Month: June 1998

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Glen Nevis to Edinburgh By Way of Oban

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12:28 pm

I just passed (on the way to Oban) the castle used in the ‘cow-throwing’ scene in ‘Monty Python and the Search for the Holy Grail’!

12:49

I saw my third stop sign in more than three weeks!

My fourth in Oban!

My fifth in Edinburgh!

7:31 pm

I’m in Edinburgh. Where else but at Yvonne’s would I be greeted with a cup of hot tea and shortbread cookies?! I’m sorry I was unable to stay in Oban; it sure was bonnie! The Scots sure know how to reuse, reduce, and recycle! I had a veggie burger and chips for lunch. Reuse: the newspaper the food was wrapped in. Recycle: the outside paper, which wasn’t greasy. Reduce: the amount of time it takes to eat; you get to read the comics at the same time! Later, Yvonne’s offered me some supper!

8:01 pm

That had to be the best meal I’ve had since getting to Scotland! Lots of veggies and pasta, yum!

 

Today I’ve only spent £11.85 on meals and board. Try to get that anywhere else!

I went to the tourist info centre to get, what else, info on buses to Stirling and other places that interest me. It looks like getting to Stirling might be long, but not too complicated. I’ll check out other companies, but I get a 30% rebate with Citylink… (It’s too bad I hadn’t yet discovered that trains are quicker and cost almost the same as buses!)

Right by Oban, directly under the bridge, there’s an honest to goodness whirlpool! Supposedly, it’s caused by two opposing tides and it’s treacherous. Oban, unlike Kyleakin, actually has a (albeit minor) smell of the sea. What I wanted to do in Oban was catch a ferry tour to the islands, Mull, Iona, etc., but I discovered that the ferry broke down today and many people were stranded for several days—without their packs!!!

Glencoe, I’m told, isn’t nearly as bonnie as it’s made out to be. I saw Inveraray Castle, albeit out of the corner of my eye!

In a way, I’m sorry to be done with Haggis since they brought such security and less hassle to my travels. I was disappointed with today’s driver, William, who didn’t yak it up much. I think that John was my favourite, although Claire’s accent made her jokes and stories all the better! Craig never shut up, but he said tons of cool stuff. As for Malcolm, I think he was a happy medium between all… 4, was it? Haggis was great in that instead of just taking us from place to place, they told us about the stuff in between. I never once had to ask: ‘What’s with that castle/ruin/tower/cairn/plaque, etc.’. And the stories were always told in the liveliest of fashion.

So, now I’m in Edinburgh, sitting at Yvonne’s kitchen table while her daughter (Mhari, pronounced Ma-ri, like the French but with a Scots accent) is drawing me a picture. Now that’s a souvenir I won’t mind ‘dragging’ home with me (I still have as of posting in 2016!). That’s enough for tonight, tomorrow!

11:30 pm

I’ve come so far in these past two weeks!!! I went into a pub all by my lonesome, ordered a beer, sipped it, and stayed long enough to see Yugoslavia (how the world has changed…) score a goal against the U.S.A. I’m now in a room with three African girls who are great. It’s very late, so good-night. Oh, and I had fun getting thoroughly misplaced in Edinburgh at 10:00pm !

 

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Never Say Never Again: Climbing Ben Nevis

(As context for this post, I was still at this point in my life very heavy and extremely non-athletic. Little did I know that a love of hiking up mountains would be borne from this day!)

NEVER AGAIN!!! If I see another mountain in this lifetime, it’ll be too soon! At least I attempted the Ben, unfortunately, I was forced down because of weather. I was at least three quarters of the way up, darn it! I must admit that it’s my pride—that is my false pride—that got me so far up. I left in rainy, sticky weather only to encounter rainy, mucky, freezing weather. I was dressed properly, but still uncomfortable.

