Home, Home Again...

"And we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
for auld lang syne"

After a wearying day of travel, we find ourselves home, again. We started off early Friday morning, driving from Stirling to the airport in Edinburgh. Got the car turned-in with no problems (I'll miss you most of all, Metallic-Black, Ford Mondeo Titanium!), not even an angry word about the ugly scratch under the left fender (stupid curbs). Lined up for check-in at the airport, checked our luggage, then one last Caffe Mocha from Costa Coffee before bidding farewell to Scotland. At this point, we began to be followed around by an American teenaged girl who spoke with a rising inflection that made every sentence sound like a question. Also, she said "for sure" alot. I thought I'd left "for sure" in 1983, but apparently it's back. Also she had a rather lustrous mustache. Not a bit of hair on her lip, but a full-on Selleck. I understand the irony of a guy who's carrying around at least fifty extra pounds and one extra chin, commenting on someone else's appearance. But seriously, this girl could have played both Smokey and the Bandit! The flight from Edinburgh was comfortable and passed quickly, I watched three in-flight movies and Melody listened to music and played games (as she is wont to do).

After the pleasant flight, we wound up in a strange land called "Newark". Endless queuing at customs, sniffer dogs, bag checks, Melody's attempt to smuggle an apple: foiled! Welcome home. We managed to get our bags re-checked for our flight to Tulsa, then settled in for a four hour layover at Newark airport. Had a delicious burger and four ridiculously priced beers, then trekked over to Terminal A, our port of departure from New Jersey. Terminal A had the feeling of a Balkan refugee camp . Hot, noisy, malodorous, and packed with a sweaty mass of humanity. The whirling drone of some far off alarm, our constant companion. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here. Our first note of foreboding was hit when we glanced out the window and saw our plane. More appropriately, I should say we glanced out the window, down to the ground below, and saw what appeared to be a VW Micro-Bus with wings. This to convey us, and many others, home to Tulsa. As our flight from Tulsa (on our outbound trip) had been made in a large, comfortable, roomy plane; we had been looking forward to the same on the return trip. Sadly, hopes dashed by the diminutive flying-machine dispatched to take us home. Well, at least it was warm inside. Which is really handy in eighty-degree temperatures, when surrounded by dozens of people in a small space. God, I miss Scotland. On the bright side, the seats were massively uncomfortable. I'm a "half-full" kind of guy. After sweating, squirming, whining, and scotch-drinking our way through the interminable flight, we arrived in Tulsa! Melody's Parents met us at the airport and whisked us away home. Then, to sleep.

I will sorely miss Scotland. It is a remarkably beautiful and picturesque country. The scenery around Loch Ness, in Glen Coe and in the country surrounding Edinburgh and Stirling, is among the most brilliant and verdant I've ever seen. The people we met there, Scottish, English, American, New Zealander...were all exceedingly friendly. The beer was good, the food was tasty, the Whisky; phenomenal! I could live in Scotland. Not very different from my way of life in the US, just different enough to be interesting. But, perhaps living amid the lush scenery, medieval architecture and rich history; one would become inured to it all, Maybe, if I lived there, I'd take it all for granted, it just being a part of my everyday. Better not to risk it. I know that if I ever visit Scotland again, I'll be just as impressed, overawed really, as I was my first time. That's the way I'd like to keep it.

More communications to follow....

Stirling: Day Four

"Here Stuarts once in glory reigned
And laws for Scotland's weal ordained
But now unroof'd their palace stands
Their sceptre's sway'd by other hands
The injured Stuart line is gone
A race outlandish fills the throne
An idiot race, to honour lost
Who know them best despise them most."

Our honeymoon exploration of Scotland comes to an end, and on our last full day in Scotland, we think it best to note that the lines we've used to introduce our posts are, of course, from Robert Burns. Today's lines were etched by Burns with his diamond pen on a pane of glass in our very hotel (he smashed it later with his riding crop due to ill-feelings it engendered). We spent much of this rainy day (the sun only came out to indicate it was about to set just moments ago) in the hotel and in the city centre. We had viewed the Wallace monument (in which the first monument in the Hall of Heroes was of Robert Burns) and Stirling Bridge from the ramparts of Stirling castle (no longer unroofed due to 35 years of renovations which have just been completed), and after our "nice walk" around Stirling yesterday, decided to give our feet a rest. The town itself is wonderful and compact, and the city centre holds our hotel, shopping, lovely bakeries (we shall miss you Stephens) and the Athenaeum, a gorgeous round building (in the Scots style) designed as a reading room. We will continue to post our adventures (small and large), but, likely these tales of the mundane will pale beside our days in Scotland. Fear not, esteemed readers, it is certain we will travel again, when the funds are replenished...
Tomorrow: A harrowing drive to the airport (roundabouts!) and long flights home.

