Author Archives: Kevin

21 August 2015

by Kevin

Friday, we woke to partly cloudy and humid day. Roving showers tested our ability to plan our wardrobes for the day. In the end, we went with our Seattle experience and layered up. On our docket this day was visiting two sites and more if we could: The Royal Yacht Britannia and the Palace at Holyroodhouse. Edinburgh Castle would wait until the next day.

Breakfast at The Place was, well, another interesting adventure that started with high expectations. The breakfast is held in two areas, one at the front of the hotel with nice views of the street scene with all the early morning off-to-work crowd and the other at the back that functions also as a passageway to the part of the hotel in which we were housed. We found seats easily and settled in to take in the morning commute outside our window. The occasional ruggedly handsome, kilted businessman passed by but mostly there were saggy jeans on the young and very tightly tailored jeans of various pedigrees with tasteful jackets on those we could assume were heading to some office. Back to the breakfast.

Once again as had been our experience previously on this trip, the staff seemed nearly out of control with all their rushing about and panicked looks. They appeared to be only capable of doing one thing at a time. First the coffee, then, oh, right, forgot the teas. Overhearing a table of retirees on their way shopping that morning, I gathered they took the matter of not having enough tableware into their own hands and pilfered what then needed from where ever they could. I decided to order something hot, two eggs sunny side up and homemade lamb sausages, as I really don’t like ‘trough food’ that has been sitting out and been handled by the guests. Steven does well enough with the orange juice, toasts, hard-boiled eggs, and charcuterie available. Eventually, my order came after a complete change of diners in our room. The food was pretty good though and I devoured it straight away.

Our first task after food was to go down the hill to Princes Street Gardens and purchase our combined tourist bus and attractions tickets at the blue kiosk by all the buses awaiting their customers. It took a bit to locate the very small, almost hidden and closed looking blue kiosk, which had been described to us by the helpful folks in the tourist office as a blue building. We were looking for something well…more like a building. Our mistake. Having our tickets in hand and glancing at our watches to see when the next bus would take us to the Royal Britannia, we thought we had about 15 minutes wait so we just started to look around the area, take a few pictures and wait. I noticed, when we were about half way down the bridge crossing a long-since drained and filled swamp separating Old Edinburgh from the new, in the shadow of The Scott Monument, that our bus had pulled up…a full 10 minutes ahead of time. Catching Steven’s eye, we rush forward through the aimlessly wandering tourists, establishing our ‘we mean business’ formation and skirted by most of crowd, which somehow had managed to quadruple in size in mere moments.

We were nearly the first on the bus, so we had a good choice of seats. Note to anyone traveling this way to the Britannia, taking the upper deck is worth the effort, if it’s not raining. Being it was threatening rain and very humid, we were quite pleased we’d kneed and elbowed our way on to the top deck….just kidding, no infirm or older adults, children, or pets were harmed during our egress.

The trip out to the mouth of the River Leith where the Britannia is moored at the Ocean Terminal is about 30 minutes by bus and wasn’t all that interesting. I passed the time looking at the guidebook and maps trying to keep up with all the hairpin turns we were making on our way there. I lost track. Steven donned a pair of headphones (provided) to listen to the recorded commentary as we whizzed by the sites; he readily admits that he doesn’t remember of word of it. We arrived slightly refreshed and eager to get on with it.

Cue music: Rule Britannia, Britannia Rule the waves….

The Royal Yacht Britannia has a fascinating history for it’s relatively short time in service to HRH Queen Elizabeth and the Royal family. You can go here to read more if you like: http://www.royalyachtbritannia.co.uk. It is now permanently moored at a modern shopping mall and is a very popular tourist attraction as the crush of buses could attest. Finally on board we passed a very nice short history of the vessel and those who were lucky enough to travel upon her. You know the names: Lizbet and Phil of course, Diana and Charles, the boys, several US Presidents including Clinton #1…perhaps there will be a President Clinton #2????

The assorted pictures here tell something of the experience, but frankly, they can’t convey how stately she appeared even in her waning years. There are the main rooms open to the public, but two additional levels not open to tours and held for overnight guests. The Queen’s and Prince Philip’s bedrooms are across the center hall from each other amidships, the most stable place on any ship. Light colored fabrics in hers, a single bed (no trysts on board I guess), a small working desk. The main dining room ran the width of the vessel and was set as if a party were to soon begin. Just aft from here was a small reception room set up as a champagne bar (yummy) that lead into a large and very comfortable looking living room complete with fireplace. Ah, life aboard must have been sweet.

If you do go, look out for the hidden corgis. Small stuffed versions of the Queen’s favorite dogs are all over the place; some stuck up high on shelves next priceless gifts from on of the former territories or just sitting sprightly on a bed.