The ‘path’ up was unbelievable, most of it was just crumbly rock. My boots have an amazing gripping power. In a way, I’m glad clouds obscured the summit and hid the valley. I would have fainted if I’d seen either A) how far I’d come and/or B) how far I still had to go! When I finally came to my senses and headed down, I discovered that going up was physically exhausting but going down was emotionally terrifying! And painful. I never thought I’d get off that mountain!

Someone estimated that I’d make the climb in 5 ½ hours. I turned back with only a half hour to go. It was a difficult decision to make but I’d decided many things : 1) I wasn’t about to become another Ben statistic (I lost track of the number of times gusting winds came too close to blowing me off. And I’m still trying to forget the gushing stream I had to cross. One mistake and I would have been swept straight down three thousand feet.); 2) no challenge is worth dying for; 3) I’d already proven to myself that I could push myself beyond the limits of my endurance (physical, yes, but especially emotional. You have no idea how scared I was climbing that thing).

I’m proud of what I accomplished, but disappointed that I didn’t make to the very summit.   It was my only chance; there’s no way I’m ever doing back up there !

The first couple of hundred feet coming down were terrible. As with going up, I couldn’t see more than fivein front of me. But about halfway down, the clouds began to clear and the sun peeked out. The glen became beautiful. And I saw just how much I’d climbed; despite my disappointment, I felt a certain amount of ‘good’ pride.

The weather cleared up very quickly as I came down; a beautiful loch was revealed to me. The most frightening part of the whole ordeal (I won’t lie, it was an ordeal!) was crossing this torrent of water. The first time (going up), a man helped me across, but my glasses were so steamy, I couldn’t see where I was going! Arriving safely on the other bank, I promptly tripped—twice. I wasn’t hurt but boy was I embarrassed! The man wouldn’t keep his eyes off me for several hundred feet! Besides that, there were a few scary slipping incidents but nothing major.

Igot off the Ben unbruised (nope, two lovely shiners the next morning, one on each knee!), alive, and with a lot of respect for it. I didn’t take this trip lightly, but I could never have foreseen how it would turn out, me against the elements. I can’t believe the people who literally sprinted up and down in under four hours!

The Ben is something to try once in a lifetime, and just trying it means something. But, as I said: NEVER AGAIN!!!

(Hoping to do so in 2017, LOL)

7:02 pm

The bunkhouse is almost full tonight! I must admit that I got the heebee jeebees when a van full of men came carousing in. Turns out they were loud because they weren’t used to staying in a place like this. They are actually very funny! (funny, that is, until they wouldn’t shut up and were yelling from midnight to 2AM!) Then, a guy I met through Haggis waltzed in, followed by at least two women and one more guy.

I had to do all my laundry tonight. I hope that most of it will be dry tomorrow, especially my big sweater. I’ll never take a washer and dryer for granted again! It’s tough wringing out those tee-shirts and pants, but a woolen sweater…!

I called ‘home’ again and left a message. It’s for ‘their’ sake, not mine.

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Kyleakin to Glen Nevis

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Well, I’m in Glen Nevis and I’ve seen where some of ‘Braveheart’ was filmed (all the ‘Lanark’ scenes, including Murron’s murder.) Not much to see, but I definitely recognised the area. I’m staying at the ‘Ben Nevis Bunkhouse’, a no frills place with self-catering, showers, loo, and bunkbeds. I must say I’m a little nervous about staying here with two strange men who just walked in. They’ve been keeping the place clean (I think), so it should be okay. Besides, my instinct isn’t telling me to run!

Glen Nevis is gorgeous and I’ve hardly seen any of it! I’m very glad that most of the Ben was shrouded in mist today; it looks high enough without seeing any further up! I’ve got my map, food, and gear, and the weather tomorrow looks okay (but definitely not great). Still, tomorrow is my only day to climb, so I’ll do the best I can. I’ll be crying coming back up the hill to this bunkhouse, though!!! I had to walk into Fort William; it took me the better part of an hour. Considering where I’m staying, and the name of the town, I feel like a pioneer or something! Coming back with heavy bags was no picnic, but about halfway ‘home’ a kind ‘Fort Williamer’ offered to carry my grocery bags. We started talking and all that, and I came this close to missing my turnoff. As though I didn’t have far enough to go!! The ‘nearest’ phone which accepts a phonecard is 15 minutes away. I’m in the boonies, baby!

