Travel Girl

Day 10 - Glenfinnan - Monuments and Steam Trains

Well, I must be honest.

I believe that on Day 10, Thursday, June 12th, 2008, I left a wee bit of my soul on the Island of Skye.

How do you leave home, knowing that you may never see it again? Such were my thoughts, as we left Skye that morning.

All of which may have contributed to the fact that we missed our late morning ferry to Mallaig. Oh darn. More time on Skye.

But leave we must, and so we packed our little car and headed south. I was sad to do this, because my heart was truly in Skye, and each mile farther south left my heart aching for that beautiful, sheep saturated land.

On the bright side, whipping out my telephoto lens, I got a few really nice shots of Eilean Donan Castle as we headed back to the mainland.

 

Great place, that Eilean Donan. Somehow I can see Jamie Fraser there, striding up to the front gates, demanding - well, I don't know, demanding something. (Oh for Pete's Sake - just read "Outlander" already, if you haven't...)

And speaking of Jamie Fraser, today we were heading to Fort William. But we had a couple of important stops to make along the way. Our objectives for the day were to see the Glenfinnan monument to Bonnie Prince Charlie, and to catch a glimpse of the Glenfinnan Viaduct, which hosts the Jacobite Steam Train (aka the "Hogwart's Express") twice a day.

So, we headed southeast on the A87, through Glen Shiel, towards Glen Garry.

 

 

We made it to Invergarry, and stopped at the Invergarry Hotel for a bite to eat. A very nice place, with very friendly staff and very nice food.

The area in general was really pleasant, and we hung around for a while after lunch.

We pressed on, following the shore of Loch Lochy. Which was quite beautiful, I might add.

 

We got to the town of Fort William with no trouble, and hooked a right on the A830, towards Glenfinnan. The Glenfinnan Monument to the Bonnie Prince is beautifully situated on the banks of Loch Shiel. We were going to be directly opposite the Glenfinnan Viaduct, which some of you may know has been featured in a few of the Harry Potter movies. The real-life Jacobite Steam Train - aka the Hogwart's Exppress - makes a daily journey across the viaduct, from Fort William to Mallaig.

Now I would have dearly loved to catch a glimpse of the train, on it's way back to Fort William, but knowing that it only passed through twice a day, I didn't have much hope that we would be in the right place at the right time. Glenn and I are very relaxed travelers, and the word "schedule" generally doesn't mean much to us when we're on vacation. So I was prepared to shoot a few pictures of the viaduct, and call it good.

We pulled in to the parking lot of the Visitor's Center, and purchased two tickets for Prince Charlie's monument. We took our time meandering through the gift shop on our way out the door that led to the walkway to the monument. As we walked through the door, Glenn paused, and looked at me.

"Do you hear that?", he said.

"Hear what?", I answered.

"Listen - it sounds like - like a STEAM TRAIN!!"

And so we ran, camera bag and purse flapping pell mell in our wake, we ran as fast as we could toward the viaduct.

I'll be darned if we didn't accidentally show up just in time to see the Hogwart's Express!

I felt just a tad guilty; there were obviously folks who had been camped out there all afternoon, waiting to see the train, with their tripods securely in place, and here we were showing up at the last minute, like wedding crashers arriving just as the shrimp cocktail is served.

But what a sight it was, to a crazed Harry Potter fan such as myself.

Once again, Scottish serendipity.

Glenn shot some decent video, which I will hopefully post here soon.

Feeling a lot like Ralphie on Christmas morning after he discovers his Red Rider BB gun hiding in the corner, we headed back toward the Bonnie Prince's monument.

The monument is simple, yet very moving. Knowing the way that history turned out, I don't feel a lot of sympathy for Charlie, but he got a nice monument out of the deal. I've also heard it said that it is rather ironic, that on the monument, his back is turned to the Highlands, where most of his support came from, in the form of the young Highlanders who were willing to die for him.

But you can't stand there, and not be moved. If I believed in fairies at the Kilmuir graveyard on Skye, here I believed that had I lived in the Highlands during the '45, I would have traveled down out of the hills to rally here with the Prince.

 
 
We left the monument and wound our way back east toward Fort William. 

The wonderful folks at Clans and Castles had arranged for our room at the Highland Hotel, which was not really a hotel, but a bed and breakfast. The place was charming, but the best part about it was the view that we had from our room, which overlooked Loch Linnhe.

Fort William is a great little town to walk around in. There are plenty of shops and pubs, and we could have easily spent more time exploring there. Since Fort William is close to Ben Nevis, which I believe is the highest peak in the UK, there are a lot of sporting shops, offering everything from hiking boots to cozy jackets.

Speaking of hiking, Scotland's beauty makes her a popular destination for hikers of all abilities, and Glenn and I kicked around the idea of maybe on our next trip trying out some of the easier routes. Being no strangers to camping, and not being dead yet, we figured that we could probably handle it. The thing is, after experiencing the lodging and cuisine that Clans and Castles provided us with on this trip, it would be hard to eat cold beans and roasted weenies, on the next go-round.

 

We had dinner at one of the pubs, but to tell you the truth, we were so tired from the events of the day that I don't really remember much about it. There was a pretty important football/soccer game going on that night, so everyone seemed to be glued to the television sets, watching the game.

We made our way back to our hotel, and passed out in our beds overlooking the loch.

(With visions of steam trains dancing in our heads. Or my head, at least.)

Day 9 - Exploring Skye

Wednesday, June 11th was devoted to exploring the beautiful island of Skye. I'm posting a wee map of Skye here for you, so that you can get your bearings:

 

Our lodge was located in the village of Ullinish, which consisted of about 5 dwellings, admittedly with one under construction. If you're looking at the map above, Ullinish is on the upper west coast, just to the right of the words "Loch Bracadale", where the little point is jutting out from the mainland.

Our first destination on this day was Dunvegan Castle, just north of the village of Dunvegan, which was due north on the A863. After a hearty breakfast at the lodge, we set out.

By this time, we getting to be old hands at touring Scottish castles, but Dunvegan didn't let us down in the "awe inspiring" department. Dunvegan, according to it's website, "is the oldest continuously inhabited castle in Scotland and has been the stronghold of the Chiefs of MacLeod for nearly 800 years. Built on a rock, it has survived clan battles, the extremes of feast and famine and the profound social, political and economic changes through which the Western Highlands and Islands have passed."

The MacLeod clan still hangs out there, as we learned.

Unfortunately we were not allowed to take photographs inside the castle. We enjoyed the antiques, artwork, and history of the castle, but my favorite bit of Dunvegan memorabilia was the Fairy Flag.