There was of course lunch to be had about now, so we climbed up to the Royal Deck Tea Room and were seated quickly. Tea was a must, how could one not? Soups and sandwiches did the trick along with a ginger beer. After a bit of people watching – hoping secretly to see a Titanicesque young child being shown how one folds ones napkins on the lap just so. Alas, we were only treated to see many texting or engaged in some social media postings.

After lunch, we headed to the lower decks. As sumptuous as were the upper quarters, these were just as Spartan and cramped; minimal room for personal belongings and a small cot for each seaman. The various ranks of officers, of course, had more space, if not even their own stateroom. Each level of officers also had their own lounge with bar. These were actually quite nice. After the tour, we disembarked, passing Her Majesty’s beautifully restored tender complete with gold plated lions and shiny brass cleats.

Back down through the mall to find a bus, not a long wait. We decided to next visit The Palace of Holyroodhouse. The twisted journey took us past the Royal Botanic Gardens and back across town near Holyrood Park with its Salisbury Crags and Arthur’s Seat, the ancient volcano, hanging above the city. A hike up that way will have to wait for another visit. We arrived at Holyroodhouse once again rested.

The Palace is a royal residence to this day and known to be one of the final residences of Mary Queen of Scots. Like most well-used castles and great houses, Holyroodhouse Palace was built over successive centuries and it shows. There is little blending of architecture and interior style, with each addition still fairly distinct. You really got the sense of traveling through history while walking the vast, square building finally ending in the oldest part of the palace where Mary was kept.

After walking a bit around the gardens, it was getting late, my back was aching and my feet were humming, so we decided to catch another tour bus that would hopefully end us close to where we were staying. But not until we’ve sat down for a moment for an afternoon tea in the courtyard.

What a surprise to quickly be engulfed in the massive crowds gathered in Edinburgh for The Fringe Festival. The regular bus route was altered to avert the Royal Mile, which was currently used as a giant venue with mini stages set up all along its length. I was particularly grateful to see it all, as colorful and wonderful as it looked, from a slight distance. We ended up crisscrossing several of the cities bridges, each affording us great views. The bus dropped us at the bottom of the old city, and a big hill climb up to the Mile.

Finding our way up the hill to the crowds wasn’t hard…just follow the steady streams of humanity and you’re there. Once back on the Mile we just wandered about; listening to street performers, watching a Japanese troupe entirely clad in white with white faces tease tourists with their trailing white veils, and taking in a local cathedral requisitioned this week for the Fringe.

We popped into St Giles Cathedral for a quick look. We found a flyer for an organ concert on the next night which would have been interesting, but we had other plans.

This kid, couldn't have been more than 12 or 13 years old, was really killin' it up on the Royal Mile.

I was pooped and my back was getting progressively worse, but I knew Steven could go on and on and on. Gracious as he is, I held out probably too long, not wanting to end the day too fast. By time we headed down the long, steep close back to the other side of the city, to make another climb up to our hotel, I needed some down time. We had dinner at an unremarkable Italian place, Amarone. Inside was a great bustle of noise so we chose the more immediate outside seating as it was quite pleasant out still. After dinner we headed back for the evening through the seemingly on-going party in St Andrew Square. A quick stop in the hotel bar for some ice for our nightcap. I enjoyed the last of our gin & tonic while Steven sampled from our otherwise growing collection of mini-bottles of whisky.

by Kevin (mostly, with some additions from Steven)

August 20, 2015

If you are still following us, you’re probably saying, ‘Hey, didn’t I just see these guys at a holiday party?’ And, you’d be right. Yes, we’re taking our time at this, yes we are.

We had a big day ahead of us; lots of miles to cover and a couple of places of interest to visit. We thought it might take us most of the day to get to our destinations, so we set off early…for us. Leaving Elgin after another, though much lighter, breakfast at our Fawlty Towers digs, we, rather I, really wanted to head toward Balmoral. It was a bit of a trick to find a relatively direct route that got us there on our way to our Land Rover Experience and finally into Edinburgh. As you already know, we’ve done little planning on routes or closures, and the like, so after a brief check of the well-creased map of Scotland, we just headed south on the A941, the most direct route we saw.

We’ve mentioned enough about how narrow the roads are and how fast the lorries go no matter how slight the space between oncoming traffic, so I won’t repeat the many small terrors of this trip, only to say I’m glad we made it over the Cairngorm Mountains without any accidents. We actually chose a lesser-traveled route for the more mountainous parts of the trip, so perhaps, that saved us some drama.

Heading out of Elgin at this time of day wasn’t a problem. We dropped down the A941 which took us past Glen Grant, and Macallan distilleries and the Speyside Cooperage, where we changed to the A939. We also passed near the Aberlour Distillery for which we couldn’t get tasting reservation this week but our friends Bruce and Nancy from the QM2 had been two days before – we just missed them. The roadways along this route were at first packed with commuters and lorries of all sizes, apparently getting an early start to work and making their deliveries, but by time we passed Grantown-on-Spey the traffic really thinned out and we collectively took a big sigh of relief. Maybe we could finally put the Mercedes through her paces and open her up on the open Scottish Highland roads?

