A Highland Holiday Pt. 03

We camped overnight on the hills, a two girl sleeping bag inside a two-man tent. Fiona crowed that I had now experienced a proper Scottish summer when we woke to snow on the ground after one overnight camp.

That was followed by the time we set out on a five-day expedition to circle the entire estate after one lovely day walking, we were subjected to three days of almost constant drizzle with occasional downpours of rain. I wanted to quit, to go back to the comfort of the roaring fire at Cameron House, but Fiona made me stick it out.

Our plans changed to very short walks from a static camp, it was mostly a miserable experience, but I did learn to appreciate the absolute pleasure that comes from putting a clean pair of socks onto hurting cold clammy feet.

Then the skies cleared, that light, oh joy, anyone who has stood on the summit of a Scottish mountain, the sky crystal clear and stretching off twenty of thirty miles into the distance, a gentle wind cooling you, as you drink in the beauty of the highlands in a light clearer than the finest diamond, has to believe in a creator.

I bagged my first Munro without knowing what a Munro was, Fiona explained and I squealed with delight, another 281 hills for us to climb, "Oh yes, thank you."

On the days when we were at Cameron house, Fiona and I would walk to our Boulder after dinner, she would rest her back on it, and I would snuggle up to her, with her hands around me, we told each other our entire life stories, we had no secrets, our love was solid and even the prospect of our return to London no longer concerned us.

Of course, we were also energetic young girls, and now her sexuality had been awoken Fiona was randy as hell, so we often ended lying naked in the Heather, sated and happy. One night I saw a glint from a window below us and wondered.

The Isle of Skye and Kyle of Lochalsh Highland Game are held in the second week in August, I really had no idea what to expect, but as usual, Michelle had a book on their history, going back all the way to eighteen eighty-six, and she and Fiona filled in the few gaps. After their explanations, I was really looking forward to it.

The heavy sporting events sounded delicious, all those strapping Highlanders, some stripped to the waist in the hot summer sun, tossing around heavy hammers and fifty-six-pound stones. Fiona did warn me not to get too excited, this was one of the few times a Scotsman was expected to wear something under his kilt, the other being when dancing for the Queen.

Then there was the prospect of the young lads racing each other on the famous Hill race, all of it sounded like a first-class excuse for a little constructive voyeurism. I wanted to see the dancers, and Fiona wanted to listen to the pipers.

Colin was some sort of big wig in the games committees and a few days before they started he and Michelle left to help with the setup and last-minute crisis management. They had checked into Skeabost Hotel, a large building in the traditional Scottish style, much like Cameron House, except it, was painted White rather left as bare grey granite.

When they asked us if we wanted a room reserved, Fiona answered that we wanted to take part in the Regatta on the opening day of the games, and so we could sail there and stay overnight on the boat for the duration. I had no idea what was involved in the Regatta, so I kept my mouth shut.

Colin winked at her, "It will take weeks to air the boat out after you two have had days in that small cabin."

I turned away so he couldn't see me smile, that was a problem she and I had discussed before, I was pretty sure using a full can of Febreeze to camouflage the lingering odor of sex every time we docked wasn't fooling anyone. The small cabin did cramp our style a bit, but it did nothing to cramp our libidos, and the portholes we used to let fresh air in, in the vain hope of covering the musk of our sexual exploits, were very small.

All arrangements were made, there was a detailed plan of what events we would be attending, where, when, and a long list of who we absolutely had to introduce ourselves too, there were a lot of Sirs and Ladies and even one of two Lords on that list.

I wasn't worried about being around the sporting events, I was confident enough in my girlhood now to be seen in crowded public places, but the social scene filled me with trepidation, I only agreed to go because I had guarantees from Michelle and Fiona that they would be with me the entire time, actually it was a little more definite than that.

"No way am I leaving you alone with our local Romeos," Fiona told me, "I know them all remember, a more dangerous crowd of concentered testosterone and randiness would be hard to find, and they'll be all over the new girl like midges on a highland cow."

"And they know about you Fi?" I must have sounded worried as I asked the question.

She laughed, "Well those who are friends of the family, of course, but we've been doing this so long, I'm Fiona to them now, mum explained to it to me, there is a collective acceptance among them of our role play, it's a kind of Stockholm Syndrome.

"As long as Dad continues to believe it, none of them, or their daughters or sons, would ever say or do anything to break the illusion.

"It all goes back to the concept of the clans, and that strong sense of loyalty to family that still permeates the Highlander's life.

"Outside of them, we've been doing this so long, no one really remembers Mike Cameron any longer, no one has seen him in years."

I was still worried about all those Lords and Ladies, but I trusted Michelle to keep me right, she wouldn't allow me to shove more than one hand in the punch bowl at a time.