Beginnings
"Has anyone asked you to carry anything onboard? Have you left your luggage unattended at any time? Did you pack anything flammable? Any electrical devices?"
The Virgin Atlantic ticket clerk at the Orlando airport goes through the questions she asks hundreds of times each day, being patient, but only semi-listening to us as we try to explain that yes, we packed sinister-sounding stuff (liquor is flammable, and hair dryers and shavers are electrical devices), but no, we have no intention of blowing up an airplane with us on board.
She decides we don't fit the profile of international terrorists, stamps "O.K" on our documents, and we walk through detectors to Gate 82 for the beginning of our adventure.
"Shut up! Sit Down!" A 7-8 year boy is pushed roughly into a seat by his mother. Her heavy English/Irish/Scottish accent only accentuates her panic and frustration as she searches through luggage for missing documents just moments before our flight is called. The boy, who was whining before, steps up the volume and tempo after this treatment, and all of us watching self-righteously "tch-tch" at this monster of a child abuser. We overlook the fact that she's lost important documents, is traveling with several children and another woman with no male parents present, and that she's probably at the end of her rope with these little urchins after dragging them around South Florida for God knows how long! She is wildly gesturing at the check-in counter as we walk through the gate to the plane. I wonder if she and her family are permanent residents of Disney World by now!
The flight is full or near to it. We remember them calling up to Row 65, and multiply times 8 seats across to decide there must be over 500 on this flight! The seating is two seats on the outside, and four in the middle section. We're over the wing, but it's going to be a night flight. Nothing like tons of metal filled with thousands of gallons of flammable jet fuel protecting your bottom.
The six-inch diagonal color TV in the seat back ahead of me gets nearly as many channels as our cable system at home. Nearly new movies (Jerry Maguire), TV shows (3rd Rock), Nintendo (which Andrew would love), and supposedly a way to communicate with fellow passengers via e-mail if I choose to do so.
After watching a couple of movies ("Field of Dreams" for the nth time, and part of "Die Hard With a Vengeance"), I stare at the Northern horizon, where a thin band of daylight is present all night long, reminding me of how far North we are flying. After what seems a very short time, a red glow begins from the north east. Within an hour, we've seen the sun rise, and we're nearing the west coast of the British Isles. The flight is uneventful, the seats fairly comfortable and the food is good. We can have all the free liquor we want (we have none, but people carry trays of the stuff back to their seats all night and morning long). Cocktails for breakfast!
We first glimpse the land as we break though the clouds over Dublin, Ireland. It's just breaking dawn. Another half-hour, and we're on the ground in Manchester, England. It's 6:20 a.m. We've made an 8-hour flight through five time zones. It's also Friday, the 13th, for better or worse! We have to wait a l-o-n-g time for luggage for some unknown reason, since it's so early. About the time I think it's been sent to some other country, it comes 'round the carousel.
We have nervously anticipated Customs upon arrival, but the "Green Channel" route we're supposed to follow doesn't lead to stern-faced inspectors pulling people aside for strip searches, it merely leads us out into the main terminal. We pull the suitcases a l-o-n-g way thru the airport to the rail terminal, where we will catch the 8:55 a.m. train that will eventually lead us to Edinburgh at 1:35 p.m. It's cool (low 60's) and rainy.
Susan has managed to sleep a little on the plane, but I can't even though it's about 2:30 a.m. on my biological clock. We are starting to miss the sleep already!
In the waiting area, I make our first purchase with British pounds--two cups of tea. I give the man a five-pound note, walk back to the seat, and discover we've been short-changed more than three pounds! Did I look stupid, or what? (Don't answer this!) I'm too embarrassed go back, but Susan takes over. She goes up to the man, explains what we think happened, and he gives her the three pounds without question. "She's a 'cheeky one', right?" –as the Brits would say!
After some confusion on the part of the station crew as to which track our train would depart, we're aboard for the first leg to Preston. We take care of stowing our own luggage. There are storage racks forward and rear of each car, plus space for one suitcase where the back-to-back seating makes a little pyramid.
We depart, starting and stopping at about a dozen small station platforms. Commuters get on and off as we cross the city. Conductors change, each examining with confusion and amusement the Britrail tickets we bought in the States, and only one makes a small mark on it to indicate that he has seen it. Many people buy their tickets from the conductor as the ride progresses. In the morning mist/drizzle, Manchester is row upon row of identical houses, traffic circles, shops and factories and warehouses. Not a very attractive place, but maybe we're just tired, and it is raining. We pass Reebok Stadium, home of the Bolton team of the World Football League, with its strange lighting towers. The rhythm and fairly comfortable seats soon lull Susan into a semi-awake state, fight it as she may.
One especially friendly female conductor checks our ticket and wishes us a safe and happy trip. "Always cheery, that one," a woman passenger, obviously a frequent rider of this train says to me.
We wait in Preston for the connection to Edinburgh, and each have a ham and cheese croissant with a shared Coke. We'll have to get used to drinks with no ice! It 's chilly and still dreary. The Preston station, like many we will encounter in England and Scotland, shows years of grime and neglect, but it must have once been a fine and busy place. The waiting room is worn and dirty, but it gets us out of the chill as we wait for our connection. Afraid we will miss the connection, I am on the platform at least 10 minutes before its scheduled arrival. Susan, the seasoned traveler, strolls out just in time to get on. Finally, the last leg of this long journey (15 hours), the leg that will get us to Scotland, begins.