Stirling: Day Three

"But soon the sun broke through the heath

And lighted up that field of death,"

The rains made for a gloomy morning. We walked a mile toward Bannockburn Heritage Center, but turned back for home when the rains got too heavy. Had our first married fight, then made up (Know what I mean? Know what I mean? Ey, ey? Nudge, nudge, wink, wink…). After a brief respite in the room, we went out for a Steak Bridie, and, somehow, the magic of meat filled pastries (plus drinks and dessert) that only cost two and a half quid rejuvenated us and we determined to give the walk another go. We walked two miles this time, when we reached a roundabout. This roundabout had underground sidewalks where we chose our direction on the spoke. We chose poorly. We walked up the block, queried the locals and with their assurances, caught a bus, and before we knew it we were in the countryside on the way to Falkirk. Huh. Nervously we asked help of the woman behind us, who just started laughing. Luckily, a chavvy looking kid in a hoodie and track pants came to our rescue! He went up and stopped the bus driver and got us back on the right track. Sort of. At this point, we were a mile or two out of Stirling, but we walked back to the last roundabout and took a left (there was a sign) and walked another mile or two alongside the motorway through thistles and wet grass (we did see some sort of tower ruin) until we reached another roundabout that said “Bannockburn Heritage Site” and took a right. We walked another couple of miles and found the site. In total, we literally walked around half of Stirling. And when I say “literally”, I don’t mean “figuratively”. I mean we actually, really, in true fact, walked half-way around the city! The exhibition had closed 10 minutes before but, undaunted (although wet), we went out to the monument (only after a warning from the staff that they could not guarantee our safety from falling trees). Bannockburn is the field upon which Robert the Bruce seals Scottish independence in 1314, you know, that battle at the end of Braveheart after William Wallace has been quartered… Anyway, we read the moving and poignant plaques, snapped some shots, oohed and aahed over some puppies that had come out for some exercise and then began the journey back. After just a mile we reached the blasted roundabout, in which we took a photo to remind us of the important lessons we learned today: 1. Communication is hard, but makes things harder if it is delayed. 2. Roundabouts will screw you even if you are on foot, so don’t get cocky. 3. Don’t trust matronly looking women, trust the chavvy looking kid (NOTICE: This advice may get you robbed/stabbed/spray painted).

Tomorrow: The Wallace Monument and Stirling Bridge.

More communication to follow…

Stirling: Day Two

''Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled,
Scots, wham Bruce has aften led,
Welcome to your gory bed,
Or to victory.''

We had a wonderful meal at the hotel last night, a beef curry and a steak pie along with fried brie and chicken pate. Afterwards, exhausted from the rain and drive, we took advantage of the lovely bath and retired early. Today we awoke refreshed to see sunshine streaming in through the windows. After a tasty breakfast at the hotel buffet, we wandered up the winding cobbled streets toward the castle. The sun was earnestly trying to maintain its supremacy over the intruding storm clouds, but it occasionally lost its hold to sprinkles.

Along our path to the castle lie the Old Town Jail, so we stopped for a tour to avoid the rain. It was a fantastic decision, as each part of the tour was wonderful. The character guides were funny and informative, and although the Tollbooth jailer took a special glee in branding Melody, putting her in a manacle, stripping her, flogging her and affixing her ear with a rusty nail to a swinging wooden door, at least DJ enjoyed the show (it was mainly just a thorough description of his plans, but the manacle did chafe my neck a bit and I have an active imagination). The next guide was a reformer who transported the prisoners to a new jail (the Old Town Jail) that emphasized hard work, education, and rehabilitation. Discipline and isolation were the keys to the success of the program. Women were assigned all domestic duties in the jail, while men were given trade and literacy training. Interestingly, if you were literate and knew a trade, the work given to you was the hardest and most menial of labor, on the theory, you should’ve known better, and thus, could not really be reformed. Just hypothetically, I cannot help but wonder what difference it would make if “white collar” prisons in the U.S. took this attitude. To finish off the tour, we were rewarded with great views of the city from the top of the old Jail as well as a small vocabulary lesson in jail and Romani (Edinburgh) slang. Incidentally, we also learned that most of the floors of the jail are now city offices, so these civil servants are not using hyperbole when they refer to their cubicles as cells.