This route, the A939, took us deep into Cairngorms National Park and through some of the most beautiful lands we’d seen to this point. From the pictures, you’ll see a lack of large trees and plenty of rolling, heather-covered hills carpeted in different hues and saturations of yellow, fading green, and grey-blue. Somehow this more than the other wonderful landscapes of Scotland hit a cord in us…so THIS is what Scotland looks like. Of course, our vision of this Scotland was shaped by American TV…not the least of which for me was American Werewolf in London ‘Stay on the road. Keep clear of the moors.’ Creepy fun to be seeing the highland moors in the ever changing skies of northern Scotland. Just wonderful.

I can’t say we got much of a chance to open up the Mercedes, but we did push it a few times when we could clearly see enough of the roadway ahead to play safely. Admittedly, it was fun to feel the car hug the roads like it did, not flinching at the speed or curves. Several of the vistas pictured here are views from atop a small pass or overlook on the way into the park. These are old mountains; they look and feel enduring.

We stopped briefly to "stretch our legs" in the village of Tomintoul. Among other things, its claim to fame is being the highest village in the Scottish Highlands. It has a checkered past, including reputedly by loathed by Queen Victoria. As she described:  "a tumbledown, miserable, dirty-looking place." These days, it's actually a clean and quaint little village and quite the tourist centre along the Whiskey Trail among the Highlands.

Just outside Tomintoul we really climbed up in elevation. The land slipped away more steeply on the sides of the road and the gloominess set in; a perfect setting. The Lecht Ski Centre was at the very top of the pass, and while it didn’t look like it had the amenities or the size of the resorts of the American Rockies or Cascades for that matter, we could certainly see ourselves having a grand time coming down off the quad chair and into the valleys of the ski centre. However, as we learned from our guide later in the day, it’s hardly worth the trek to get up here in the winter when you could just as easily fly about anywhere in Europe for much better.

Down we went now, still on the A939 until we got to Gairnshiel Lodge, where we turned west onto the much smaller, more ‘country’ sized road, the 8976. This was a cut off to Balmoral; we thought, ‘hey, why not explore the country a little more?’ This short stretch took us past the tiny village of Bush Lawsie and into Crathie, where things definitely took on a more royal look and feel.

Reaching Balmoral we found the front gates closed…what, no greeting party? There were no tour buses in the bus park, so we figured Her Majesty or the kiddies were in residence. We were right. Just a coal delivery truck and several nicely uniformed guards were around. I think I saw some well-armed guards in the woods just beyond the iron fencing, but that could just have been my X-Files weakened brain working overtime.

Even though there were clearly marked signs saying NOT to park in front of the gate area, we did anyway, mostly because I didn’t want to walk the distance from the car park to the gatehouse. Lazy I know…but, we’d been in the car sooo long by then, I just couldn’t wait to get out of it! The shopkeeper at a now converted gatehouse didn’t mention that we should move, probably because he was just as eager to see some humans as we were to get out of that car. We had a pleasant enough chat, with me nervously looking out the window to our car, checking on the guards to make sure they weren’t descending on it or taking it away. We ended up buying a few biscuits and a tea towel, the latter of which now hangs proudly off our oven door. Regrettably, I went for the bargain biscuits thinking that they were from Prince Charles’ own farms and recipe. Nope. I got the sale biscuits, the kind you can pick up just about anywhere in-country.

We had to move fast down the A93 if we were going to make our 12:30pm appointment at the Land Rover Experience just outside Butterstone on the A923. We made it in plenty of time, in fact, we were the first to arrive. You might be asking why in the world would you set up a Land Rover Experience in Scotland anyway? We’ll get to that in a minute.

Apparently, everyone but us knew that the staff lunched from Noon to 1:30pm, so we weren’t exactly greeted with fanfare when we arrived. But, after finding the main entrance...not so easy really as it was facing the lake, not the car park. Anyway, we did sign-in and were sat in the spacious eating hall (that’s the only name I can come up for it)…by ourselves. Soup and salad were on the menu, the lunch we had purchased ahead of time when we booked our experience. We were starved, and even Steven ate most of his soup, which I think was carrot/squash. After this repast we still weren’t sure what to do next. So we waited thinking someone would come get us to start our adventure. No one came so we went back to the lobby. We noticed that others had arrived and were being treated to coffee and tea in front of the fireplace. We hadn’t been asked if we even wanted coffee or tea. Okay, nothing to be bitter about, just a situation of not knowing the protocol of how these things worked. And we continued to wait for a guide.

