It has been a tad over a year since our Austrian adventure with my Mom and Dad. Since then we have had a couple overnight trips to explore Shenandoah and the Smokey Mountains. Thus we were anxious to return to Europe and spend a week together. The seeds of this trip date back a few years to a couple of nights spent in Edinburgh at the start of our English journey. We were impressed with the city and wanted to see more of the country. Since then I have continued my acquaintance with Scotch Whisky and the Outlander TV series has been filmed and broadcast. Both Rhonda and I have read the books, though I must admit I haven’t taken up books six, seven or eight. Much of the series was filmed in Scotland and there are some filming locations we would like to visit along with a distillery, lots of history and the Scottish countryside.
We made most of the plans way ahead of time knowing that August is the high tourist season in England and Scotland. I manage a reservation for the distillery I wanted to tour, but I was too late to get reasonably priced tickets for the Edinburgh Military Tattoo. I was also too late to get good tickets for the Jacobite Steam Train, also known as the Harry Potter Train, that runs between Fort William and Mallaig. Rhonda did manage to connect with the Kim and Paul Williams, our friends from Manchester, and they made plans to join us for a couple of nights in Edinburgh. The day approached, pounds were ordered from the bank and raincoats were acquired. We planned for cool, probably wet weather and then the trip arrived.
Day 1 – August 8th (Over the Pond Again)
We are flying Aer Lingus this year because of a really good rate Rhonda found many months ago. We have never flown them before, so we are somewhat apprehensive. The flight does not leave until after five in the evening, so we have the morning to get packed and double check our lists. We are flying out of Washington Dulles and need to leave town by noon. The traffic around Washington DC is always dicey, and when it is bad it is really bad. After getting everything situated in my suitcase I find I have some room. Knowing that I will be acquiring some Scotch in Scotland, I pack in a collapsible, padded wine carrier that will make securing any purchases for the journey home somewhat easier.
We get on the road by the time planned and the drive goes smoothly. We park in the ramp next to the terminal so we can walk with our bags instead of taking a bus. We find the Aer Lingus desk and get checked in. After leaving the desk and getting in line at security I notice the seats are not those we had originally selected. Though only one row different, they do appear to be together. We get out to our terminal long before our flight so we have a seat at the Redskin Bar for lunch. We are sitting at a table outside the main restaurant along the edge of the corridor. From my vantage point I can see one of the TVs behind the bar. Glancing up at one point I see what looks like lightsaber fighting in a gymnasium. Looking behind me I can see a larger TV in the dining area, and sure enough that is what it is. Some sports channel is broadcasting a lightsaber duel tournament. After that sumo wrestling comes on. It must be ESPN 8, “The Ocho”, from the movie Dodgeball. While I can’t hear the TV I imagine the two announcers from Dodgeball narrating the unusual events on the TV. As we sit I can see that an airline agent is at the gate so we wrap up lunch and head that direction.
The gate we are leaving from is a couple of doors with mobile lounges parked at them. The plane must be parked somewhere else. If you have never been to Dulles, mobile lounges, I just learned the name for these vehicles this trip, are transports used to move people from terminal to terminal and gate to plane when necessary. They have seating inside somewhat akin to a bus, but a little more comfy. They dock at doors in the terminal and can become a jetway, which is how they are being used for us. The front half of the plane boards one mobile lounge and the back half another. Once loaded the mobile lounge lowers itself so it looks more like a bus and less like some odd jacked up vehicle. The passenger compartment can raise and lower on its chassis. We drive out to our plane and then the transport raises up and docks with the doors of the plane like a small piece of jetway. It is a something I have never seen in any other airport I have been in. With people loading from the front and back at the same time boarding happens pretty quickly.
We find ourselves in the last row. The plane has a 2-3-2 seat configuration and we are in the middle three with someone else. We notice that the two seats two our left against the windows are vacant. We ask the flight attendant if we can move once the loading is complete and the doors are closed. She says that it would be all right and we slide over as soon as we can. While still in the back row with bulkhead behind us, it at least allows us to lean into the windows and on one another so we can get a little more comfortable. Aer Lingus does not impress us with our first flight. The space is cramped, the equipment in the seatback that controls the video doesn’t always work. There are some noisy kids on the flight, one of which moves to our old seats with his Dad. The Dad tries his best to keep him quiet and still, but a six hour transatlantic flight is a long time for a small kid to stay contained. Needless to say the flight was the worst one we have had over to Europe and neither one of us get much sleep at all.
Day 2 – August 9th (Edinburgh)
We arrive in Dublin shortly after five in the morning. We breeze through customs and our connecting flight is considered a domestic flight so we will have nothing to do when we get to Edinburgh. We get into the terminal with an hour or more to kill before boarding begins for our next flight. Rhonda had made an inquiry with the Dublin airport before we left, so we know where there is a place that is pouring Guinness at this early hour. We find The Slaney and nab a table. The place is hopping. There must be a lot of early flights connecting through Dublin. I line up and grab us a couple of pints of Guinness for breakfast. It is Ireland, after all, and Guinness is at its best here. I also see that most tables have a pint or two on them, so we blend in quite well. Rhonda and I are happy to stretch out and have the first leg of our journey behind us.
When the time comes we head for our gate. People are lined up in no particular order. I can see there is no plane out the window so we must be boarding a bus to be driven to the plane. That is the case a shortly we are aboard the second bus heading across the tarmac. It is raining out so everyone gets slightly dampened as the bus is loaded. Our bus has to wait for three different planes being pushed back across our path. While waiting in one spot I notice a large bird shaped kite straining a line that is connecting it to a tall pole. This is planted in the ground next to a taxiway and seems to act as a wind sock. I see a regular wind sock during another pause, so now I am curious about the bird kite. My question will not be answer soon, so I just enjoy observing its constrained flight. We arrive at our commuter plane and walk up the back steps to board. The plane has two huge props with six blades each, one on each wing. I worry about how noisy the journey will be, but the flight is smoother and quieter than our last one. So much so that we are each able to nap a little during our hour flight up to Edinburgh.
It is about nine in the morning when we get to Edinburgh. It feels like four in the morning to us. We fetch our checked bags and take the long walk to the rental car parking ramp. Our car is waiting and we get to the business of getting on the road. The car is a Volvo S60 with enough space in the trunk for both of our large bags. It is a little larger than I would like, but it is comfortable. The car has a great navigation system which we will use very extensively during our time in Scotland. I get my right-hand seat adjusted and the mirrors all in place to drive on the left-hand side of the road. We plug in our B&B’s address and set off. I get reacquainted with driving on the left and only get honked at once during the trip. That is at a round about where the car doesn’t accelerate as fast as I want because I am not used to its pedals. That will be the only honk I elicit during the whole trip. Some of the roads are pretty bumpy and I am overly cautious as I get used to being on the wrong side, but the drive goes fairly fast.
We arrive at the Glendevon Bed and Breakfast about a quarter after ten. We know that they will be wrapping up breakfast for today’s guest and we don’t want to disturb the hosts so early. Rhonda digs out some pants and does a quick change in the car. There are a bunch of kids playing ball in the middle of the crescent, but no one pays us any mind. Rosslyn Crescent is an odd little street. It looks like the head of a needle. There is one narrow road leading in with a long and narrow loop. There is a low wall around the skinny grassy area in the middle, and that is where the kids are playing. We tuck everything out of site and prepare to head downtown for the day. We walk down to Pilrig Street which is the road Rosslyn Crescent connects to. There we pick up the number 11 bus, which will be our friend during our time in Edinburgh. The bus takes us down to Princes Street and drops us by the Sir Walter Scott Monument. The monument is a wonderful Victorian Gothic spire that looks like it came off of the top of a Gothic cathedral. Every big city seems to have a huge Ferris wheel anymore and Edinburgh is no exception. The wheel is close at hand and spins lazily around as if waving a greeting.
Princes Street is the southern edge of New Town, which isn’t that new. It was all built during the late 1800s. To the immediate south is a small valley containing Princes Gardens and Waverly station. Up a sharp incline is the ridge of stone that Edinburgh Castle and the Royal Mile sit on. The Castle is perched to the right up at the highest point on the end of the ridge. It is built in such a way it seems to be springing from the stone. From there the land slopes gently down for a mile until it reaches Holyrood Palace, which is the official royal residence in Edinburgh and from where the road gets its name. The Royal Mile is the center of Old Town which clusters close together on the ridge and the inclines on either side. The oldest part of the castle dates from the 12th century. However, the majority of the castle, and Old Town, have been built up from the 16th century onwards. We loved strolling the Royal Mile during our previous visit which is why it is the first place we headed this time. The path from where we are to the Mile runs across Princes Gardens and up a lot of steps. We start across amidst a throng of people.
At this point I should mention something that was unexpected when we planned this trip. That is The Edinburgh Festival Fringe. Kim Williams made me aware of The Fringe a while before our trip when we were discussing things to do together. The Fringe is billed as “the single biggest celebration of culture on the planet”. The festival hosts over 50,000 performances of 3,400 different shows spanning almost the entire month of August. These shows take place at over 300 different venues mostly located in Old Town and New Town. The acts span the spectrum from children’s shows to cabaret, dance to comedy, and circus to opera. Along with all of the ticketed shows in the venues, some costing money and some free, there are loads of street performers that do their best to entertain and make a pound or two. A portion of the Royal Mile and Georges Street in New Town are closed to motor traffic to make space for the crowds of people enjoying acts. We will see a lot of characters wandering around town and the thousands of performers and attendees make the city feel congested at times. It does add a lot of color to the town in both the people and the myriad of posters advertising various shows that are spread around town.
Nearby the bus stop is a small square adjacent to the Fine Arts Museum. Setup in the square is the ticket office for The Fringe along with a lot of booths. We make our way through the crowd and hear a voice and see a big ring of people. We pull up and watch for a bit. There is a fellow getting straight jacketed and chained. He uses a couple of people from the audience to do this who he calls Germany and England because of where they come from. He has a good shtick going with comedy woven into the routine. We move on before the big escape we know is coming. Before we move on the performer does address the crowd talking about how everyone here are strangers, yet for a while forgetting all of their differences to have fun for a while. It is very poignant and timely. We climb the long flight of stairs to the street that runs along the side of the ridge. Rhonda counts eighty-eight steps. From there we work our way further up a steep incline and another forty-eight steps until we reach the Royal Mile itself. We are not far from the castle and we look around for someplace to get lunch. Close at hand is Ensign Ewart, a pub which advertises that they serve food all day long. We decide to give it a try and head into the dimmed interior.
The typical routine in pubs is to order food and drinks at the bar and then take a seat at a table. With all of the folks in from out of town it seems the pub is doing things differently and in a more American style. After sitting at an empty table, a fellow comes buy and hands us some menus. There are maybe eight tables in this front room, only a couple of which are occupied. The place will fill up quickly after we order. Rhonda sees an item called a Scottish Egg on the menu and inquires what it is. It is an egg parboiled, peeled, encased in meat, then breaded and deep fried. Rhonda orders one in pork and haggis and I get a ploughman’s platter which, in addition to other cold items, comes with a Scottish Egg as well. I select just pork. The food soon arrives and we sate our curiosity regarding the eggs. They are quite delectable and filling. We marvel at the uniformity of the meat coating and how carefully timed the whole process must be to cook it. The egg is not overcooked, yet it is done. Having to cook it twice, once by itself and one within the meat I imagine it could be easy to ruin. Even though we didn’t order much, there is more than enough food and we are soon replete. We finish our cider and give up our table to other prospective diners.
Back out on the street we consider our next move. We walk up towards the castle to the Scottish Whisky Experience. We had visited this place three years ago. It is where we were properly introduced to Scotch Whisky. We want to try a flight of whisky in the bar. Whisky, like wine, is best explored by tasting many different kinds and labels to find what suits you best. Where better to do that than Scotland. We locate the downstairs bar attached to the restaurant but are told the flights are only done in the bar upstairs as a part of the tour. We have been on the tour, but decide to do it again. We know that we will be able to try five new whiskies and walk away with a pair of new Glencairn Glasses that are included with admission. A Glencairn glass is the properly shaped crystal glass used for tasting or drinking whisky. Rosie is our tour guide. She is cheery and helpful. A couple of things have been updated since we were last here, but the immense whisky collection on display in the tasting room is still the same. This time I can appreciate the names and ages of some of the three thousand plus unique bottles here.
With the main tour done those few of us with the upgraded ticket retire to the lounge area. The bar itself is full and we decide on a nearby table. Fortunately a place opens up as we debate. We much prefer to sit up at the bar and talk to the bartenders about the whiskies. Our flights are served and we begin to explore some new tastes. We fall into conversation with a couple of ladies from San Francisco that sit down next to us. The chatty one is a travel nurse and she and Rhonda quickly connect. With our flights plus a couple of other unique tastings done we head downstairs to the shop. We want a bottle that will travel with us and be our nightcap during note taking for this journal. For that I settle on a very easy drinking Highland named Tomintoul Tlath. I also seek out a whisky from Campbeltown that I tried upstairs. Campbeltown is a very small region with only a couple of distillers, neither of which produces enough volume to ship to the US. I can only take three or four bottles back with me due to weight and space and I want things I can’t find at home. Our purchases in hand we return to the street.
