Ferry to Oban

“Where you from? Canada? Midwest?”

“Midwest,” said Liz as the waiter refilled our coffees.

“Right. First time in Scotland?”

“Yeah.”

He pulled a chair from another table in the empty diner and sat down.
“How you like it?”

“It’s great,” Liz said. He smiled wide.

“Where all you going?”

“Tomorrow morning we go back south to catch a ferry, then taking the train north, we want to go to Oban.”

“No mate why not just catch the ferry right here?”

“What?”

“There’s a ferry right in our village.”

“Would you mind looking at the map with us?” I asked.

“No bother at all!”

I got the map out of my backpack. He pointed to the northern tip of the island. A dotted line connected to the main land. “See? You go south, then you have to go east, then north, then back west, then up north to Oban. You take the ferry here, save you time. ”

“What about the train?”

“There’s a bus. It’s only about twenty miles to Oban anyway, you could hitch that.”

Liz nodded. “We’ll think about it.”

“Do. Anyway, nice to meet you. You’re eggs are probably ready, let me go back to the kitchen.” He got up and walked way, returned a minute later carrying a tray of two plates piled high with scrambled eggs, baked beans, and toast.

While we ate, Liz and I looked at the map. The waiter’s plan sounded good. It didn’t hurt that he’d flattered us by calling us Canadian and recognizing what a midwest accent sounded like. We’d gotten a lot of “are youse English?!” on this trip. We decided to go with his advice. The next morning we met in the front room of our hostel. We checked out, shouldered our backpacks and walked to the ferry terminal at the northern end of town. I don’t know what I expected but the ferry was basically a big bus on water, surprisingly dull. We were the only people on board who didn’t have a car. A short while later the ferry landed. We got off the ferry and walked away from the ferry landing as every car drove off.
“Where’s the bus stop?”
“He said it was right here.”
“I don’t see it.”

A woman stood smoking a cigarette and leaning on the side of a two door red hatchback car on the side of the narrow road. She took another puff and flicked the cigarette into the ground. She turned toward her car.

“Excuse me!” I called. She looked at me.

“Is there a bus stop near here?”

“Eh?” she asked.

“A bus. Is there somewhere near here where we can catch the bus?”

“Yeah, you can get the bus in town.”

“Thanks!” I said, as she got in her car.

“Umm, you probably should have asked her where town is,” Liz said, as the woman drove off. As far as we could see in all directions there was nothing but green fields, stone wall fences, and the narrow almost one lane road.

“Good point.”

We walked up to where the road out of the ferry landing intersected with the longer road. A sign pointed in two directions, one town three miles south, another eleven miles north.

“I guess you also should have asked her which town.”

We stood there blinking a long while.