Sanny and Dave explore the western slopes of the Scottish isle of Arran, far removed from the tourist-heavy honeypots of Brodick and Goatfell.
Words & Photography Sanny
“Is that a dude dressed as Princess Leia?” I expleted, more than a little taken aback when a bearded vision of a hairy-arsed bloke walked past us as Dave and I queued to board the early o’clock ferry from Ardrossan to Brodick, the main town on Arran. I suppose I should not have been surprised to have my pre-adolescent crush smashed into thousands of pieces. After all, this was the May bank holiday weekend and Arran’s highest peak, Goatfell, does a roaring trade in attracting day-trip punters, serious mountaineering types and charity walkers. Of course, he could have been a hard-core fan of the holy trilogy who had perhaps taken the passing of Chewie aka Peter Mayhew a little too close to heart. Or maybe he just dressed that way all the time. Who am I to judge?
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