Branching off of the Mile are some normal streets and then small alleyways known as closes. These closes are all too small for any sort of vehicle and just look like an open doorway off the street. Bakehouse Close was a filming location used in season three of Outlander as the location for Jamie’s print shop. I look up the close on my phone and see it is most of the way down the Mile. We turn our feet that way and begin to stroll. The sidewalks are full and people frequently spill into the street. The stretch of the Mile near St. Giles Cathedral is closed to auto traffic and there are lots of street performers putting on shows. Many other performers are handing out postcards and flyers advertising their own performances. It reminds us of the guys passing out flyers for hookers along the sidewalks in Las Vegas. We politely decline those offered to us and continue along our way. The crowds thin the further from St. Giles we get. Near the bottom of the Mile we find the close on the south side. We walk through the arch and take a peak. We notice other Outlander fans at hand. They take their picture at the entrance and on the steps that lead to Jamie’s shop. We decide to slowly make our way back to New Town.
Partway back up the Mile we pop into a pub to quench our thirst. I have a cider because I don’t want much alcohol, but I want fluid. Rhonda has a white wine, but soon realizes her mistake. The wine is not good and in the land of whisky and beer it is probably not a good choice. After quenching our thirst and resting our feet we continue on our way. The bus stop that will take us north is on Georges Street, not Princes Street. We find the stop and wait. Once on board and riding north we are surprised to hear the driver announce that the number 11 is rerouting down MacDonald instead of Pilrig. The stop near our B&B is now gone. We get off midway down MacDonald and make our way to Glendevon so we can get checked in. We meet with Stuart and get settled. Soon after we are done with the pleasantries and discussions about dinner locations we lie down for a nap. We have had little sleep since yesterday and our batteries are running low. After a ninety minute nap we are ready to finish the evening.
We decide to stay with Scottish food for dinner and walk to the Bonnington, which was Stuart’s recommendation as a place he and Catherine go. It is about ten minutes away and the evening is cool and pleasant. As we walk along Pilrig next to the cemetery we see a pair of shoes on the sidewalk. This seems odd, but we will see these same shoes in almost the same location every time we walk by the next two days. Another amusing site is a line of children all in safety vests. They are all hanging onto a line like a string of fish and being led and followed by two women, also in safety vests. Our guess is a daycare group that has been to the adjacent park. The Bonnington proves to be an excellent recommendation. The food is wonderful and too plentiful. I have Bigos Stew which has beef, sausage and veggies and is served with a hearty bread. Rhonda has haggis, neeps and tatties. The haggis is really good and peppery. The neeps are mashed turnips and the tatties mashed potatoes. The neeps are almost slightly sweet. Both compliment the haggis well, though the plate goes back to the kitchen unfinished. While sitting an enjoying dinner Rhonda notices the 11 bus turning at the corner and never going up Pilrig, regardless of the direction it is headed. We will confirm with Stuart tomorrow that the bus in both directions is rerouted for the time being. At least we now know there is a stop closer to the B&B than the one we got off at on MacDonald Road.
We stroll back to the Glendevon enjoying the walk. When we return Catherine is home and we get to meet the new addition to the family, Honey. Honey is a kokoni, which is a small breed of dog from Greece. Bonnie, their westie, is still around and we reacquaint ourselves with her. Rhonda plays fetch with Honey as the four of us stand and chat for quite a while. Eventually we retire to our room upstairs. I pour a couple of drams of the Tomlintoul and begin taking notes for the journal. I manage to get completely up to date before conking out and going to sleep.
Day 3 – August 10th (A Drive in the Country and Edinburgh)
Both Rhonda and I are up by seven. We woke a couple of times during the night, but given that we went to bed by 10:30, we are feeling rested. One of the times Rhonda woke up the time was 3:33am. This is notable because our first night in this same room three years ago she woke up at 3:33. The number three is going to appear several times during this trip. We already have one occurrence as we are staying in room number 3 at the Glendevon. We get cleaned up and dressed for breakfast. When we get downstairs the dining table is empty. The table is set for six and we grab the chairs facing the window. Stuart is the waiter and Catherine cooks. He is talkative and accommodating. After toast, coffee and tea are served our hot plates come out of the kitchen. We are both having some haggis this morning in addition to a couple other items. Rhonda has a little smoked salmon and scrambled eggs and I sausage and fried eggs. Everything is very tasty.
Soon after our plates arrive a French couple enters and sits across from us. Her name is Margali and is a primary school teacher. As such she is able to speak pretty good English. His name is Sebastian and is a corporate lawyer. He understands some English, but doesn’t speak it. As we talk we get to the subject of the animosity the English and French feel for each other. While not widespread anymore, you can still catch glimpses of it. She tells a story of trying to buy trousers for her son while on a trip in London and the shop keeper making the process difficult by feigning trouble understanding her pronunciation of the word trousers, which is fine. At one point in the conversation she is searching for a word in English and apologizes. I tell that she shouldn’t be sorry as her English is far better than my French, which I haven’t even tried to use. About 9:45 we make our farewells and return to the room to gather our things for today’s adventure.
Our friends Kim and Paul Williams are coming into town today on the train. We have dinner reservations for tonight which Kim has made. That is where we will meet up with them. Before that we have some country driving to do. A pivotal and important location in the Outlander books is the fictional stone ring of Craigh na Dun. It is the portal through which the protagonist of the books makes her travels through time. The filming location is a knoll with a ring of trees on it that overlooks a picturesque valley and loch. The standing stones seen in the show are fakes, but the spot seems scenic and gives us a target destination for today. The location is also near Kinloch Rannoch, which is not far from where the Edradour distillery is located. It is a brand we like and we plan on making a stop, but Craigh nu Dun is first.
The weather today looks good where we are, but Scottish weather can be unpredictable. We take our rain jackets and brollies, or collapsible umbrellas. I have some fairly decent directions on how to find the hill that I printed out at home. We would like to use the navigation system in the car to help us get through Edinburgh and all the way if possible. There is not a specific address since the hill is in the middle of some farmer’s land on a far backroad. We select a train station about halfway along the route to at least get us on our way. The voice navigation system is female with a British accent. We dub her Helpful Heather. Her pronunciation of the word toward has such an emphasis on the second syllable that it almost sound like two words rhyming with the phrase “Oh Lord!” Heather will also beep when we are approaching a speed camera on the highway. Our initial destination plotted we take to the left-handed roads of Scotland for an adventure.
The city of Edinburgh sits on the south bank of the Firth of Forth, which is a large estuary between the river running out of Stirling to the west and the North Sea to the east. A tad west of Edinburgh there are three bridges spanning the firth. Since our course lies mostly north today we will be crossing over. The newest bridge that cross the firth and the one we are headed over is the Queensferry Bridge. It is a very long and graceful span a little over a mile and a half long. As we arrive back over land a sign welcomes us to the Kingdom of Fife. That sounds very grandiose and I will find out later that this county calling itself a kingdom is like Virginia calling itself a commonwealth instead of a state. There is no real difference, just a preference in terminology. The land around us is mostly rolling hills covered with pasture and grain fields. All that barley for the whisky has to come from somewhere. As we continue north the landscape will become more mountainous and the highlands start to become really high.
We depart the dual carriageway onto a two-lane road. Our roads will get smaller and smaller throughout the morning. We start with roads with names start with “M”, which are the motorways, like US interstates. Then we get to roads starting with “A” which are like US highways that have two lanes and are striped. When we get to the “B” roads they still have two lanes which are a little narrower and the stripes are gone. Finally, we will get to the “B” roads that have three-digit numbers and are essentially one lane, two way roads. We drove these types of roads in Ireland. The advantage here is that roads, while still windy, do not have the high walls on either side that really restrict visibility. You have to be polite when driving the countryside in Scotland. You must keep an eye on the road ahead and pause at a spot where two cars can pass when you see someone approaching. The person pausing flashes their lights to let the other car know to proceed and a friendly wave accompanies each tight passing.
We reach our initial destination in the navigator and now plot another one to get us closer. After that it will be the paper instructions. We are getting pretty remote now and approaching the Kinloch Rannoch area from the south. We pass through one small town where the highland games are being conducted and the small roadside park is full of festival goers. It would be fun to stop and explore, but we continue on our way. As we make our way along the narrow road we get to one intersection blocked by a police car. I pull up and he says there is a large lorrie coming down the road and should be passing soon. I pull off to the side and sure enough in a couple of minutes a big flat bed hauling a bulldozer comes around the bend, taking up the whole road. It is led by another police car that speeds off ahead to block the next intersection. I guess this is a normal routine for them. The sky is partly sunny and the landscape a vibrant green. The heather is starting to bloom making many hillsides which are carpeted with it a deep purple. The roads are lined with grasses and some tall, rosy purple colored wild flowers. These flowers are all in full blooms and lend a beautiful boarder to the road. They grow in thick clusters and sway in the breeze like an undulating rose colored blanket. We make one false turn but quickly realize our mistake and backtrack. It is not long after we make the correct turn that we spot the pasture and gate we are looking for. I pull over in the small area between the road and the gate and manage to park where I think we will be out of the way. As we are getting out of the car a Royal Mail truck pulls up behind us. A postman hops out, passes through the gate and deposits the mail in a small wooden box along the dirt road that winds over the hill. As he returns I ask him if we are OK parking where we are. He says we are fine and then we fall into conversation. We talk about delivering mail throughout these remote areas, winter weather and Outlander. After a little while he has to be on his way and mutual well wishes are exchanged. We turn our attention to the object of our journey.
There is a small sign on the gate stating that this is the filming location of Craigh na Dun. It asks that visitors make sure to close the gate, not disturb the livestock, leave nothing but footprints and take nothing but pictures. The posting continues by saying while the standing stones were brought in for filming, the site is and iron age homestead, or ring-fort and has its own historical importance. The knoll is a couple of hundred yards away. A dirt lane runs from the gate to the hill, then winds around it to the right and descends from view. Scattered across the pasture are scores of sheep lazily grazing. We pass through the gate making sure it latches firmly behind us. As we stroll down the lane the sheep begin bleating at us as they move further away from we intruders in their domain. I notice some are shorn rather oddly and appear as if someone threw a fleece blanket on their back. As we approach the foot of the hill we can see the land to the other side falls away, sloping down to the Dunalastair Reservoir a mile or so away to the north. We climb the hillside and reach the relatively flat top that is surrounded by a dozen or so mature trees. On the slope below the hill I now see the farmer's house and outbuildings. We can see we are on the side of a long valley the runs away to the east and west. The ragged edged reservoir below us is connected to the more regular shaped loch to the west. The hills rise up on either side and create a wonderful vista. We spend some time exploring and taking some photographs. I can see why the Outlander crew chose this spot for their stone circle. The trees mimic the ring of stone and do not obstruct the view. The site looks special and is in a lovely spot to boot.
Eventually we make our way back to the car. No one else has come by while we have been here. I doubt many Outlander fans would make the journey to get here given the remote location. It also took us about two and a half hours to get here from Edinburgh. Now our attention turns to making our way to Edradour. Our path will take us down and across the water, around to the north side of the valley by way of the town on Kinloch Rannoch and on east. We drive the windy road that somewhat follows the path of the River Tummel. The drive is scenic and then we get to a road with stripes again. As we get close to the distillery we come to the town of Pitlochry. We pass through the center of town then I find a parking place near the bowling club. This is a small building next to a large, closely cropped green patch where some gentlemen are playing what looks like bocce. They must be the bowlers. We walk back to the center of town to see what we can find for a light lunch.
On a whim we wind up in a place called the Old Mill Inn. There is a mill here, or at least the water wheel. While the town seems to have some bustle to it, here in this place the crowd is more sparse and sedate. I have a bowl of soup with some crusty bread and Rhonda some mushroom gnocchi. After our repast we ask if there is a chemist nearby and we are given directions. Rhonda has developed a headache and we have nothing on hand to deal with it. We find the chemist and step inside. The place is very small. There is a register in the front room with various sundry items you would find in drug store. The pharmacist’s counter is in the back and we can see the analgesic selection on the back wall. When the pharmacist is done with her current customer we defer to another lady that has come in as we are still looking around. The lady from the register asks if she can help and gets the ibuprofen we request. When she rings it up we are surprised to see the sixteen tablets only cost us one pound and twenty-five pence. That is about two dollars. This of course leads to a short discussion about the comparative cost of healthcare in our two nations. We pop into another shop to get some water so Rhonda can take her new medicine. The afternoon is passing and we know that we have to get back to Edinburgh with enough time to change and take the bus downtown to dinner.
The distillery is only a couple more miles up the road. We arrive and park in the rather large lot across the street from the operation. Over the lot hangs a sign that states that there is to be no grilling in the car park, which I find amusing. Crossing the road we talk to an employee near the shop entrance and find out the only tastings that happen are part of the tour. Given the tour is about an hour and the next one is not until four, we defer. Instead we take a quick browse through the shop to see if there is anything unusual. Not finding anything of particular interest we decide to be on our way. The drive back to Edinburgh is quicker since we are near an “A” level highway and we pick up a motorway in Perth. Near the motorway we pop into a petrol station to get some coffee. We have a pleasant chat with the lady who breaks the fifty pound note the chemist wouldn’t. She points out the different currency that Scotland has from England. And indeed we see “Bank of Scotland” and different people on the bills. For instance Robert the Bruce adorns the twenty pound note instead of the Queen. The rain is pretty constant as we get back on the road, but we make decent progress until we get near the city. Traffic and construction conspire to make us a little late. We call and warn the Williams that we may be tardy. Luckily we find a parking place in Rosslyn Crescent. As we get out of the car there is a full rainbow turning into a double rainbow. We make a quick change and walk to the bus stop. We are a little unsure if we are in the right place because of the rerouted number 11. There is a lady waiting at the stop and we inquire. She states she is waiting for the 11 as well and her phone says it should be by shortly. It comes by soon and we are off to New Town. By the time we hop off the bus and walk we arrive fifteen minutes late for our seven o’clock reservations. We find Kim and Paul waiting for us at table in The Dome.
