Looking back

Day 11; Still 233 miles from Oxfordshire - but isn't that a lot less than yesterday. Yes, the alarm did go off at 04.30. We left the camp site before 05.15, and I mostly repaired the glasses I trod on in the kerfuffle in the 4h or so on the water back to Oban. I'm now in the Tyne valley, planning appropriately to catch a train in the morning from the village where George Stephenson was born
 
This is the only picture in the whole trip that I planned before I set off. It was our six-week stay on Mull in 2022 that alerted me to the blip journal extraordinaire of our host, Treshnish, and inspired me to use it as an alternative to diarising the experience. I seem to have forgotten to stop. Tobermory was, of course, a regular destination during our dtay. My plan did not include cropping out the cruise ship parked (is that the term? Squatting?) in the harbour. The Horror ((c) J Conrad). The lunch box bottom right is one of its shore-taxis

New views of the Treshnish Isles was one of the joys of the journey - along with changed perspectives of other favourite memories from that much-remembered trip. At one point on the crossing we could also see The Outer Hebrides we had just left, Mull and the mainland ahead, the Small Isles, Skye, Coll & Tiree, and the coastal islands of Donegal. Such plenty