Eileen Donan Castle, Portree

After another splendid home-cooked breakfast of steel-cut oats soaked overnight in milk for her porridge, Cynthia and Dawn discuss the Scottish National Party’s drive for independence from Britain to remain part of the EU. Dawn has – to quote the title of a pro-parliament pamphlet written by Englishman William Walwyn during its civil war (circa 1645) – “Some Considerations Tending to the Undeceiving of Those Whose Judgements Are Misinformed.” Not a fan of the Nationalists, Dawn … nope, not at all. “Bunch of greedy thieves,” she says.Remind you of anyone, gentle reader?

We get in our tiny Mazda rental and drive north from Glencoe, heading toward the Isle of Skye. The further north we go into the western highlands, the less green we see. The rolling hills near the road are more raw sienna: the color of rusted iron. The yellow gorse of the south is rare and long winding lochs nestle in narrow valleys that twist between sharp grey Corbetts and Munros. (Munro: mountain taller than 3,000 feet, Corbett: between 2,500 and 3,000. Many are covered in snow). It’s all beautiful but stark white farmhouses and tiny settlements are sparse. The landscape is gorgeous but desolate. Hard to do it justice in the intermittent rain.

We stop to see the oft-photographed Eilean Donan castle sitting on its tidal island. Its history starts about 1230, meanders through more political intrigue, clan warfare and religiously inspired clashes than you can shake your sporran at, and eventually is restored beginning in 1919. It is beautiful, insideand out … a site used in many films, including the Highlander (Christopher Lambert and Sean Connery).

We tour, we gawk, we do not buy the t-shirt, and we push northwards, trending west toward Portree, the main town on Skye. We reach the Portree Hotel on the main square, check in and, since we have dinner reservations for 5:30, check out the restaurant and its attached bar. David asks the first non-comely bartendress on the trip if she can make a Negroni. She says it’s not on the menu. David points to the bottles of gin and Campari and asks if she has vermouth. She says “no” as David points to the two bottles of sweet and dry Martini & Rossi. David says, “If I buy a shot of…” It’s all very Five Easy Pieces and the ultimate answer is “It’s not on the menu.

Cynthia finds the dining area somewhat cold – literally, as in doors open to the rain and wind-swept exterior – and not to her liking. We exit and search and quickly settle on Caberfeidh for sumptuous pizza and Negroni, just like at Paesano in Glasgow. An expat named Jason chats up every table and the svelte bartendress with the great gams and looks about 16 DOES make a nice muddled cucumber and red pepper margarita, and the ambiance is totally seventies soft rock: Dire Straits, Steve Miller Band, lot of west coast jazz vibe. Our waiter advises us where to eat in town for the next few days, so we walk around after dinner, go down by the harbor to check out one of his recommended seafood spots and make a reservation for tomorrow at Seabreezes. We bed, gruntled.