Whoever invented WiFi on board of a ferry sailing in international waters should be thanked for their services, although they may not have thought about possible emails you receive. If said emails are about a cancelled ferry further in the trip, one can not follow up over the phone without breaking the bank.

Stress, during an otherwise smooth night, as we had already mentioned in the previous article. As with most stress, this too was for nothing. Once the call could be made when our phones chimed the ‘welcome to the Vodafone UK’ SMS, we quickly learned Calmac had already rebooked us on a different time slot, so we rolled off the King Seaways early in the morning. Relaxed again and semi well-rested. Let’s go!

Passport control decided to open the least amount of their checkpoints, took their time to mess with our heads with a long list of useless questions about our journey, then redirected us to a government official who almost jumped in the car when he heard about the itinerary, for another – even longer questionnaire including our age. How dare he! Please let us go. Like. Now? Thankyouverymuch! 

We’re off towards the border with Scotland, avoiding motorways through the Northumberland national park, where we stopped for tea and a hefty onion chutney and cheddar toastie at the “Last Cafe in England” – the Rochester Relish. Probably “the first Cafe in England” as well if you come from the North. It’s the thought that counts, we suppose.

Continuing on the A68 through the picturesque Borders region, we soon find ourselves south of Edinburgh, turning into the after-lunch traffic on the A720, which routes our drive into the almost unavoidable M9 between Edinbrugh and Glasgow, where we gave our brand new windshield wipers the ultimate Scottish liquid sunshine test for the first time this trip, and – spoiler alert – not the last time. 

We made a surprise stop at the Green Welly to meet our #WhiskyFabric friend Jo, who we hadn’t met in person since our last time together during the Spirit of Speyside Festival of 2016 (!). She has since turned her whisky passion into a job at the Tyndrum Whisky Shop for which she emigrated her family and Alpacas from England to Scotland. Living the dream, Jo!

On our last legs we drove a wet and bendy route down to Inveraray, to conclude the 367 km drive of almost 6 hours with our legs up for dinner at the George hotel in Inveraray, dropping ourselves into a bathtub with a dram in hand. Sometimes, you just have to treat yourselves, are we right?