After being released from the jail, we ambled upward, stopping along the way at the Church of the Holy Rude. This kirk is the only other active church in the UK in which a coronation of a sovereign of the United Kingdom occurred. James VI, Mary Queen of Scots’ son, was crowned in this church in 1603 when Elizabeth I died without an heir. He was in direct line to both the Tudor and Stuart thrones as a result of the marriage of the Thistle (James IV) and the Rose (Margaret Tudor)100 years earlier. The church is lovely, with 500 year old gorgeous stone columns and hand-hewn oak ceiling. The history commemorated in plaques on the wall was also interesting, and included one for the Highlanders at Argyle and Sunderland. After snapping a few shots, we returned to the upward Wynd toward Stirling Castle.

Upon buying our entry tickets, we found that the next guided tour started in 40 minutes. Since our Old Town Jail tour had been so fun, we had a coffee and waited for it to begin. We were not disappointed. While waiting for our guide, we got to listen in on the beginning of the “kiddie” tour, and got a medieval vocabulary lesson to go along with our jail slang and Romani lesson from earlier. Once our tour started, we were given a great idea of the political and architectural significance of the castle. The guide painted a compelling picture of the political significance of Stirling Castle to Scotland, but my favorite part was when we were able to visualize the still grand edifice as it had been in the 1500s. The “King’s Gold” color, extraordinarily high four conical towers flanking the entry gate, and the symmetrical front wall and square corner towers must have been a sight to see. After a stop in the gift shop, we wound our way back down the hill toward the hotel, stopping along the way at Nicky Tam’s Pub for a lunch of Steak and Ale Pie and grilled sirloin. Back at the hotel, we drank the better part of one of the gifts we bought, had a light supper and settled in for the night.

A couple of quick words of thanks: we arrived in Stirling to find that we were in desperate financial straits. Some bad luck with bills, exchange rates and the freezing of much of our money by the rental car company, had left us unsure if we’d be able to pay for our hotel and car. What are thirty-somethings to do when they get in this kind of trouble? Call their parents!! Thanks to our folks (who funded most of this trip in the first place) we’re able to afford our, rather lovely, hotel and continue with our trip. They may very well be pondering annulling the marriage, sending Mel to a nunnery and me to a debtor’s prison, but they really came through. Thanks Folks! Also, we mentioned in yesterday’s post that we’d encountered some high wind and heavy rain on the drive down. We assumed that this was normal weather for the highlands. Turns out, we were driving in some of the worst storms ever to hit Scotland, with winds up to 100 mph. So, not only have we conquered roundabouts, but also nature! Still to come: The Wallace Monument, Old Stirling Bridge, and Bannockburn. Also, will the Iceland volcano disrupt our travel plans and force us to relocate, permanently, to Scotland. If so, can we borrow some more cash?

More communications to follow...

On The Road: Through the Lochs to Stirling: Day One

“Green be your woods, and fair your flowers,
Your waters never drumlie!”

We bid a fair adieu to Loch Ness and the Village of Drumnadrochit and set out in our Black Metallic Ford Mondeo Titanium. We wound through the lochs of the Highlands to Fort William and Ben Nevis. It was lovely and treacherous and the driving rain was much more aggressive than our gentle Loch Ness mist. It was made more aggressive perhaps by the high speed trucks sluicing water across our windshield on crumbling narrow roads that hugged mountains on one side and dropped into one of a series of lakes on the other. Fort William ( DJ interjects: a word on Fort William’s roundabouts. Unlike Inverness, Fort William has roundabouts that are warm and inviting, not angry. They seem to welcome you into their warm embrace. “Relax” they seem to say, “take it slow and we’ll get through this together” They are not at all angry and foul-mouthed, like the roundabouts of Inverness. Still, I did manage to get us lost twice, but Melody’s navigating soon put us straight.) and Ben Nevis seemed quite lovely, but the rain precluded a stop and, likewise, when we pulled into Glencoe, with hopes of history and hiking, we were disappointed by the unrelenting sheets of rain. Deterred from the footpaths, we purchased a book on the Campbell massacre of the rebellious MacDonalds and a nice tartan and returned to the gauntlet of A82. DJ was a superb driver and Melody did her best to remain encouraging, though she may have gasped inadvertently a few times. Thus did we arrive in Stirling, the castle looming over the city on a mighty Craig. We wound our way through the narrow cobbled streets and tightly packed houses to find our hotel, the Golden Lion. It was on a street inaccessible by car, and so we parked a few streets away and found our way by foot. We checked in and found how to access the carpark (apparently, through the pedestrian thoroughfare). Our room was ready (although for three nights instead of four, oops!) and it is beautiful! Unfortunately, it does not have wi-fi, we have to sneak down to the common room for our internet access, but other than that, it is the nicest room we have had yet! We are looking forward to exploring Stirling (once the rain abates a bit) and will likely keep our adventures to foot for a few days.