It is wonderful to see our friends again. We last saw them in person in Dublin a couple of years ago when we were celebrating Rhonda’s birthday. We have a great meal together. The restaurant is attentive and paces things very well. The food is excellent and the setting elegant. A bottle of the house champagne is shared with dinner to celebrate our reunion. Conversation is lively and spans many topics, but mostly is centered on catching up on our kids and ourselves. The meal is casual as we have nowhere to be other than here with each other. Paul graciously pays for the whole affair when we finally do decide to give up our table and adjourn somewhere else. Conversation continues as we stroll from New Town to Old Town. The lights on the buildings and statuary of the city are lovely in the evening. We decide to stop at the Whiski Rooms, which is a pub on the road the hugs the north slope of the Old Town ridge. It has a view through some trees to the Princes Gardens and Old Town. We sit by the door so we can catch a cool breeze as people come and go. The night is cool, but the inside of shops and pubs all seem to be very hot. We order various whisky flights to try out some new makes and ages. We talk about travel, the Williams’ trip on the Orient Express, “kids these days”, and other items of interest. The Williams’ hotel is nearby in Old Town and about 11:30 we all call it a night after arranging a meeting for the morning. Rhonda and I walk back to New Town to catch our bus and we get to bed shortly after midnight. It has been a great day for adventure and comradeship.
Day 4 – August 11th (Edinburgh)
The arrangement at Scottish bed and breakfasts is that they will leave you a slip of paper with breakfast selections each day. You tick off the items you would like, specify a time and leave the paper in a basket somewhere the previous evening. The bed and breakfasts have all of the items on a full fry-up, plus an option for a continental breakfast. The full fry-up contains haggis, black pudding, sausage, mushrooms, egg, tomato and Heinz beans. In some places on the islands the haggis in replaced with rashers, or bacon. Often there is a potato option too. The contents and names vary from place to place around the islands. Regardless, that is a lot of food, even if the portion of each is small. Being able to select a few items of interest helps save on waste. Toast, cereals, fruits and yoghurts are always available on a side board. It is the main plates that you select and vary to your tastes. In a classic “Look who just caught up moment” the origin of the term continental breakfast dawns on me when I see these options side by side. On the continent breakfast is much more modest. In France it is typically a pastry and coffee. In other places some cheese and sliced meat. In fact Sebastian doesn’t eat anything at breakfast and Margali has only some scrambled eggs. We have another nice chat with the French couple of this morning, but we don’t stay as long as yesterday as we have a couple of buses to catch this morning. We excuse ourselves around nine just as the third couple staying in the house comes into the dining room.
We take our friend the number 11 again to get to Princes Street. Along the way I spot a girl of maybe eight or ten standing and waiting along the street in full Supergirl regalia. I don’t see who she is waiting for so I don’t know if anyone else in her party is dressed up as well. It just makes for an odd moment during the ride that raises a few questions. It is these types of questions, many which are never answered, that make me smile and appreciate the joy of life. From Princes we walk a bit to another stop to get the number 6 that will take us down to Holyrood. We arrive on time at ten and see that Kim and Paul are waiting for us in the courtyard outside the gates. Holyrood is the official royal residence in Scotland. It is where the Queen comes to conduct state business and members of the royal family will stay here when in Edinburgh. The name Holyrood translates to Holy Cross and comes from the legend of the stag and David I of Scotland. As it is told, way back in 1129 he was separated from his hunting party and encountered a stag with a cross between it antlers. He saw that as a vision from God and founded an abbey the on location where the encounter took place. The abbey grew over the centuries but is just a ruin now. It adjoins the palace which was started in the 1500s by James IV, and expanding in the 1600s. Victoria and Albert took a particular interest in the palace and the grounds. It is he that really made the gardens what they are and had a big influence on how it looks today.
The stables that Albert erected, which now stand outside the gates, house the ticket office, gallery, gift shop and café. We decide to purchase the upgraded ticket that includes a tour of the gardens. As we pass through the archway onto into the forecourt we are give our audio tour devices along with some headphones. Pushing the play button, or other numbers, will give you interesting information about the room or area in which you are standing. The next garden tour leaves in a half hour and we decide to wait as the morning is sunny and we want to see the outside before things get cloudier. In the meantime we explore the forecourt and chat. The center piece of the forecourt is a large fountain erected by Albert. The fountain is only filled and run while the Queen is in town to reduce the erosion of the carvings. The fountain has three levels and the carvings are wonderfully detailed and fascinating to view. There are nobility, musicians, unicorns, stags and all manner of realistic and fantastical creatures, people and faces. Of course the whole affair is topped with a crown. I love it. Objects like this make me wonder about the artists and craftsmen that created this work and what inspired them. All the details that can easily be overlooked are what captivate me. Walking over to the palace itself we listen to the first bit on our audio tour. As we gaze about we see a doorbell button by the front doors. We all have a chuckle and wonder how often the front doorbell of Holyrood Palace gets rung. I don’t imagine they entertain trick-or-treaters.
The time comes and we see about a dozen people gathering by the garden tour sign. Catriona will be our guide this morning and take us behind the ropes. There are small “Keep Off the Grass” signs along walks that surround the palace, but she will escort us around the whole perimeter of the gardens and along the royal walk. One of the first objects we see is Queen Mary’s Sundial. It is an icosahedron mounted on top of a pedestal. Each of the twenty triangular faces is carved with shapes and designs. There are copper rods and blades stuck in at various angles. It is said the device could tell times, tides, phases of the moon and other such things. Where it stands now is all surrounded with trees. Without sun it is merely a bizarre looking curiosity. Not too much further down the path is another bizarre carving. Known simply as The Fiddler, the sandstone statue depicts a man kind of leaning over and fiddling. He has sort of a creepy vibe about him and the erosion of the stone adds to the effect by making him appear to be melting. Apparently he used to be on the top of a building in the area and Queen Victoria didn’t like his countenance either and had him moved here to the back of the garden to keep him out of site. As we pass the pathway to the green houses someone asks about the number of gardeners on staff. Catriona says that there are seven fulltime gardeners, but that number will be augmented with temporary help at certain times. We depart the fully treed area and get out into the open. The grounds circle around the palace in a graceful arc. Along the perimeter are beds with flowers and trees. Inside of that is a grassy path with beds for more foliage which creates a lined walkway. This is the royal path that is a favorite of the Queen. Catriona mentions that Price Edward, the Queen’s youngest son, was just out here walking with his dogs this morning before he departed the palace.
As we stroll past the half of the ruined Abbey that is nothing but foundation stones a grey cat joins out company. It has a long, smoky grey coat and Catriona tells us the staff has named it Gandalf. It wanders the grounds, but lives elsewhere and frequently follows her tours. Our groups passes by a gate set in the back wall and Catriona explains the “ha ha” wall. The perimeter was designed by Albert because Victoria didn’t want to see walls when she looked out to the surround land from the palace and gardens. She wanted an open feeling to the place. While the wall is eleven feet high, the ground slopes up to the wall. In fact the royal path sits on a terrace about halfway up. The effect is like the modern infinity pool where from within the perimeter you don’t see the border and the green sward seems unbroken. Catriona tells us the name stems from the surprise of running into a wall where none was seen, or from what you do when someone walks off of one unexpectedly. Catriona has been telling stories and imparting information all along the way and now brings the group, and Gandalf, under the spread of a huge tree. The tree was planted by Albert, there he is again, and is notable because it is one of only two remaining Wentworth Elms in the world. The twin stands across the way by the ruined abbey. The remainder of the species was wiped out by Dutch Elm disease and these survived because of how removed they were from the rest. Catriona has been a treat and the walk around the gardens a pleasure, but it is time for this portion of our time here to end. We continue to pepper her with questions as the group breaks up, returns to the path and wanders back to the forecourt.
The four of us decide it is time to explore the interior of the palace. There are many ancient and wonderful things inside the palace. Too much to cover in detail. The palace is only closed to the public while the Queen is in residence. At other times the royal family may be here, but they desire the tours to continue. The tours are confined to the older parts of the palace where there is more history and state functions take place. The private apartments are never open, but the occasional royal will be seen taking one of their personal guests around the older parts. The carpets in the rooms are rolled back so the thousands of tourists don’t wear them needlessly. The lights are all kept low and filtering screens are drawn over each window to temper the sunlight. This is done to help preserve the myriad of fragile tapestries hung on the wall. There is one that has been cleaned and shows some very bright colors, though the green is all blue now because the yellow pigment as faded completely out. The audio tour tells us the back of the tapestry is bright and vivid with the true colors intact. I would like to see that, but I am sure handling the tapestry would be frowned upon. Rhonda does ask one of the attendants that stand in most every room if the conditions are always so somber. He says that the shades are lifted and more lights turned on when the Queen is here and performing duties in these rooms. As I mentioned the oldest section of this palace dates back to the 1500s. It in interesting to think of the history that transpired here and the figures familiar from history like Mary, Queen of Scots treading through these halls and gazing out these windows. How much different the world looked to them and how very different life for the rich and poor was at that time. While the rooms we tour have more the feel of a museum than a home, it wasn’t always that way. It is the connection with the everyday lives of the people of the past rather than solely the historical events of note that most interest me about history. Sometimes it is hard to see, but it lurks there in the corners and closets of the fanciest palaces.
Back out in the forecourt our group confers on the next step. Our ticket includes a visit in the gallery located in the small complex outside the gates. Rhonda has a look at the show catalogue and it doesn’t seem of too great of interest to us. Instead we decide to walk our way up the Royal Mile and consider a slightly belated lunch. It is Saturday and the crowds are out in full force. When we entered the palace grounds there were not too many people around and gawking through the gates. Now the gates are full of spectators and the sidewalks full of visitors to the city. The section of The Mile that is closed to traffic because of The Fringe is packed with people. We pass through the gauntlet and turn off a side street close to the Williams’ hotel most of the way up The Mile. There is a small café in which we spot a free table that will seat four and we duck in and claim the spot. Kim is too polite to refuse the offered flyers and she has several in her hand after the run through The Fringe crowd. A bottle of rose wine is ordered along with water to rehydrate ourselves. Rhonda and I share a cheese plate that is quite tasty and Kim and Paul do the same. Quite some while after the food and tea are gone we decide to move along. It is the middle of the afternoon and we resolve to take the hop-on-hop-off bus tour about the city to see some things beyond the immediate vicinity of the Royal Mile.
We make our way down to near Waverly Station on North Bridge Street where we find the ticket office. There are a few different tours and we select the green one as it seems to cover some things we would be interested in. On our way down the hill we pass a large group of people all with headphones on and being led by a person in a wild outfit. They are all singing the same tune and almost dancing along as they go. We are not sure what is going on, but they seem to be enjoying themselves. We will see similar groups at other times this weekend, all singing as they go along and we figure it must be some event that is part of The Fringe. As we wait for the bus to arrive we see a person dressed as Minnie Mouse making balloon animals on the corner across the street. I am sure the Disney licensing branch would have something to say about the costume as I am sure it is not licensed merchandise. The person has built a huge Minnie head, hands and feet and looks like she could be signing autographs in Disneyland. When the bus arrives we take seat on the upper level out from under the partial roof. The day has become cloudier and the wind is cool, but it is still pleasant enough to sit outside and have an unobstructed view. Neil is a jovial fellow who boards and sit at the front of the upper level. He is the guide and will narrate our journey and impart interesting information along the way. The bus begins fairly empty but picks up people along the way at the various stops. By the time we make it back to Waverly station the bus will be nearly full. We learn quite a bit as we journey about and some buildings I had spotted but knew nothing about are now known to me. Facts about other places are filled in and on the whole the tour is very enjoyable. After a brief discussion the four of us decide to stay on the bus and use it to ride around to the Greyfriars stop again where we will disembark. We move forward under the partial roof because of the increasing chill of the evening and ask Neil about our plan. He says that will not be a problem and we chat for a bit while waiting for the tour to begin its next circuit.
The Fringe and the crowd lining up for the early performance of the military tattoo at the castle forces the bus to alter its course somewhat the next time around and we have to get off in the Grassmarket instead. The Grassmarket is an open area surrounded by buildings in a hollow to the south of the ridge that is the Royal Mile. It is called the Grassmarket because the market here provided all the things that were reaped from the land, both animal and vegetable. The square was also the site for public executions. There is a marker where the gallows were and a stone listing the names of those who took their final flight of stairs here. The White Hart Inn is across the square and we head that way. It is the oldest pub in Edinburgh dating back to 1516 and we feel a stop is required. While not as old as the Brazen Head in Dublin where we four tipped a pint together two years ago, five hundred years is still pretty respectable. Rhonda is looking to warm up a little and orders a hot whisky, a drink she had in Killarney, Ireland. This confuses the young bartender and he consults with the matron behind the bar and she tells him it is the same as a hot toddy. The pub is busy and a little noisy, but at least we can talk and hear each other. When our drinks are finished we walk back out to the square and up the hill away from The Royal Mile towards Greyfriars Kirk. The Kirk has stood at the top of this hill since 1620 and was the first church built in Edinburgh after the Reformation. We are not here for the church, but rather the kirkyard and Greyfriars Bobby.
