To the Highlands

We were up at the ghastly hour of 3.30am. Ali roared up on his bike not long after, and set off for Stansted Airport. It reminded me a little of the road trips I used to take with my parents. My parents used to have holidays where we would drive up either the east or west coast of Malaysia. In order to avoid the rush of traffic at the Singapore-Malaysian causeway, we would set off hours before dawn. I used to get a little excited as we'd have to sneak around so as not to wake the neighbours.

The roads were fairly empty on the way to Stansted, but the airport itself was churning as expected. It surprises others how much I dislike Stansted in this state. Airports to me, should be quiet sanctums in the early hours. Sacred stopway for those of us who like to slip in half light between places and realities. This Stansted is no better than a mall, packed with bargain hunters and hangabouts, like myself.

We got into Prestwick and Jo picked us up a little later. After one or two stops where we dithered a little longer than recommended, we were on our way to Fort William.

Just shortly after noon, we pulled into the car park that looked up towards Ben Nevis.