The ride to Edinburgh is uneventful, beautiful and mostly wet. We pass big-time farmland, diary and sheep mostly. There are miles and miles of continuous rock fences. How long it must have taken to build them! They sometimes go straight up the side of the rather steep mountains. This would be hard work, I think. No signs mark our entry when we cross into Scotland somewhere just north of Carlisle. Strain as we might, from the train we can't see Hadrian's Wall, the furthest north the Roman Empire ever reached.
We're at Edinburgh on time (something we'll come to count on from the trains). Waverley Station is large and busy, but the cabs are "queued up" (in a line) actually inside the station. I buy our Scotrail passes for Sunday, and we get into one of those black London Metro cabs.
A £3.40 cab ride gets us to Ivy Guest House in Mayfield Garden, about 1.5 miles from "city centre." This room is small and faces the front street. We find we will be sharing a bath. No problem. I still haven't slept, so we nap for two hours, and venture out for our first "taste of Scotland." It's a wet one. A slow, steady drizzle that soaks our feet and backs where the umbrellas don't cover. The rain doesn't seem to bother the Edinborans(?) however. They walk in it, many without coat, cap, or umbrella. They stand and talk in it while it runs off them in little rivers. This is the 5 o'clock rush going home of a rainy Friday afternoon.
Soaked, we eat at "Brattisani's. Scotland's Original Fish and Chips. Established 1889." It's sort of a fast food place with booths and a busy "takeaway" business. We try to spy on and listen to a family of four (man, woman, son, daughter) in the booth across from us without being rude, and we "connect" to them as our Scottish counterparts, as we generally go out to eat on Friday, and talk about our week as they are doing. We sometimes go shopping afterward. Where do they go? The fish is excellent!
Back out, it's still raining. We walk back to the B & B, get into dry clothes, plan tomorrow, and retire. World travelers, we're not! At least not today.
Edinburgh
We're down to the dining room for breakfast at 8:00. Our table is reserved by room number (2). Mr. Green, the owner and host, takes our order. We have grapefruit, then bacon, sausage, eggs (sunnyside up), Susan also has a baked tomato (I don't), toast and coffee. We chat with an American couple from Long Island. The man has been to the University of Saint Andrews to an academic convention.
We walk to Edinburgh Castle, and of the oldest and most important in Scotland not in ruin. On the way, we stop at a "Chemist" (drug store) for "Crampex" (I have leg cramps), and "Wind-eze" (fill in the blank as to what this is for).
The Castle is spectacular. The Royal Dragoon guards out front are not allowed to show facial expressions, therefore people try to get them to. Every 15 minutes, they make three stiff-legged marches back and forth from their little guardboxes. I notice they are carrying very dangerous-looking, modern automatic rifles. Inside, we can take a "pre-tour" with a guide. Ours is a rotund Scotsman with an accent thick enough to cut. He is also very droll, and makes many jokes, usually about "the English" and how the
Scots have always had to "take care of them" even though Scotland is ruled by England. He keeps his little crowd (20 or so) listeners chuckling. I get a little of him on video and soon realize I should have gotten more. After his talk, we get a CD-ROM/headset kit that takes us on a self-guided tour.
Many of the names of history are associated with this castle. Mary Queen of Scots. Robert the Bruce. James VI (who became James I of England and the King James Bible). Lots of sieges, crown jewels, cannon, and spectacular views of the city. We're in luck! It's the Queen's birthday, and a 21-gun salute will be fired at noon. People begin gathering at 11. Local dignitaries, politicians, lords and ladies are gathered in a reserved areas, and we common folk are across on another. Lots of pomp and circumstance before the salute is fired at noon. She's in London and can't hear it! In the War Memorial hall where they have recorded they names of all Scottish soldiers killed in action since WWI, we find the names Spiers, Grant, and Menzies (pronounced Mingus, the Scots spelling of Mings). Could they have been distant relatives? A strange feeling to see the names.
A small world story: At the castle, we find a small flower garden. We want someone to take our picture in front of it. The first lady we ask doesn't speak English and hurries away. We are turned away, looking around, when we hear "Susan?" We turn, and it's Melinda, a classmate of Susan's at Vandy who's touring with her mother.
We discuss this incredible coincidence, our travel plans, etc. for a time. We also take pictures and video for evidence, because we don't think anyone will believe us otherwise! 4500 miles from home and we find someone we know!
It's now past one. We leave the castle and head for a pub. I've heard of "bar meals" and I think it's a good time to try one. At an old, old pub near the castle, we have meat pies, chips, "beens" (beans) and Carlsburg (Danish) beer. It's good, but my reading about meat pies has lead me to expect more. I'm reminded of the play "Sweeny Todd," in which a barber kills his customers, grinds them up and puts them in meat pies!
Now we're off to "New Town," across the natural divide (a dry loch) which runs through the middle of Edinburgh. "Jenner's" bills itself as the world's oldest department store. We spend two hours shopping here. In the toy department, we watch and listen to the kids and their parents. Kids want stuff, parents want to make them happy. Toy shopping isn't just for kids! We buy Rob's toy cars, some other goodies, and walk outside. The gray day has broken up. The sun peeks through. People come outside
to sit on the benches at a small plaza. I try to find the face of a "Scot," and decide it's too hard to do. I have an image in my mind, and I want all the faces to fit that image.
When they don't, I'm afraid I have unfairly judged "Who's a Scot?"
On the walk back to the B & B, we fill Andrew's request for a tin whistle for himself and one for his school. "The key of "D" is most popular." The store owner gently corrects my choice of the key of "C".
I estimate we walked five miles today. We rest, have a treat, and leave for dinner at 8:45. A £1.20 bus ride gets us back near the castle to "Patisserie Florentine," a place I read about on the 'Net. We have delicious soup, a huge basket of bread, coffee and a shared dessert. All very good! As we walk back at 10:30, it's dusky but not dark. A very, very enjoyable day in Edinburgh!
