Formal Tours

Formal tours are a great thing. First and foremost, someone else is driving. If they are good, they will not only drive, but back-up, turn around and generally maneuver in places that you were certain they could not all for the sake of the perfect picture. We had all of that and more in Hugh Allison.

Hugh was doing an Outlander tour. For those of you who have read The Outlander series, you will know what this means. For those of you who have not, it simply means that we were able to see places relevant to the book, some real, some that just fit the author’s fictitious places. Hugh was a wealth of information, and a published author. He had a wonderful sense of humor, and I would be amiss if I did not say that if you ever needed a tour in the Highlands of Scotland, Hugh Allison would be your man.

I also should mention the others who were on the tour, if only because we crashed at the last minute. Michelle was a huge fan of the Outlander books, her husband and son, not so much. Mark and Josh hung in there with admirable patience, considering the subject matter. Mark was quick-witted and generally happy, and Josh was a model of politeness, gallantly taking the back seat without complaint.

We started at Clava Cairns,

However, since I covered that in the previous post, I will only say here that Hugh was very knowledgeable about the stone cairns, and it was refreshing seeing it with someone who could explain the fascinating aspects.


We headed to Culloden Moore next.

Since Robyn and I had already spent three hours there the day before, we had hot chocolate and scones while they toured the inside. Have I mentioned how good the food is? When I asked for hot chocolate, the girl at the counter asked if I wanted Marshmallows and cream. I get both? It was heaven, and as I slurped the mound of whipped cream and melting marshmallows, I only wondered for a second how long it would take to walk it off.

Once the group finished with the inside, we all went outside to get Hugh Allison’s expert talk on the battle of Culloden. He was quite educated on the matter, and had many stories to tell, collected from his years of working at the visitor’s center. For instance, Leanach Cottage was occupied up until 1912, when the woman living there, who was 80 by then, finally moved out.

I am talking about a dwelling that is roughly the size of a small living room, and has a roof made of heather. This woman was a battlefield guide, as was her father, grandfather, and great-grandfather.


The next place we went to was something called a Clootie well.





What is a Clootie well? A Clootie well is a place where ailing souls go to rid themselves of their infirmities.  Different theories abound. It must be done on the 1st of May; you must circle the well three times chanting a Celtic prayer, or possibly dip the article of clothing associated with the illness, ie; stocking from an ulcerative foot,  in the well before hanging it on the tree. No matter how many theories there are regarding the placement of the clothing, the one certain thing that everyone seems to agree on is one must never remove something that you didn’t hang, because if you do, you will take on the ailment of the individual who did put it up.

The next stop on our tour was The Storehouse at Foulis Ferry, on the shore of Cromarty Firth in Monro Country.

There was a lovely restaurant with a view of the water, a visitor’s center shop, and of course, the 18th Century Storehouse set up as a self-touring adventure complete with a movie at the end. The
Storehouse was the place the Lairds would bring   their tennants rent in the form of grain or livestock.  It would reside here until they could get it onto a ship to take to a large city where they could convert it to cash.

Next stop was a Mackenzie dwelling; a structure, which served as the model for Castle Leoch in Outlander.
I would not mind living here!
The next place was found after the book was written in an effort “show” what Lallybroch might have looked like. It is indeed, an 18th century dwelling, and serves as a Bed and Breakfast. The owners kindly allowed us to have afternoon tea here.

After a delicious tea, we headed to Beauly Priory. http://www.scalan.co.uk/Beaulypriory.htm This website has some interesting information about the Priory and its history. Although the Priory is amazing in its own right, I could not stop thinking about the 800-year-old Elm tree that marks the gated entrance. If trees could talk, what a tale it would have to tell…

Battlefields, Cathedrals and Palaces

Praise God, the driving is getting easier, and I may actually begin to enjoy it the next time I try it. Today I drove to Culloden Battlefield (O.K., so it’s only a few miles from where we were staying) and managed to navigate all the round-abouts. What an impressive place. The interactive center leads you through the year prior to the battle, highlighting the main commanders involved, and the divided sympathies of the people via some very high tech interactive gadgets.

