The campsite at Oban (that's Oban in the same way that Luton airport is London, by the way!) suffered a hazardous combination of ground too hard to get more than a handful of pegs in and winds best politely described as “bracing.” Leading to several rude awakenings convinced the tent was about to take off or Ruby to blow over. On the plus side, the wind made it harder for the midgies to get stuck in!
I wish I had a photo for you of the bay at Connell Bridge, but Steve had the satnav directions to the camp site and I didn't want to stop and risk getting lost. In the absence of proof you will have to take my assurance that the west coast of Scotland looks an awful lot like Greece. (Well, it did yesterday. Today it mostly looks damp.)
Ardnamurchan was our 6th point and people are already dispersing back to home, family and work commitments – no champagne, prizes or speechmaking, just a low-key RBR Sir Tiff from Graham for the collection. I'm on the ferry to Wemyss Bay to bag a landmark, then I'll be starting the long haul south. Sore back, sunburned chin, and great memories.
The photo is the petrol station at Strontian. Could it be any more scenic?!
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