We have been moved to larger quarters. £5 more per night and not worth it except that it has an "en-suite" bath.
On To Inverness
Another good breakfast at Ivy House. We leave Mr. Green at ten, having had some good conversation with him. I leave him a small bottle of Jack Daniels, and he seems to appreciate it. I pay him £85 and we taxi to Waverely Station, store our luggage, and walk around the city for 3 hours. We find Princes Street Garden, a beautiful park where people are sitting, eating, playing, etc., but it begins to rain before we can see it all. Into a shopping center, we look around until near train time.
In this city, we seen one old drunk man, have heard one siren, saw no rowdy behavior or criminal activity. Either it happens in a part of the city we didn't see, or it's much less than in U.S. cities.
A long, beautiful train (3:30) to Inverness. We cross the Firth of Forth, which leads out to the North Sea. Out in the Firth is an island prison which we have been
told is the model for Alcatraz.
Houses we pass are small, but almost all have gardens in the front, mostly flowers, but some with vegetables! Lots of field of grain (wheat? barley? oats?), but we're too far away to see what they are. There's usually a big farm house, with small tenant houses near, but out-of-sight of the big house.
At "Puth" (Perth), we make a connection to Inverness. It arrives "spot on" time. A lot of our fellow passengers make this transfer also. It's trying to be a sunny day. We'll take it! We have reserved seats, but don't need them as the train is about 1/2 full. More about our feelings and impressions of train rides later.
The further north we get, the more rugged the terrain becomes. We see our first snow or ice on mountain tops. We see "millions" of rabbits, sheep, cows, and at least two red deer.
The train route usually alternates between two sides of a valley. When our side is against the mountain, we see very little. When we're to the valley side, we can see
the beauty of this place. Fields, small towns. Sometimes we see golf courses. They're not nearly so manicured as U.S. courses, and there are NO electric or gas carts. Rain happens off and on, and the weather turns sunny and warm as we approach Inverness.
Just off the train and 5:30. We begin to try to make our 6 p.m. call to the boys. None of the numbers we try will work. We even ring a cell phone somewhere. Long distance information is of little help until they give us the area code for Lakeland-941. We've been using 914. No wonder we've had problems. 914 is New York City! We connect at 6 and find the boys OK and being royally entertained. It's nice to hear their voices and we're glad they're not sad. We talk to all present at the Hilliards, I think. Visa is gonna love us for awhile after this trip!
Next, we (well maybe Susan) decide to walk to the B & B. It's been advertised as "near" city centre (where we are now). Turns out we take the long way, pulling luggage and drawing stares. We arrive hot and sweaty at "Ivanhoe" and are greeted warmly by Mrs. Matheson. The room is very nice, with en-suite bath and a sofa also.
Hungry, we return to the city by the short route and have a rather bad experience in an Indian restaurant (my idea). Once our waiter finds we are not big spenders, he "slow-plays" us, bringing food and clearing dishes very slowly, making us wait. He doesn't even bring our check, just sends it by another waiter. No more Indian restaurants. Susan says we are even for her wanting to walk to the B & B!
Inverness is a pretty town of about 60,000. The river Ness is very nice, with walks and footbridges along it. It's a beautiful Sunday evening. Sunny and semi-warm, although we are wearing jackets. We're pooped, so we go in at 8:30 and I sleep straight through to morning.
Inverness
Mrs. Matheson's breakfast includes beans along with the standard fare. We're in the dining room at the front of the house first, so we get a table in the front bay window.
All the time we are eating, kids are walking to school somewhere nearby. The boys are dressed in nylon pants and t-shirts (like Rob), so they must be public school kids. Adidas and Ellesse are the big brands. We've seen Nike in the stores but no one wearing them. A couple from Pittsburgh come in. They are touring by car and give us pointers on driving, as we're to pick up a rental today. They're nice and we have pleasant conversation. We leave at 9 to get the car.
It takes awhile to find a small one-day rental. Finally Eurodollar comes through. For £31 plus gas, we get a tiny Vauxhall Corsa with unlimited mileage. We set off with
me driving, terrified to be on the left, and Susan scared I'm going to take out the row
of cars parked at the curb. After a few miles, still surviving, I'm up to 50-60 mph. Country driving should be no problem. We'll minimize city driving, I think.
We come upon Loch Ness. At the upper end, we stop to gawk. Susan scoops up water and a pebble for each of the boys, and we drive to Urquhart Castle, one of Scotland's top tourist attractions.
I haven't yet made the connection to the Grants in my family yet, but the castle was once part of one of the Clan Grant (there were two such clans). I see a plaque which says a John Grant had this castle built. The Clan had a lot of land around Loch Ness and came to the castle for protection during the times of violence (and there were plenty of these). It's an eerie feeling for me. Suppose one of the Grants who lived around here and had been killed was a direct relative? Now where would that leave me? I like the castle and its beautiful setting. It's also a beautiful day, as I hope the video shows.
On the way back, Susan tries her hand at driving. She quickly masters the fundamentals, but doesn't want to try city driving either.
We try to find the road to Beauly (Bewley) and the Muir of Ord, where there's a distillery we want to visit. After wandering through the city streets for awhile, we find the
road. It goes right near our B & B! Near Beauly, we find a road that goes across country to Loch Ness, much nearer than the road we've taken here. Tourists!
The Glen Ord distillery is closed for repairs, but they let us wander through the museum for free, and give us a "wee drop" to sample. We're supposed to make comments in the guest book. "Very smooth" we say. As if we knew anything about Scotch whiskey. We buy a bottle for Jim and head two miles back into the town.
