driving skills on GTA5, we made it in one piece.

The beaches were stunning if a little harsh on the feet and although there were no signs informing us that paddling was compulsory,  I wasn't taking any chances.

As we climbed a nearby hill for a better view we spotted a seal playing around in the crystal clear water near the beach - if I'd had my cozzie I'd have joined him.

Back to the van for a quick brew where I nearly blew us up by turning on the wrong gas cylinder - Steve's fine about it now, honest, but I'm not allowed near the gas any more.

With the weather closing in it was off to Dunvegan Castle "ancestral home of the Chiefs of Clan MacLeod for 800 years" and where everything and everyone appeared to be called MacLeod. (And I have to ask - is Dunvegan where you go to live when you decide to start on the bacon sarnies again after a life of vegetable munching? )

Just as we finished our tour of the inside of the castle the heavens opened and, determined to get full value for our £11 each entry fee, we donned full waterproofs for a tour of the garden - rather fittingly beginning with the water garden.

Once I was satisfied we'd explored every inch of the place & got about as wet as it was possible to get we headed off.

An evening curled up on Delores with a bottle of wine & a movie lies ahead - some call it glamping, I prefer to think of it as civilised. :-)