Here's a condensed explanation of the Fairy Flag, from Wikipedia:

The Fairy Flag (in Scottish Gaelic, An Bratach Sith) is a fragment of cloth owned by the Clan MacLeod and preserved at Dunvegan Castle on the Isle of Skye in Scotland, where it is on display. The MacLeods consider it a magical artifact and family treasure.

Waving the Fairy Flag is said to provide salvation to the Clan MacLeod in the event of disaster, by summoning a fairy army. The flag has been waved twice, in the Middle Ages, but only one wave is left.

In the first waving, the MacLeods were greatly outnumbered in battle with the MacDonalds. At the exact point when the chief waved the Fairy Flag, the battle turned in favor of the MacLeods.

In the second waving, the clan's cattle were dying of pestilence. To avoid starvation, the chief summoned the fairy armies, who magically restored the cattle to health.

The 28th Chief, Dame Flora MacLeod of MacLeod, offered to wave the Fairy Flag over the cliffs of Dover should the Germans look victorious. MacLeod fighter pilots were known to have carried pictures of the flag with them, and it is said that not one was shot down. Dame Flora is also remembered for cutting off pieces of the flag for soldiers during this time.

Many legends exist on the origins of the fairy flag. In one such story, the chieftain's baby son was wrapped in the cloth by a fairy lady; in another, the chieftain took a fairy woman as a wife and she brought the cloth to the marriage, however she could only stay for seven years, after the seven years were gone she left, but she left the flag to protect her children; in a third, the banner was brought to Dunvegan by a MacLeod chieftain after years spent with the Sidhe.

A popular version of the legendary origin of the Fairy Flag is that there is truth in all of these stories: an early clan chieftan spent some time in the fairy realm. In his time there, he fell in love with the daughter of the fairy king, and they were married. Clan duty called, and he and his bride returned to the mortal realm. However, the fairy princess could only live in there for 7 years. Towards the end of this time, she gave birth to a baby boy, whom she tearfully left behind with the chief. Just before crossing over the fairy bridge back into her world, she begged that the baby never be left alone, as the sound of his crying would be too much for her to bear. That night, the clan had a feast, to distract the chief from his grief. As the MacLeods are famous for their piping and dancing, the nursemaid in charge of the baby sneaked away from the nursery to join the party. When she was discovered, the chief immediately ran up to his son, only to find his fairy wife already there, singing the child back to sleep. When the chief entered the room, the fairy vanished, but left behind a blanket on their son, which became the Fairy Flag. The song she was singing is still sung within the clan, known either as the Dunvegan Lullaby or the Fairy Lullaby.

We actually saw the remnants of the Fairy Flag, enshrined in a glass case at Dunvegan. It barely qualifies as cloth, at this point, which I really hate to say lest I anger the Fairies.

 

Dunvegan castle is situated on the banks of Loch Dunvegan, which I found to be quite beautiful.

 

From Dunvegan, the next stop was the northern tip of Skye, to the Kilmuir Graveyard, to visit the Flora MacDonald monument there. (See my previous post for an explanation of Flora's hijinx with Bonnie Prince Charlie.)

Believe me when I say that this drive, from Dunvegan to Kilmuir, was one of the most beautiful experiences that I've ever had. I know I say that a lot about Scotland, and I'm still trying to figure out why this land allures me so much. I was describing it to Glenn as "being homesick for a place you've never been before". I feel like I belong in Scotland. I won't go so far as to say that I've lived there in another life, but I certainly feel a bond with this land.

The highway to Kilmuir runs mostly parallel to the sea. Consider this - the Isle of Lewis lies north of Skye, but after that, my friend, the next stop is Iceland. Iceland. Yep, we were about as "north" as I'd ever been before.

Here are a few more reasons why I fell in love with Skye...

The photo above is a great example of "single track road" typical of the Highlands. I took this picture from the front passenger seat of our car (on the left side, if you remember), and the car pictured on the road ahead is driving toward us. The pullout areas on the sides of the road are where you bail if you lose in the Scottish version of the game "chicken". Technically I think that drivers are supposed to exercise courtesy and safety, and most do, but we found the whole system to be slightly unsettling.

 

We loved these three sheep. We encountered them on the road that turns off toward the Kilmuir graveyard, and we followed them around for a while as they moseyed along. At one point they wandered into a covered bus stop area, which we found pretty funny. Three sheep, waiting for the bus.

Eventually we arrived at Flora's resting place. There's something about the Kilmuir graveyard; the ancient stones, set against the sea and the mountains give it a distinctly otherworldly air; one almost believes in fairies here.

 
 

Grudgingly we left Kilmuir and headed towards Portree. We weren't going to have much time to spend there, because we had dinner booked for that evening at the "Three Chimneys" restaurant, but I wanted to at least see what Portree looked like. 

I took so many beautiful pictures between Flora's grave and Portree that I can't post them all here, but I have them on Flickr and YouTube - see my Day 8 post if you're interested. 

Here are a few of my favorites:

  
 

 

I love that last one. A phone booth in The Middle of Nowhere, Skye? Really?

I actually enlarged it and hung it up in my office.

So we made it back to our lodge in plenty of time to freshen up and head to dinner at the Three Chimneys. This renown gourmet restaurant was located north and a bit east of our lodge, about 30 minutes up the road. We didn't really expect to have much trouble finding it.

But, my mother always taught me to plan for the unexpected, and in this case, I'm glad that she did. We didn't get lost, exactly, it's just that we weren't sure that we were NOT lost, if that makes any sense.

I'm hoping that from my photos you can get a feel for just how much the word "remote" came into play, on the island of Skye. The road from Ullinish to the restaurant was pretty much single-track all the way, and closer we got to where we thought the restaurant was, the more sheep we seemed to encounter. It seemed that we were lost in some kind of sheep heaven. They were in the fields, and covered the road for as far as we could see. It was like being at one of those self-drive-safari attractions, only with sheep instead of lions and giraffes. We were getting a little worried, but every so often we would encounter a small sign for the restaurant, assuring us that it was just ahead, so we persevered.

Here a few pictures of the neighborhood:

 

 

Stunning, beautiful, gorgeous, spectacular, inspirational - yes, all of the above. In retrospect, it's the kind of place that you really don't mind being lost in.

Happily, we did find the restaurant.

Now it's hard to believe, given the location, but the Three Chimneys gave us one of the most memorable dining experiences that we've ever had. Glenn and I were celebrating our 10 year wedding anniversary, and we couldn't have chosen a better spot, period.

The location, the quaint old farmhouse, and the superb gourmet food all combined to make this a night to remember. I had my first lobster dinner, and Glenn had BEEF - hard to eat lamb, in these parts, and not feel a tad guilty about it.

But my story about the Three Chimneys would not be complete if I didn't mention in passing the painting that happened to be hanging on the wall next to our private little table for two.