When the bus made its previous pass here Kim spotted the statue of Greyfriars Bobby and recounted a little of his story for us. Bobby was a Skye terrier that lived in the mid 1800s. When his master, John Gray, died and was buried in the kirkyard he would go and guard the grave. The dog did this for fourteen years until he died in 1872. The community around the kirk, though poor, managed to feed and care for Bobby until his death. The dog was buried in a small, unconsecrated patch of the kirkyard not far from his master. There is a statue topping a small former fountain across the street from the kirkyard that everyone has taken to rubbing the nose of. The shiny brass nose now stands out from the rest of the darker colored statue. In the kirkyard itself are monuments, mausoleums and graves from the 1600s through the 1800s. Many are falling into disrepair and overgrown. The iconography and imagery on the large tombs is often strange and wonderfully curious to our modern eye. Skeletal forms, hands ringing bells and hourglasses are common. We see physical evidence of the architectural phenomena Neil mentioned when we were driving through New Town and seeing the multitude of chimneys present. With all the coal being burned for warmth the city became very dirty and sooty. Much of this clung to the stone buildings, darkening them. At one point the inhabitants began to clean the buildings but found that the soot acted as a protective shield against erosion and the cleaning stopped. Here we see some stones and graves that are partially covered in the black residue. The parts that are dark remain legible and those that are light have eroded into illegibility. We also see a couple of graves with cages over them to keep grave robbers at bay that would steal bodies and sell them to the medical college. The walk is a fascinating look at the past.
The time has slipped away and it is after seven now. The August days are very long this far north and you don’t realize how late it is getting. Our tummies are telling us it is time to seek dinner. We walk back towards the Royal Mile along South Bridge Street, looking for someplace that will do. Being a Saturday night with The Fringe in town it is a tougher prospect than we thought. After striking out at a few places we find a tapas restaurant that has a table opening up in a few minutes. Once seated we order a couple of choices each along with olives and bread. The amount of food is just about right. The waitress is inattentive, but we don’t mind too much as we are talking the night away. It is nearing ten in the evening and I suggest trying to catch the fireworks that are part of the tattoo. I heard them a couple of nights ago shortly after ten. This sounds like a good way to cap off the day and we set off.
We cross the Mile and find a place along Bank Street, not far from the Whiski Rooms where we were last night. The evening is pleasant and we stand along a railing with nothing below us but a grassy slope. We have a good view of the castle and the Princes Gardens and New Town below us. We fall into conversation about cars, healthcare and the characters passing by. At one point an old lady approaches us and asks if we know where a certain garage is. She has become disoriented in the crowds and is now lost. Paul looks up the location she is looking for and finds it is quite a ways away. A taxi pulls up and drops off some other people and we hail the driver. He takes the lady in his care and looks at the notes she has scratched on a piece of paper to help her remember where she came from. They drive off shortly and we look at our watches. There are others that have come and gone with the same idea we have. We can see lights and hear music from above, but there is no evidence of fireworks. The time is almost eleven and Paul once again turns to his phone. There are two performances of the tattoo tonight and the fireworks for the second show will not happen for another hour. We can see by the schedule he has found that the display is not long anyway. What I had heard was the noise during a single performance night. The Williams have a train to catch in the morning and we are driving to Fort William, so we decide to end our time together. We part ways with hugs and heartfelt goodbyes. It has been wonderful spending time with our friends and we look forward to the next opportunity to do so again, whenever and where ever that may be.
Day 5 – August 12th (Drive to Fort William)
We take our breakfast a little later today, about nine. The French couple is still at the table when we arrive, but the mystery couple has already gone. Margali and Sebastian don’t stay too long as they have a plane to catch. They are headed for the south of France to spend time with her family. Both Rhonda and I have just toast, haggis and scrambled eggs. The haggis and eggs go very well together. We finish breakfast and pack up for the drive. We pay the bill for our stay, including the one night we will return before our flight out. As we are loading the car I question the amount paid and return to query Stuart about it. He confirms the rate and I figure I have written down things wrong in my notes. After getting settled in for the drive and Heather programmed I pull out of our parking spot and we see Stuart standing at the curb and he waves us down. I stay behind the wheel and pull over as Rhonda gets out to see what he wants. He explains he mentioned my query to Catherine and she recalled that the nightly rate they quoted was smaller because I was a returning customer and booked so early. Rhonda goes in and comes back to the car with a good amount of cash in hand. It is nice to deal with honest people.
This will be the dreariest day of the trip. The skies will remain cloudy with just the briefest hints of sun and the rain will come and go. Our first stop is about half an hour away, close by the Queensferry bridge and along the southern shore of the firth. We are headed for Hopetoun House, which is an estate that has a couple of buildings that were used as Outlander filming locations. When we get to the manor it is quite impressive. There is a flock of black sheep grazing the grass along the rather lengthy drive up to the house. We turn off into a small lot to the side where a sign for visitors directs us. In a small building there is a lady helping people out. While the main house has some significance of its own and gives tours while still being a private residence, it is not the object of our stop. There is another building on the estate property we are here to see, and that is Midhope Castle. While called a castle, it is not what that term would conjure in your mind. It is a 16th century tower house of five stories. It is of interest to us because while a derelict, it was used in Outlander as Lallybroch, the ancestral home of one of that main characters Jamie Fraser, and a lot of filming was done here. I tell the lady that I am here to see Midhope and she gets me the required vehicle pass. She also provides me a map as we will have to circle around the large estate and come in from the western side. While a direct lane may connect to Midhope, this is still a working farm and I am sure they don’t want people driving through their operations.
We take it slow and in about fifteen minutes we find our way to a small parking area in the woods. A light rain is falling so we don our raincoats and grab our umbrellas. We walk up a farm track through some trees and we see the castle emerging before us. As we approach another couple is departing, leaving us alone. I am sure a lot of Outlander fans come here, as it is fairly easy to get to and close to Edinburgh. There is a modern house nearby that is nicely landscaped and has a lot of flowers blooming in the garden. On the far side of Midhope are a couple of sheds with farming equipment. Midhope itself has high walls on two sides which bracket the front yard. One has an elaborate archway through it and the date 1582 carved in the stone. Trees line the yard opposite the house. The yard is stony and looks as if it was partially paved with cobblestones at one point. The place looks sad in the rain, but has a certain resolve. The yellowish stone structure has stood for over four hundred years and looks determined to stick around for a while yet. The roof and walls are intact and the windows all have Plexiglas in them to keep out the elements. Someone with the money could turn this into quite the place. I take a picture of Rhonda at the top of the steps leading to the front door as she is looking towards the archway as if searching for Jamie’s return. The rain picks up as we start to make our way back to the car. There are a few more cars now and three different pairs of people making their way to the house. This will not be the last instance our timing will provide us private experiences.
Our next destination is based on a flyer I picked up at the bus tour office yesterday. That is the Wallace Monument in Stirling. We give Helpful Heather the instructions and head on our way. It takes about an hour to make the drive to the monument. At one point as we cruise down the motorway near Falkirk we see two huge horse head sculptures next to the road as we cross the river Carron. The horse heads look near one hundred feet tall and are made out of a silvery metal. The surface is a honeycomb and the heads seem hollow. In a couple of days I will spot a postcard outside a shop showing these horses lit up with red light from inside. The post card will tell me they are named The Kelpies. They are thirty meters tall and they honor the horses that drew the canal barges. There are some works going on in the town of Stirling which goofs up Heather, but we manage to find our way there. The parking lot is about two thirds full. The spaces are all very cramped and I have to do a little jockeying to get properly parked. The rain has abated, but we take our wet weather gear with us. We purchase admission and find out there is a shuttle that runs up the considerable hill to the foot of the monument. In good weather it would be a nice walk, but all uphill. We decide to save our legs for the tower itself. The shuttle arrives and we find we are the only ones riding up. The road is as narrow as the parking places and winds its way up through the thick woods. I ask the driver about the car park and how it is on busy days. He says the lot only holds a hundred cars and often people will be parked all along the road leading here which creates more problems. The monument is a very tall tower sitting on top of this crag. The tower commands a view all around, but especially over Stirling and the site of William Wallace’s greatest victory. The tower was built in the 1860s during a swell of Scottish national pride and opened in 1869. After viewing the scene from the clear space in front of the tower we decide to tackle the climb.
There are 246 steps needed to get to the top. The steps spiral up the tower without space for two people to pass each other. Rhonda wonders how the ladies of the late 1800s would ascend this tower with their large skirts. The width of the skirts aside, seeing their feet would be a problem. The climb is broken into four long flights. There is a doorway that connects the stairway to a room at each break. Each room allows people to pass each other and for the people heading up to rest their legs. In each room are exhibits telling the history of the tower, Wallace, and other heroes of Scotland. In one of these rooms is the Wallace Sword. It is likely Wallace never really used the sword. Parts of it are not typical of swords of his period and the whole seems put together from three different swords. The bottom third of the blade is from the late 13th century, so there is some mystery about it. When we finally reach the top the view makes the climb worth the effort. The wind is blustery up this high and there is a light rain falling. While it may be sacrilege to quote the movie Braveheart in this place, Rhonda and I share our oft repeated statement, “Fine Scottish weather!” with a smile and a chuckle. We make a circuit of the large space, looking out over the land. To the south southwest of the tower is the battlefield. There is a display showing a picture of the land from this spot and pointing out the site. It also describes the Battle of Stirling Bridge and how that Wallace was able to manage a victory when being as outmatched as he was. Looking through the wet air we can see the site of the battle located in a loop of the Forth River. There seems to be a car park, building and football or rugby fields on it. The combination could be a public park, which may not be such a bad use for a 720 year old battlefield in the middle of a town. The trip down is decidedly easier than coming up. When we get back to the lot we can see a lot of people waiting for the shuttle now. There is a small café attached to the visitor’s center along with a gift shop and we go in for a cup of tea to warm ourselves after the chilly experience at the top of the tower. I have a scone with my tea and Rhonda selects a toastie, or grilled sandwich with rashers, brie and cranberry. Our small repast finished we continue on.
Our next stop is Doune Castle which, unlike Midhope Castle, is the type castle you think of when you hear the word castle. The present form of the castle dates from the late 1300s. It fell into disrepair during the early 1800s and was restored in the late 1800s. It has been used in numerous film and TV projects, the most famous of which are Monty Python and the Holy Grail, Outlander and The Game of Thrones. It is not too far away, maybe twenty minutes to the northwest. We joke about the items we will find in the gift shop. I say there should be a cow and Rhonda coconut halves. I say I doubt there will be coconut halves as you could just get a coconut in the store. On the way we pass through the town of Bridge of Allan and Rhonda notices a sign outside of a pub. It is on the sidewalk with the word “Gin” over an arrow pointing into the pub and the phrase “No Gin” over an arrow pointing to the street. This elicits a laugh from us as we appreciate the dry sense of humor present in this land. We get to Doune Castle just before three. It is not raining at present, but we keep our raincoats on and take our umbrellas. There is a fellow at the parking lot entrance directing cars and people as needed. His name is Campbell and we chat for a bit. During the conversation he mentions that they sell loads of coconut halves in the shop and have trouble keeping them on hand. One point for Rhonda. We walk up the slope and in the main gate, which is a tunnel passing through the Lord’s Tower.
In a room off the entryway we pay our admission and pick up our audio tours. These you just hold up to your ear after pressing a number. You are free to wander about wherever you like and small placards with numbers are scattered throughout. The main audio tour is narrated by Terry Jones of Python fame. He provides information about the rooms and areas of the castle and those that built and occupied it. He also throws in tidbits about The Holy Grail and where different scenes were shot. The castle was used to represent several different castles in the movie. They just shot in different areas and from different angles. There are a few additional tracks narrated by Sam Heughan, who plays Jamie Fraser in Outlander. He imparts information about the filming of that show and how the castle was used. One impressive bit regarding Outlander is that they were going to do a lot of work and build some structures in the courtyard. They wanted to protect the ground in the courtyard so they laid tarps over the whole space within the walls. Then they laid straw over that and hauled in enough dirt to cover the whole place in a few inches of mud. The dirt had to be hauled up the entry ramp barrow by barrow. That is a lot of effort to preserve the original and get the look you want. There is scaffolding surrounding the east wall and the south side of the kitchen tower. Restoration and preservation work is being done by replacing or reinforcing the mortar between stones. It is good to know that the fees collected at the gate are being used to help preserve the site.
The castle sits near where the Ardoch Burn runs into the River Teith. A Burn is another word for a small river. The west wall faces the river, the south the peninsula of land between the two waterways and the east the creek. The land about is heavily forested now so not much can be seen of the water. The north side is made up of the Lord’s Tower in the northeast corner, through which we entered, connected by the Great Hall to the Kitchen Tower in the northwest corner. After the courtyard we proceed to the Kitchen Tower and the kitchens on the first floor. One end of the room is nothing but a huge fireplace, seventeen feet wide. There are chutes leading out for ash and drainage when the floors were washed. At the opposite end of the large room there are grooves that can be seen cut into the stone framing a window. This is where the staff would sharpen their knives using the stone of the wall as a huge whetstone. The spiral staircases in both towers remind us of the Wallace stairs earlier today. These are much more worn though. The restorations in the late 1800s replaced roofs and made the structure sound where it was not. One room was refurbished and given wood paneling, plaster and paint. That is the Lord’s Hall, which sits next to the Great Hall. The contrast of the two is remarkable and it seems as you pass from one to the other that you are passing between two different worlds. In the more rustic Great Hall by where the head table would have sat there is a small alcove. To one side steep stairs go down to the cellar, to the other is a small privy. This empties into the courtyard where a barrel was there to catch whatever came its way. I wonder how low on the totem pole would you have to be to have to job of emptying that.
