Back Home at the Yeti

We are sitting at the kitchen table,drinking coffee after our trip back home to Falkirk.
We went on another walk yesterday before catching the ferry. It was by the sea and through the forest. At points I felt like I was a hobbit on an adventure as the path and location felt very J.R.R. Tolkien. It was beautiful. Huge oak trees with moss growing all over them. And moss pathway. And standing on the rocks at the sea, with wind buffeting us.
We went for a 4 hour walk. Mom did almost the whole thing, then she and Allison went to the ferry terminal where there was a little cafe, with a man-a Maclean-who served them coffee gruffly. Allison felt a kinship with him.
Mull was quite beautiful-but I don't know how anyone managed to survive there, with no arable land and it would be so cold in winter, and is cold there anyway without central heating. During the walk we saw a spot where people had been cleared from their land. The early Scots were nomadic, they brought their cattle and sheep to the mountains in the summer for grazing and in the winter were in the forest, in thatched buildings-no fireplace, smoke just went up through the thatch, they burned peat which has antiseptic properties and since they didn't use tables etc., they were below the smoke line.
We met people in the 2nd bar we went to on the 1st night. Allison, Geoff, Richard, and I. It is all bit fuzzy though. The man who 'locked' us out of Tobermory Hotel was also at the bar and we conversed with him too. Richard had a conversation about how to pronounce tart.