Okay, so we finally were introduced to our guide – Ruaraidh Carmichael – we called him Rudy. Rudy took us to our white Discovery Sport HSE. Incidentally, we only recently had taken delivery of our own. Here’s where the explanation of why we’d booked this experience comes in. We didn’t know, but when you buy a Land Rover you get a free 2-3 hour ‘experience’ driving your model around a course designed to take advantage of the rig’s capabilities. So, Steven being on that sort of thing, found out through considerable back and forth with Land Rover USA and Land Rover UK, that indeed we COULD transfer our free experience to the Scotland centre. Yeah for us. So, there you go, we booked our time at the Scotland centre with lunch just so we’d have another weird story to tell.

The experience itself was a bit underwhelming at first. Country roads and some sloppy unpaved narrow trails, not much else until we got to an open area with some serious looking hills and water covered paths. It turns out there are several tracks that are specifically designed for specific vehicles. Ours, being a littler, lighter and newest Land Rover model, wasn’t designed for the steepest nor the deepest water traps. Bummer. But we did get to go up and down parts of the route that I would never have done on my own. The first time Rudy showed us the capability we had of letting the car take over controlling the rate of ascent and descent with the Hill Decend feature. We had no idea that we could let off the gas pedal and the car would figure out the proper rate given the steepness of the hill. REALLY cool. We can also use this for launching and retrieving our boat – this will come in really handy! Here's a video of Steven putting it in action.

We each got a chance at this - the uphill and downhill tracks – several times. What fun. Rudy said we needed to move along as others were now coming on the course and wanted to have a go at the climbs. So off we went on the country roads to another part of their course. This time we went higher up into sheep country, having to pass a few gates to get to our track. Steven recalls that Rudy grew up in the area on a sheep farm, and that Rudy said he hated sheep. Apparently, according to Rudy, sheep are the dumbest animals around. No offense to you sheep people, just reporting the facts of Rudy.

We also got great accolades from Rudy on our skill with driving on the “wrong side” of the car. He’s seen people from other left-driving regions that haven’t done as well as us on the course. We chalk it up to a week of practice in a car with much less visibility.

After about 3 hours, or very close to it, we had to get going to Edinburgh to turn in the car by 6pm.

From Butterstone we hightailed it to Dunkeld and caught the main highway, the A9, south toward Perth and on the M90 to the A90, across the Forth Road Bridge and finally into Edinburgh. We did not stop at Deep Sea World in Inverkeithing, which is on the Firth of Forth, to dive with sharks (http://www.deepseaworld.com/shark-dives) – Darn!

Heading into Edinburgh wasn’t a big deal as it turns out. The trusty GPS on the Mercedes got us to our hotel, The Place at York Place. Funny thing, we didn’t see any parking anywhere near the hotel entrance, which was on a main tram and bus line. I was admittedly a little fried from all the driving that day and told Steven to just park the car on the sidewalk, making sure to get enough off the road so we wouldn’t get smashed by buses or cars. Well, we really wanted to make sure not to get the car scratched in the final minutes of rentalship, so he parked solidly on the sidewalk, causing more than a few raised eyebrows from the locals trying to make their way around this black Mercedes blocking their way.

A new bridge is being built across the Firth of Forth, it looks to be quite massive.

Phew. We got checked in fine, Steven went off the return the car (thankfully only ½ block away), leaving me to tend to the bags…which were considerable by then and very heavy. You might not know, but I had been slowly developing a very sore shoulder and back ache since we left Seattle, and by this time I was nearly in tears if I walked too much and lifted just about anything with my right arm. Luckily, the hotel had a strapping young buck of an Italian to assist me getting the bags up four flights of stairs.

Note to self: check on whether your hotel has an elevator if it’s above a couple of stories. The stair climbs were steep and the height of each level was considerably higher than one would think. Just a piece of advice to check out the elevator situation when traveling in the UK, especially if one of your party has been developing twitches and pains.

The room itself was plenty large and comfortable, even by European standards, a fact that the Italian buck commented on when he found out our room number. I didn’t ask further about that little bit of endorsement. I suppose it was a nod to the old and the artsy-new that we found this portrait guarding over our bed.

It was very humid and bordering on being a bit too warm that day, so we threw open the windows a while and just collapsed on the bed, still feeling the hours of motion in our feet. Eventually, we needed food and drink and off we went toward the centre of town. Quite amazingly, this happened to be the night of a city-wide festival. The park, St. Andrew’s Square, was full of food carts, a champagne bar, beer gardens and several music venues. It was really a pleasant surprise to walk into such a party and a great way to start off the final days of our time in Scotland.