For the entire trip, Glenn and I had been searching for any information or items concerning the MacPhee clan. Glenn's family, the Fee family, are the present day descendants of the doomed MacPhees, who were annhilated in the 1600's, and who more or less faded into oblivion. Try as we might, we couldn't find more than a scrap or two of tidbits related to the MacPhees. So there we were, dining in the remotest part of Scotland, celebrating our 10 year anniversary, and I happened to glance up at the painting on the wall next to our table.

The artist was Marion MacPhee.

I guess you could call that serendipity.

Or some sort of sign, maybe, that were supposed to be here, in this place, celebrating 10 years together.

You might call me crazy, but that's okay. We drank a toast - to love, to Scotland, to Skye, and to the Clan MacPhee.

So here's my toast - Sláinte Mhath - or good health, to anyone who is reading this!

 

Skye Slideshow

I thought I would try my hand at embedding a slideshow that I created for YouTube onto the blog. Looks like it works pretty well, and it gives you readers a nice soundtrack as you're reading! See, I'm always thinking of you!

Day 8 - Part Two: Skye

Anyone who has made it to Day 8 on this particular blog will realize by now that I am a certified History Nut. (Really, I have a card in my wallet, and everything.) Touring Scotland and walking in the footsteps of legends – how can words describe what that meant to me? Each day brought with it the chance to retrace the adventures of the past, and to fall into the magical spells woven by history, headfirst.

So why, in my previous posts, do I keep making references to “over the sea to Skye”?

Recall for a moment our friend Prince Charles Edward Stuart, aka Bonnie Prince Charlie. (See my post for “Day 6”.)  After Culloden, things were not going so well for the Bonnie Prince. My writing abilities couldn’t do this story justice – trust me on this one – read on to learn the fate of the Prince:

The defeat of the Jacobite forces of Charles Edward Stuart, the Young Pretender, on the bleak battlefield of Culloden Moor on April 16th 1746 ended any hopes of restoring the Royal House of Stuart to the throne of Great Britain. After fleeing the battlefield, the prince spent five months, traveling mainly on foot, living rough in the wilds of Highland Scotland, evading the thousands of government troops taking part in the biggest manhunt the area has ever seen. Despite the £30,000 price on his head, no one betrayed him and he eventually fled back to France and obscurity. The legacy of his flight is a wealth of romantic songs and stories.

Charlie crossed to South Uist by boat in the dead of night and was taken to meet Flora Macdonald at her home at Milton. She agreed to assist him and with her he made his famous escape to Skye dressed as Betty Burke, her Irish maid. They landed at Vatternish Point where the Prince and Flora parted company never to meet again.

He and a companion then walked south to Portree, crossed to Raasay, where he spent the night in a crude hut because government troops had razed everything else. Finding no help he returned to Portree and walked south to Elgol to take a boat to Mallaig.

Flora MacDonald was arrested and imprisoned for her part in the Prince’s escape. After her release she married and emigrated to North Carolina where her husband and son ended up fighting for the British Government during the American Revolution. She was thrown out of her home when she refused to take an oath of allegiance to the North Carolina Congress and she and her husband returned to Scotland. She died on Skye in 1790.

Her last resting place is the small graveyard behind the Skye Museum of Island Life. From her Celtic cross memorial there is an excellent view across The Minch to her birthplace of Uist.

(Article courtesy of

http://scotland-travel.suite101.com/article.cfm/over_the_sea_to_skye )

I mean seriously, dressed as her Irish maid Betty Burke? Could I make this kind of thing up?

Whether or not that actually happened, perception is belief, and Flora has gone down in the pages of history as the savior of the Bonnie Prince.

History has given us the tale in the form of the “Skye Boat Song”:

(Chorus)

Speed bonnie boat like a bird on the wing
"Onward!" the sailors cry
Carry the lad that’s born to be king
Over the sea to Skye

Loud the winds howl
Loud the waves roar
Thunderclaps rend the air
Baffled, our foes
Stand by the shore
Follow they will not dare

(Chorus)

Though the waves leap
Soft shall we sleep
Ocean's royal bed
Rocked in the deep
Flora will keep
Watch o’er your weary head

(Chorus)

Many's the man
Fought on that day
Well the claymore could wield
When the night came
Silent they lay, Dead on Culloden field

(Chorus)

Burned are our homes
Exile and death
Scattered the loyal men
Yet ere the sword
Cool in the sheath
Charlie will come again

(Chorus)

Yes, it is a little on the dramatic side, but 1746 was a dramatic year for Scotland. She still hasn’t recovered, actually.

Fortunately for us, driving over the Skye Road Bridge, the only thing that was dramatic was the scenery. The island of Skye is one of the most beautiful places that I’ve ever had the good fortune to visit. You can see the sea from practically everywhere you turn, and there are rolling hills and mountains of every variety and personality. I think really, that’s what I love about it – the place has personality in bucket loads. There seems to be a different “feeling” everywhere you look, and the landscape is incredibly unlike anything that I’ve ever seen before. Here are some of our first impressions of that beautiful place:

(Did I mention the sheep? They rule the island of Skye. They were EVERYWHERE.)

Here is a link to all of my photographs of Skye:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/sallyk65/sets/72157607143927651/

Our accommodations on Skye were on the northwestern coast. What this means, for those of you who are not geographically inclined, is that there was not much in the way of land standing between us, and Iceland. The feeling of being at the edge of the known world was intensified by the fact that the island itself is undeveloped and sparsely populated. The words “wild” and “remote” would begin to form a pretty accurate description of Skye.

But back to our accommodations. We were staying for the next two nights at the Ullinish Country Lodge, which has been in existence for well over 200 years. This fact amazes me, because I can’t imagine people out in this middle of nowhere wilderness, 200 years ago. What were they doing there? We were there to “get away from it all”, but what did people do here 200 years ago? Probably fighting each other, being Scots and all…

Ullinish is actually the name of the village, but it really wasn’t a village – there is one main road, and one little tricky side road, and just a few houses scattered along the romantic coastline. And the road really wasn’t a road – it was more of a “single car track” as they phrase it, which means that if a sheep or another car approaches, you need to pull over as best you can and let it pass – the track is only wide enough to accommodate ONE vehicle. (A small one.)

Like almost everywhere we went on Skye, we arrived at our destination with a little bit of concern that we were actually in the right place. It’s hard to describe, but on Skye, there is such a sense that you are the only person in existence on the planet, that when you finally see the place that you’re looking for, you marvel that you ever found it in the middle of this beautiful emptiness.

We were met in the reception area by Pam Howard, who, along with her husband Brian, runs the Lodge. With a friendly smile and a much needed offer of refreshments, she welcomed us to Skye and showed us to our room.

