I smile because I love an older GIF-sending adult. “What did ya have to eat?”
“Bangers and mash. Had to give it a try.” She smiles that lovely smile again that has me really regretting her non-local status.
“Great choice, though, if you happen to come back here you should try the Scotch pie. They’re famous for it.”
“I assume it’s made with a regular pie crust, so I can’t have it.” She looks disappointed but resigned.
“Problems with gluten?”
She nods. “I have celiac disease.”
“Ah that stinks. I’m sorry. I hear there’s some pretty good replacement stuff these days, so that’s good. Though not cheap or easy.”
“That’s all true. But I’m used to it at this point. It is what it is.”
I glance down at my watch. “My break’s up, but it was great meeting you. Oh. I didny get your name.”
“I’m Makenna. A pleasure to meet you.” She sticks out her hand as if we hadn’t been chatting for the past ten minutes. She’s so bonnie.
I take her hand. “Makenna. A beautiful name. It suits you.” I give her hand a little squeeze and release it. “The pleasure was all mine.”
I head back to the wee platform and pick up my guitar. I begin with a jaunty version ofWild Mountain Thyme. There’s a group of older women who are almost always here when I perform, and, without fail, they join me in singing harmonies during the chorus of this song. The age difference doesn’t stop them from batting their eyelashes at me or inviting me to join them on my breaks. It’s one reason, albeit the much smaller one, that I joined Makenna.
Typically, they don’t bother me much, but they’ve noticed my attention on the woman sitting two meters behind them, and I’m afraid they’re going to make a scene. As much as they like flirting with me, I know they don’t mean it. They’ve often given me a hard time about not having a woman of my own. I don’t want to give them the opportunity to make something out of what is definitely nothing, and, judging by the emptyglasses on their table, they most definitely would.
Aileen, the one who always wears some sort of wild hat, wags her eyebrows at me. I shake my head at her as subtly as I can. She shrugs but looks disappointed. Apparently, I got my meaning across.
A few songs later, I notice Makenna stand. She’s tall for a woman. She’s still likely four or five inches shorter than me, but I wouldn’t have to break my neck to kiss her. Unfortunately—or fortunately—that isn’t gonna happen, because instead of heading toward the loo, she walks out the door.
7
Makenna
Mygoaltodayisto take in some views. And to not think about the handsome man who for some reason spoke to me last night.
The memory of his smile makes that second goal quite difficult. But I can do hard things!
I’m making my way up Meall Fuar-mhonaidh, the highest hill bordering Loch Ness. I’m carrying a little cut-out of the loch’s famous monster to stage a photo. Mai jokingly asked for a photo of it, and I plan to deliver.
I pass through a gate marked “Hill Foot Path” and continue onward, past ferns and tall grasses, as the narrow path gently rises. I pass a big patch of what I believe to be purple heather. It brings back to mind the song Malcolm sang when he returnedto the stage last night. I push the handsome musician from my mind and snap a photo for mom. I can’t send it yet; there’s no service, so the proof of life will have to wait.
I come to an open field and spot a large A-shaped ladder to take me over a fence. I’ve never hiked anywhere with a fence and ladder like this. It’s a fun little up-and-over.
As I amble through the open fields and over gentle hills, I find myself questioning why this is considered a difficult hike. But as the terrain becomes steeper and rockier, I find myself out of breath. As an avid hiker back home, this doesn’t seem any more difficult than the hikes I’m used to, but I’m really struggling to keep up my pace.
I pause at the bottom of a particularly steep-looking section and take off the long-sleeved tee I’m wearing over my favorite purple tank top. I’m glad I decided to pack it. I hadn’t expected to sweat like this. It’s almost like I have a fever.
I make it to the first of four cairns that lead to the top and question if I'll make it. I think traveling got to me more than I realized. I need a nap.
I make myself press on. I’m here and won’t be missing out on the views. Apparently, on a clear day like today, you can see the full length of Loch Ness, Fort William, and all the way back to Inverness.
It takes about twice as long as it should, but I finally make it to the top of the hill. It’s so beautiful. A hundred times prettierthan the photos I saw when researching the trip. The good thing is, I can enjoy the view just as well while sitting. I find a nice patch of grass and do just that.
I pull out my snack but just stare at it. I’m not hungry. Why am I not hungry? Hiking always makes me hungry. I drink a little water and shove the bottle, with the snacks, back into my backpack. I grab my little Loch Ness Monster cut-out and stand to set up the photo, and I have a sudden stomach pain.
Oh my gosh. Was there something wrong with the bangers and mash? How long is the typical onset for food poisoning? Or did I pick up a virus while traveling? I’d intended to bring disinfectant wipes for my plane seat and tray table, but it was an errant thought that never made it onto the list. How can you tell the difference between food poisoning and a virus? I guess it doesn’t matter at this point.
Maybe it’s just gas.