We headed further into the center of town looking for a full dinner. We just happened to stumble across Jamie’s Italian by renowned TV chef Jamie Oliver. If you ever find yourself near this place, just keep walking. It’s basically the Cheesecake Factory or Italian food: huge portions, well enough prepared, but not above average, in a large and noisy dining room. Our friends William and Kate in York had been to a smaller Jamie Oliver restaurant elsewhere and said it was quite good, but at the moment we’re not recalling where that one was. The charcuterie platter, however, was quite ample, and could be a meal in itself.

Back to the hotel for the night. Lots of site seeing in the morning.

Tuesday, August 18th

by Kevin

Last Breakfast at The Thistle House Guest House

We were up early to get a start on a very busy day. Tucked in our breakfast, managed to haul all our bags, which had grown precipitously since leaving the QM2, down the steep stairways to the car without incident. Both of us were anxious to get going and leave some time to get to our first destination of the day, the Glencoe Visitor Centre.

Saying goodbye to our hosts, I drove us straightaway up the A815, connecting to the eastbound A83, the same road on which we drove into the Lock Fin and Inveraray area from Glasgow five days earlier. Backtracking just a bit, we turned north at Tarbet and proceeded on the A82. Did we mention how narrow all the roads are? Yes, we did. What a relief it was to once again be on a more generously proportioned roadway today. The sun was peaking through thick clouds and we felt ready for the next adventure.

At Tarbet you get to follow up the west side of Loch Lomond, which is just lovely. The loch comes into view now and again from behind trees and scrub. Every once and a while you get a clear view of the mountains of the Trossachs National Park system. Up we head, speeding along with the traffic, not as nervous about actually going the speed limit now on these wider roads. Still, one never knows exactly when a gargantuan semi tractor-trailer rig will appear from around a sharp corner. We made it unscathed of course, but nerves were on edge I could say that for sure.

After Loch Lomond, heading north, the road buries itself into a series of heavily wooded small river valleys, then bounding up over the occasional small pass, all the while gradually ascending. There isn’t really much to report on for this part of the trip. We just kept going on A82, taking in the Scottish views, thankful of the Mercedes’ road gripping handling.

You have to love the names of some of the towns we passed through: Inverarnan, Inverardran (rival cousin towns perhaps?), Tyndrum, Auch, Bridge of Orchy (a personal favorite – half expecting to see an orc come into view!), and the lovely Loch Tulla. It was just about here, maybe 2 hours into our ride north, that the road bends west and climbs into the mountains leaving behind the lush forests with their thick undergrowth.

This was the first time we’d been into something close to what we know as mountains. Being from Seattle, the Cascades are quite tall for a coastal range and offer many wonderful views. But we don’t have the wide-open high mountain areas that have little or no trees. The bare rock face of the mountains seem to sit on tufts of green, almost as if the green is holding the rocky cliffs aloft so humans can enjoy.

One of the ranges holds Glencoe Mountain, a ski resort of some size. No snow yet, so we just stopped to enjoy the vistas at a road stop and switch drivers. I was over driving on those roads for the time being at least.

Rainbow Mickey at Loch Tulla Viewpoint

You can see Rainbow Mickey really enjoyed the view of Loch Tulla behind us as we began the climb in earnest. It was hard to know which turnout would have the best views, so we just grabbed the one nearest the highest part of the journey. We weren’t alone. Somehow, this place immediately got crowded after we pulled in. Buses and large caravan’s piled with tourists (we know, tourists just like us). But does there have to be so many? We were starving, so we partook of a food truck parked there. I can’t recall what we had. It wasn’t good, but it was hot and washed back with a Coke, palatable, just.

Coming down into a valley we were on the look out for the Glencoe Visitor Centre. No problem finding it. It was well marked and up to the main parking lot we went. We were early, maybe by 30 minutes. The visitor complex looked pretty new. It consisted of a few low, mountain-modernish buildings, connected by raised walkways so not to disturb the natural flow of water in and around the area. A small stream presented itself as we exited the main building while waiting for our tour to begin. We went just a little ways up a trail and came back, mostly because my hip was hurting again, a mysterious pain that crept back now and again demanding I sit down and stretch a little.

We finally got to our tour and ended up being the only ones there. A few other people just didn’t show up, so we had our guide, who we secretly called Groundskeeper Johnny – a play on groundskeeper Willie from the Simpsons, all to ourselves. Score! You’ll hear the similarity in the video.

Let me tell you, the Scotts are a talkative bunch and Johnny was no exception. His Scottish brogue was more than a little enchanting – can I say that? Well, it was. Hearing him retell the local history of Glencoe (emphasis on ‘coe) brought the famous tussle between Steven’s Clan Campbell and Clan McDonald, from whom our Johnny descends. It turns out, that about 30 McDonalds lost their lives trying to escape from the Campbell chief who was empowered by the King of England, James I to collect new taxes. Of course, come into power, much less become a King, and get some cash by taxing the people. Heard this a million times. We dared not mention Steven’s heritage.