If we step back and look at things, you'll see what I mean by beautiful emptiness:

As fate would have it, Glenn and I were booked in the Johnson room. The most celebrated historical visitor to the Ullinish Lodge was Dr. Samuel Johnson. Johnson was a British author and scholar, who, along with his sidekick James Boswell, journeyed to the “wild” north, later writing about his travels in the book, “A Journey to the Western Islands of Scotland”. I can’t help but comparing Johnson and Boswell to the Americans Lewis and Clark, given the wilderness of the Western Isles, and Scotland in general, at that time. For a British citizen to venture into the Highlands was no small feat in 1773, and a very brave one, in my opinion.

Johnson and Boswell were guests at the Lodge during the autumn of 1773. Their visit is recorded in their journal: “We got to Ullinish about six o’clock, and found a very good farm-house, of two stories…there is a plentiful garden at Ullinish (a great rarity in Sky)…”

The plaque on the wall in our room proclaimed that Dr. Johnson had indeed slept in that very room. He must not have had any bad experiences there, because we saw no sign of him (or Boswell) over the next two days.

(The Johnson Room:)

We were booked for dinner that night at the Lodge. We had been assured beforehand by our friends at Clans and Castles that dinner at the Lodge was something special, and so we were anticipating great things. We met the other guests downstairs in the sitting room shortly before dinner, to enjoy cocktails and appetizers. Amazingly, for such a truly remote location, our dinner was incredible. The staff was attentive and extremely professional, and the food was superb right down to the showpiece dessert.  (This was an assortment of colorful sorbets, arranged on the plate like an artist’s paint palette. The whole dining room gave an audible sigh of appreciation, at that one.)

They had a great selection of whisky, by the way:

We took a bottle of wine up to our room after dinner, and settled in for the night. Day 8 had been quite a long day! It felt good to be cozy, and indoors, considering the whipping wind outside our windows and the remoteness of our location. Giving Bonnie Prince Charlie, Flora MacDonald and Dr. Johnson one final nod, I finally fell asleep, the characters from my beloved history swirling around me. 

Day 8 - Over the Sea to Skye

On Tuesday morning,  June 10th,  we checked out of the Bunchrew House and said our farewells to Peter, our faithful bartender and butler.  Before getting on the road for the day, we made sure to get down to the dining room in time for breakfast. Once again, our accommodations did not disappoint. What I really enjoyed about breakfast at Bunchrew was that the dining room overlooked the Beauly Firth. Don’t get me wrong – the food was excellent – but I particularly enjoyed looking at the scenery while I was eating my porridge.
The plan for today was to drive south on the A82, along Loch Ness, to the ruins of Urquhart Castle. From there we were going to take the A87 west, to Eilean Donan Castle, near the town of “Kyle of Lochalsh”. (I just really like saying that – as in, “Aye brother, I’m from Kyle of Lochalsh”.) After touring Eilean Donan, we were going to drive across the Skye Road Bridge, to, well, obviously, to the island of Skye.

And so we set out.  (The Ford Focus was holding up quite well, by the way, at this point in our trip, in spite of the abuse that we were heaping on the front left tire, each time we whomped into a curb along the highway, trying to avoid a tour bus, or a bicyclist, or a sheep.)

The day was cool enough for us to don our jackets, and for me to wear my hat. As we drove south along Loch Ness, I kept thinking to myself, “I’m driving next to Loch Ness.. I’m driving next to Loch Ness…”; it was kind of surreal, actually.

All of my life, I’ve heard of the famous Loch Ness, and to be cruising along next to it was pretty close to unbelievable. I kept scanning the surface for Nessie, but the best I could do was to run into her twin at the Nessie Gift Shop:

We found Castle Urquhart with no problem. We were moving in to what could be considered the more remote parts of Scotland, and once we got outside of Inverness, there was not much alongside the banks of Loch Ness aside from a couple of tourist shops, and the Castle.

The ruins of Castle Urquhart are situated on the banks of Loch Ness. Before coming to the ruins, we had to go through the visitor’s center. I was hoping to get through this quickly and get down to the ruins, but I ended up being pleasantly surprised. The visitor’s centered had a small auditorium that offered up a short movie on the history of the castle. We decided to stay and learn a little bit about the past of this impressive site. There is a great description of that story, here:   http://www.aboutscotland.co.uk/ness/urquhart.html 
Suffice it to say, there was a lot of bloody fighting, and eventually one of the factions decided to blow the castle to smithereens, rather than to see it fall into the hands of their enemies. (That is true Highlander style, I might add.) The best part was the end of the movie – after describing to the audience the story of the destruction of the castle, a long, wide curtain was opened to reveal  the actual castle itself, outside the window of the auditorium. They get extra points for presentation, on that one.

This is what it looked like, when the curtains opened:

It was a bit of a walk from the center to the castle, but the ruins were amazing once we made it over to them.  The ruins, the loch, and the surrounding mountains, all combine to create one of those special places that you only encounter a few times in your walk on the planet Earth. It was similar in feeling to our response to Dunnottar Castle, on the eastern coast of Scotland. Otherworldly, and mystical, if you'll excuse the word...

Also, at Urquhart, I think the faeries have arranged it so that it's impossible to take a bad picture:

 

We left Loch Ness - with a little regret on my part – after all, when will I ever get to see Loch Ness again? – and we turned the Ford Focus to the west and headed into the Highlands. The scenery became more and more dramatic as we got farther and farther west. I began to feel like I was actually in one of the legends of history, and half-expected to see a band of marauding Highlanders come charging down one of the hills toward us. This feeling was intensified when I realized with a jolt that we were approaching the site of the Battle of Glenshiel.  Back in 1719, on this site, the Jacobites had clashed swords with the British (who else), and unfortunately didn’t fare too well in spite of the fact that they had the infamous Rob Roy MacGregor on their side.

Near Glenshiel: (Can you see the Highlanders?)

As we got deeper into the western Highlands, we began to see road signs in two languages, English, and Gaelic. Sometimes the English names were too hard to attempt, nevermind the Gaelic.

There was a light rain falling by the time we reached the Eilean Donan Castle. The castle is known for being the most photographed castle in Scotland, and knowing this ahead of time, I really had looked forward to seeing it in person, and taking some of my own pictures of the place. The movie "Highlander" was actually filmed at Eilean Donan. Standing there "live", in the gentle rain, well...all I can say is, that like Scotland itself, Eilean Donan is magical. Perhaps after a week in Scotland I had come to believe in faeries and otherwordly beings; I don't know...but standing there, in that valley, I wasn't sure that I was in the 21st anymore.

See what I mean?

(Incidentally, if you happen to be interested in the history of the Eilean Donan castle, check out this site: http://www.eileandonancastle.com/visitor-information/history.htm )

The castle has an interesting story, as they all seem to, in Scotland. My favorite aspect of the story is that, like Castle Stuart, Eilean Donan lay in ruins for 200 years or so, until being rebuilt by a Scot with a mind for heritage, John Macrae-Gilstrap. Thanks John, you did a great job.