Beauly has a wide Main Street with parking in the middle. We look in a wool tailoring shop (very expensive) and an antique shop so small and packed with stuff it's hard to turn around. We have a couple of treats from the bakery, drive down to a local craft store for a bit, then head back to Ivanhoe. We park the car and walk into town. An hour or two of browsing, and we see a sign that says "takeaway" pizza is half price.
It's a "loaded" one, and it has little tomato sauce (but tomato slices), and some unusual sausages. We stop for canned Cokes and sweets. "Y'can hae another Coke for a pence if ya want." The clerk shows me a special I hadn't seen when I took only two Cokes from the box. We end up with an extra Coke we will carry for at least two days, but a true Scot never passes up a bargain! Dinner is a picnic in our room. It costs less than £6. What a deal! 4300 miles to eat pizza in a small bedroom. This is Europe at its best(?)
I try to compare Inverness to Murfreesboro. It's much more compact. There's a little suburban sprawl of businesses and houses, but even they are much closer to town centre. I'll bet the six miles we live from town would be out in the sheep pastures of Inverness! The weather today is perfect. It's not predicted to continue this way, but we're hoping for one more nice day. We are excited about our visit to the Isle of Skye tomorrow.
On To Skye
After another of Mrs. Matheson's great breakfasts, we have a few minutes before we return the car, and decide to explore this neighborhood further. Rounding a corner, we find a public school. It's about 8:55, and kids are streaming toward it, some already in the playground and football (soccer) field (pitch). The building is old, the sign above says it was constructed in 1867. There's a low rock wall around the field with a wire fence above it. As we walk by, a boy about 10 runs ups, crawls through a very small opening between the rock wall and fence, and runs up to the school. There was no reason for him to do this that we could see, other than the fact that it was something that might be fun to do. About this time the bell rings, and everyone goes in, the smallest lining up to march in. We also see stragglers coming up the streets, being led by their older siblings or parents. The crossing guard is a wee old Scot who looks like he's been out in bad weather all his life. "Is school here getting close to holiday?" "Aye. A fortnight (two weeks) to go." "Is the holiday long?" "Aye. Six weeks."
Time to turn in the keys, pay Mrs. Matheson £60, and return the car. We fill the tank (£4.85), I drop Susan off at the station with the luggage, return the car, and walk back to the station (1/4 mile). I'm glad to be rid of the car. The freedom to go as we please is nice, but petrol is expensive, and the reverse of everything related to driving is stressful. I'm also glad we didn't take the advice of a friend who thought we should have a car the whole trip. No way. The roundabouts (traffic circles) would do me in!
An hour's wait for the train. Susan buys magazines for the boys from our "kin"-the local John Menzies newsstand. I people-watch and note a sign that says "Railway Chaplain--Willie Nelson." Ironic.
The Kyle of Localsh Line is part of the West Highland Line, generally accepted to be one of the most beautiful train rides in the world. It lives up to its name today. We've
been told that videos and still pictures won't do it justice. We take them anyway, for historical, if not aesthetic, reasons. The ride is spectacular!
Two older couples sit across from us, facing each other across one of the table seating arrangements. One of the women talks virtually without pause the entire trip,
the others nodding, sometimes saying "aye" or "tch-tching." The men even nod off sometimes during her ramblings. The only time it's quiet is when she heads for the toilet. The others seem to be the ones getting the relief when she does this!
The Kyle of Lochalsh is "lands end" of the mainland. There's a huge bridge across to Kyleakin. The information lady says we can walk across (looks like two-three miles) or ride the shuttle for 55 pence each. We choose the latter, and it's good we do!
We find out at Kyleakin that we can't rent a car on this end of the island and leave it at the other end as we'd planned. What to do? A lady in a gift shop suggests a bus ride to the other end, then getting a taxi to our B & B, which is out in the country. We have to wait 1:45 for the bus. What a fortunate thing we choose it! The ride to Armadale is 12 miles across an ancient volcano lava field. It's "single-track" (one-lane) with "passing places" to pull over depending on whose side of the track the lane is on. The bus ride is a hair-raising 30 minutes of near-misses, horn-blowings, deciding who's moving over, backing up, etc. Again, me trying to drive this would have been a big mistake. At the ferry, I call a cab to the Aird of Sleat (slate), where our B & B is an old Victorian one-room schoolhouse. The cab driver says his mother used to go to school there. Another single-track, blind hill-and-turn road, and we're there.
What a place. It rates its own paragraph! Stark white, tucked into a hillside looking down to the sea, it looks like a postcard. The owners, Pat and Alan Newman, are English and genuinely friendly. They take great pride in showing us around the house and garden, and move us from our original twin room to a double on the second floor overlooking the sea (a last-minute cancellation made this available). Antique
furniture, lovely art and craft work, and pretty gardens make us fall in love with this place instantly. "Would you like tea?" Pat asks. We haven't been offered afternoon tea before, and in a few minutes, tea and biscuits are brought into our dining room. Pat and Alan tell us about the history of the home and about their ownership since 1983.
