Monthly Archives: September 2018

(Also know as: Scotland, Part 6).

Getting off the train at Waverly Station in Edinburgh and emerging on the street was like a homecoming for both Kim and I. We had been been there before and fallen completely in love with it. Even better, we knew exactly where we needed to go and how to get there without having to consult a map.

I’m going to condense our time in Edinburgh down to one post, even though it was quite a full weekend. We stayed at The Hub on Rose St – it felt like a palace after living in Fergus all week! And with a shower! I had been using face wipes and dry shampoo all week, but boy did I enjoy getting a shower in.

We went out after checking in and had dinner before walking the Royal Mile in the dark. It was pleasant to see that there wasn’t a whole lot that had changed, and we really did still know our way around well.

Lady Stair’s Close became our preferred cut-through when visiting the Royal Mile. Edinburgh is a very walkable city, and we saw far more of it this time around than either of us previously had. In fact, on Sunday we ended up walking about ten miles, and it never felt like work.

JK Rowling’s handprints just off the Royal Mile, next to Ian Rankin’s.

Since I had missed St Gile’s Cathedral the last time around we wandered around inside and even were present for a service (I’ll have you know that us two heathens recited the Lord’s Prayer perfectly along with the minister). We did appreciate the many scientific causes the church had supported over the years, and read many interesting memorials to early female physicians within its walls. The sheer amount of history some of these churches hold!

Armstrong’s Thrift Store on the Grassmarket is always a good time. We were also lucky enough to find that there was an open-air market happening full of delicious street food. I got myself a Haggis, Neeps, & Tattties hand pie and it was wonderful!

Then I showed Kim the spot where I had fallen on my face after tripping over a concrete barrier last time here (hint: right where I was standing when taking this shot).

Victoria Street! There were many, many anti-Trump products here. Whatever your feelings are politically, I can tell you, hands down after being there, they despise him.

Kim was also surprised that I hadn’t made it into the Tartan Weaving Mill last time (how?!) so we rectified that situation right quick! This is also where I realized I want all of the Harris Tweed. All of it!

For dinner (and because it happened to be my birthday!) we went to The Witchery and ate in the most beautifully decadent Scottish Gothic dining room I’ve ever seen.

To cap off the night, we took a tour from The City of the Dead Tours. Our guide told us some wonderfully gruesome Edinburgh history before leading us into the restricted section of Greyfriar’s Kirkyard (this is the reason we wanted this particular tour – entry into an area no one else can go!) where we stood inside the Black Mausoleum, where supposedly the Mackenzie poltergeist attacks visitors regularly.

Nothing happened aside from a jump scare at the end (yes, I let out a startled scream, but quickly it turned to laughter), and the ability to forever tell people we were locked in a haunted mausoleum in Scotland after dark.

The next morning we went out bright and early to get ourselves tattooed!

We hadn’t planned originally to get the same image, but this one kind of presented itself during the trip and seemed meant to be.  I like that it has Viking and Celtic elements and is also used in imagery at Loch Ness. Every time I look at it, it reminds me of the trip, and makes me happy all over again.

Since the tattoo process was incredibly quick, easy, and painless (ask for Marc at Studio XIII – you won’t be disappointed!), we had a lot of day left ahead of us to fill, so we headed to Prince’s Street to climb the Scott Monument (in honor of Sir Walter Scott). If you can manage 287 tightly spiraled and enclosed stone steps, you are rewarded with incredible views of the city.

Looks like a scene right out of Harry Potter, no?

The Balmoral Hotel.

Calton Hill, and the Firth of Forth.

We worked up quite an appetite from all the climbing and ducked into a Pret A Manger for coffee and a sandwich to take on our walk into New Town and over to see Dean’s Village, a quaint old mining town from days gone by. (Also, I need a Pret A Manger in my life – Charlottesville, get on it!)

While strolling along the waterway we happened upon a knitwear photoshoot in progress. What are the odds? It turned out to be Jade Starmore, and from what I saw, the new patterns are quite lovely ( as was she and all the models and assistants I spoke to)!

Though we had spent the day strolling in the New Town area of the city, Old Town kept calling to us. There’s simply something magical about all that old architecture. Plus, I felt compelled to have a pint in an old pub for our last night there. We had steak and ale pies and some wonderful draft cider before finishing out the daylight right back in Greyfriar’s Kirkyard.

As we stood amongst the very old gravestones, willing it to not be our last night, it began to pour. We were a long walk from our hotel, but getting drenched in the graveyard seemed a fitting way to end our Scottish vacation.

So long for now, Edinburgh. You’ll always be my second home.

Are you sick of Scotland pictures yet? I could look at them forever.

After our last night camping in Fergus on Islay, we set out for the drive back across the mainland to Bankfoot. Because we’d had the early ferry we had all day to make the approximately 4 hour drive, so we took every opportunity to stop and take pictures.

Loch Fyne.

Inverary

We pulled off the road to capture this pastoral view with the mountains in the back as we approached the Trossachs National Park.,

As we climbed in elevation our surroundings looked more and more “alp – like”, and with good reason. This area is known as the Arrochar Alps. The trees looked so perfectly shaped and green, and you could almost imagine you were in Bavaria rather than Scotland.