Again, we were not allowed to take pictures inside the castle, so we did our best with outside photographs in the rain. We didn't mind the rain, because actually we felt that we'd been pretty fortunate up until this point, as far as the weather had been concerned.

I was loving every minute of it, but we had to leave the castle and get back on the highway. We had dinner reservations at our lodging for the night, the Ullinish Country Lodge on the island of Skye.

There are 2 ways for travelers to reach Skye. You can either take a ferry, or drive across from the Highlands onto the island via the Skye Bridge. Seeing as Glenn tends to get seasick, we opted for the bridge. Given the rain, I couldn't get a decent picture of the bridge, but here's one that I snagged from Wikipedia:

And so, we were "over the sea to Skye". If you are wondering why I keep saying "over the sea to Skye", read on to the "Day 8, part Two" post.

Day 7 - North of Inverness - Tain and Dunrobin

Monday – June 9^th, 2008 – In spite of the fact that we were in Scotland for two weeks, there is a lot of it that we DIDN’T get to see. Northern Scotland would fall into that category. A whole month probably wouldn’t suffice to see everything in Scotland, but I did, at least, earmark one day for a day trip north of Inverness. Our destination for the day was Dunrobin Castle, near the village of Golspie, on the coast. (North Sea to your right.) Along the way, our only goal was to enjoy the scenery and to stop in the village of Tain, which happens to be the home of the Glenmorangie single malt distillery.  We decided to head first to the castle, and then fit the distillery in if we had time.

The drive up the coast to Golspie was relaxing – the roads were good, and the scenery was gentle. We had a cool day, but no rain.

We stopped and had lunch at the main hotel in the village of Tain. We really liked Tain. It was a fairly good size – no major stores, but plenty of small shops on the main street. The buildings were old and picturesque, and the teenagers in their school uniforms were of the non-threatening variety.

We left Tain after lunch and headed across the Dornoch Firth, up toward Golspie. In short order we found Dunrobin Castle, with no trouble. The castle is the ancestral seat of the earls and dukes of Sutherland, as we learned on our tour. The castle is the largest “house” in the Northern Highlands, with 189 rooms – not exactly what I would term a “house”. We learned that parts of the castle date back to the 1300s, and - of course - it has its share of obligatory ghosts.

We were not allowed to take pictures inside the castle, but you’ll have to take my word that it was suitably impressive. My favorite parts though, were the gardens outside. The gardens were situated in the rear of the castle, between the castle and the North Sea. Standing out on the patio behind the castle, the view was beautiful.

 

We wandered around on the grounds for a bit after our tour, and then got back on the road, heading for the Glenmorangie Distillery. As it turns out, we were too late for a tour of the distillery, but we did get out and walk around a bit to stretch our legs.

Here is a view of the distillery, with the Dornoch Firth in the background. Notice the hills beyond the firth:

Although we didn't get a full blown tour, we were luckily able to get a tasting session in.

On the way back to Inverness, the weather turned a bit darker, but we never got any rain. It was just enough to create some spectacular looking skies. The views around Inverness and Loch Ness were all the more dramatic because of it.

(Inverness Castle:)

We walked around town for a little while, but most of the shops were closed for the night. We headed back to the cozy bar of Bunchrew House, and enjoyed chatting with Peter and sipping on our ale and single malt before turning in for the night.

Another beautiful day was behind us. Tomorrow we would be journeying over the sea to Skye.

Day 6 - Clava Cairns and Culloden Field

Breakfast at Castle Stuart (Sunday, June 8th) was another special occasion. There was enough food on hand to feed both of the armies of Culloden, and only four of us on hand to eat it. We were served the best porridge that we’d had yet, in Scotland. (I think the secret is to use cream instead of milk.) There was a buffet table set up, with the usual eggs, sausage, bacon, tomatoes and mushrooms, and they also offered us pancakes and pastries. There was lots of tea and coffee, and cream for the coffee, which we hadn’t always been lucky enough to encounter on previous breakfasts.

We said our goodbyes to Caroline, and then we were off. Our agenda included visiting the Clava Cairns and touring the site of the battle of Culloden, Drumossie Moor. Both of these were a short 10 minutes or so from the castle, and our lodging for the evening was in Inverness, so were feeling relaxed and unhurried.

We found the Clava Cairns with no trouble. There is a great mystery around the cairns. They are apparently older than the pyramids of Egypt. It is assumed that the large piles of rocks are meant to be burial mounds; also, scattered throughout the area are a myriad of standing stones. Not as big and majestic as Stonehenge, but pretty impressive nonetheless.

On a side note, for any of you "Outlander" fans who may be reading this, yes, it was at the Clava Cairns that Claire Randall innocently leaned on a stone and fell into history (literally), straight into the path of her one true love, Jamie Fraser. Reality at the Cairns was somewhat less romantic. The tour bus full of laughing and chattering vacationers kind of ruined the moment for me. And anyway, after a night spent under the blankets hiding from ghosts, I wasn’t really in the mood for any funny business with the rocks.

We left the Cairns and drove the short distance to the moor and Culloden Field. If you don’t know your Scottish history, the main thing to know about the battle of Culloden is that the Jacobite supporters of Bonnie Prince Charlie lost the battle, and there was a great backlash in the Highlands, with the British troops eradicating the clan culture that had persisted in the Scotland for centuries. The tartan was outlawed, as were the bagpipes, and all men were required to give up their weapons. A way of life that had existed in the Highlands for centuries was completely erased in the course of about one hour.

There is a great visitor’s center at the site of the battle. We signed up for the guided tour of the field, and had some time before it started, so we took the time to walk through the center and examine the exhibits. My favorite was a video explanation of the battle from a "bird’s eye view", that was shown on a large table-like screen, about the size of 2 ping-pong tables. The video explained troop movements and showed the progression of the battle.

The tour was actually very well done. Our guide was dressed in period clothing, and had a great knowledge of the events leading up to the battle, and the battle itself. The tour lasted about an hour. He took us around the field, explaining to us at each stop what would have transpired there in April of 1746. By the time the tour was over, we had a greater respect for the men who fought and died there, against such sorry odds. (And a great disgust for the leaders who sacrificed them.)

(The cairn at Culloden field:)

(Markers were set up to give tribute to the various clans who fought in the battle:)

It was early afternoon when we left the battlefield. We still had plenty of daylight hours left, considering the fact that in the “Highland Summer” the sun doesn’t set until somewhere around 10:30 pm.

We headed to Inverness to check in to our lodging for the next couple of nights, the Bunchrew House.