It’s incredible up here. It’s a rather exposed area, so the wind is really gusting and the rain is scraping our cheeks. It’s the kind of place where you just want to wrap a woollen plaid over your head and walk for ever!

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Horseback Riding Near Portree and Dunvegan Castle

12:59 pm

Today is expensive! First, a bus ride to Portree (£3…return), then a bus to Dunvegan castle (£5+£4.50 entry fee), then horseback riding (!) (£10). My rides to Portree and Dunvegan have allowed me to see a fair part of the bonnie Isle of Skye. Dunvegan is bonnie, also, but dry.

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I saw snails in their shells! I picked one up. Hate to say it, but they’re gross, worse than slugs, I think !

5:20 pm

What a terrific afternoon!!! It’s about 3 miles to the Portree stables from the town centre. About ½ mile on my way, a lady offered me a lift—she was the owner of the stable! On the way back, I’d walked about ¼ mile when two little old ladies and a not so little old man offered me a lift to the outskirts of town. Instead of walking 6 miles, I only walked about one!

Well… I didn’t get my canter through the moors. Instead, I got something more unexpected, more frightening, and more exhilarating than I could ever have imagined: my first real jump. The horse (a headstrong but manageable purebred silvery, Highland garron male named Toby) was supposed to pick his way across the stream. However, the horse in front decided to jump (luckily, the rider was very experienced) and mine followed suit before I could stop him. Obviously, I wasn’t prepared for the jump, so I was none too graceful but the experienced riders said I handled Toby very well. During the jump I didn’t have time to be frightened. The landing was something else! I did manage a fast trot through a heather moor.

So, another crazy dream almost realised. If I’ve any cash left in two weekends, I’ll go out again. Amazing how your legs stiffen up after only an hour of riding, it’s very much like getting off a boat after a day at sea, your legs get very wobbly! Considering that I’m ‘trained’ in Western saddle riding, I think I adapted rather well to English. That, combined with a year (at least!) out of the saddle, meant I wasn’t totally up to par, but once I got an understanding with Toby about who was boss everything was more or less okay.

I’m not too proud of my dismount, though! I got a foot caught in a stirrup, so I basically slid/tumbled off. But, I didn’t fall flat on my back or tookus, but rather on my own two feet, so I guess I still have some dignity left ! After, I gave Toby a bruised apple I’ve been lugging since Inverness. He was thrilled. So thrilled, in fact, he slobbered all over me and tried to get inside my pocket himself!

But, it was wonderful, riding through a heather moor perched on the back of a surefooted hill garron. There were so many sheep and rabbits, too. Road apples aren’t the only droppings to worry about in these parts!

The most bizarre thing was the weather. This morning, it was freezing and raining. It had been going on like this for hours when I stepped out of Dunvegan castle. I stepped into the loo (The Scots unabashedly use ‘toilet’. Don’t bother asking for the ‘restroom’ or ‘bathroom’. They’ll say the ‘toilet is right over there’!) for two whole minutes, came out, and the sun was shining!!!

So, I had incredible weather for my trail ride despite unimaginable windspeeds ! It was perfect: rolling moors, the occasional hill to climb, a few streams—and greenness, as far as the eye can see, an emerald greenness dotted by the woody-brown greenness of the heather held together by a cyan sky streaked with pure white cotton candy clouds. Heaven? No, Scotland. The land I dreamt about exists. I won’t go so far as to claim that I am ‘home’, but I could live here, and be happy. I have rarely seen a land as beautiful as Skye, a country as diverse in its landscapes as Scotland, and a dream in my waking state. For I have dreamed of this land, never imagining that something so near to perfection could actually exist.