Anyway, it wasn’t a ‘massacre’, at least not in my Hollywood tainted mind. A skirmish? Yes. A fiercely independent people escaping into the mountain valleys to get away from a new ruler, only to be frozen or starved? Yes. Not really a massacre. But, in fairness, it was a deeply symbolic event, one that still fuels a few raised pints at the pub recalling the demise of kin.

Groundskeeper Johnny is a highly educated and trained naturalist. He pointed out all the local heathers – pronounced by him, ‘heether’ - (I really didn’t know there were this many varieties) and the invasive species of plants that took over where ever sheep were allowed to graze. There is a balancing act going on between sheep farmers, perfectly at their rights to let their animals graze on the land, and caretakers of the land like Johnny who want th
e high mountains to be as unperturbed as possible, to retain their beauty, and limit human intrusion. Humans brought the sheep after all. The wild goat, well they can stay. They have squatter’s rights apparently.

Mountain Sheep above Glencoe

Way up in the distance we caught one on camera. Barely could make out the dark, very still shape, until some hikers got a bit too close causing the ram to move out of our sight. Besides the flora and fauna, Johnny let us in on a bit of natural history we would never have guessed unless being told. The area you see in the pictures is actually the remnants of a collapsed caldera. In fact, the whole of what looks like a wandering valley with high mountain cliffs is really the ring of a caldera. Johnny waxed on a bit too much when he compared it to Yellowstone, but he laughed too at himself for saying that. The joke was that Yellowstone is sitting atop a seething mass of magma, where Glencoe is quite extinct, though there are still earthquakes now and then. We thought that was all pretty nifty.

We stopped to take this picture of Johnny and me. Steven doesn’t know what exactly happened, but I’m disincorporating with only my head left, and Johnny isn’t far behind. Maybe the faeries were having fun?

Kevin and Groundskeeper Johnny

We thought initially that the Glencoe Visitor Centre was part of a national park system. It turns that the centre and surrounding area is owned by the National Trust of Scotland. If you’re familiar with the Nature Conservancy in the US, it’s a very similar concept. It’s an non-profit that buys land and heritage sites for preservation and conservation. Pretty cool. Check out more: http://www.nts.org.uk/

The next big site was of Ben Nevis, Scotland’s highest peak. Steven was driving as we passed Fort William on the very northern end of Loch Linnhe where Ben Nevis comes into view. I tried to take a picture but couldn’t get it and there was no turnout here for us to pull over. Remember, narrow roads and crazy-speeding drivers. It wasn’t safe to just pull over unfortunately.

Speeding now farther north, still on the A82 believe it or not, we whiz by Loch Oich and onto the famous Loch Ness!!!

Fort Augustus is at the bottom, or south end, of Loch Ness and has pretty nice set of attractions all on its own. There are plenty of sightseeing tours available, a few snack shops and a set of locks that are pretty nice. Its called the Caledonian Canal and its five locks cascade down like a river into Loch Ness. Very much worth the short walk from the car park. Oh, and we saw our first Nessie kitsch too…the wire Nessie in the middle of the park. We only wish we’d seen it in full bloom. We walked around the village just a little, we both needed to get out of that car and get some snack of some kind. After much searching and internal debating, we both settled on Café Americano’s from a vending machine. My, my how far we have fallen from the silver trays and white-gloved service on the QM2.

Mickey with baby Nessy

So off we were, up the A82 some more
sliding up the west side of Loch Ness, Steven still driving. Now, you’re going to call me crazy, but just as we made a bend, not too far from where the picture was taken of a castle across the Loch, I swear I saw a black hump in the water and then it was gone when I was able to see the same area again after rounding another bend. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Steven just smiled. “Yes, dear, of course you saw Nessie.”

I think he was secretly jealous.

Loch Ness

Okay, the Loch is really beautiful. I wish we could have stayed over someplace for the night, but there really aren’t that many places to stay. You have to go to the bigger city past north of the Loch, Inverness.

Speaking of Inverness…avoid it. I know there is some quaint seaside atmosphere down by the water, but it’s nuts with clogged roads and an over abundance of lorry’s. Maybe you’ll have better luck with Inverness than we did, but we shot through town not looking back. Oh, we couldn’t look back otherwise we would have been sideswiped by a truck…err lorry.

The next stop, our accommodations for the evening in Elgin at the Mansion House Hotel. I insisted that we stay at one castle while in Scotland. Turns out, they are very expensive and the nicer ones are either booked up with August weddings or so far out of our price range that we couldn’t justify it.

Getting to the Mansion was a funny adventure on its own. Our typically trusty navigation system on the Benz, led us down what can only be described as a back alley. We think it was the best route as the crow flies, but it took us into lanes that would almost not accommodate our car, much less a car and a dog or cat. Finally, though, over a little footbridge-sized passage over a diminutive creek and we were there.