After exploring all of the open rooms, we return to the courtyard. The gift shop is located off the courtyard and in what used to be, in the castle’s original day, a storage cellar. We have to validate the presence of the coconut halves. They are indeed there, next to a small container of plastic cows. “Fetchez la Vache!” As we exit the castle and turn in our audio tours we see it is nearing five o’clock, which is when the castle closes. We take the path to the west and circle around the castle to continue our exploration. There is a bus arriving and disgorging its passengers. Given the way the tour guide is dressed we are guessing it is an Outlander tour come to view Castle Leoch, the name given in the fictional series. After a stroll around to view the river and exterior we decide it is time to get going. We have a couple of hours drive to get to Fort William where we are staying tonight and I expect we will make some stops along the way. Our visit has been fun and informative and I am very glad we came.
From Doune we need to travel a little west until we enter Loch Lomand National Park. We will drive north along the eastern edge, then west along the northern edge. From the northwest corner we will head north through the town of Bridge of Orchy and then west through Glencoe to Loch Linnhe. We drive along the shore to the north end of the loch to find Fort William. I mention this whole route because is it some of the most spectacular scenery we will drive through on this trip. The stretch from Bridge of Orchy through Glencoe and to Loch Linnhe causing the most stops to look around. It is unfortunate that the weather didn’t open the landscape more to us. The tops of the mountains all sat in low clouds and rain occasionally fell. The sun did struggle to push through at times, especially when we were in the lower altitudes. The mountains were immense and imposing. I can think of no better words. They rose to their heights in dramatically steep climbs. There were no trees for miles. The mountains were covered in heather, grass and short shrubs. Their surfaces and those of the glens were more lumpy than stony in character. Not jagged and dramatic like the alps, or stratospheric and aloof like the Rockies. These are almost inviting, as if huge green blanket was laid over the land and is welcoming you to come take a walk. But the green is a lure and doesn’t brook fools. The heights are not for the faint of heart and the slopes not for the person looking for a stroll in the park. The mountains dare you to leave the comfort of the glen to scale their pathless heights knowing you will not challenge them. They sit with their heads in the clouds, imposing their will on the landscape making water, beast and road go around them.
Our drive to the Mulroy Bed and Breakfast takes us three hours. Some of the additional time comes from making stops along the way to view the scenery and the confusing one-way roads in the small town of Fort William that make us find a long way around to the B&B. We had called Ruth not far from Doune Castle to let her know we would be later than expected. She greets us at the door and shows us to our room, number 3. We chat for a bit, but then ask if there is any place in town that would still be serving given that it will be almost nine o’clock when we get there. She mentions a couple of places and tells us where they are, then leaves us so we can get on our way. We walk down the steep hill via steps and roads to the center of town. Fort William sits on the shores on Loch Linnhe. The land rises sharply from the water and the whole village lives on a steep slope. We walk along the pedestrian street for a couple of blocks and I see a place called The Grog and Gruel. I like the name so we pop in. The restaurant is upstairs, but their tables are all still mostly full and they are done seating for the night. The lady tells us we can get the same menu down in the pub if we can find a table. We take the steps down and see an empty table for two. Just about the only free space. We peruse the menu and decide on couple of pies. I go up to the bar and order us a steak and ale pie and a Cullen Skink pie. Cullen Skink is a local fish. The pies are just casseroles or crocks filled with a thick, stew-like concoction that are topped with a puffed pastry and baked. Both are very tasty and filling. We see several other people coming in looking for food at this late hour and we are glad to have arrived when we did.
Not long after dinner is done we determine to walk back to the B&B and have a dram in the common room. The trip back up the steep slope is slow going and reminds us of the walk up Fort Hill road that climbs the bluff of Mackinac Island. I pour some heavy drams of the Tlath and we sit in the common room. The room looks out over the loch and would have a gorgeous view of the sunset. I guess that is why the shore and slopes of Fort William are all line with houses looking west. I record notes in my notebook about the last two days of adventures. Afterwards we sit and sip and talk quietly. We talk about some of the charming quirks of this old house including the decidedly Art Deco fireplace that is all ceramic tile like you would see in a kitchen or bath. The stoppered glass bottle of water in our room next to the tea tray has a label on it that says “Perfectly Drinkable Tap Water”. As we sit we hear someone come in and go upstairs to their room. We have seen a lot today and walked up and down hundreds of steps. I have another laugh about the name of a town we came through, Kilmahog. The name sounds likes an invitation to slaughter a pig. Either it is Gaelic and means something other than it sounds like, or there is a really interesting story behind the name. I will probably never know.
Day 6 – August 12th (Drive to Inverness)
Breakfast is taken in the common room with the big picture window looking out over Loch Linnhe. The other couple staying here that came in late last night has already departed because they needed to catch an early train to Glasgow. This reinforces my opinion on the way I plan vacations. You should not be running non-stop from place to place on a tight schedule. It gives you no time to actually enjoy things, talk to locals and soak in a sense of the land you are in. Ruth is chipper and chatty. Her husband Ian confines himself to the kitchen and we just see him poke his head out when the phone rings and he needs to give it to her. Rambling Ruth has lots of information to share and I prod her on certain subjects. One question I ask that stumps her is the name of the flower we have been seeing littered along the roadsides and fences. There is one blooming just off the patio outside the window and I point to it. Given that she has an extensive garden I thought she might know, but instead she pauses and then says, “It’s a weed. Of course a weed is just a flower growing where you don’t want it.” Ruth will not be the last person I ask and I will get the same response every time, “It’s a weed.” I will find out after I get home that the flower is called Rosebay Willowherb. Rosebay sound so much better than weed, but then so does dandelion. Breakfast is enjoyable and we take our time as we are in no rush. While there are clouds in the sky, the view of the loch and hills beyond is quite a lovely accompaniment to our morning meal. After we are packed and ready to go Ruth sees us out and we talk a little longer in the garden. As we stand she points out some smoke billowing from downtown. She says that is the Jacobite pulling out of the station. We listen and can hear the chugging steam train pick up speed as it starts its journey to the sea. We must start our journey too and wish Ruth farewell.
We have a short drive up to Inverness today and nothing really planned. Driving without stops should take about two hours. Our path lies directly up the Great Glen which contains a string of lochs all laid out in a straight row. There is some distance between the lochs, which are connected by rivers, but they all lie in the same rift in the land. We will finish Loch Linnhe, then get to Loch Lochy, then Loch Olch, the next is the largest, Loch Ness, and the smallest and last before Inverness, Loch Dochfour. The morning is overcast and a little drizzly here in Fort William. We get our things together, turn in our key and have a last little chat with Ruth. Soon we are in the car and driving north. We notice that more and more of the signs along the road are dual language with English and then Gaelic. Partway along Loch Lochy we stop at a large layby, or parking area along the road. There is a food truck parked here that has the moniker “Burger Queen” painted on the side. There is a painting of a hamburger with a smile and a crown on the driver’s door. Rhonda digs out a couple of coins and buys a Diet Coke, which is actually called Diet Coke here instead of something like Coke Lite as you see other places. We stroll about gazing at the scene. There is a small waterfall across the road splashing its way down. The parking area is between the road and the loch and the heather and grass covered hills rise up sharply from the other side of the water. There are thick pine forests about halfway up and they are definitely there courtesy of the forestry service. You can see large stripes of different shades of green in the blanket of trees. The clouds sit on the top of the land again today, but there is no rain and the breeze is mild. We enjoy being out of the car and take our time looking around.
When on the road again we notice another convoy of caravans as they pass us by. We have seen of few of these and they could either be packs of Roma or just groups of people on holiday that like to camp together. We reach Loch Ness which is deep and dark. It doesn’t seem as pretty to us as the lochs we have already passed. Maybe that is due to the general elevation of the hills on either side getting progressively lower the further north we get. Rambling Ruth mentioned Urquhart Castle as something to see. It is a ruin that sits on a little shoulder of land sticking out into Loch Ness. About two third along the rather long loch we see a sign for the castle. As we approach there is another sign saying the car park is full. There are people parked along the road on either side of the site. We give the castle a pass, not wanting to contend with the crowds. We circle around the small adjacent bay wherein sits the town of Drumnadrochit. This is where the Loch Ness Centre and Exhibition is. The center looks very touristy so we give that a pass too. Not much further along the loch, after the road is running along the shore again I stop at a layby. The road has climbed and is now some height above the loch. The view is nice and I can see back to the castle and bay, and the down the whole length on Loch Ness. It is a rather nice spot with a great view and we are pretty much alone to boot. Continuing north we reach the outskirts of Inverness. Knowing we are very early, probably too early to check in, we try for Culloden Moor where the Jacobite Rebellion gasped its last. It is a few miles northeast of Inverness and we find the place without issue. Once there we can see the car park is packed to the gills with cars and buses. A light rain has begun to fall and the umpire calls strike three. Today is not our day for sites so we decide just to head back into town. As we drive along we pass a sign that displays your current speed. That is not unusual, but the way it reacts is. Instead of flashing at you if you are driving too fast, it puts up a sad face. If you are under the limit you get a happy face. We find the Rossmount Bed and Breakfast easily and figure we can ask about leaving the car here while we explore Inverness.
Rossmount is not far from downtown Inverness. It is in a neighborhood that sits on the higher land that overlooks the River Ness, which runs through the heart of the city. It is in the middle of other old stone houses sitting close to each other on a narrow street. Each house has a small garden in front which provides color to the lane. I pass through the garden gate and ring the bell. A tall and amiable fellow by the name of Robert answers. He is the host and greets me warmly. He is quite the talker and has a twinkle in his eye that makes you wonder when he is serious and when he is not. I ask about leaving the car here and he lets me know the room is ready and we can take our stuff up. This is very surprising as it is very early afternoon. We can’t park on the street in front, but he directs me how to get around back of the place and park there. Argyle Terrace is a narrow road like an alleyway that runs behind the houses on Argyle. We get parked and bring our bags through the backyard and around front. Robert is waiting in the entryway and introduces us to Milo. Milo is a black and white Russell Terrier. I comment that I have never seen that color combination on a Russell before and that our old neighbors had brown and white ones. Robert says that I should see the pink and green ones. I furrow my brow and repeat pink and green and then realize he is poking fun. We all have a chuckle and Rhonda and I can see that we will enjoy Robert’s company. Milo is a pudgy little fireball that has to go fetch a toy and try to get us to play. Rhonda plays tug of war with him and then Ruth arrives on the scene. She is the hostess. They take us up to our room which is number 3, again. That means all three of our rooms have been number three and two of our hostesses have been named Ruth. We ask for a late lunch restaurant recommendation which Ruth happily gives and then we get ourselves settled.
The day is still overcast and we take our raincoats and walk down the hill towards Inverness Castle, which sits on a height of land overlooking the river. The walk is very short and pretty steep downhill. In fact one section of the walk is steps, like last night. As we head down the street that runs just below Inverness Castle we see a couple of places that Robert and Ruth mentioned. One is simply named “27” and the menu looks fine to us so we pop in. It is a pub with some restaurant seating in the back. We decide to sit at a table up front so we can see the street and watch the people passing by. Rhonda has a bowl of Cullen Skink soup and I get a cold meat, cheese and pickle platter. The pickles are actually three different pickled items which are quite good. They are corn, beets and onions. Cullen Skink in a popular local fish and the soup is very tasty. While we are enjoying our lunch we see some food delivered to another table. One plate is fish and chips. The fillet on top of the chips is so big that it looks like a whole fish was battered and deep fried. With our late, leisurely lunch completed I want to walk up to the castle. There is a statue out front that is a woman looking off into the distance with a dog at her feet. It has me curious as to who she was given that her statue is in front of Inverness Castle. We ascend the height and I find it the statue is of Flora MacDonald. She helped hide Bonnie Prince Charlie from the government troops and get him to the Isle of Skye after the battle of Culloden. We walk around the castle and view the river and the city from different perspectives.
We decide to wander around downtown Inverness and maybe do a little shopping, which we haven’t done at all on this trip. It would be good to find some stuff for the kids. While in a tartan and souvenir shop to buy shortbread cookies Rhonda inquires with the lady there about her maiden name Donelson. She saw that Donnellson appeared on a poster out front of the shop referring to them as MacDonald of Antrim. The lady informs her that Antrim is an area of Ireland. Rhonda knows the Donelsons were Scotch Irish, so that lines up. Unfortunately there is really no other information to be found regarding the Donnellsons. The lady refers us to the House of Fraser shop across the river as they have some larger resources. Next door to the shop we are in is a whisky shop. We drop in to see if they are tasting anything. They have one whisky set out for everyone to try and they are setting up a tasting in the back area of the shop. The big tasting is an hour and a half affair and has a fee associated with it. They have no space this evening so we book for the 6:30 tasting tomorrow night. We cross the river and check out the recommended tartan shop, but find no additional information on the Donnellsons. While crossing over the River Ness I can see it is completely clear all the way across. The river is fairly wide and flowing fast. A sign talks about salmon running in the river in season. Rhonda speculates on the fishing that might be found in the numerous rivers we have seen all over this land and how she would like to give it a try sometime. After gazing at the mesmerizing, cold and clear water rushing over the smooth stones for a bit we decide to return to the B&B to drop off our purchases and have some tea.