The Bunchrew House is over 400 years old. The house itself is in a beautiful setting, with the Beauly Firth behind it. The Black Isle is to the north and Inverness to the east. We were staying here for 2 nights. If we had been staying longer, this house would have been the perfect base from which to explore the Highlands. Not as dramatic as Castle Stuart, but more realistic for an extended stay.

We were met by Peter, our host, butler and bartender for the next 2 days. Once again, upon seeing our room, I was convinced that Clans and Castles had arranged for us to have the best room in the house. We were not overlooking the firth, but we had a beautiful room that looked out onto the front garden. One thing that we enjoyed about Bunchrew House was the fact that it had a little bar in the lobby area, for guests. We appreciated the fact that we could relax in the evenings with a pint of ale or a dram of single malt. Speaking of which, Peter introduced me to my new favorite single malt, Bruichladdie (go with the 15 year variety).

After getting situated at Bunchrew House, we decided to go for a drive out on to the Black Isle, to look for seals and dolphins. Our host back at Ethie Castle, Yvonne, had told us that the Black Isle, especially right across from Fort George, was a good place for seal spotting. I really wanted to see them if we could, so we drove across the water to the Black Isle.

The Black Isle is actually not an island at all, but an out cropping of land that juts out with the Beauly and Moray Firths to the south, and the Cromarty Firth to the north. The western edge is connected to the mainland, between Beauly and Dingwall. Our destination was the village of Rosemarkie, which is situated directly across the firth from Fort George. The drive along the A832 was a contrast of hills and water. We saw many marinas along the way, and boats floating out in the firth. The villages along the A832 all looked like places that we’d like to live in – small and quaint, and situated on the water. Of course we were seeing this in the summertime; the winters might be a different story altogether.

We reached Rosemarkie and found a crowd of locals out enjoying the day, and apparently also looking for seals and dolphins. Some folks had been there all day, with their cameras and tripods set up in the sand along the edge of the firth. Unfortunately, we didn’t see any seals, but these guys were having a good time:

There was a decent view of Fort George from where we were:

All things considered, I really enjoyed our afternoon on the Black Isle, and I thought that it was a lovely place.

Soon we decided to head back to Inverness and do a little exploring. Since leaving Edinburgh, Inverness was the next biggest city that we’d encountered so far. (Not counting Dundee, which we’d only briefly driven through.) We were a little worried about losing our way, but we navigated toward the center of town, and didn’t have any trouble.

(Loch Ness:)

Inverness has one gigantic claim to fame: Loch Ness. The Loch flows through the center of town, and beyond. Standing on the bridge that night, we did look for Nessie, but honestly, there was no sign of a monster of any kind. And I did try to see her (or him). On the whole, I thought that Inverness was a really nice town, especially the walk along the Loch. We ate at a local pub, and walked around for a bit. Most of the shops were closed, so we decided to go back to Bunchrew House and relax with our beverages of choice. Turns out, we were just in time for a spectacular sunset.

(Sunset on Beauly Firth:)

The sweet smelling Highland air lulled us to sleep.

There were no ghosts here.

Day 6 had ended.

Day 5 - Castle Stuart

We rose early on the morning of Saturday, June 7^th, in time for breakfast at our hotel. We were beginning to get an idea of what a “traditional” Scottish breakfast was all about. Most places usually served a first course of porridge. Yes, oatmeal, but not the Quaker Instant variety. Scottish porridge is delicious; very hearty and filling, and the perfect way to get energy for a day of sightseeing. The porridge was typically followed by a plate full of eggs, sausages, bacon, tomatoes and mushrooms. At the Tigh-na-Sgiath, they also offered lightly fried patties of haggis and black pudding. I tried the haggis, but decided to pass on the black pudding.

After breakfast we packed our car, and took a few minutes to get better acquainted with Hamish, of the two kitties that lived on the grounds. Glenn was smitten with him.

(Hamish had a little Adolf Hitler mustache, if you look closely you can see it:)

Our ultimate destination for this day was Castle Stuart, just outside of Inverness, but first we were headed to the Glenfiddich Distillery. This particular area of Scotland is famed for its many single malt whisky distilleries. Fans of Scotch Whisky can follow the “malt whisky trail” if they are so inclined, and tour the various distilleries; the highlight, of course, being the free sample that is usually offered up at the end of the tour.

The Glenfiddich Distillery was actually a pretty interesting place to visit. Being something of a single malt fan, myself, I was curious about the process. So were a lot of other people; the parking lot was filled with tour buses. We were walked through the process by our tour guide, ending up in a storage building filled with casks that were marked with the various dates that they were put up. We learned about the differences between the port barrels and the sherry barrels, and learned about the “angel’s share”, this being the small percentage of whisky that evaporates over the 15 year storage period. These Scots take their whisky seriously, involving angels in the deal, and all.

(The whisky tasting:)

We left the distillery and decided to take a slightly different route up to Inverness, rather than back-tracking the same way that we had come. This route took us north and then west, passing through Elgin and Nairn before reaching Inverness. We stopped at the local equivalent to Wal-Mart, a superstore called “Tesco”. We were looking for an overnight bag to take with us to Castle Stuart. The castle has steep spiral staircases, and we were forewarned that large suitcases would not be manageable there. We found a sturdy bag for £7, and got out of there, not being big fans of superstores under any circumstances.

(It was at the roundabout at the Inverness Tesco that we received our first less than friendly hand gesture. Our pride was stung, but we sucked it up and moved on.)

The castle was only a few minutes outside of Inverness. We rang the bell at the gate, and announced ourselves. The gates swung open and we drove up the tree lined path to the castle courtyard.

(Castle Stuart:)

Castle Stuart was one of the highlights of our trip. It’s an amazing place, in an amazing location, being situated a stone’s throw from both the Clava Cairns and Drumossie Moor, site of the Culloden battlefield. The castle has quite a history too. Here’s an excerpt from the castle’s website:

When Mary Queen of Scots came back to Scotland in 1561, after the death of her husband, the Dauphin of France, she gave this land to her half-brother, James Stuart, granted him the title 'Earl of Moray' and he ruled Scotland as Regent for her. Unfortunately he was murdered and the 2nd Earl of Moray was also murdered - stabbed to death 13 times. Thus Castle Stuart was finally completed in 1625 by James Stuart, 3rd Earl of Moray.

He married Anne Gordon - it was her father, the Earl of Huntly - who stabbed to death his father, the 2nd Earl of Moray. We think he built the castle for protection from his in-laws.

No sooner was the castle built than it was attacked by 500 MacIntoshes who came down the drive and took over the castle. The Stuart family decided the best thing to do would be to pay off the MacIntoshes - they took the money and ran.