They also tell us there's a point of land at the end of a hiking trail two miles long, the most Western point of the island. We can't pass this chance by, especially since we've been sitting all day, so we're off. I have forgotten to have the taxi driver stop and let us buy food in Armadale, but we have two packs of airline cheese and cracker snacks, some sweetbread, and bottles of water. We plan to hike to the point, have dinner looking at the ocean, and hike back. Leisurely, right? Wrong. The walk is strenuous, even though the path is broad and well-traveled. Sometimes it's almost vertical. We huff and puff to the end. It's not a romantic sandy beach, just a rocky harbor with the tide out, but it's Scotland, Skye, vacation. As we sit in some soft grass at the point to have our romantic dinner, we begin to be bitten. "Midges" are small gnats. They are the bane of Scotland! I have read that they usually come out in July, and thought we would be safe. Not so. We can't stand still or sit, but they don't bother us as long as we we're moving. So back up the trail we go, eating as we walk, and getting no rest before starting back. We huff and puff back, dodging cow pies and sheep droppings, and seeing three red deer along the way.
A sign in the B & B says anyone in the dining room at 9 p.m. will be served tea. We are there, still recovering from our hike. The Newmans come in, and Joy Blackney, a Scottish woman escorting a young Canadian woman (Kathleen_____) around Scotland is there also. We have an hour and a half of delightful wide-ranging conversation about us, the Newmans, the Old Schoolhouse, Joy, Scotland, etc. We love this! It's our ideal of what a B & B should be! At 10:30 we say goodnight, and even though it isn't supposed to get completely dark (just a shade of dusk Mrs. Matheson
called "chocolate") that night, we miss it all. I crash out and sleep straight through to morning.
On To Oban
We're down to breakfast at 7:45, because the power will be cut at 8:30 in order for electric poles to be replaced. Joy and Kathleen are there already. We have a very pleasant breakfast. They give us tips about what to see and do in Oban, Joy's home, and a place Kathleen has obviously visited before. Alan will take us to the ferry, since the cab driver is busy. We pay, buy a couple of gifts from Pat, say goodbye to Joy and Kathleen (we will probably see them at the ferry), jump in with Alan, and depart. This has been the greatest experience. I only wish it might have been longer, but we must keep on schedule.
Alan leaves us at the Armadale ferry. We buy tickets for £4.80, and wait only a few minutes before boarding for Mallaig. It's windy, rainy, and chilly this morning. I wonder how rough the boat ride will be. It's a large ferry, with room for maybe 50 cars below and 100 or so passengers up top. The ride is smooth. We know we're on a boat, but the up and down, side-to-side motion is minimal, even in "white-capping" seas. The ride is 25 minutes long. The views of Skye, the fishing town of Mallaig, and the mountains of the mainland are grand, even in the drizzle. Joy and Kathleen come by to wish us "bon voyage" and say goodbye. They are very pleasant, friendly people, and we enjoyed their company.
At Mallaig, we have only 15 minutes to catch the train. Luckily, it's only about 200 yards from the ferry dock. In a few minutes we are seated at our usual face-to-face table, and ready for a nearly five-hour ride to Oban, our night's destination.
This ride will take most of the day, and we will be in Oban about 3:30. It's raining harder as the day progresses. We see our first white sandy beach at Arisaig.
We see the church that was the model for the one in the movie "Local Hero." We cross the Glenfinnan Viaduct, a marvel of engineering in its day. We stop at a station beside
"The Jacobite" one of the last remaining steam trains in Britain. I take lots of video of this beast, but can't see much of it because we're about 18" away, and it's raining hard. Grant, my nephew and a train man if ever there was one, should love this video.
From this station, the landscape turns into bleak desolate valleys and moors for miles and miles. Suddenly, in the middle of all this nothing, there is an abandoned shepherd's cottage. It's the only sign that humans have been here for many square miles. What kind of people could have lived there? Loved there? Had children there? Been sick there? Died and been buried there? Walked to church or to visited neighbors from there? It's about the most lonesome place to live I've ever seen. Life must have been hard there, and I'm not surprised it is abandoned and in ruin. I will remember the image of it for a long time though, and I try to get it on video.
We share an egg salad sandwich and shortbread bought on the train. An English couple across from us have packed a lunch. It looks good! I envy them. Maybe we'll do the same on our next ride.
We jump off at Crainlarich to await our connection to Oban. We have about 30 minutes to wait. It's drizzling and windy. The tiny waiting room is just that--a room with a wooden bench. It's about 10' x 10'. The toilet is unisex--a-one-holer with a door bolt.
I watch men loading logs 8' long by about 6" in diameter from lorries (trucks) to rail cars. They use a set of tongs that operates much like a backhoe. One man is very precise, like a surgeon, placing logs almost perfectly in line and keeping his piles flat on top, operating the machinery with finesse. The other is a speed demon. Faster, but not nearly a smooth. He can get the job done with less grace. If the surgery was an emergency and speed was critical, I'd take the second man and live to tell about it. If not, I'd go with the other one, since there would surely be no scars left after he operates.
The ride on to Oban starts to look much the same. Are we getting "scenery overload?" When you have seen so much beauty, do you get numb to it after awhile? Like living at the beach or in the mountains and never "seeing" them. We are traveling through such unique landscapes, I would hate to think I no longer appreciate them. Once again, I'm glad to be riding instead of driving. The roads would be tricky today. It's raining harder again.
The ride suddenly changes in tone: At a small platform, about 25 pre-schoolers and "mums" get on after a day's field trip. They are beautiful children, and they chatter, sing, and say "oooh" and "aaaah" whenever the train goes through a tunnel or even under a bridge. They are obviously not as tired as their mums! I look at Susan and we are both struck with the longing to see our boys. The worst of this soon passes as we watch the children having fun. Susan takes a photo of one and he says "Mummy! That lady gave me a picture!" They ride all the way to Oban, brightening the gloomy weather.
Oban is a fishing port, with the bay going right up to the edge of Main Street.