Neither photographs nor words are sufficient in explaining how I feel about this land. Neither do justice to Alba. Two weeks from today, already, my trip will be over. For once, I am not bitterly disappointed about leaving. Why? 1) I’ll be back soon enough; 2) Scotland is coming home with me, in my heart and in my head. I’ll feel loneliness as I watch her lush greenness disappear from under me as I head west across the wide and mighty Atlantic. But, I won’t be leaving a part of me behind as I have in other places. You see, a part of me has always been here, though I never knew it. I’ve found it, am all the richer for it, and will leave it behind when I leave. I won’t be losing a part of who I was, rather a part of who I could be.

I’ll have so many stories to tell as I arrive in Montreal, but also so many secrets to keep. Scotia has made it clear that I must keep a part of her hidden in my heart. So, I’ll return with a knowing smile, a lighter heart, say ‘It was wonderful’ or ‘C’était merveilleux’ and leave it at that. There are a chosen few who will get to hear details and perhaps two who will get to read most of this journal. But I’ll be the only one to know what really happened here in Scotland.

6:40 pm.

I don’t care what anyone says: a man in a kilt is a man in a skirt!

 

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Hiking Around Kyleakin

 

I’m literally out in the middle of nowhere!!! My only guide back to ‘civilization’ through this boggy heather moor is a meandering burn. I could keep going for ever, but there were no maps available and I don’t want to get too lost ! I guess that if I continue to follow the burn I’ll be fine, though. It took me a full two hours to get here. Luckily, home (not so creepy after all, amazing what a ½ pint of Guiness can do!) is downhill all the way!

I saw two deer running through the glen!!!

1:42 pm

I’m back at creepy city. It’s raining and rain is becoming a natural (and daily) part of life. All morning, it was pitter-pattering, so I just wore my funky blue hat. At one point, I went to put it on and realised I’d dropped it somewhere out on the moor ! Luckily, I was able to sort of retrace my steps and find it. I must admit that this area isn’t too bonnie.

Tomorrow, most things should be open, so I’d like to take a bus into the more remote parts of the island. The oddest thing is we’re right on the shore of the Atlantic, real sea, but we can’t smell it. In a way, I guess that’s a good thing. The wonderful aroma of dried seaweed, dead and living fish, and salt water makes me nostalgic and restless.

There are inexpensive cruises advertised. That might be fun. It’s unbelievable that a little place like this, at the edge of the world (or so it seems) has the most expensive toll bridge in the world. We’re talking £5.60 for a car, £40 for a bus, and a whole range of other ridiculous tolls for every type of motor vehicle imaginable! Let’s just say that peeved the locals off just a little; they didn’t get any concessions until only a little while back. When the ferry ran, the locals could cross free. Now, they have to pay a toll—both ways. Blech. I can just imagine them loading themselves into cars, really cramming themselves in, in order to go grocery shopping, splitting the toll amongst each other!

Looks like the weather’s clearing up a tad. I think I’ll read a chapter and go back out for a stroll. Not that there’s much strolling to do here! I must admit it’s a quaint little town, if a smidge dead. I guess that it’s because the fishermen have to be up at 5… A.M. Yuck!

7:15 pm.

What a stroll! I meant to go back up to the castle but I got slightly, um, distracted. I decided to climb a peak. I got to the summit, saw another one and kept going up! I ended up with a fantastic view of water and sailboats and eventually I ended up finding what I imagine used to be old crofts. There was only a pile of bricks and stone left, sometimes a perimeter into which encroaches heather and grass. Coming back down (eventually) I got what I deserved. I slipped. I didn’t so much as bruise myself, but one pant leg got soaked through. I had to do laundry when I came back ! I might be going back to the pub tonight. One of the women who was there last night said she would be going and that she’d save me a seat. Why not? I’ll have to wash my tee-shirt anyway!

(I ended up going with two Canadian roomies. I had more fun than the night before!)