Some 20 years later, with the power of Oliver Cromwell in England gaining strength, the cultured and melancholy Stuart king, Charles the First, died beneath the headsman's axe outside his own London Palace of Whitehall. Castle Stuart suffered, fell into decline and gradually became a derelict ruin for almost 300 years. It remained empty - except for the ghosts.

The castle stood in ruins for almost 300 years, until a Charles Stuart from Canada, and his wife Elizabeth, embarked on the home improvement project of a lifetime and decided to restore it. We were greeted by the Stuart’s daughter Caroline, who was the ultimate hostess. She gave us a brief tour of the castle and showed us to our room, the “Murray Room”…which also happened to be the haunted bedroom. More on that later. We found that they weren’t joking when they warned us about the spiral staircases. These were so steep and narrow that it required all of my concentration to not stumble and fall.

The Murray Room, in my humble opinion, was the best room in the castle, but I have to admit I didn’t get to see all of the bedrooms. Each of the bedrooms at Castle Stuart are decorated with the clan colors of the clans who fought on the front lines of the battle of Culloden. The Murray room was decorated in hues of light blue. It was surrounded on all four corners by little turret rooms; four circular rooms off of the main bedroom. They were each furnished with window seats, and one of them had a dressing table with a looking glass. Yes, I felt like a princess here. Even the usual “chocolate on the pillow” was special here; we received a chocolate sculpture of the Loch Ness monster!

Stuart Castle was like a livable museum. It had been restored with antique furnishings that called to mind the glory days of the Jacobites, with paintings and artwork that recalled Scotland’s gallant past. We were in awe of everything that we saw there. To make things even better, there was only one other couple staying in the castle that night, so we could pretty much wander around at will, and not bother anyone. We had the drawing room and the billiard room at our disposal.

The drawing room was well stocked with snacks and beverages, and the room was filled with books. It was the perfect place to relax before dinner, but, not wanting to waste any time, we put on our walking shoes and tackled the spiral stairs, heading down to the castle grounds. There was a beautiful garden next to the castle, and a nearby field that was filled with rabbits. Unfortunately I became acquainted with nettles here. We strolled around and took pictures for about an hour, and then went back to the castle to dress for dinner.

Dinner at Castle Stuart was quite an occasion. We were called to dinner by a bagpiper, which came pretty close to making me cry. There was something about hearing the pipes, this close to Culloden, surrounded by Jacobite memorabilia, which leant magic to the moment. I could only close my eyes in answer to the call, and let the magic wash over me. I don’t know if anyone reading this has ever been in the presence of the pipes in close quarters; the sound literally resonates through your blood and bones. It’s easy to see at a time like this, why the English outlawed the pipes as a weapon of war; at the very least, a couple of hundred years after Culloden, they are still inspirational.

(The dining room:)

The dinner itself was (of course) wonderful, as all of meals in Scotland had been up to that point. I can’t remember exactly what was on the menu now (a month later), but I’m pretty sure that I had the fish, and Glenn had the beef. The most memorable part of the experience was the dessert, which was a clever pastry fashioned in the shape of, who else, Nessie. Caroline laughed at us when we pulled our cameras out to take pictures of pastry, but she obliged us by taking our picture anyway.

(It's okay to bite the hand that's about to eat you, right?)

After dinner we relaxed in the drawing room for a bit, and then went back up to the Murray Room. We sipped wine in front of the fireplace, and Glenn asked me to read aloud from a book that we had found in our room, which was nothing but ghost stories about the castle.

This proved to be a bad idea, considering the fact that the resident ghosts seemed to favor the Murray Room. I am not usually the superstitious type, but hey, this was Scotland, and anything could happen. We were pretty close to the standing stones of the Clava Cairns, after all, and the magic of the pipes was still in the air.

The main point here is that, somewhere around midnight, I was too scared to get up and go to the bathroom. Now, lest you think me a hopeless coward, you should realize that in order for me to get to the bathroom, I would have had to leave our bedroom, walk up a short flight of stone steps, which lead to a short, darkly paneled corridor, and finally, to the bathroom. Yes, yes, the way was lit, but after reading the book of ghost stories I just couldn’t make myself do it.

(The bathroom stairs, which seemed MUCH worse at midnight, after reading ghost stories:)

Happily, I survived until morning. Day 5 was behind us!

Day 4 - Dunnottar Castle and Into the Highlands

On the morning of Friday, June 6th, we had to wake ourselves up early for the first time on the trip. Most of the wonderful places that the we lodged in offerred a special breakfast, and Ethie was no exception. Check-out time was 10:30, and breakfast at 9:00, so with a little bit of effort I rolled out of bed and took a shower. (Which I had no trouble with, incidentally, but I guess I must have used all of the hot water, because Glenn had an icy shower that morning.)

Our breakfast was great. I don't know if Yvonne does all of the cooking at Ethie, or if she has magic helpers in her kitchen, but the dining there was excellent. We got a little messed up, though, when Yvonne asked us if we preferred our eggs "bouncy" or "soft". We assumed that this was the Scottish equivalent of "hard" or "runny", but when we tried asking for "bouncy eggs" at our other lodgings, we were greeted with suspicious looks. We eventually came to the conclusion that this was a "Yvonne-ism", and abandoned the term.

After breakfast, we packed our bags, but decided to take anothe walk around the grounds. It was still foggy, and I still felt like Jane Eyre. This was when I got the picture of the synchronized cow dance:

I'm not sure what to say, other than that they must have had identical itches at the same time.

After saying our farewell to Yvonne, we found the main road and drove north. Our first destination for this day was Dunnottar Castle. Or more accurately, the ruins of Dunnottar Castle. I had seen quite a few pictures of Dunnottar while we were planning our trip, and I was expecting something dramatic.

I was not disappointed.

Dunnottar was actually one of the highlights of the trip. We loved it. There was something magical about it. I think it's a combination of things - the dramatic ruined stones, definitely the location (it sits on a huge outcropping of rock on the coast of the North Sea) and the hundreds of gulls flying around, all contributed to make Dunnottar one of those places that you can never forget.

We were actually in awe, so much so that we stopped talking for a few minutes, and just soaked it all in. I decided then and there that if Glenn and I ever renewed our wedding vows, it would be at Dunnottar.

Did I mention that there were a lot of steps involved?

I could go on all day about Dunnottar, but I'll just leave it at this. If there is one place that I could visit again in my lifetime, it would be Dunnottar.

If you would like to see more photos of this beautiful area, check out the Dunnottar set of pics on my site at Flickr: http://flickr.com/photos/sallyk65/sets/72157606020816291/show/

Okay wait, here's one more:

After we left Dunnottar, we lunch in a little seaside town called Stonehaven. We found a great restaurant, quite accidentally. It was called the "Art Deco Carron" restaurant, and we were really impressed. The side of the restaurant facing the sidewalk was nothing special, and we were hoping for a sandwich and a cold drink. What we found when we walked in was something different altogether. As a matter of fact, I felt underdressed in my street clothes, and wondered if they would let us in for lunch. But they did, and it was fab. Glenn had lobster here, which, considering the fact that we were practically in the North Sea, was quite fresh and delicious.

