Scotland

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Edinburgh Castle and a Wild Night on the Town

5:30 pm

Edinburgh… I came to Scotland expecting to dislike Glasgow and fall in love with Edinburgh. The opposite happened. Edinburgh is cold, creepy, dirty, and smelly. It’s full of steep cobblestone streets and dank closes. Yuck. Blech. I can’t say I’m disappointed since I wasn’t really expecting anything but what I mentioned at the beginning of this entry. Still, I never anticipated this ‘malaise’ that walking these streets brings.

I did have a perfectly incredible day, though. It took me almost 3.5 hours to get through Edinburgh Castle (a walloping £6—but worth it!!!) The entrance fee includes an audio tour. There was so much material I ended up skipping some of the less interesting (to me) bits.

I can’t believe how emotional I got when I entered an exhibition that eventually led to a chamber holding the Scottish honours and the Stone of Destiny. First, there was a mural of each Scottish monarch up to and including Robert I, then there was a statue of the coronation of Robert I. I almost broke down seeing all this history I’ve been studying come to life. And when I came face to face with the Honours themselves…

But that was nothing compared to how I felt walking into St-Margaret’s chapel. She’s my ‘favourite’ Queen and to stand where she prayed… I also saw the chamber where Mary Stewart’s son James (1st and 6th) was born. Wow. At one point, a guard noticed how, um, awestruck I was, standing by the walls listening to recordings of a history I know very well, and asked if I was okay. I could only nod. If this is how I react to Edinburgh Castle, can you imagine me at Stirling and Bannockburn?!

After, I walked around for hours looking for cheap grub. I ended up having pizza at a decent price. After, I saw the grave of ‘Grey Friar’s Bobby’ as well as that of his master John Gray. Then, I nosed through a used book shop and ended an exhausting day at the Royal Museum for a 1.5 hour whirlwind tour of the most amazing collection of stuff I’ve ever seen (even in my own room!!!).

I hadn’t sat down since I left at 9 :00 this morning (not even for lunch!), so I figured it was time to come in and get off my feet for a few hours. I think I pulled a muscle at one point during my Ben Nevis adventure. Going down stairs has been excruciating today. Oh, and in the Edinburgh castle gift shop, I found my favourite whisky to date. It’s sweet and not too ‘alcoholicky’. It’s name? Unbelievably: Wallace, and made at Stirling!!!

Tomorrow, I’d like to try the Whisky Heritage Centre. I really am growing fond of the stuff! The lady who offered a very wee dram of ‘Wallace’ didn’t seem too keen to answer my questions about the whisky like: how’s it made? what type is it? etc. Either she didn’t know or she couldn’t be bothered with someone who was obviously new to the whisky tasting business.

One thing I find unbelievable about staying here is how late the sun sets and how early it rises. I mean, there were still red streaks in the sky at 12:30 AM and when I woke up at 5:00, the sun was totally up! By 7:00, it was quite literally cooking me!

June 27th, 1998 1:17 AM (note that technically this is the same day!)

Well… I’ve had a most unusual night (for me, for others it was really quite normal). It started at a pub around 8 where 3 of us got carded. We chose to leave and actually had to search for another one! In Scotland, imagine ! Anyway, we found one and settled down to watch the match (by the way, ‘us’ refers to the 3 South African girls and on Australian guy, Jason, and me).

In my case, a pint of Guinness later, we headed off to the Mercat Cross at Saint Giles in order to join a tour about Edinburgh’s creepy, supernatural, and darker side.

We were led down into these catacomb like vaults where our guide succeeded in scaring us s—s by telling us about supposed malevolent spirits, etc. down there. Let’s just say that the place was claustrophobic (to say the least) and gave off very bad vibes. I was glad to end the tour at a cemetery where the vibes were better.

The tour then dispersed and we (the gang I’d been following all night) ended up on a bench outside the cemetery where we shared a joint (my first).

After that, we headed back for the pub that had carded us. Only two of us ordered drinks (I couldn’t afford anything else by that point!), but Jason got fed up with his Guinness (it was like his fourth that night!) and I ended up finishing it for him. By that time, I was loosened up to the max, but I’d had enough ‘fun’ for the night. They wanted to go clubbing, so we went our separate ways.

I enjoyed this evening very much (although I was worried about getting caught by the authorities with the ‘you-know-what’) but I’d had enough. The lifestyle is brainnumbing! To think that my idea of ‘fun’ is a movie (at home) and my knitting! It still is, but I’ve tasted another world. I wouldn’t want to join it with any regularity, but now I know that occasionally it can be rather enjoyable to almost let down the little hair I have!

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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!