The visitor gets the perspective of the British on the left side of the exibit, and the Highlanders on the right, and follows the developments leading up to the fateful battle that occurred on April 16, 1746. The battle itself lasted less than an hour, but within the first three minutes, 700 Highlanders lay dead on the cold, wet moore, while the English army lost only 50, with 250 wounded. The Duke of Cumberland, wanting to make sure such a rebellion never happened again, sent troops all through Scotland to burn the cottages and dwellings, frequently shooting Highlanders regardless of their sympathies and turning women and children out of their homes to starve. He was nicknamed The Butcher. All in all, a very sobering experience.

The technical gadget used to walk the battle field was something I had never seen before. A device that looks like a smart phone, but was a satellite receiver. All over the field were places that triggered the device to play an audio explaining the particular place you are standing in, and what happened in the battle at that place. Diagrams showed on the screen in explanation as well as pictures of key people in the battle. What an amazing technological device!

After walking the battlefield, we came in and had lunch at the wonderful cafeteria in the visitors center. If I could only say one thing about the food here, it is that it is hot. Everything that is supposed to be served as a hot meal, is, well…hot. This may sound redundant, but I’m certain that Americans don’t quite meet this standard. We tend to serve things warm, not hot, for fear of someone getting burned and thus are open for a lawsuit. Here, the food is served in a way that gives new meaning to the term, “piping hot” and it is really amazing. Don’t get me wrong either—I prefer it this way, especially since the weather is always damp, chilly and rainy.

Our next stop was the Clava Cairns. This is a set of three circles of standing stones. For those of you who have read Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series, I did not hear the stones scream at me, which was something of a disappointment. Maybe I should come back on All Hallows Eve and try again.

There are three separate cairns here, two for holding the souls of the dead until the continue on their way in the afterlife, and one for cremating the bodies. They also served as a giant sundial and calendar for the people who lived 3500 years ago.

On this site there is a fourth rudimentary stone ring which gives the appearance of an attempt to create something like the other rings, though it doesn’t meet the mark. This ring it was found, was an attempt to create a ring like the others, 1000 years later. They scientists know the time period from studying peat samples below the surface of the earth. These peat samples indicate that there was a period of seven years where this part of the earth was covered in darkness, and nothing grew and many things died. The event that caused this was the eruption of a volcano, that permanently cooled this region, as it had been a warm and temperate climate prior to the eruption. When the sun finally was able to show through the ash cloud, we had entered into the bronze age, where the inhabitants didn’t quite have the knack for creating the stone monoliths from a thousand years prior.

From Clava Cairns we went to Elgin Cathedral. This was built in 1224, and served the people and the Bishops until the Reformation in 1560, when it took rather a bad beating. The lead was ordered stripped from the roof, and time began to take its toll, eroding away at the structure.

After Elgin Cathedral, we drove to Spynie Palace. Spynie Palace is a Bishops Palace, built in the late 12th century, and while the Bishops cathedral was moved to Elgin Cathedral, the Bishops continued to reside at Spynie. The landscape has changed considerably around the Palace, as there was a sea loch that ran behind the north wall that is no longer there, having filled with silt and becoming solid land.