Though we took pictures, there’s really no way to experience just how incredible it was. Photographs do little justice to this awesome place (and we mean that in the original sense of awe-inducing). Passing through Glen Croe was something I cannot adequately put into words.

After Glen Croe we found ourselves on the shores of Loch Lomond and in need of a potty break. We found a cute little cafe and sat on a bench overlooking the Loch eating bar cookies with coffee. We had passed a lot of signs for camping and outdoor recreation in this area, and at some point I’d love to go back and do some hiking in the Argyll Forest and kayaking on Loch Lomond.

We also decided that we should check the rest of our route and determine how to manage our time, as it appeared we’d get to Bankfoot several hours early. Happily, our path took us directly past Stirling Castle, and as we are both avid fans of Tudor history, this castle was a spot we’d both been interested in seeing.

The view from the castle. I imagine it hasn’t changed a whole lot since Mary, Queen of Scots’ time, aside from some of the buildings.

We could have wandered Stirling castle for hours. Sadly, we didn’t have hours, and soon had to be back on the road to return Fergus and catch our train to Edinburgh. I made sure to buy the official guidebook to the castle with its history and inhabitants. I haven’t had a chance to read it yet, but it sits next to me, invitingly. We’ll definitely be back for a more thorough visit in the future.

I wish it was always as easy to get up before dawn as it was in Scotland. Many mornings we had early ferry check-ins, but little problem rousing ourselves from sleep (and neither of us is a morning person). It must be a vacation thing. And we had a good routine. Wake up, throw on clothes, turn on the heat. Kim would open the back of the van and turn on the gas, I would get the stove going to make coffee. It was no different that beautiful morning in Skipness. We woke to what sounded like an angry chicken (it turned out to be a pheasant being chased away from the water by a seagull), and watched a stork catching his breakfast. Also, those “Pheasant Crossing” sings were no joke. Those damn things were ALL over the road and in the way that morning. But, we aren’t used to pheasants, so it was delightfully Scottish rather than aggravating.

The ferry to Islay was called “The Finlaggan” and was just as luxurious as the Hamnavoe had been. The parking deck even had a large car lift to fit more vehicles.

Unlike the Hamnavoe, we didn’t nap on the way over. It didn’t have quite the same sleep-inducing rocking motion, and so we found a small table to sit at and watched the scenery as the boisterous group at the next table over spoke in what we assumed was Welsh.

Since the weather hadn’t made up its mind between pouring rain and sun, we settled on setting out northwards to find the Kildalton Cross first thing, as it was fairly dry and the cross was located out of doors.  Though only a few short miles from the ferry, the road was narrow and rutted, with more traffic than you’d expect. And, for extra measure, a random peacock wandering about in the way!

The sign on the gate to the churchyard. I have already declared I must have one made for my pasture.

The Kildalton Cross, created in the 8th Century. 8th!!!

Sheep weren’t the only marauding livestock.

Such a perfect scene of Scottish Blackface sheep grazing freely, no predators to speak of (no, seriously. I asked what predators they have for sheep in Scotland, and the answer, essentially, was none. Some large birds of prey may occasionally try for a newborn lamb, but that’s pretty much it).

What a life to live!

They say if you’re lucky you’ll spot otters in these protected coastal beaches. We didn’t, but loved the “Otter Crossing” signs.

For lunch we headed to the cafe at Ardbeg Distillery. We are fans of Islay whisky, and the distilleries were the main reason we chose to spend a day there.

All of the distilleries on Islay are lovely, but the main 3: Ardbeg, Lagavulin, and Laphroaig, are rather close together on the eastern coastline. All 3 therefor have a similar look: white with large black, block-style lettering. This was to help ships differentiate them, as they are easily readable from the sea.

Yes, you can smell the whisky as you walk around, and yes it smells delicious.

Although we would have enjoyed touring all the distilleries, we settled on Laphroaig. When you buy a bottle of it, you are given a code. Register it online, and voila! You now own 1 square foot of peat across from the distillery. If you visit, you are given one dram of whisky as your rent, along with a flag of your nationality and the GPS coordinates to your plot. We of course had registered months and months ago, so were were excited to collect or rent and plant our flags (they even have walls of wellies for you to use to walk out into the field!).

The barley floor. We got to taste pretty much every step of the process. It was quite fascinating, actually.

The only snag we hit that day was needing petrol for Fergus. What we hadn’t realized is that most of the petrol stations on Islay close at 5pm. We spent a bit of time searching for the last remaining station – open until 7 – before we decided upon a spot to park for the night.

We ended up on the beach in Bruichladdaich just before some rain showers settled in (though we did manage some pictures and shell collecting as well!)

Our nearest neighbors were far enough away that we felt we had decent privacy.

Across the road from us in the other direction was a field full of – of course! – more sheep and cows. While walking along the beach we saw plenty of hoof prints and sheep poop, so we knew they wandered over at least once in a while. In fact, they were all in the road the next morning as we drive through the pre-dawn dark to the ferry.

Islay, we barely knew ye. We’ll be back!