Sign(s) of the day: Warnings of the treacherous backroads

When I bought my Scottish road atlas in a Glasgow bookstore last Wednesday, the clerk asked me if I was heading out of the city for a trip to the Highlands.

"I am," I said. "I'm headed to the Isle of Skye."

"Yeah, there's some beautiful scenery there," he said. "Just beware of the potholes."

"Sure."

"No, I mean it. BEWARE of the potholes." He said it the way characters in Scooby Doo talk about the local haunted castle where all the shenanigans go down.

Clio lookin' sharp at a scenic overlook along the A82.

No problem, I thought. I'll just try and avoid them. That is not possible for two reasons:

1. There's just too many of them.
2. There's no where else to go regardless of whether there's oncoming traffic or not.

And it's not like I'm driving a big car. It's a brand new Renault Clio that had 10 miles on it when I took it out of the car lot. (Thanks Hertz!)

Mr. Bookstore Clerk was absolutely right. Some stretches of the backroads on the Isle of Skye are more potholes than road. I think I saw a car ahead of me disappear into one never to re-emerge.

Occasionally, there are signs: "Road liable to subsidence."

When I first saw that sign, there was a sheep near it. And I just got a quick glance at the words-- you know, on account of trying to stay on the narrow road. So I thought, at first, it said that the road was "liable to sustenance" (for the sheep).

Then after driving through the larger-than-usual potholes, I realized what it must have said.

The other complication is that most of the backroads are barely wide enough for one car, but they have little pull-outs every so often for one car to pull over to let oncoming traffic pass or, in this case, to pass a sheep:

Two cars will not fit on most stretches of Skye's roads. 

 It's quite a dance between cars when navigating the narrow bits between passing places.

To his credit, Mr. Bookstore Clerk was right on all counts, not just about the potholes, because the views were truly spectacular.

The first of many times I pulled over to take snapshots on my drives across the Highlands. And I convinced a German couple to take my picture.

P.S. – I just turned in the rental car and the final tally was 902 miles!

A bucket of puppies!!!

The ladies' tour witnessed a working sheepdog demonstration at Leault Farm just south of Inverness. Much adorableness follows.

Our shepherd runs his border collies through herding drills.

Audience participation was an option during the shearing demonstration, and Alyse was among the volunteers. 

Chris and Brooke took turns feeding a lamb.

The shepherd then brought out a bucket of 27-day old puppies. We also got to cuddle with three pups who were a few weeks older. 

This puppy shows he already knows his job when it comes to keeping the lambs in line. 

Paula snapped this shot of me holding this curious collie pup.

Spoiler alert: Cute lamb pictures ahead

Play time for these little lambs with the Sound of Raasay in the background. 

Sheep are an integral part of the scenery here. You might say they are a sheer (ahem) joy to observe.

So here's my photo essay from the Isle of Skye, where the sheep were enjoying the beautiful weather as much as I was.

Passing by sheep on the second of my three hikes Thursday. 

Goats aren't the only ones in the Highlands who believe they own the roads. Spring on the Isle of Skye means lots of traffic from tourists and mama sheep with their lambs. 

Would you like us to move? 

Again, I was stopped. This lamb is trying to catch up with his/her mom, whom you can see in the sideview mirror.

The lambs seemed pretty skittish around me, except for these two, who saw me and charged toward me like I was their long lost sheep cousin. They got within six feet of me, heard the camera's shutter click and turned around to high-tail it back to their mom. 

But as far as I could tell, the sheep mostly lounged, then ambled, then ate. It looks like a good life. 

I took this on one of my many photo stops while traveling the island Friday. 

The end. 

.

Feeling sheepish

Ryan told me some inane story about Irish cows and sheep being the happiest in the world because they eat fermented grass. (Ryan's note: It's true. It's called silage, and it keeps the grass nutrient rich while fermenting in giant black bags. So seriously, they're all drunk). 

I'd been trying to see whether this was unscientifically true but we observed almost exclusively cows the first three days outside of Dublin. "Where," I asked, "are the sheep?"

Irish shops cash in on the sheep connection. Woolen shops are everywhere.

Apparently, the sheep are all in the Dingle peninsula on the western edge of Ireland.

Here, I can see them out the window of Room 3 at Browne's B&B.

I saw them dotting the hills on our driving tour around Dingle Bay on Monday.

I snapped Ryan checking out one.

Then Ryan tried to get artsy with sheep shots ...  

And I knew it was undoubtedly time to go home.

Fortunately, I achieved one of my Ireland goals that same afternoon when two sheep cut us off on the road to Brandon Creek.

Where's the sheep crossing sign?