More Driving Lessons

More Driving Lessons

Last we left off, we had reached Inveraray, having driven through Edinburgh, not without incident. I believe we encountered a flat tire, having rudely been accosted by a curb while I was minding my own business, and narrowly saved by the rescue men who regularly change tires for the Americans and Canadians who seemed to love to have contact with the curbs of their great city. A quick stop at the Kwik-Fit tire place, and all was well.
We were told to avoid Glasgow, but again the best laid plans…well, you know the saying. We rolled into Inveraray exhausted at 8pm. I didn’t want to drive again, and neither did Robyn.
A good night’s sleep, and we are off again, with me driving. This time it was beautiful, slow, and we made it to the ferry that would take us to Craignure without incident. The ferry ride was smooth, and when we drove off the ferry, we were in high spirits. That is until we drove ten minutes down the road.
The Isle of Mull has what are called one track carriageways. This means that cars going in either direction share one lane. How does that work, you ask? Well, I’ve been driving on it for two days, and I still couldn’t tell you. What I can tell you is, I’m sure I now have a bleeding ulcer. My knuckles will be white for the rest of my life, and the moment of true understanding came today when we rounded a curve that on the left side had a sign pointing in the direction that we were going that said, CEMETARY. I know now that they chose to put a cemetery seemingly in the middle of nowhere for the head-on collisions that happen at that point. Saves time, you see. They can just drag the bodies out of the car and up the hill and bury them. No muss, no fuss. In a country that has seen so many civil wars, what’s a few more drops of blood on the soil?
I was surprised by the speed by which cars traveled. Where I was going 30, they would easily be going 50. I also decided that the trick to surviving on these single track roads was to follow someone who knew what they were doing. That way, if a collision happened, I could watch from behind, thus allowing me to escape. Unfortunately, this didn’t work very well because every time I found someone to follow, they would pull over and let me pass, unlike Americans who would do anything to prevent someone from passing them. At one point I frantically waved the person to go on ahead. He did, but eventually pulled over again to let me pass. Truly, I don’t think I looked that confident.
So, we managed to make it to Tobermory with nary an incident. We made it to Iona this morning with only a small incident, whereby the other driver cheerfully said, “Great Driving! You avoided an accident! Well done!” while I threw up in the bushes.
I became grateful to see cows, sheep and goats. That meant I had to slow down, so that when they leapt unexpectedly into the road I didn’t slam into them, throwing their furry bodies into the ditch.
It took two hours to make it to Fionnphort (pronounced, I am told, Fen-a-fert), or, for perspective, a distance of 48.6 miles. But we were alive, and as Robin pointed out, undamaged in any way, shape or form.
We toured Iona Abby in the misty, driving rain, and returned to the ferry, and the Isle of Mull, where we got back into the car, and proceeded to drive back to Craignure on the other side of the island, or 34.8 miles. We must have done better (we did have more people to follow) because we managed that in one hour and 15 minutes. I refused to drive to the gas station after we parked, telling Robyn if she wanted to fill up that bad, she could drive. On the way out, the proprietor of the Pennygate Lodge where we were staying informed us that if we needed diesel fuel, we wouldn't get any because somebody had backed up into the only diesel pump in town, and knocked it over. We stared at her.
“Are you kidding me?” we asked.
“No, I’m not.” She said grinning.
“What happened?” We asked.
“Ooch, twas an American, backing up and not looking where he was going!”
At least I left the curb in working order.

Driving in Edinburgh

28 July 2010
Driving in Edinburgh

Normally I’m the adventurous type. So I was undaunted by the prospect of driving in Edinburgh. My friends from the UK assured me it was easier than driving in the U.S. I beg to differ on this point, now having driven in this fine city.
Finding the Rental place in Waverly station wasn’t a problem—the cab driver knew just where to go. Checking out, was fairly smooth. The attendant wanted to know if I wanted insurance. I said I already purchased insurance. She agreed, but said I had a 600.00GBP deductible. Hmm…I did some quick calculations, and realized that was almost 1000.00 dollars. She smiled charmingly at me.
“Would you like to purchase additional insurance for 6 GBP/day? It would relieve you of any responsibility should anything at all happen to the car.”
More calculations. 42.00 GBP, roughly 70 US dollars for no liability. “O.K.” I say.
She adds it on in the computer, prints the paperwork, and has both myself and my friend sign. Hands me keys and tells me, “You have a blue Mercedes.”
I blink, sure she couldn’t be talking to me. Taking the key fob she is handing me, I see that it is indeed a Mercedes. You have to understand. I’ve rented many cars. Never have I gotten one that was, well, nice, without asking. My smile broadens. She gives me directions for finding my rental, and away we go. The car, was a tiny four door model I’ve never seen before, but nevertheless very cute. We loaded the luggage and proceeded to drive out of the station, out of Edinburgh to Rosslyn Chapel in Midlothian.
Too bad we didn’t get far. The second round-about got me. On the backside of Holyrood Palace, the curb jumped out in front of me. I know that is what happened, because I was hugging the inside curb. I couldn’t possibly have run over the curb on the other side, going so slow, people were honking at me. Robyn yelled to go left, and I responded with, “I’ve got a flat tire.”
We pulled into the driveway of the Scotland Standard Newspaper building, in the rain, of course, to inspect the damage. Right passengers side flat tire. Thank god for insurance. The interesting thing about this is the fact that it happens often enough that they have a phone number solely devoted to changing tires for rental autos. I called the number, cursing the minutes I was using, and wondering what the phone bill was going to look like.
Within 45 a gentleman showed up in a bright orange van with RAC Rescue written on the hood. I had vowed I would not say I hit the curb. To my dismay there was no need to. He took one look, and said, “Hit the curb, did you?”
I smiled dolefully, holding my hand above my forehead with my thumb and forefinger in the shape of an L.
“Do you know what this means in American?” I asked him.
“No.” He replies starting to grin. I suspect he has an idea.
“It means I’m a big loser,” I say jokingly.
He laughs at this, while my friend asks him if this happens a lot.
He gives us a Cheshire cat grin. “Every day or two there is at least one American or Canadian who hits the curb and gets a flat.”
I breath a sigh of relief, feeling very much less a loser.