We taxi to the B & B--another place I had found on the 'Net with an attractive ad and very cheap rate. I assume it's because Oban is a small town, but we're in for a surprise. Jeremy Inglis, the owner, seems surprised that we would come to his place, although he has our reservation. The entrance is a walk-up from street's edge. We soon discover that I have booked us into a youth hostel! The room is sparse, but reasonably clean. We are the oldest residents by far, and some of the others stare at us. For breakfast we are go to his kitchen and help ourseves to cold --- FIRE ALARM! GOTTA GO!--O.K., we're back now. Someone turned on a long unused heating coil and the dust gathered on it set off the alarm. We stand in the street while the owner checks it out, then go back in so I can finish this --- scones and jam.
We have a dinner reservation at Jeremy Inglis' restaurant for 7:30, so we can be finished for the "Scottish Show" at 8:30. Jeremy has given us a free pass for being his guests. The food is good. I have fresh salmon (cold with mayonnaise), Susan, haddock
again. The "show" begins with a bagpiper marching in. Then a woman singer with a beautiful voice sings a sentimental song about longing to see "bonny Scotland in the marning," accompanied by an accordionist, keyboard player, and drummer. We stay for awhile ('til all the music sounds the same), stroll around, get caught in a downpour and have to stand in a doorway for about 15 minutes, and come home to the fire alarm. We discover that Caithness glassworks, the most famous in Scotland, has a plant and factory shop here but we've missed its hours of operation. Now we will have to pay full price for Caithness glassware in Glasgow!
On To Glasgow
We have decided to catch the 8:05 to Glasgow rather than the 11:30, so we're up early. I take a shower in the little room just outside our door, but Susan foregoes this exercise. She's a little more choosy about where she will shower. We also decide to pass on breakfast in our host's kitchen as it's not the cleanest looking place we've seen. We pick up fresh scones on the way to the station, and hop on the 8:05. It's another gray day, again raining off and on, but "not to worry." This is Scotland. It's normal.
On the train, we sit on the opposite side as the ride out, since we're doubling back to Crainlarich on the same line. I try to shoot some scenery, but rain on the windows blocks most of it. I finally get a waterfall on video. We see some "'eiland
coos" (long-haired Highland Cows), but the train is gone before I can get any video of them. Sorry.
At 11:15, we're at Glasgow Queen St. station. I call the Albion Hotel (our B & B for the stay here) and ask if our room is ready. They say no, but that we can bring our luggage there to store while we have lunch. A £4 cab ride (aren't they all?) gets us to North Woodside, just off the Great Western Road, a main Glasgow thoroughfare.
Glasgow looks more modern than Edinburgh, and it's also larger. We leave our luggage and go off under threatening skies to find lunch.
A little Chinese takeaway place sells us tuna/mayo/corn on rolls, and little vegetable-filled hushpuppies. We also get a Milky Way and a Coke to share and head out for Kelvingrove Park, which is a couple of blocks away and located between Glasgow Caledonian Univ. and the Univ. of Glasgow. As we eat and people-watch, a group of schoolkids (8-9 yr. olds, we guess), in uniform, comes out to the park for lunch/exercise. They're fun to watch, and their squeals and laughter echo throughout the park. We have loved to see the children on this trip, and often see even little ones walking the city streets alone to school, something with which we are unfamiliar.
The University of Glasgow (1451) was founded 41 years BEFORE Columbus sailed for the New World. It celebrated its 500th birthday the year I was born! Incredible! The list of famous Scots and Brits who've been educated there and who have contributed to medicine, science and the arts is long, even though we don't recognize many of the names. In the Department of Theatre, Film and Television Studies building (where I have an appointment to talk with colleagues tomorrow), we meet Dennis Agnew, who's studying for his PhD. in Theatre from the University of Edinburgh. He directs us to the Hunterian Art Gallery and Charles Rennie Mackintosh house on campus to see the works there. Glasgow is full of art, gardens, architecture, and all of it is free! I am not educated in fine art enough to appreciate what I see in the gallery, although it is beautiful work of many of the great Masters. Susan has studied the work of Charles Rennie Mackintosh, his art, architecture, and furniture. They have
painstakingly reconstructed his townhouse on campus; complete with furniture, books, wallpaper, etc. He is Glasgow's favorite son artist, and collections/reproductions of his work is everywhere we go. We buy a couple of prints of his flower paintings.
Back out, it's raining again. We visit the campus bookstore, and then the Visitor Centre, where I pick up a University catalog. The clerk, a student of about 19 asks where I'm from. I say, "The U.S. Tennessee. The Nashville area. You know, country music. Opryland?" She smiles and replies "Jack Daniels!" Whiskey must be a universal language just like music! Back at the room, we decide we will have a surplus bottle of "Jack" from those that we have bought to hand out, so we have "hot toddies" and a nap.
At six, we walk in the drizzle to Byers Road, a main shopping and eating thoroughfare just off the campus. Glasgow is exciting for me. I guess I feel more at home around a campus. I'm looking forward to meeting the folks tomorrow and discussing our respective departments. They are remodeling an old Church to accommodate their growth, and I'm hoping to get a tour. How will we be alike? Different? Will they be "academic snobs?" I can hardly wait to find out.
Byers Road has many familiar fast-food places from the U.S. We also hear American music coming out of pubs. We export more popular culture that any other country. I've already seen several American TV shows, and could watch "Baywatch" if I
wanted. What images and ideas do they get about us from these pop culture forms?
Should I look like David Hasselhof and Susan like Pamela Anderson?
We eat at a pub called "Houlihans"(Irish?), then walk back through the rain to the Albion, stopping at a bakery for treats. It's been a long travel day, and we're asleep by 9:30.
