THE ROAD TO PLOCKTON
Having started down the minor road that lead to this, admittedly charming village, I rather doubted the wisdom of the trip.
I had mentioned to the lady recommending the visit that I was travelling in a large motorhome, but that didnt ring any alarm bells with her, and when I asked about parking was told there was plenty of room on the street front.
Maybe she hadnt been there for a while, or perhaps I was visiting at a popular time of year, but when I arrived, there was certainly no where to put Thebus without causing major traffic problems, and the only car park announced it had a 13 cwt limit, and though it was some time since I had used cwts as a unit of measurement I knew Thebus weighed a considerable amount more than that.
But even before I had arrived in the village I was regretting this detour as the entire road on the way there was not only narrow but went though a wood, very scenic of course, but it did mean that disadvantages of the narrow Scottish roads were now coupled with not being able to see ahead for approaching traffic, plus Thebus’ twelve foot high roof was frequently in danger from overhanging branches. But we did finally make it, and having just stopped in the forecourt of the forbidden parking area I looked for help at the tourist information point, which, though the door was open, no-one was home, and in the end I just pulled into the carpark and took my chances. We were very long for the spaces and for turning but as luck would have it a very pleasant couple were just leaving and with their car gone I was able to park across some of the bays and hoped for the best
The restaurant I had selected was obviously very popular with both locals and tourists, but managed to find a table for me. I would tell you what I had to eat, but this is being written long after the event, my previous journal entry having been eaten by the nasty computer virus which gobbled my data in Stornoway. It must have been perfectly acceptable as I would have remembered it if it had been outstandingly bad or good for that matter. What I do remember is the perfect tranquility and beauty of the village of Plockton, which although quite busy with tourists had managed to retain its peaceful air. So it really was worth the effort of the narrow road and parking problems, and I am pleased I went.