Lochadrenaline

I scared myself half to death turning into an impossible hair-pin bend in pursuit of this loch. The hair-pin was actually the approach lane, no more than a tiny path, from the opposite direction but I missed the one for me and didn't work that out until I found myself stuck halfway round with the nose of my car hanging over what felt like a precipice. No going back - too much of a step down that would have to be be powered up hard against, shooting me out backwards into the road on a blind corner. As usual in an emergency involving height or slipperiness  I froze completely and sat glued to my seat for a good two minutes quite unable to move.

Eventually I opened the door, slid out, and saw that with the wheel still turned full lock I could just make it without one hoof disappearing into the void (a steepish rocky hillside but hey, it's the panic that counts).

After that it was a bit of an anticlimax. The boringly flat ruins on the tiny island in the centre are of a castle once used to imprison the local bad boy, the Wolfe of Badenoch who set fire to churches, castles and a substantial abbey whilst in a pet about not being allowed a divorce. (Pre Henry VIII, but they obviously had something in common to moan about once they met on the Other Side.)

The waters were choppy and the sky grey. I drove the circumference, loosened tense muscles and recovered my aplomb in a passing place, then drove away to coffee and quiche in the nearest café.