After lunch we made our way northwest. toward the town of Grantown on Spey. Our lodging for the night was the Tigh-na-Sgiath Country House Hotel. We didn't have a specific dinner planned for this night, so we weren't rushed. We had been told that the hotel offered find dining, so we were hoping to make it in time for dinner. One thing that had become more and more obvious to us as we drove into the more rural areas was that we should take our dinners and breakfasts at our hotels, considering the fact that restaurants in the highlands are somewhat few and far between.

On our way to Grantown on Spey we passed through the area known as the "Royal Deeside", named such because it was a favorite area of the British Royals in the 1800's, and there are a plethora of castles throughout the rolling hills. We enjoyed seeing the River Dee:

We followed the Dee River for quite a while, but then our path took us northward. It was here that we first had to stop our car, to make way for the sheep that had wandered into the road. I was excited by this. Somehow to me this was a clear sign that we were finally getting into the Highlands. I took this shot from the car window:

There were babies!

 

Eventually we found the Tigh-na-Sgiath Hotel. This was actually one of my favorite places, as far as lodging. The home was beautiful, and I'm pretty sure that we had the best room in the house. There are advantages to booking early.

Here a couple of shots of the room, and the view that we had out of the front window:

We did make it there in time for dinner, which was excellent, by the way. Breakfast the next morning was top notch as well. We were beginning to relax a little, where the food was concerned; every meal up to this point had been fantastic, and we began to realize that we weren't going to starve while visiting Scotland.

So I've probably posted enough about Day 4. It was a great day, one that took us from the salty air of the North Sea and the magic of Dunnottar, to the Royal Deeside, and to the sweeping hills of the Highlands. Only four days had past, and we felt that we'd seen so much, but we still had many days ahead of us.

Day 3 - To the North Sea

On the morning of Thursday, June 5^th we ate our favorite pastry hangout on Grassmarket, checked out of the Apex, and hailed a cab. We were heading back to the Edinburgh airport, to the Arnold Clark car rental company. The next leg of our journey was about to begin. This involved driving across Scotland. Being adventurous people, equipped with a good map and a Garmin Nuvi GPS, we felt confident that we could handle this with little or no adverse side effects.

The cab driver who took us to airport was a friendly chap with loads of good advice about driving on the OTHER side of the road. Understandably, Glenn was a little bit concerned, seeing as he was going to be doing the driving. We got the gist of what the cabbie was trying to tell us, although the terminology was confusing. Aside from the obvious fact that one must drive on the left side of the road rather than the right, the basic idea when in traffic is, "slow traffic keep to the left", which is quite the opposite of what we have in the United States. In the U.S., if you drive too slowly in the left lane, you are subject to all sorts of shouting and hand gestures. After discussing the finer points of "outside" lanes versus "inside" lanes, we moved on to the topic of the bane of all American tourists in the UK, the roundabout. It was my hope that we could avoid them altogether, but the cabbie assured me that this was not possible, and that in any case, I would be missing out on a cultural experience.

The general rule, when driving on a roundabout, is, above all, "drive fast and get the hell off that thing". This we knew instinctively, even before the rude gesture that was directed at us in Inverness several days later.

But I digress, and am getting ahead of myself.

Once at the airport, we received our rental car, an innocent looking little blue Ford Focus. Did I mention that it was little? We were slightly disappointed, at least I was, at first, to get such a tiny little car. This was short-lived. We soon found out that the little Focus was normal, or even slightly large, compared to the other cars on the road, and relative to the size of the parking places and the width of the lanes. The SUVs and trucks that we take for granted in Houston would seem like Gulliver on the quiet roads of Scotland.

(Our trusty Ford Focus:)

Our plan was to visit St. Andrews, the golf Mecca of the world, and then head north to visit Glamis Castle (pronounced "Glams"), before driving to our evening lodging, Ethie Castle, (which is about an hour south of Aberdeen). We had an evening dinner pre-planned at Ethie, but we soon realized that we were running out of time if we wanted to make it to dinner on time. We decided to skip St. Andrews and go straight to Glamis, a decision that the golf fanatics out there just won't understand.

All went well until we got to Dundee. It was here that we learned the value of combining the road map with the GPS. Technology is great, but it's not infallible. While the Nuvi was mostly helpful to us, in Dundee it lead us in the same circle, not once, but three times. Clearly, this was our fault for being stupid. ("Fool me once..."€and all that rot.) It was at this point that Glenn began to personify the Nuvi, and to call her some rather bad names. After switching the her off, and using the brains that God gave us, we got back on track toward Glamis.

Now the interesting thing about Glamis, for me, is that, lo! one of my ancestors was the very same John Lyons of the 15^th century who was the lord of the castle.

But that is most definitely another story.

Glamis Castle was beautiful, from the outside anyway. We declined the castle tour, still concerned about making to Ethie for dinner on time. We walked around the castle grounds and took quite a few pictures, introducing ourselves to the hairy cows in the field as we walked.

The countryside was becoming more and more fragrant, green and rolling, the farther north we drove. As we got closer to Ethie Castle, which is on the coast, near the North Sea, the scenery changed slightly. The terrain was less hilly, but there was a wonderful smell of sea salt in the air.

We eventually found Ethie Castle, but not without a lot of head-scratching and guesswork. At one point, when we were rather hopelessly lost, I suddenly remembered that Clans and Castles had provided me with some pretty detailed directions. I ruefully pulled out the packet and consulted the directions, which of course put us on the right track, and before long we were there.

Ethie is really more of a beautiful old country house, than a castle. Whatever you would call it, it was charming. As a matter of fact, it reminded me so much of my inner vision of "Thornfield Hall" from Jane Eyre that I felt as if I were channeling Charlotte Bronte while we were there. Our hostess' name was Yvonne, and she could have been a character straight out of one of Ms. Bronte's books.

A sea mist was beginning to roll in, which only added to the charm of the house. Yvonne told us that this was the "har", which to my ears sounds much nicer than the word "fog".

(Ethie, surrounded by the har:)

Yvonne helped us to our room, and then bustled off to do some magic in the kitchen. Dinner was terrific. We dined with another couple who were also "on holiday". They were from Germany, and although we had a bit of a hard time understanding them, we found them to be pleasant dinner companions.

After dessert we decided that we would call it a night. Our first full day of driving was something that we felt we needed to recover from.

(The stairs leading to our room at Ethie Castle:)

Day three was over!