Glasgow
Another good (translate as "big") breakfast. I honestly think they would bring food as long as we would sit there and eat. The Albion is the biggest B & B in which we've stayed. Not as clean as Mrs. Matheson's, but it has an ironing board and iron,
hair dryer, trousers press, and little touches that make it more like a hotel. Of course, it gives up the some of the friendliness of the small places, but it's a world of difference
from the hostel of the night before. It's also many more ££££, but at this point, we like the comfort!
At 8:40, we're off to the Univ. for my 9:00 meeting with Patrick Brennan, my counterpart in his department. Susan will meet him, then wants to shop while we talk academics. Patrick has invited me to lunch when we e-mailed two month's earlier, so Susan and I arrange to meet at the Albion at 2.
The meeting is super. We have so much in common, yet such dramatic differences! Patrick is Canadian/Irish, and has been here four years. He is in total charge of the building renovation and is friendly but a little harried, as they are having a grand opening reception next week! My timing could not have been worse! His department chair, Tony Pearson, is off "marking exams" at another university somewhere in England. Patrick graciously gives me three hours of his time, although we are constantly interrupted by workmen, contractors, and colleagues all wanting decisions from him. I leave my token gifts for him and for Tony Pearson. He's too busy and doesn't bring up the lunch invitation again. I shake his hand at noon, and we promise to continue to exchange e-mail, ideas, students, and possibly faculty. He has a sister in North Carolina, and says he will try to visit MTSU his next trip there. I liked him a lot, and think we could share many things to the benefit of each of us and our departments.
As I walk up to the visitor's centre to buy a mug, it begins to pour down. I am soaked until I get back to the Albion, where Susan has returned before the rain. We decide to get on the Underground ("U") and go downtown shopping, as this morning was not useful to her. For £1.30 each, we get adult return trip tickets. The "U" runs in a circle under Glasgow. It's 101 years old, although the trains are modern and clean. What a travel deal! In 10 minutes we're at St. Enoch shopping center, Glasgow's biggest enclosed mall. Not as big as U.S. malls, but the streets and streets of shops outside more than make up its small size. I have a half-pizza, again with little or no tomato sauce, but two slices of fresh tomato.
We shop until we drop, catch the "U" back, rest awhile, make a scheduled call to the boys at 6, then head for a Safeway supermarket to get stuff for a train lunch tomorrow and a variety of snack foods for the boys. After this, we stop at "Chimmy Chungas," a near-campus Mexican restaurant catering to students. Susan has a Quesada, and I a Burrito. I ask for a Guiness. The waitress says something I take as "Glass, please?" I say yes. She and Susan laugh, and I realize she is giving me a choice of beers because they don't have Guiness. A "Glasspeys" or some other brand. Sorry! Redfaced, I choose the Glasspeys. Budweiser seems to be the brew of choice among the locals. After all, it is an import here! The food is good and inexpensive. The building is an old high-ceilinged bank or something. The bar is at street level, and the restaurant is a loft above so we are up near the ceiling. The detail work is fascinating and very ornate. I wonder again why the Victorians put so much detail up here where no one could see it? It seems unnecessary to the function of the building, but that's the Victorian way.
At this point in the trip, a bone-numbing weariness is setting in. Too much of everything, we think. Instead of a hot Friday night on the town (our last night in Scotland), we're in bed by 8:30, and watch TV until 9:30. Lights out!
Return to England
Our last Scottish breakfast. I have to try haggis or I'll forever regret it. They bring me a slice. It's grainy oatmeal, some minced meat, and some grease to hold it all together. I can't finish it. Susan's reaction is the same. Black pudding will have to wait until the next trip also. At least we're on record as having tried haggis, the national dish of Scotland.
We have to be out at 11, and catch the train at 12:30, so we ride the "U" back down for one last gift-buying exercise. A couple of hours and we're back at the Albion, checked out, and waiting for the cab to the station. Today, we're leaving from Glasgow
Central Station, much larger than the Queen Street station at which we arrived. We have an hour to wait. People-watching time again. The assortment of people of all ages, colors, dress styles, and language make this a fascinating pastime. Burger King is doing a huge business with £1.29 ($2.08) Whoppers advertised.
I want us to be on the train early since we don't have reserved seats. Once again, we don't need them. About 1/2 full again. We're off "spot on" time again. What a way to travel. You can predict your arrival time precisely and be right most of the time!
At the Safeway, we have bought a variety of small packaged cheeses, some oatcakes, pears and shortbread. We also have some of the bakery treats left over, and bottled water. Lunch is excellent, and a fraction of the price of train food. I see some other passengers looking enviously at our lunch, something I had done as I watched the English couple lunch on the ride from Mallaig. This will definitely add to our pleasant memory of the train rides.
Manchester is 3 1/2 hours away, down most of the same route we had taken up to Edinburgh only seven days earlier. Today is more sunny and the farmland is beautiful. We never know exactly when we leave Scotland, just above Calisle, and I feel a little sad when I know we're back in England. I have felt a connection to the land, people and history of Scotland. To have a temporary lectureship at the Univ. of Glasgow would be a career highlight, and for the boys to spend some time there would make them better "citizens of the world", in the same spirit that going to the Olympics would.
We see once again that Manchester (at least the part we're in) is not a pretty city. Once again £4 gets us a taxi ride to the New Central Hotel, our B& B. It's a little seedy, and not in a very nice neighborhood, but it has some updating of plumbing, and seems clean enough.
We find it will cost £10 to get to the airport from here. AARGH! Ground transportation has cost much more than I planned. This whole round trip from and back
to Manchester could have been avoided at a savings of $300 if I'd been a smarter shopper. I hate making stupid mistakes like this, but we have to get to the airport. Our
host orders us a cab for 8:00 the next morning, and says she will leave us a cold breakfast out, hot breakfasts not being served until 9:00 on weekends.