The next lesson for driving in Scotland would be regarding round-abouts. We drove to Rosslyn Chapel encountering a few, but navigated them fairly well. We toured Rosslyn Chapel about which I can only say, it is truly amazing. Afterward we walked to a local pub and ate, then headed toward our new destination, Inveraray. Getting to Inveraray was interesting to say the least. Getting through the round-abouts seemed to have escaped us. We spent what seemed like 45 minutes or so going between two round-abouts, trying to take the right road, but always ending up on the wrong road. There is only a finite number of times one can take hearing that annoying voice say, “recalculating”. I think it must have been the fifth try we got it right, and were going the right direction. You might be thinking to yourself, how can anyone get lost using a GPS? I’m not sure, but we managed to. I do now know however, that after at least 15 round-abouts, we learned that when the GPS says take the second exit, it really means stay on the same road you’ve been on, essentially going straight through the circle. Better the lesson learned late than not at all.
We eventually made it to Inveraray, and a wonderful room with a wonderful view. It’s 11:00 PM and finally dark. I think I’ll go to bed.

Off the Plane

After so much anticipation, I have finally arrived at my destination, Edinburgh. So far, everything has been much simpler than I expected, which in turn has made for a smooth transition. I arrived at the Bed and Breakfast which is a 10 minute walk from Princes Street in a steady rain, something I fully expected. I even expected chilly weather, but when you leave 100+ degree temperatures, even the expectation doesn't live up to the experience. It was 54 degrees when we landed, and I'm pretty sure, three hours later, it hasn't increased any. But I didn't come for the weather, and many back home in the sweltering heat will tell me to shut up and enjoy it, something I plan on doing.

The proprietor here, is a lovely lady who immediately showed me to the dining room and offered me a wonderful breakfast with hot coffee. The other guests of the establishment had already begun to eat, so I sat and sipped coffee, striking up interesting coversation with them--or as interesting as can be had on a couple of hours of sleep and a glazed look in my eyes that did not go unnoticed. I have to admit feeling somewhat in awe, as a group of them had been on a biking holiday, by which I mean the type of bike that lacks a motor and relies solely on muscle power. One gentlemen had biked the Swiss Alps for two weeks before coming here, planning to make his way to London, while two of the women had biked from Inverness to Edinburgh. I suddenly felt lazy coming from the airport in a cab. Does walking all over the city count for anything?

So off I go, headed for my 10 minute walk to Princes Street. Hmmm...I walk, and walk and walk. I stop and ask someone if I'm going the right direction, and I get a smile and a wave, "just keep going, way down..." The ten minutes turns to more like thirty. Finally I see the Edinburgh Castle, but it seems no closer to me then the moon, perched high on a hill with a park separating me from it. Suffice it to say, I was sweating by the time I reached the Royal Mile, which as the name implies, is the mile leading up to the castle.
The climb to the castle was worth it. Even the very long line to get a pass was worth it, if only for the sake of the picture of Bob.
You see, Bob came at the end of the tour (no small thing since the tour takes several hours), and was something of a shock. His people wanted to remember him, so they had him stuffed. Bob, was a dog-Registered Pet of the 1st Battalion. And as all dogs that were part of any of the Scottish Regiments, they were well cared for and well loved. My tour was over, but I learned a lot about how a town contained within the walls of Edinburgh Castle spills over those walls, and becomes a wonderful city full of wonderful people.

I will close this by saying that It is now 10:30PM and finally dark outside. I cannot keep my eyes open any longer, so the pictures will be posted tomorrow--especially the one of Bob that is my favorite.