Originally Posted by cardude01
My dad and I went to the Isle of Sky about 10 years ago. Agree, it is a mystical/magical place. Spent the night above a wonderful pub (can’t remember the name [emoji30]) after a night of drinks and dinner.
We’re going in the next year or two, for sure.
My brother came back from a visit with some wonderful stories about the clan.
It seems one of my ancestors in the 1300s was “visiting” the wife of a rival clan chief and, upon leaving her bed chambers, he was confronted by the chief’s prize bull. Armed only with a dirk, he slew the bull, cut off its horn and took it to Dunvegan Castle where it has resided ever since. The rival chief’s wife was so impressed, she left her husband for my ancestor, starting a long and bitter clan war. Tradition requires each clan chief to fill the horn to the brim—two imperial pints of wine or whatever’s handy—and down it in a single draught to prove his or her worthiness.
When I heard this marvelous story, I immediately called my wife and said, “Listen to this! Doesn’t it explain a lot about me?”
“Yes,” she said. “It explains the bullshit!”