This evening we are seeking music. I looked up a couple of places known for having good music while we have tea in our room. All rooms have an electric kettle and a selection of teas in them. We head to one pub, though it is early, to see if we can get a table. We ask about a table at Hootananny, but we are told they are full up. The music won’t start until 9:30 and it is only about eight. Maybe they are just packed for dinner. We move along and stroll up to the footbridge crossing Ness that is upstream from the road bridge we crossed earlier. Nearby is a restaurant call the Riverside. We remember Ruth telling us about a restaurant close by the foot bridge with the word river in the name. We stop in and make a reservation for tomorrow night after our tasting. The foot bridge is not very wide, but people can pass. It is very bouncy as people walk over it and it makes one wonder about its soundness. As we get to the far shore we see another restaurant with the word river in the name, River House. We wonder which is the one Ruth recommended. This one is closed, so it makes little difference at the moment. We stroll along the river until we get to pub named Glenalbyn. We stop in and have a pint of Guinness. Other than a pool game not much is happening on this side of the river. I determine to try another place for music now that it is after nine.
We cross back over and find The Gellions. When we arrive there are no tables and the bar is full. Two musicians are setting up at the front of the pub by the window overlooking the street and we decide to stay. We order a couple of drinks and take a position in the standing room only crowd near the musicians. Shortly after they begin a fellow at a tall table without chairs on the far wall leaves and we take up his position. It is right by the rail separating the “stage” from the rest of the pub and the small table gives us a place to put our drinks. The music is very good. Both of the musicians look to be in their twenties. One plays accordion and sings from time to time. The other plays guitar and sometimes kicks in some backing vocals. They play mostly traditional music with a few modern compositions tossed in. All of it is in the spirit of Celtic music. When spinning out jigs and reel the fingers of the accordion player simply fly over the keyboard. I notice he has a smiley face of the bellows of his accordion that peeks out when he pulls it wide open. Calum, the accordion player, announce the name of one tune as “Rodger is a badger’s arse.” This elicits some hoots from the crowd, but Calum explains that badger’s arse is a term for being hung over in the morning as in, “Feeling rough as a badger’s arse.”
More people come in than leave and there is quite a crowd now. At one point a small group of Slovenians come in and the tall gent leading the group asks if he can put a big bag of corn chips under our table so they don’t get crushed. We help him out and then he is soon on the dance floor tearing things up with his group. They are a dual birthday party and quite into their cups already tonight. The assembled company sings the pair Happy Birthday under the leadership of Calum. During their performance the duo plays a medley consisting of Country Roads (John Denver’s), She’ll Be Comin’ Round the Mountain and Galway Girl. It is quite the eclectic mix. The tune Wild Rover has the whole pub singing and stomping its feet, including me. Until you have heard Folsom Prison Blues sung with a Scottish accent and accompanied by accordion, you have not heard the song. Finally around eleven the duo wraps it up for the night. We chat with them for a bit and find out this is their first time playing this particular pub. We buy a maxi-single CD they are selling and toss in some extra as a tip. As the assembled crowd begin to file out of the pub we hear the tall Slovenian fellow say he is hungry. Rhonda reminds him about the corn chips which they go back in to retrieve. He is happily surprised and seems to have forgotten that he brought them in the first place. The music and pub tonight has been great fun and we walk back up the bluff to our bed in a happy state.
Day 7 – August 13th (Inverness)
We come down to breakfast at about 8:30. There are four tables for two in the breakfast room which overlooks the street through a big plate glass window. A couple of the tables depart soon after we arrive, so we will get little conversation from anyone except Robert this morning. He is more than up to the task and we chat him up a great deal. We learn there was a huge cruise ship in town yesterday. He pulls out a schedule and lets us know that there where eleven buses of people that came off the boat and that is probably why Loch Ness and Culloden were so crowded. He says there are no ships in today and tomorrow has only a small vessel in, so we shouldn’t have much to contend with in the way of crowds. We have grown a little weary of fry breakfasts and tell Robert to sign us up for the continental tomorrow. Everyone else has gone and we hear Robert greet Milo in the hall. I imagine he is not allowed in the breakfast room. This morning Milo has a leftover sausage. He has been tossing it around and playing with it for the last half hour. He brings it out to show us before he finally gets to eating it. Ruth emerges from the kitchen and joins the conversation. While we talk Rhonda picks up on the fact that Scottish Ruth reminds her of my aunt Ruth in mannerisms and character. I concur. Eventually we excuse ourselves and let them back to their work.
Today we are driving to the Highland Folk Museum located in the town of Newtonmore, which is in the western side of the Cairngorms National Park. The museum is an open air museum somewhat on the lines of a living history museum. They have structures from different eras and some costumed interpreters. There is also an Outlander connection because an episode was filmed in the 1730s settlement reconstruction. The drive should be scenic and the museum interesting. The skies are overcast in Inverness as we program Helpful Heather and get moving. As we cruise on down the A9 we see a couple of interesting and amusing signs we had also seen the previous day along Loch Ness. The first reads, “Frustration leads to accidents. Please allow overtaking.”, and the second, “Please use laybys to clear queues.” As I described earlier, laybys are small areas along the road where you can pull over and view the scenery or let people pass you by. Apparently there is a lot of road rage on the highways where passing opportunities are limited and tourists and slow vehicles are frequent. As we near our destination we pass through a small town where Rhonda sees a hotel with a sign for the Monarch of the Glen Lounge. This is the name of a BBC series she watched and she wonders if it was filmed around here. After a quick Google search she finds out it was indeed filmed all over this region. She recounts some of the tale to me as we finish our drive and arrive at the Highland Folk Museum.
The place is quite large, much bigger than I expected. It is a mile long and covers eighty acres. There is no admission charged to get in, but they do accept donations. I purchase a guidebook and will later drop a twenty pound note in their till. The area just inside the gate is the middle of the park. There are many building from the 1930s in this area that have been saved and moved here from their original towns. We turn our feet towards the 1730s settlement, but poke through a few of the building on the way. The staff has furnished each building as it would have been found during its heyday. They look like the owner has just stepped out. In MacPherson’s Tailor’s Shop there is a project on the workbench and coal in the fire. The structure actually came from the nearby town of Newtonmore. A few hundred yards along the dirt road runs into a pine forest which occupies the southern third of the park. On the road we pass a traveler’s encampment and then a sawmill. In a clearing at the far end of the wood is Baile Gean, the 1730’s township. It is like stepping back in time. The settlement sits in a shallow hollow on the hillside with a spring fed pond in the middle. There are four thatch roofed houses and four barns. Two of the barns are no more than a single wall with a roof over a penned in area. There is a man in costume near the entrance to the closest house. The house has smoke rising out of a hole in the roof and some more drifting out of the doorway. A low, mossy stone wall surrounds three quarters of the area in which roam some chicken and ducks.
We approach the largest house with the interpreter and smoke. The structure is mostly thatched roof. The stone walls are only knee high and piles of cut peat or sod are stacked on that. A tall wooden frame slopes up to about twelve for more feet. This is all thickly thatched almost to the ground with broom and heather. It gives the impression of a huge grassy wedge sitting on the ground. The doorway is wide and low looking almost like the entrance to a hobbit hole. The man greets us and invites us in. The house is the largest here and is believed to be the tacksman’s house, which is a gaelic term. He would have been the most prominent citizen here as he would have managed the lands hereabout on behalf of the clan chief. The house is divided into three sections. The area we walk into has a stone floor while the other two are just dirt. This is the byre where the livestock were wintered. The cattle were the only cash crop for the farmers here about and they had to be protected in winter. Thus the stone floor allowed the area to be cleaned more easily. The middle third is the main living area with two box beds, the fireplace and other furniture. The back third is for storage and a workspace. The box beds are large cabinets with doors and a thin mattress lining the knee high platform. As many people as would fit would climb in and close the doors to sleep. This house would have probably had about a dozen inhabitants, not including the four or so cows in winter. The smoke from the peat fire lazily drifts up and catches the light coming in through its escape hole. The whole place is dim with no windows and the only light coming from the chimney hole and two doorways. The place seems very primitive, especially when compared to the colonial era structures you think about in the United States, or even other areas of England in the early 1700s. I suppose life for subsistence farmers in the highlands of Scotland was tough, Spartan in nature and not very comfortable.
We learn that the structures here are reconstructed on original foundations from the 1730s. There are two more foundations across the clearing that they have not yet rebuilt the structure for. We explore the weaver’s house and some of the other buildings in the township. A light rain begins to fall as we take in the view from the wall and we shelter in one of the open barns. The rain begins to pick up in volume and we see the feathery footed chickens run for the other open barn to get out of the rain. We have our rain coats on, but we don’t have our umbrellas. The rain is fairly steady and we figure would should cross over to the big house and talk to the fellow inside to pass the time. We talk a while longer and learn some other tidbits about the area before deciding to walk back. The rain is still falling, but a little lighter now as we depart back up the muddy road. We turn off onto the path that cuts through the woods and I remark how lumpy the hillside below the trees is. The pines are tall and the ground underneath is covered in a thick green blanket. It is lumpy and soft. The rain turns to a drizzle as we make it back to the middle of the museum. There is a tea shop near the entrance and we decide to warm up in there. We have some Earl Grey and a scone while the rain passes. After our tea is done the sun is out and warming the land.
We work the other direction along the road, through the remainder of the Balameanach, or Middle Village on our way to the Aultaire Croft at the opposite end of the museum from the Baile Gean. The shepherd’s bothy and fank are quite interesting. The fank is a series of dry stone wall pens that were used to separate out sheep for sheering. The bothy is a small, two room building that was used as a place of shelter for the shepherd and accommodations for the help that would come in for the sheering. One room is setup as the shepherd would have kept it and the other has artifacts and information about the various equipment used in the sheering through the ages. The Aultlarie Croft is a collection of farming buildings from the late 1800s and very early 1900s. The main farmhouse and furnishings are of interest along with the recreated sweet shop that is busy selling to kids in the museum today.
We poke in and out of other buildings but really only two things stand out. The first is Duncan the goat. He is alone in a large pen which has a wordy sign posted on it. The sign tells that Duncan had an injured leg that has now fully healed. While he was injured he kept weight off of the leg and learned he could get sympathy by continuing to act lame. If you ask him how his leg is he will lift it slightly and look at you pitifully. We do and he does, much to our amusement. As we pass by a large machine shed we see and old caravan in it. A historian dressed in tweed jacket, flat cap and carrying an antler topped walking stick sees us looking it over and joins us. He explains it is an old gypsy caravan from 1909. It has a post WWII chassis and is rather broken down now. What caught our eye was the stove set in a fireplace with a fancy mantel that you can see through the doorway. The whole inside looks very much like a comfortable living room. He says they hope to get it fully restored along with the bright paintjob that would have been present back in the day. There is a lot of work to do and it is one of many projects that are waiting their turn.
Rhonda and I am really enjoyed our time here but decide to move along and see if we can find some late lunch. We drive back up the A9 to the town of Kingussie. We passed a place called The Drunken Laird that I want to try. We find a parking place on the street and make the short walk. A young couple is inside and they are the proprietors. Rhonda makes friends with a fluffy and soft Border collie pup while they inform us they are not serving food right now. They tell us to try the Café Bistro just across the street and down a bit. We arrive at the Bistro to find there is only one table left. We claim it just in time as several other people come along after us and get turned away. Lunch consists of a bowl of mushroom soup and a cheddar platter that comes with some pickled goods and a couple of salads. There are pickled onions again, but this time they are whole pearl onions. It is all quite tasty and the bread hearty and fresh. It turns out to be one of the least expensive meals of our trip at only fourteen pounds and twenty pence. With our late lunch done we see that the sun is still battling with the clouds, but the rain seems to have given up for the day. We decide to drive back up to the Inverness area and visit the Clava Cairns. It is a historic site a couple of miles from Culloden. As we get close we are once again on very narrow and winding roads. When we arrive there is a small parking lot that is fairly full, but not packed. The late afternoon has warmed and the sun is still shining so we leave our jackets in the car and walk into the spacious grove to explore some more history.
There are four cairns located at this site. Three of them date from around 2000 BC and the fourth from about 1000 BC. The three oldest are huge, each over fifty feet in diameter. There is a twelve foot burial chamber in the center of each. The burial chamber is lined with large stones as is the passageway and the outside. The space within is piled full of stones. This gives the impression of an odd, huge donut of stone. Surrounding the three old cairns are rings of standing stones. The fourth and youngest cairn is much more modest and seems to have been used for cremations rather than burials. The scale of these works for bronze aged people is most impressive. Two of the old cairns have passageways that face the midwinter sun. Walking into the center you can see some of the supporting stone that have deliberate divots carved into them. Are they just decorative or do they represent something else? What were the people like that piled these masses of stone here close by the River Nairn? Why did they choose pink stones to face the midwinter sun and pale stones to face the midsummer sun? There are so many questions that will never be answered. Walking amongst the stones gives you a feeling of connection to the humans that existed and eked out a living here four thousand years ago. They were human, but so different in culture and the things that drove the. I wonder what the works of modern man will be like in four thousand years.
The afternoon is waning and we have sixty-thirty tasting reservations. We make our way back to the Rossmount and Inverness. Along the way we can see the view from the road to Moray Firth. It is quite spectacular now that it is not hidden in low clouds and rain. We have no problem making it to The Whisky Shop on time. We meet Phil, who is to guide us through the tasting. We find that we are to get a private tasting because there are no other reservations tonight. We are tasting some whiskies that are exclusive to the shop. Phil is thorough and informative. The pace is slow and things are savored. We taste things first neat, then add some water to see how the character changes. After each of the four has been tasted we go back and finish the dram to see how sitting out for a while has affected the barley juice. We talk about things beyond whisky and just have a nice time with Phil. After things are done and we are purchasing our favorite of the five we tasted we see that we are going to be a little late for dinner. Time has flown and it is now 8:20. We quickly walk down the river and the Riverside restaurant. Our tardiness is not and issue. Dinner is somewhat disappointing and Ruth confirmed this morning that we had the wrong “river” restaurant. The salads and bread are good, but Rhonda’s fish is overcooked and she simply sends it back. We talk to the waitress after the meal and ask why they were turning away people when they had empty tables. She explains that the kitchen is short staffed and they are limiting customers each night so as to not create long delays for food. Maybe that is why things were not as good as could be. It has been a long day and we are weary so we slowly walk back to the bed and breakfast and turn in for the night.