Impressions of the Day: While it was seen through gray sheets of rain, the Highlands proper were still amazing. A really long time ago, when glaciers cleaved the mountains, leaving behind waterfalls, rushing streams and a string of lakes, the Highlands were born. While some safer roads would be nice, any more works of man would overwhelm and detract from the wild, untamed beauty of the land. Unfortunately, most of the pictures from here on out will have to be from our cache, as our auxiliary camera card does not fit in the computer. We promise to upload many more once we get home. Tomorrow: Stirling Castle and the town of Stirling.

More communications to follow…

Loch Ness: Day Three

"How sweetly bloom'd the gay, green birk,
How rich the hawthorn's blossom;
As underneath their fragrant shade,
I clasp'd her to my bosom!"

We tried to pack our last day in Loch Ness with as much sight-seeing as possible. I think we succeeded. The plan was to walk as many of the local hiking trails as we could and try to see as much of the local beauty as we could. After our obligatory Full Scottish, we hit the trail, literally. Our first trail started just past the village of Drumnodrochit and led to Divach Falls. We stepped off the sidewalk into one of the Highland "right of ways," the narrow paths that allow safe passage between privately owned lands. Here and there the trail joined a roadway or a cart track, but for much of it, we were on narrow ways that either wound through a forest or between meadows dotted with sheep. It was a mostly sunny, partly misty day as we wound our way up the mountain, hearing the roar of the river as we climbed. The hike has a "moderate" difficulty rank, and the incline was a bit more challenging than Arthur's Seat. That said, we passed a few people in their gardens, and a couple of girls met us coming down as we were starting up, but we had the trails to ourselves the whole day; it was fantastic. The trail met a road just before the final trek to the Falls and that stretch was pretty tough, but once we opened the gate and began the hike down, it was a pleasant walk through lovely woodland. Once we emerged at the vantage spot and caught our first breathtaking view of the Falls, the last of our weariness faded away. We were so energized by the natural beauty, that, on this morning, was there just for us. If there had been a bench and been perhaps a bit less damp, we may have stayed there all day, but at last, we tore ourselves from the view and strolled back down the trail - which was an incredibly easy downward walk. As we reached the midpoint of the trail back to the village, we came to another branch off that led to three different walks up into the mountains. We decided that since we were now experienced hikers that a few more trails would be no problem at all. The Balmacaan Forest hike was our second walk and it was a beautiful stroll through the woods that took no time at all. The forest has gorgeous ancient trees covered in many different varieties of moss and ivies and, aside from the wee coos and sheeps, we were alone amidst the quiet beauty. Our third walk was more challenging, probably equal in difficulty to the Divach Falls hike, and much more haunted. From the intermittently spaced three stacked stones along the trail to the deep gloom and chill of some portions of the woods, it was not difficult to envision this as a route to an execution site. The trail is another moderate hike, and it was pretty challenging for us (for Melody, certainly) and frequent rest stops were necessary, but the mysterious forest medieval was splendid, and the weather held to just a mist as we finished our climb. The summit, Craig Mony, has the remains of an Iron Age fort, and while these remains appear as little more than large exposed rocks, the view did not disappoint. We looked down upon the entire valley of Drumnodrochit, another breathtaking view. We had packed a lunch, and so we ate our roast beef and cheddar rolls along with fresh raspberries as we sat on the remains of a fort swallowed by time and a mighty forest. It was wonderful. As we began to pick our way back down the trail, the rain, which had been held at bay throughout the day, began to fall and the trail, difficult on the way up, became a bit treacherous on the way down. We, at last, made it back to the road where we had picked up the Craig Mony trail and in the falling rain walked back through the village to our room. After we changed from our soaking clothes, we took a nap and went out for a great meal. While this was our only meal "out" in Drumnodrochit, it was exceptionally good. We had a three-course meal for just 13 pounds at the Courtyard Restaurant. DJ had country chicken pate and oatcakes and Mel had goat cheese and peppers for appetizers, both were great. The lamb shank was better than the pork loin, and just fell off the bone. For dessert, the toffee pudding with toffee sauce and the chocolate cake with Mars bar sauce were fantastic, and the coffees were perfect complements. We finished the night with wee drams of whiskey at our hotel pub and with a recap of Manchester United's capture of the Premier League title with their largest winning margin in a decade. What a brilliant day!

Further impressions of the day: We really have enjoyed the hikes around the area, probably even more than we expected. When we booked just three nights here, we felt it would be plenty, but a few more days to explore more of the walks toward Inverness would be great. Our hotel staff here have been very good and while people don't seem quite as open as they do in Edinburgh, they have been pleasant and helpful and we have felt welcome. Tomorrow, we get back on the road. More roundabouts! Culloden! Stirling!

More communications to follow ...