We walk down to the nearest MacDonalds. We are almost the only white faces around. Strange to be in the minority. "Mickey D's" is a comforting sight, and they have ICE IN THE COKES! We have fish sandwiches. It's the same fish as in the U.S. Strange that in the land of fish and chips they would probably send over a frozen fish square from the U.S. so it would taste the same! We're ready to be home!
Cold breakfast is Corn Flakes and room temperature milk. Susan tries one of the rolls, but they're hard and tough, so I pass. The cab is there at 7:55. The driver is Indian, but has been in Britain since 1961. His accent is perfect Brit. He's friendly and chats all the way to the airport. Cost of this trip is £8.50, and I tip him £1.50 because I enjoyed his chatter!
He drops us at the wrong terminal, so we have another long hike pulling luggage. We find the check-in counter lobby and it's packed. I groan at the thought of a long line, but as we turn the corner of one such line, behold the Virgin Atlantic counter with NO ONE in line! We check our bags. I then go change £30 into $46, and we clear the metal detectors to the gate. It's 9:25 when we board, showing our passports one last time at the gate.
Row 33, seats H and K are just in front of the wing. It's raining, but when hasn't it in the past four days? The crew announces that Orlando time is 4:35 a.m. We reset watches and wait to leave. The folks in the seats in front of us have bad body odor. I have taken one of Susan codiene headache capsules, so I'm flying already. Shoes off.
Headphones on. Let 'er go! I want to be home!
The Virgin Atlantic folks are the best. We've never been wined and dined so well or been taken such good care of in Economy. What treatment must the folks in first class be getting? I would recommend this airline to anyone. To top it all, the pilot announces we will arrive in Orlando 45 minutes ahead of schedule. Yes!
Orlando
We've filled out forms on the plane, and are expecting no problems from Customs upon arrival. On the ground, we do have to zig-zag throughout the whole Orlando airport, it seems. I state we are bringing in food (the snacks for the boys), so we have to open up for the inspector to see. We pass, and our documents are again stamped O.K..
We haven't set a meeting place for the Hales and boys to pick us up. I go to get the luggage while Susan waits in the main lobby. After we wait a few minutes past our 2:50 arrival time, I pick up the phone to have them paged when she signals that she's found them! They have taken the shuttle ride out to the gate, but since we're early, we
missed them. They are sights for sore eyes! Hugs, kisses, and squeezes all 'round! Our journey ends where it started.
Reflections
Trip Planning:
The Internet is an invaluable planning tool. It gave us a sense of the places we would go and stay, train schedules, airline prices, etc. I should have shopped it more closely. After visiting the Virgin Atlantic pages for months, I went downtown and bought tickets from an travel agent. If I had bought them from the 'Net, I could have gotten free air travel from London to Edinburgh and return—a $300 savings. I could also have saved buying train tickets through the 'Net. I won't use travel agents.
Ground Transportation:
DO take the trains. They're the best way to see or get around. What's given up in personal freedom is more than made up in the ease, convenience and promptness. The trains are fairly comfortable (although the temperature aboard can vary greatly) and the staff is generally helpful. Stations are centrally located, with taxis and buses just outside. Buy tickets early and save money. Driving is O.K. IF the stress threshold is low. Driving out from a central location and returning to a central location is a good plan for rental cars.
Atmospheres:
See a variety from urban to rural. DO NOT bypass the Isle of Skye. One night couldn't do it justice. It fits every image of Scotland. Pictures and paintings don't give much of a real feeling of the place, but they'll have to do until we can get back. Large cities are different in tone from large American cities. Small towns are beautiful and peaceful.
People:
We met many outgoing friendly people (Mr. Green. The Newman's.
The clerk in Debenham's in Glasgow. The tour guide in Edinburgh). Some were shy (Mrs. Matheson). Only one was rude (the Indian waiter). Some were helpful (the music store owner in Edinburgh). Some were happy (the conductor on the Manchester train),
Some would comment on their public behavior, such as the older lady who jumped on the elevator at the last minute in the Manchester airport ("That was cheeky, wasn't it?", she said). Many were patient to repeat themselves as we strained to understand them. I would hope to be as gracious should I encounter a Scot over here.
Weather:
A common topic of satire in Scotland was the weather. Laughing at it must help them cope. It rained or misted in every day except two. We had heat on every night. Daytime temps were in the low to mid 60's, and sometimes during a cold mist we could see our breath. The Scots are used to it, tourists must cope. The long days were great if we hadn't been too tired to take advantage of them.
Food:
Cost more than we thought. Some not as good as we had envisioned (meat pies). We couldn't bring ourselves to try black pudding. Haggis must be an acquired taste. Breakfast bacon was great. Much more like our ham. Oven-baked tomatoes for breakfast were good also. Salmon was good. Our lunch on the train was a highlight, and saved us a good deal of money. Learning to drink beer and Cokes slightly chilled or at room temperature took some practice. We rarely missed a bakery, and they were numerous.
Walking:
Thank goodness for Nike! Definitely cheaper than any ground transportation, but take a backpack with an umbrella for each person. Nylon jackets are a must!
Overall:
While the trip was different than I envisioned, it was generally better.
B & B's are a truly worthwhile experience if you want to get to know the local folks.
Travel with a companion. I had the best one possible!
Probably because of my "roots" in Scotland and because I had done so much reading and thinking about it for nine months, I liked it better than England. As soon as possible, I want to "be in bonny Scotland in the marning!"