Day 8 – August 14th (Inverness)
When we come down to breakfast today three of the four tables are occupied. We take the empty table and I mention that the room looks down. I begin to talk to the table next to us and the conversation livens up the room. The couple is from Memphis and on a tour of Scotland. Today they are headed to St. Andrew’s to play a round of golf. I imagine that must be a Mecca for golfers and on a lot of their bucket lists. We have the continental which is a croissant, some cheese and meat. That along with some granola is a welcome change from the fry-up we have been having. Breakfast ends with us alone in the room talking with Robert, then in the hall talking with Ruth. This morning we take some time to sit in the common room and catch up on journal notes. It has been a couple of days since I wrote anything down and I don’t want to fall too far behind. Rhonda has a short play time with Milo and by midmorning we are ready to get going. Today we are heading to the one whisky distillery tour we are doing on this trip. The Balvenie is our destination and it is about an hour and a half to two hours away near Dufftown, which is in the heart of the Speyside whisky region. I selected this distillery because the tours are very small and thorough, lasting three hours or so. They only take sixteen people a day in two groups of eight at a time. I felt that would be better than being in a mass of people taking a very cursory tour. I booked way ahead and have our reservation information in hand.
At this point I need to talk about the poetic inspiration that has seized on Rhonda in Scotland. While driving along Loch Ness we saw some cows and I declared, “If we don’t see Nessie at least we have seen Bessie.” That comment started something in her and she wrote a small rhyme, like from a child’s book, about Nessie and Bessie. Over the next days and until the end of the trip Rhonda will conjure up different rhymes based on animals common in Scotland. We will refine the rhymes as we drive while she keeps a written record in her phone. By the end of the trip there will be eight different rhymes in all. The characters are sometimes inspired by people we meet or creatures we see. Thus, our time on the road is often spent with Woolly Ben, Ollie the Collie, Charlie Gordon the piping fox, Old Angus the Hare and more of their friends. Some of the rhymes are quite good and we entertain the idea of getting enough together to actually publish a children’s book. We imagine my sister Jenny illustrating the work and have specific images in mind to go with some of the rhymes and characters. The future will tell.
We take off and head east along the north edge of the land. We catch glimpses of the North Sea to our left as we roll along. While passing through the small town of Brodie we see a fellow walking with an old high wheel bicycle, or penny farthing. It seems rather out of place on a street with cars, but I guess if the cars were all gone it may seem very at home amongst the old buildings. Our path turns south when we reach the town of Elgin. This morning Ruth pronounced Elgin with a hard “g” to make it rhyme with the word “begin”. It caught us off guard because the name sounds so different from what we are used to with that one little change. We are entering the heart of Scotch Whisky distilling. The Speyside region that surrounds the River Spey on its journey to the sea has the highest concentration of distilleries in Scotland. Much of that is due to the water from the river and springs in the area. The countryside is quite lovely and the drive relaxing. I see familiar names on the distilleries we pass. The road we want is not marked as The Balvenie, but rather WG & Sons North Entrance. We see the entrance but don’t pull in yet. We are too early. We drive a couple of miles up the road past the Glenfiddich Distillery, Balvenie Castle and into Dufftown. The name Glenfiddich makes sense now because the distillery is located along the River Fiddich in the glen.
Dufftown is small, but a sign on the way into town declares it “The Whisky Capitol of the World”. There is a clock tower in the center of town and we easily find parking on the street. The town is really nothing more than a built up crossroads, but I guess most small towns are only that. We get out of the car and decide to stretch our legs by just strolling around and seeing what we can see. We walk one way and then the other, with nothing really capturing our interest. As we get back to the center of town we turn up the road we came in on. Just off the central square is the Balvenie Street Ice Cream Shop. The window proclaims they have award winning whisky ice cream. Now this bears investigation. The shop is small with just a couple tables for two inside and one out on the sidewalk. We ask the girl behind the counter if we can taste the whisky ice cream. There are three, Sweet and Sexy, Rich and Fruity and Smokey and Peaty. We get a tasting spoon of each and are very surprised at how good it is. Our favorite is the Sweet and Sexy which has a ten year Speyside single malt in it. We get a couple of scoops in a dish and sit out on the sidewalk to enjoy it. The day is cloudy, but bright and comfortable. It is the middle of the day on a Wednesday, so there is not much going on in town. We enjoy the quiet and the ice cream before continuing our stroll. At about 1:30 we decide to get back to the car and drive to The Balvenie for our two o’clock tour. We find the driveway again and after a turn find ourselves on a gravel road in a pine grove with small clearings for parking cars. There is a path with a sign that says that tours are by reservation and to not proceed beyond that point without one. I guess they don’t like people wandering around taking pictures. We follow the path past some buildings and a large pond next to a small building by a small parking lot. A fellow comes out to greet us and introduces himself as Charlie, stating he will be our guide today.
The building has a small tasting room, a water closet and a sitting area with a fireplace and some cushy furniture. Charlie gets us checked in and says that we are the first to arrive. He offers some tea and shortbread while we wait for the other six people. I use the restroom and see that the toilet tank and mechanisms are made of solid copper. It looks like some sort of steampunk version of a toilet and is very unusual. We enjoy our tea and I view the pictures in the room as we wait and chat with Charlie. After fifteen minutes he decides that the rest of the party are not coming and we shall proceed on our own. Thus Rhonda and I get another unexpectedly private event. Charlie has us don high visibility vests since we will be walking through a working facility and not staying behind the ropes because there are no ropes to separate guests from the operation. We ask one last time about the other six folks and he says they should have been on time. Charlie is friendly and knowledgeable about the trade. He represents the company at sponsored functions and teaches people about whisky and The Balvenie. One of his duties is also conducting these tours when he is not traveling. As we stroll to the first building he starts with some history talking about the 18th century mansion that was partially disassembled and the stones used to build the first buildings of this distillery. The distillery started operations in 1893. It is still privately owned by the Grant family who also own Glenfiddich. The Balvenie is a smaller operation and is only one of seven in Scotland that still has its own malting floor. It also has its own cooperage, which is highly unusual.
Charlie will take us through the entire operation from start to finish. We are on the second floor of the grain house where the malting is done and are looking at huge piles of barley. I am surprised we he tells us to pick up some grain and feel how hard it is. This hands-on experience with the grain will go further. We go downstairs to the malting floor where about a quarter of the floor space has a layer of grain about five inches deep. The grain has been soaked in the spring water and is malting, or sprouting. The process brings out the sugar in the grain and creates heat. We handle the grain again to test softness and see the sprouts that have started. Charlie then has us plunge our hands in the barley to feel the heat near the floor. The grain has to be regularly turned when malting to control the temperature. That process is now aided with a machine that looks like a strange lawn mower. When this process was done by hand using scoops, if a person developed a sore shoulder it was referred to as “monkey shoulder”.
The distillery can only manage to malt about ten percent of what they use, but they make sure some of their floor malted barley is in every batch. Acquiring Scottish barley is becoming harder too because of the demand for it. Thus, The Balvenie had recently taken to planting and growing their own to complement the other barley they buy from around the country. Our interaction with the grain takes another step as we go to view the kiln where the malted barley is dried. The kiln itself is a square, two story building with a tall central chimney that slopes up like a mountain peak. We are on the second floor where the grain is spread out in an area about twenty feet square, which is the whole floor space. The floor is perforated and heat from below rises and dries the grain. Charlie again invites us to handle the grain and see how it progressing. He even has us eat some to see how the taste is. Before we leave to go downstairs and view the ovens he has me stand on the grain so he can take my picture while in the kiln. I am quite surprised by the offer and I doubt the larger tours at other distilleries or any in the States allow that.
We move on to the grist, mash, wort and fermentation steps of the process. Each batch uses about 14,000 gallons of the spring water. The wooden fermentation vats are massive and sit mostly below the grate flooring we are standing on. The one we peek into and sniff is happily foaming away as the yeast converts those sugars to alcohol. There is a rotating beam at the top of the vat the keeps the foams from over topping the vat. The wort will ferment for about sixty-five hours before going to distillation. Charlie takes us into the spirit distillation room. There are six huge solid copper stills in here. He says behind the wall are five wash stills of the same size. The wash is the first distillation and the spirit the second. The stills are all handmade by a company about ten miles away. They have a usable life of ten to fifteen years and cost about £300,000 each to build. He points out the extra bulb above the main chamber and the neck at the top. He explains it is a little different and that is why the bottles they use are shaped the way they are because it mimics the shape of the pot still they use. We move back outside and stroll back to the starting location to get a car as he is going to drive us to the cooperage. Charlie gets Rhonda’s door and I stroll to the right-hand door, up front. Charlie says I can’t drive on the property with a smile and I realize I was walking to the American passenger door out of habit. With everyone in their proper seats we are off. We pass between several aging houses. They have 27 in total amongst their different properties with 1.1 million barrels aging at any one time. They spread out every type and age to minimize risk should one aging house be lost. Given that the minimum aging time is twelve years that is a long time to sit on your product before being able to sell it. Tracking that entire inventory must be quite a job.
As we approach the cooperage we see stacks and stacks of barrels waiting to be reworked. All of the barrels that are filled with whisky are not new. Most are bourbon barrels purchased from US manufacturers. Bourbon barrels can only be used once, so there is a good supply. There are also a good portion of used sherry casks that are employed to age whisky. Each barrel or cask can be used up to three times. The job of the ten staff coopers is to repair and test barrels before use. Sometime they have to break down a barrel and reconstruct it, or simply repair defects. Becoming a cooper takes a four year apprenticeship. The team of coopers will prepare about 500 barrels a week. The operation is noisy, but very interesting to watch. We observe from a platform up above the working floor where some cooper who is a Doctor Who fan has built a dalek out of barrel parts. We chat and watch for a while before Charlie asks if we would like to taste some whisky. We drive back to the starting point to park the Range Rover, but we don’t go into the tasting room. Instead we walk over to Warehouse 24, which is in the cellar of the original mansion that stood here. He tells us we cannot take pictures or videos inside and then unlocks a very large padlock and opens the door. Upon walking in your nose is awakened to the mellow scent of old stone and dirt floors, but predominately whisky. The light is dim but sufficient to see scores of barrels stacked on the floor. All have dates and numbers stamped on them. We move to the center of the room where there are two barrels with 1965 painted on them amongst a few others from the sixties and early seventies. I ask why this whisky that is as old as I am hasn’t been bottled yet. Charlie replies, “Believe it or not, it is not ready yet.” He says the time will come when they will be forced to bottle it because Scotch whisky has to have at least 40% alcohol to qualify as whisky. I ask how many bottles they will get out of each barrel and he raps on the end to find the level of fluid in the barrel. It is only half full as the rest has evaporated over the years. Charlie says they will get about 130 bottles out of each barrel. I am sure the price per bottle for that will be very steep.
As we make our way over to an old wooden stairway to ascend to the floor above and more barrels I notice a huge vat setting to one side. Charlie says it is a “tun” and it is used to blend twenty or more barrel that get aged for six months. It is not done all of the time but is typically pretty good when they do. Upstairs we see two barrels sitting apart from the rest with a tray setting on top of the barrel next to the bunghole. Charlie produces a copper dog and explains its origin. Made by workers to steal whisky from barrels they would be made from old 30mm artillery shells with a coin sealing one end and a cork in the other. A long chain was attached. They would drop these into the barrel through the bunghole, wait for it to sink and fill, draw it out, cork it and then hide the cylinder somewhere on their person, often in a pants leg. They are called copper dogs because of what they are made out of and they were a friend that would stay by your side. Charlie uses the dog to draw whisky out of the barrel for us. From the dog he pours it through a funnel into a small glass jar. He invites us to pour a little from the jar into our palm and taste it. Both are delicious. Even though they are cask strength, drinking from our palm tempers the alcohol. They have both been aging for fifteen years, one in a sherry cask and one in an oak bourbon barrel. Charlie says we can fill and purchase our own bottles if we wish, as many as we want. Rhonda and I quickly decide to fill one of each. We each dip the dog, then fill and cork our own little bottles. That pleasant task done Charlie asks if we would like to return to the tasting room and sample some finished whiskies. We heartily agree and walk back to our starting point once again.
In the tasting room we try six different whiskies ranging in barrel age from twelve to twenty-five years. They all have different barrel finishes. Some have been in first-fill oak barrels, some in sherry casks, some in oak and then rum barrels, or a combination of oak and sherry. Each imparts a different characteristic to the spirit. We take our time tasting and talking about the man in charge of saying when each is ready, the whisky and working at The Balvenie. There is, of course, a small shop in the next room. I ask what is there that I can’t buy back in the States. I settle on a 15 year single sherry cask which will be similar to what we tasted in Warehouse 24. It has just been cut to bottle strength. During our conversations we have shared Rhonda’s poetic inspirations with Charlie and she asks if she can name a character after him. He says he would be honored, but that she needs a more Scottish last name, like Gordon, to use instead of his own. Thus Charlie Gordon the Piping Fox is born at The Balvenie distillery. The last order of business is asking about where close by would be good for dinner. We thank Charlie very much for his time and the wonderful tour. He recommends a place in the next town named, appropriately enough, The Copper Dog. He says they often take business clients there. We thank Charlie again and return to the car. It has been over three hours since we first arrived and the afternoon has been educational, fun and fascinating.