Ah, the Mansion House, what we will jointly refer to forever, as Scotland’s very own Faulty Towers. More on this later. You’re going to love it.

Saturday morning, Aug. 15^th

by Kevin (and some by Steven) -

We ambled down to breakfast at Thistle House. The room is bright and clean with yellow walls, white trim, and white furnishings…and we were the only ones there. It was a little odd being the only ones there for a while, but soon enough another couple came in said hello in some heavy accent and sat down turning to talk to each other. This scenario repeated itself during our stay. It seemed that the couples or friends traveling together kept to themselves. So much for the adage of ‘stay at a B&B and meet new friends!’ Some of it was language no doubt as most of those staying at Thistle were Russian or French and spoke almost no English…at least to us or the staff. Some of this keeping to oneself could have to do with the arrangement of the tables, most of them being set up for two not a communal table where you’re forced to interact. Nonetheless, I do wonder if that time when connections and friendships were made at these small homes converted to B&B use hasn’t just simply passed.

The breakfast spread had a few offerings we would see just about everywhere we went in the next two weeks: Full Scottish, omelets, ala carte oatmeal (porridge), streaky bacon, and various smoked fishes – most commonly salmon and cod and a few times kippers - yum. In addition there were breads, yogurts (plain for me please), granola, and of course teas and coffees – white or black? We ended up varying our breakfasts, but did have the Full Scottish, smoked salmon (I had that since Steven would definitely turn up his nose at it) and fresh fruit with yogurt and granola a few times. Toward the end of our stay I was pretty over the big breakfasts and went with plain old porridge, which suited me just fine.

So while we didn’t meet new friends at Thistle, it became our home for a few days. We ‘moved in’ easily to the main living room, at times setting up some of the space to use for writing this blog. Sometimes no writing was done, instead we shared a glass of a newly acquired whisky or two in the evenings. It was in the living room that more conversations with guests happened. As you can see, it’s really a very pleasant place with generous couches and comfortable seating. Our hosts Jennifer and Alistair provided glassware ro whisky and wine in case guests wanted to bring their own tasty beverages. We met a particularly happy group (two couples from England) who gave us some pointers on what to see and avoid, where to eat and not. They were well into their bottles of wine so possibly this provided the necessary lubrication for conversation. Unfortunately, they did leave a couple of rather humble wines for others to enjoy…I’m being generous by using ‘humble’…think of Bigfoot wines. What they didn't finish they left for others – these bottles remained untouched for the rest of our stay.

One place to eat just about everyone mentioned at Thistle and in our research before the trip was the Loch Fyne Oyster Bar located at the very northern tip of the loch. We had to pass it on our way to Inveraray so it was pretty convenient for us. We made a reservation ahead of time for lunch on Saturday, Aug. 15^th and I’m glad we did. But before getting into that food adventure, it’s worth mentioning our visit to the seat of the clan Campbell at Inveraray Castle.

This was Steven’s day to go full kilt, which involves gathering a lot of pieces and putting them on just so. The whole dressing in a kilt process takes about 45 minutes, just fyi, but it is worth it. Soon enough off we were, heading out just before 10am taking the A83 past the Oyster Bar and into Inveraray.

Inveraray Castle, Argyll Scotland

Inveraray and Inveraray Castle were top destinations for us. You might know that Steven and I spent several months researching, looking at websites, and deciding on our itinerary for this trip. The QM2 part and visiting friends were no-brainers, these were non-negotiable given our time frame of three weeks plus a couple of days. One of the driving or organizing principles for our trip was exploring some of Steven’s Scottish heritage. He’s been using Ancestry.com for quite some time and for those of you who know Ancestry, at some point or another you’re going to find a link way back to someone of note. I have to admit teasing Steven mercilessly about his spurious connections, especially when Charlemagne, Jesus, and Cleopatra came up.

It was inevitable then that we’d spend a good amount of time exploring Campbell territory in the area of Scotland known as Argyll. Steven’s grandmother on his father’s side was a Campbell as well as a Great Grandmother of different lineage, also on his father’s side. This connection to Scotland and the seat of the Campbell clan was Steven’s inspiration for having a kilt made – in Campbell tartan.

Coming up the highway (A83) leads you over the Aray Bridge with a picture perfect view of the castle. You drive a little past the bridge and take a right onto the castle approach. We got there pretty close to opening at 10am, but before most of tour buses. With pre-purchased tickets in hand we parked the Mercedes, thinking to make sure to have our umbrellas since the skies weren’t looking too happy at that moment. As a side note, we did make some reservations for meals and sites like this ahead of time as this was the height of tourist season and we didn’t want to just roll the dice and see what we got. Again, I’m glad we did.

