Scotland VI: Edinburgh

Tuesday, I ordered my first Uber, which was a nice, clean, pleasant experience that cost us less than a taxi would. We were dropped off at the roundabout just downhill of Edinburgh Castle and slowly made it the last, few yards up to the ticket lines that had already formed. We didn't have to wait long before they started letting people in and the next couple of hours were spent showing the yanks around Edinburgh's nicest piece of real estate. We started out with breakfast at a cafe. As per usual, a bird bullied me out of my sandwich. Well, it was a big seagull and he had a sharp beak so what was I supposed to do?

Eyeing me.


Eating my breakfast.


He gave me the evil eye before flying off without so much as a "thank you". *sniffles*


I have no idea who lives in that little house there, but I would murder him/her to take over.


Nice views.


We ended up in the Great Hall, where the roof, made from Norwegian Wood, was the only original thing left.


Lovely fireplace.


We even attended a half-hour long presentation by a guy who knew just about everything there was to know about medieval instruments and music. He was funny to boot and I think we all wanted the presentation to last longer. Ever the adventurous, we then took a stroll a little ways down the Royal Mile, stopping to look at a big guy dressed up as a Pictish warrior, who allowed himself to be photographed with people for a donation to some anti-cancer thingy. He turned out to be a history teacher with quite the background, he even showed us pics on his phone of when he'd been partying with Lemmy from Motörhead, who had been a friend of his.


Outside a place called Frankenstein, I was caught by the scruff of my neck.


Next door was The Elephant House, one of several places where J. K. Rowling sat and wrote the Harry Potter books.


The next day, the yanks flew down to London for a couple of days of much needed me-free sightseeing, while I flew home to a cold, grey, bleak Norway. Meh. I had prearranged a wheelchair from the boarding area to the airplane for this boarding and here, they're loading me onto this infernal contraption like some piece of cargo. Which in so many ways I guess I was. This was the only pic I got in before I was told that taking photos was strictly verboten.


Me in the cabin before departure. Me leaving Scotland. Me sad.


Me home in Norway. Now me really sad.

Scotland V: Pitlochry to Edinburgh

Monday, we were supposed to go to Edinburgh, but I still had a few places I just HAD to show the yanks. We first went north again, to lovely Loch Tummel and of course, Queen's View.


After that, I drove along the lake, making a left at Tummel Bridge and then drove back east and then south over a nice stretch of highland-ish territory. We also made a quick detour to take pics of the Fortingall Yew. Of special interest to me were the stones set into the ground, which described several real, scientific breakthroughs in the history of mankind, with little religious mumbo-jumbo. And this was in a presbyterian, Church of Scotland graveyard, mind you.


We then drove south through some more lovely scenery, for example the little beach resort at Kenmore and we also stopped to buy some stuff from a lady who had converted a room in her house to show off carvings made from animal bones and horns; everything from deer to cows. I bought some whistles for my landlady's kids and a nice little knife for her. The yanks were also spending too much money in there (as indeed they did the whole trip). We finally ended up at my intended destination; the landing site for the boat over to Inchmahome Priory. I knew my US peeps loved trees, and they had them some nice ones over there. I've posted pics of these before, but they are truly something to behold:





You can squint and see several faces in this tree.


It was like this when I got there, I swear! I don't need to go on a diet!


We ended it off with a good, but somewhat overpriced dinner at the Lake of Menteith Hotel before driving to Edinburgh.

Scotland IV: Drumnadrochit to Pitlochry

The next day was also long, but with less distance traveled. We started off with me going to Inverness Infirmary to get my cast removed, as it was chafing the skin of my foot. I first had to take an x-ray and the radiologist spent the whole time talking about how much she would love to go to Norway. The doctor was a young woman of Chinese persuasion who had never even heard of Monty Python, so my "tis barely a scratch" t-shirt was wasted on her. After I was pronounced fit for fight, we took a drive to Culloden. Later, I made a couple of wrong turns down around Aviemore and we suddenly found ourselves outside Grantown on Spey, on this peaceful single lane road with a stream running to our right. There were a few clouds in the sky but otherwise just a lovely, crisp spring day.


After a while, we came across this lady training a sheepdog, with a flock of sheep running around in a field. We stopped, and Albie had a chat with her and took a gazillion pics.


Views towards the Grampians. This is a very, very pretty part of a very, very pretty country.


We then drove through postcard upon postcard down to Pitlochry, where we had another grand dinner at a restaurant called Victoria's.

Scotland III: Staffin to Drumnadrochit

Saturday, we set out on a long ass drive from Staffin, almost at the northern end of Skye, to Drumnadrochit, south of Inverness. We started out with an early, early drive up the hill to Quiraing, but the sunrise, which had been so spectacular in 2016 was nowhere to be seen.

I was more dead than alive.


Driving out, we saw this lamb had made herself comfy.


A bit south of Portree, they had a herd of Shaggy Coos, and several cars and a small tourist bus were parked to take pics and even pet them.


Here, she's scratching herself with her horn. I petted her and probably gave her fleas.


Over on the mainland, I drove roughly the same route I'd taken in 2018 before my stomach knocked me out. Somewhere south of Dundonnell, there's a small layby where I took a took a couple of pics. Very cozy up there, by the stream.