We drive a few miles up the road to the town of Craigellachie where the River Fiddich runs into the River Spey. We are looking for the Craigellachie Lodge where The Copper Dog is located. We have no problem getting a table. Dinner is smoked salmon for Rhonda and shepherd’s pie for me. I finish the meal with a cranachan, which is a Scottish summertime desert made of raspberries, whisked double cream, toasted oats and a little honey. After the meal Rhonda feels ready for a nap. I want to take a walk to clear my head a little before the drive back. She lays back the passenger seat in the car and I take a path by the lodge towards the river. There is an old stone bridge crossing the Spey that we saw from the modern highway and I attempt to locate that landmark. I make my way down the hill, along the path and through small wooded area and find myself on a shore of the Spey.
The bridge is an old stone structure built in 1814. It has turrets like small castles built on either shore. The river is wide and the span gracefully arcs over it. The shore is stony and it looks like the river is actually running low right now. It still moves swiftly along in the narrow channels. I walk along the rocky shore and skip a few stones in the calmer pools. Wild flowers abound along with the rosebay that lines the roads. There are some other people looking about and I guess the bridge attracts a lot of attention. I make my way up the embankment and follow the road onto the bridge itself. The view of the westering sun over the mountains with the flower lined hay fields along the wood lined river is very tranquil and inviting. I could spend a lot of time here just watching the world go by, but we do have to make the drive back to Inverness. I want to do so before dark, but that gives us plenty of time as the sun sets very late in August this far north. It will be near ten before the sky actually darkens. I feel ready for the drive and walk back to the car and Rhonda. She is refreshed as well and ready. The return trip to Inverness is easy and scenic.
We get back to Rossmount around eight and walk downtown. We do a little more shopping for the kids while the stores are still open. There is a band out in the pedestrian mall entertaining the Wednesday night crowd for tips. The lights of Inverness are on and gleaming off of the stones and river. The Malt Room has been recommended to us a couple of times so we decide to find it and cap off our whisky centric day with a last flight. We find the small bar off a small street and make our way in. The place is fairly full, but we find two spots up at the bar opening up as we enter. The lady and gent behind the bar are helpful and we soon have two lovely whisky flights in front of us. Rhonda has “Meet the Locals” which is all local distilleries and I select the “Coming of Age” which is three different 18-year-old whiskies. The pubs here all serve whisky properly. They provide a full glass of water and then either a small glass of water with a dropper or a tiny pitcher of water. The later item is to provide water to add to the whisky in small measures, if you desire. We take our time and savor things as we chat to those around us and the bartenders. The room is warm and after our flights are completed we get a couple of drams and sit at a nearby table next to a window. A boisterous group arrives at the table as we are moving our coats and drinks over. There is space enough for all and we share the table. The open window is pleasant and we enjoy the antics of the group. The group is a mixture of French, Scottish and English folks of varying age. They all seem to know each other from work. It adds an amusing end to the day. After we finish our drams it has gotten rather late and we make the walk back up the bluff to the Rossmount and our bed.
Day 9 – August 15th (Inverness to Edinburgh)
Breakfast is another morning much like the last two. Our neighbors are not very talkative, but Robert makes up the difference. Once again we are talking with Robert long after everyone else has left the breakfast room. Ruth pokes her head in and says she has caught Robert “fish wifing.” He is in here gossiping with us instead of tending to his chores. We excuse ourselves and go up to our room to pack. When I come down Robert and Milo are in the hall and I say I had better settle up. He says, “Five hundred and we’ll call it square.” This time I quickly reply, “Five hundred pesos?” This elicits a laugh. Ruth joins the party while Milo plays the dejected pup because he doesn’t have a sausage this morning. Rhonda tells Milo I am to blame because I discouraged her from ordering a sausage she knew would only be for him. We capture a picture of the trio sitting on the stairs. Getting Milo to stop moving is the biggest challenge. Robert and Ruth have been a treat and we have really enjoyed our stay here at Rossmount.
We had entertained the thought of stopping in Balmoral today, but we decide to skip the extra wheel time in the car and just head straight for Edinburgh. We figure three and a half hours in the car will be enough. We do want to go to Culloden this morning before making our way south. The sky is mostly cloudy, but there is no rain and some fair sized patches of blue sky. We get there quickly and find the parking lot almost empty as compared to the last time we saw it. We opt to start in the Visitor Centre since our knowledge of the battle is sketchy at best and learning more would be good before walking the moor. The Visitor Centre has an interesting arrangement. There is a long hallway winding through the building that describes the events leading up to, during and after the battle. That is not so unusual. What I find interesting is that the two sides of the conflict are each given a color and their own side of the hall on which their story is told. The left hand wall is always the Government and when you seen things on a map the color red is used. The Jacobites are on the right side and their color is blue. Thus you can follow the story from the point of view of the rebels or the government, or both if you wish to cross back and forth. We learn a great deal and there are some interesting artifacts on display here. My favorite item is a letter written by Bonnie Prince Charlie in October of 1745 to King Louis XV of France pleading for support. The letter was written in Holyrood Palace while he was still in Edinburgh. The penmanship is slanted but legible and the paper a little yellowed, but in good condition. It is interesting to see this letter written almost 273 years ago in a palace we visited just last Saturday here at the site where the rebellion he was leading came to an end.
Once we make our way through the full program we head out onto the moor. Culloden Moor really isn’t much of a moor anymore. Agricultural development surrounding the area has drained off the water that made this the boggy moor that the Jacobites assaulted across. The land is open and heavily covered with blooming heather. Other shrubs coexist with the heather, some of which are very thorny. If that plant was present back in 1746 it would have not been the friend of the kilt wearing Scots. The battlefield is essentially that, an open field. There are red flags a distance from each other in a line here are the eastern side of the battlefield. They represent the locations of the different units under the Duke of Cumberland’s command. On the far side is a similar line of blue flags representing where the various clans supporting the Jacobite cause stood at the beginning of the battle. The fight all took place on the south end of the lines and the north ends never got engaged. In fact where the northern end of the lines would be is cut by the road we came in on and is not part of the National Trust land.
One thing I notice is the lack of national emblem. As I said, the government is red and the Jacobites blue. There is no union jack or Scottish cross, or clan emblem to be seen anywhere. I suppose the Scottish National Trust wants to represent what happen here without prodding at nationalist loyalties. The breeze is blowing and the sun is out. Rhonda and I walk the long one path that crosses from the Government lines to the Jacobite lines. About halfway we encounter a plaque stating this is the spot where the clansmen begin to fire their muskets and pick up speed for their highland charge. The problems for the Jacobites were numerous on April 16th of 1746. They were exhausted from a night march that was a failed surprise assault and did nothing but tire the men. The ground was boggy and a cold rain was driving in their faces. Additionally, the government troops had adjusted their tactics and now had good ways to deal with the highland charge that had decimated them at Prestonpans and other battles the previous year. Culloden would be a slaughter and the final charge of the highlanders. About 1500 Jacobites would be killed here, while the Government would only lose between 100 and 300 of its numbers. From start to finish the carnage all happened in about an hour.
As we cross the field we see a smudge of rainbow to the north. It appears on the horizon behind the cairn lying to the north of us. We continue on to the Jacobite lines and reach the names of the clans. As expected, the Fraser stone has some flowers and other items placed on it. I am sure that is due to the popularity of the Outlander series, as the main male character is part of that clan and fought here in the story. After walking along the Jacobite line we make our way back to the east and pass by the cairn, which looks like a short tower of stone. The cairn was built back in the late 1800s and is a memorial to the slain warriors who fought here, the vast majority of which were Scottish. There are large, unhewn stones close by the cairn that note the names of the clansmen that were buried here. Each stone has been set upright and only the name of the clan is carved in it. We look for Donald, but don’t see it. Then a little sign points us north and we follow a trail to where few people are. We find the “Clan Donald” stone and a little sign that says they were not involved in the main fray a little south, but were engaged here and helped cover the retreat. We have no knowledge of whether the Donnellsons were involved on one side or the other, as different groups of Donalds fought on both sides of the conflict. The Donnellsons could have been in Ireland by the time of the uprising. Again, we don’t know. We stroll back down along the Government lines and find ourselves back at the Visitor Centre. I take a few minutes to walk up to an observation point on a high wall. The battlefield is a somber place and I am glad we have made the stop and taken our time to walk the moor where men struggling so long ago.
We notice that the parking lot is chock full now with people parking on the road in again. We didn’t ask Robert about any cruise ships that may be in today, but it seems we were ahead of the crowd with our visit. Parked near the front of the lot is a mini-van with large horns on top of it. The whole van has been covered by appliqués to make it look like a hairy highland cow. Every area, whether painted or glass, is covered with the picture of the cow like they printed a huge sheet of plastic, laid it over the car and stuck it down. There is a tail on the back window, ears on the doors, eyes on the windshield and a nose on the hood. I am sure this vehicle will turn a lot of heads on the road. It is very amusing and we have a good laugh. We start the journey south to Edinburgh.
We will pass through the same part of western edge of Cairngorms National Park we saw a couple of days ago, plus areas further south. We stop in Newtonmore again but for petrol this time. It takes £85 of diesel to fill the tank. While pumping the petrol I notice bins of coal out front of the building. In the states you would see piles of bundled firewood and here there are bags of coal. I ask the station attendant if she has a lunch recommendation and she tells me The Antlers in town. We have sandwiches and soda. I have a hummus and tomato affair while Rhonda enjoys tuna, cheese and tomato. I have an elderflower soda which is very tasty. We pass through some more towns with names that make me chuckle, like Dalwhinnie and Killiecrankie. The mountains are lovely, but not as imposing as what we saw in Glencoe. We eventually make our way back over the Queensferry Bridge and the Firth of Forth and back into Edinburgh. Heather guides us well and we are soon back on Rosslyn Crescent and at the Glendevon Bed and Breakfast.
We are the only guests in the Glendevon tonight. Catherine and Stuart are there to greet us along with Bonnie and Honey. We get our bags sorted out and packed for our return to the States tomorrow. While putting everything together I look at the flight information and we see we will have to leave by seven in the morning. I fill out the breakfast slip for Catherine and just say that we have to leave very early and will not have time for breakfast. When we are ready I drop off the note and we walk to the bus stop. We have some final shopping to do for Dustin and Kayla this afternoon. We head to the mile and spend the late afternoon and evening shopping and enjoying the city. It is a Thursday and the crowds for The Fringe are nowhere near the size they were on the weekend. After we finish our retail adventure we have a late dinner at The Albanach. We had a nice lunch here three years ago. The place looks the same but the menu has changed. The meal is still nice, though. It is late now and the sun has settled behind the horizon. The evening is cool and pleasant. We decide to return to the Whiski Rooms and sit on the street where we can people watch and have a last Scotch or two. There is a free table outside. While Rhonda claims the spot I go inside for the whiskies and water. We pass a nice time looking at the lights of the city, the architecture and the people passing by. We don’t want the trip to end, but we know we are getting close. On the bus ride back to the Glendevon we sit up top at the front of the bus. Across the aisle is an old couple and the lady is chattering like a bird. She doesn’t stop prattling on about this and that and her husband just grunts a reply from time to time. Rhonda is inspired again and composes the better part of another rhyme, this time about Molly Magpie. Catherine is waiting up for us when we get back to Glendevon. She has seen our note and says she will leave some things out on the sideboard for us to have in the morning. We thank her and wish her a good night.
Day 10 – August 16th (Return Home)
We are up at six-thirty. We have some of the granola and yoghurt Catherine has left for us and we are out the door by seven. I top off the tank on the way to the airport and we arrive in plenty of time. Check-in is easy and I note that my bag is now forty-four pounds. It has put on a little weight with the addition of the whisky. We both sleep on the hop to Dublin, where it is raining. Customs is easy, but there is a new procedure for US bound flights. There is a US pre-check area that everyone has to go through. Extra security checks are performed and many people are pulled out for full pat downs and inspection of their bags. I am unfortunately randomly selected. The process is no trouble, but takes a lot of extra time. I have to turn on all my electronics and they wipe my gear and hands for analysis. As I wait for the results I chat with the lady performing some of the inspections. She looks at my boarding pass and says I will have no problem making the flight. The airline knows who is going through the extra process and will hold the plane. When I am cleared I hustle along to catch up with Rhonda, who I had told to proceed to the gate. We have no problem making our flight, but there is no time for a last Guinness on Irish soil.
Scotland has been a treat. Both Rhonda and I have loved the scenery, the history, the whisky and mostly the people. Everyone has been inviting and pleasant to talk to. We have visited some wonderful historical sites and other locations of note. Rhonda declares that she would entertain the idea of retiring to Inverness because she liked it so much. I said the same thing about Ireland after our week there. I guess there is just something about the pace of life and the land that appeals to us so much. I don’t know that retirement to the Isles is in our future, but I do know that we will be making future trips to these lands we have taken such a liking to.
Now for your amusement, here are two of the rhymes. These are the first and the last of the bunch. The story of the cows is from the drive along Loch Ness and the bird is the old lady from bus on our last night in Scotland. Enjoy!
Bessie and Jessie lived near Loch Nessie,
Where they whiled the days away.
As they munched the green grass,
Jessie said to his lass,
“ ’Tis so much sweeter than hay.”
Molly Magpie is a chatty old bird.
She prattled on night and day.
Though nary a word
Was ever really heard,
She’d carry on anyway.
