Isle of Skye
We left from Portree, a row of houses and a handful of stores bearing only a minor semblance to a town, on the eastern coast of Skye, well before the sun came up on that drizzly morning. We had our sights set on reaching Neist Point by sunrise. Chris did most of the driving that morning (bless his heart) and I did my best to stay awake and keep him company on the drive. The lack of adequate caffeination at 6 a.m. forced my eyelids shut, and I was fast asleep when I was jolted awake by the car suddenly stopping. Flocks of sheep by the hundreds were passing in front of us, blocking our path in the road as they crossed over to get their breakfast from the trough. We crawled down the road in the van, honking at them in jest as we passed. We were just a few minutes away from Neist Point now, the sun beginning to creep above the horizon. We'd made it, and the sheep welcomed us to some other worldly views on this wet and windy November morning.