Scotland II: Mallaig to Staffin

The next morning, we set figurative sails for the Isle of Skye, which is clearly visible from Mallaig.


We had two episodes of brief entertainment; first when Albie had to puke at the side of the road (they claimed it was because of my driving, I blamed her being a delicate flower) and then having to go back to fetch her purse, which she had conventiently left on the boat. We then drove north to Broadford, before making a sharp left to go west. After a little while we came across this very picturesque church ruin, I believe it is called Kilchrist. This may sound like a weird name for a church until you find out that the prefix kil can either mean "servant of" or "church". Both make sense, I guess.


Nice graveyard.


The beautiful Hills of Cuillin. I believe this particular mountain is called Bla Bheinn (Blue Mountain) and is a part of the range called the Black Cuillins.


View towards The Old Man of Storr. The particular place where this photo was taken is rapidly becoming a place of zen for me.


We ended the evening with a grand dinner at the Uig hotel, then drove back to our AirBnB cottage, sometimes making brief detours up or down a road to see if we could get a better view of the sunset, but alas, it was cloudy.

Scotland I: Callander to Mallaig

In April, I had arranged for a non-paid position chauffeuring two yanks around Scotland. Yes, mah San Diego crew, who I'd been driving all across southern Norway were once again in Europe, but this time not to darken my towels but those of the Scots.

Since my ankle was still in a cast, we had, after much back and forth, been able to arrange for a car with handicap controls (the yanks had decided not to brave lefthand traffic this time either). I was expecting something like the handicap cars you will see in Norway, with hand controls on the wheel, but alas it was not to be. We actually talked to the guy who installed our system, he made a living installing these things all over Scotland and seemed happy as a clam; I know I would have been in his position.

Anyway, the actual handicap system was a laughably primitive contraption. It consisted of two thin, metal rods attached to the brake and the gas pedal respectively and at the top, near the wheel they were attached to a small plastic handle. It had a hole in for the brake so that one could perform that operation without revving the engine at the same time. When we arrived at our car, we just stared at it and laughed; it looked like (and felt like) something out of a steampunk novel; some mad alternative reality where you'd still have to pump steam to get the vehicle up to speed.

We first set course for Stirling. Along the way I pointed out the Kelpies, which duly impressed the yanks and I also made a quick stop at Bannockburn to show them the memorial and to talk a little bit about the country's uneasy and complex history with its southern neighbor. We then went up to the castle, where we spent a good, long time strolling around while I talked and talked (I'm sensing a theme here) and they took pics.

After Stirling, it was a quick trip up to lovely Callander where we spent an incredible Wednesday evening at the weekly singalong at the Old Rectory Inn with the guys from the band Pure Malt. I think the yanks thoroughly enjoyed themselves, I know I did. The only tragedy came the next morning, when Court and I ordered haggis for our breakfast and poor Albie lost her appetite due to the smell.

Yours truly attempting to navigate 21st century technology. It usually ends in tears.


After breakfast (this diary is written in late June, but backdated) we set course for Mallaig, where there's a ferry connection to Skye. However, our first stop was literally right up the road at the Mill, a rest stop for busloads of tourists to the Trossachs who all pour out in the shop's parking lot for a stretch, a cup of coffee and hopefully to buy something from the well stocked souvenir shop. I quickly went in and came out with a couple of small bags of veggies for the lovely little hairballs that grace the adjacent field; yes I'm talking about the shaggy coos!

Wantses.


Nom, nom.


Moooooore!


Carrots, which contain more sugar than animals normally get, is like chocolate to humans so that was a big favorite but she was so, so gentle in taking the food from my hand. The yanks took pictures and after a couple of minutes a busload of tourists from various places showed up. It was time to move on. We then drove through the outer edge of the Trossachs and up to the Falls of Dochart. Here, I got my first disappointment as the lovely stream did not meet with approval from her Highness, who thought them "ok, but not pictureworthy". Well, I never! We pressed on and they started gawping at the scenery when we reached the area just above Tyndrum, where the real Highlands begin. We even stopped a couple of times along the A-82, at Loch Tulla and at Kings House Hotel to take pics.

Some lovely mountains.


The A-82, in particular the distance between Tyndrum and Glencoe, is one of my favoritestest roads in world.


As usual, there was a herd of deer hanging out at the Kings House Hotel. Spring is the season the bucks shed their antlers, which often causes some of them to look retarded mid-process.


The mighty mountains to the west of the hotel.


We then drove down the long single-lane road to Loch Etive, accompanied by more oohing and aahing from the 'muricans. After an overpriced lunch at the hotel, we drove on towards Glencoe. We dutifully stopped to take pics at the Meeting of the Three Waters and I talked about Monty Python's Holy Grail movie, which was partially shot in this area and about the Massacre of 1692.


Later, we also stopped at Glenfinnan, where I talked a bit about the uprising of 1745 and about what an airhead Bonnie Prince Charlie was.


Close to Mallaig, we took a detour off to Loch Morar. I was completely new to this particular area so it came as a nice surprise to me too that there was a lovely body of water here. We passed some sheep along the way and had a couple of hairy meetings with other drivers; as is usual with single lane roads, the locals tend to drive like maniacs.


Lovely lake.