Even further to the right (beyond this photo) is the unintersting modern Stirling Bridge, across which the A91 makes its modest way to St. Andrews. The thing that gets me is that both these short works of local civil engineering effortlessly cross the River Forth, which down at my end opens out into a gulf reminiscent of the St. Luarent below Quebec, and only a little further above Edinburgh is crossed by the Forth Rail Bridge, an egineering marvel of world significance in its day and even now:

 

I took a long weekend off and took the train to Fort William, to hike up nearby Ben Nevis. With no specific plan after that, I hitched the A830 west to the small port town of Mallaig, and took a day-trip across to Skye. The camping was f**king cold in Glen Nevis, and yet two days later, I was getting a sunburn walking north from Armadale on Skye. Weird country.

 

Finally, after years of saying I'd do it, I went skiing with Paivi. We didn't manage to go up north for the Big Trip, yet, but Stockholm seemed good as it was a day's travel for each of us. Of course, she got to take a leisurely 20-odd hour ferry ride from Helsinki to Stockholm (the so-called "Booze Cruise", since it goes through international waters, where Swedes and Finns can buy alcohol tax-free, which is a really big deal, given the horrendous alcohol taxes in Scandanavia), whereas I had to take 2 trains, 2 flights and a 3 hour bus ride to get there.