Eight Days, Seven Distilleries, Three Castles. : Day Four: Even More Adventures on Jura

After our mediocre lunch (the food quieted the alcohol, but led to further confirmation of the fact that Scotland and the US have a very different definition of what precisely constitutes a cheeseburger), E and I had an awkward bit of time to kill. The last ferry for Islay left around 6, and we rather needed to be on it, but it was only a little before 4. Jura, in the downtown area, is a very economical, small sort of place. There is precisely one of everything: one distillery, one hotel (with one restaurant), one bistro and one shop. Beyond that, I'm sure there are plenty of adventures to be had, but very few of them were likely to be had in under 2 hours worth of time with no planning. So, since the sun had come out, we decided to content ourselves with walking a ways up the road, as it bordered the ocean on one side and was quite pretty.

I found much to delight me on this road. I'm sure it was a combination of a lingering intoxication and the joys of familiarity because, to me, Jura looked particularly like Maine. And I adore Maine. So I charmingly insisted on stopping about every three feet of our walk to take more and more pictures of Jura. And now I will similarly charmingly inflict these pictures upon others.

Fair warning: this post, more so than any other, is going to be a bit of a photo dump. Because, honestly, that's what we did: walked about and took photos of stunningly beautiful things for an hour and a half or so. We probably also talked, but I promise you that trying to recount our conversations would be incredibly boring. Just look at the pretty pretty pictures and enjoy: