Lady Luck

A few years ago, I took my backpack and set off alone on an Interrail adventure all the way to Kyle of Lochalsh, in the far north-west of Scotland.

It was January. It was cold, the sun set very early and, at that time of year, the place was really remote. Not much to do, few people in the streets, the cold, night falling fast… exactly the kind of place I like ending up in when I travel.

I get off the train around 5pm as the sun is already starting to disappear, and a small woman in her forties comes up to me.

She asks me what I am doing here. I explain that I am travelling alone with my backpack, then I naturally turn the question back on her.

She introduces herself: "I am Lady Luck." In French, that would be « la Dame Chance ».

She had a tiny suitcase with her. She lifts it up in front of me to show how light it is and explains that she travels around the world with almost nothing, having sold her house.

Obviously, at that moment, an enormous number of questions start going through my mind. Who is this woman? Is she messing with me? Is she just a bit odd? Is she completely mad?

I am generally quite open to meeting people while travelling, but there I still told myself I was going to politely wish her a good evening and carry on my way.

Except there was one small problem. In Kyle of Lochalsh, in the middle of January, there are not exactly fifty hotels open.

We were going to the same place.

So we walk to the hotel together. At reception, a man who is visibly already well into his drinks greets us and takes us up to our rooms. And of course, our two rooms were facing each other on the same landing.

To make the story a little stranger still, the receptionist had swapped our rooms. I end up in a lower-grade room although I had booked the more expensive one, and she in mine. In reality, she had booked the last available standard room before me.

So we have to swap our things back.

At check-in, we had both written our name and email address on a sheet at reception. Curious as I am, I take a look at what she had written.

She really had written "Lady Luck".

Right.

After collecting her things from my room, she says to me: "Shall we meet up later to look around town?" I say yes.

I go back into my room, take a shower and start getting ready. But the more I think about it, the less sure I am that I want to spend the evening with this mysterious Lady Luck. So I tell myself that maybe I will slip out quietly.

The problem with old Scottish hotels is that the doors are not exactly silent.

I open mine. And almost immediately, the door opposite opens too.

"I'm ready."

Right.

So off we go together into Kyle of Lochalsh. I originally wanted to visit a distillery, but it was closed. Just as well in the end, since she explains that she does not drink alcohol.

So we go for a walk towards the shore. She tells me a lot about her life, her travels and that rather particular way she had chosen to live. Then we buy something to eat and I finally go back to my room.

The story more or less stops there.

But since that day, there is still a question that sometimes comes back to me. Who was that woman?

A joker who found it funny to introduce herself as "Lady Luck"? Someone completely off the wall who really was travelling around the world with an empty suitcase? Or did I really meet, in the depths of Scotland in the middle of winter, Lady Luck herself?

And in that last case, maybe I should have asked her a lot more questions. I will probably never know.

In any case, she still scared me a little.

Thank you for reading.

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