Any of you Downton Abbey fans may recognize Inveraray Castle from the 2012 Christmas episode. This is the episode where the Grantham family visits their cousins, the Marquess and Marchioness of Flintshire, at "Duneagle Castle."

Here’s Steven striking a pose on the gravel courtyard in front of Inveraray Castle.
Quite handsome I think, but I’m biased. Heading into the castle we were met by a delightfully chatty docent or guide by the name of Stafford Day. He told us of the origin of the entry way we passed as being constructed for the visit of Queen Victoria, mother-in-law of John Campbell, 9^th Duke of Argyll, the holder of Inverary Castle at the time. The original entrance was on the opposite side, actually more suitable to the grand approach in the original layout of the house and grounds. Victoria however, apparently really didn’t countenance getting wet from the Scottish weather, so the Duke had constructed for her visit an iron and glass entry – incidentally designed by the same man who designed the Crystal Palace in London, Sir Joseph Paxton - thus moving the entrance from its original position on the castle. I guess the queen gets what the queen wants. A bus load just arrived so we quickly moved on inside but not before noticing the French couple we met at breakfast.

The inside of the castle is well documented online (http://www.inveraray-castle.com) and in many brochures so we won’t go into the particulars too much. Just to point out a few of the highlights we encountered. The great hall, loaded with swords and sabers, armor on the landings, and a haunted bedroom (pictured below). Personally, I think a sure sign of a haunting is the presence of a creepy doll.Steven and I noticed that much of the color of paint on the walls in the castle was very, very close to those in our own home. I guess that’s because we watch Downton Abbey and were inspired by the period colors that are throughout Inveraray Castle. The combination of soft blue, yellow, and corral is soothing we think – we are lacking the Pompeii-inspired painted panels however. Like most great homes in the UK it is chock full of collected works and personal items from the current owners. See if you can spot Rainbow Mickey.

Of course, we would have been remiss if we didn't visit the kitchen. Thank goodness for modern appliances!!

After dodging the tourists for a couple of hours, it was time for pre-lunch. In the lower level there is a gift shop, a place to buy some food and take your lunch as well as the original kitchen with its massive copper pots and molds. Hale lobster was on the menu, a specialty of the region, but we stuck to simpler fare; soup and teas. After, some shopping was in order in the gift store. We ventured out to the gardens eventually, but not after retrieving our umbrellas from the car…which of course did not make into our packs. Didn’t you check on that? The wait did us good though as I was getting cranky and needed a sit down…a nap would have done me better I’m sure. We headed out to the gardens, Steven snapping some shots as did I. I think the most impressive part of the gardens are the wood. It’s not a grand place in terms of acres, but it was peaceful and relaxing just to walk under the boughs of all the mature trees. I particularly liked the circle of old trees we found. Standing in the middle and looking up was like being in a sacred space, a cathedral of nature.

We had some time to kill before our lunch at the Oyster House, so we ventured down a path adjacent to the car park toward the overlook. A wide roadway of gravel stretched out to what looked like another entrance to the castle, maybe a grander one than that in town. We never found out. Passing over picturesque river we noticed a dog and his human were enjoying the sun break on its banks deeper into the property. Was that the Duke? Probably not. Steven decided to make an adventure of it one day and hike up to the lookout…on his own. I’m not a hiker, not that much anyway. Pictures of Steven's hike come later - as that hike didn't happen for a couple days.

PBS has a series, Great Estates  Scotland. Inveraray Castle was featured in one of the installments. You can watch the episode here: http://video.pbs.org/video/2365335643/ Keep an eye out around the 36 minute mark for Stafford, the docent.

But now it was time for lunch.

Loch Fyne Oyster Bar, Cairndow

First, I have to say that this place has probably the best location outside of Inveraray. It’s directly on A82, the main road that you must use to get from just about anywhere in the Lock Fyne area. There is a fresh case and some prepared foods as you walk in. Further down is the host stand. We were met almost immediately and taken to our table. This is where things start to go wrong I’m almost sorry to say. There are three distinct dining areas we could see from the stand and we were taken to the closest one right off the seafood case and where all the families with young children happened to be. We were sat between two such families with periodically wailing small children. Not a good atmosphere in which to enjoy what we hoped would be a great meal. I know that families need to eat too, but our issue was that there were plenty of other seats in the remaining two rooms. The server was trying her hardest not to draw too much attention to the disturbances going off around the room, other guests appeared on edge too. It was just too much and we did ask to be moved. And moved we were to an adjacent room, filled with sun, big windows.

Even before the move, we had decided to take on the seafood tower with Hale lobster. Now, this isn’t what we’d usually do – order the most expensive thing on the menu that is clearly designed for the wow factor…and tourists like us. We took the bait (pun intended). In our defense, we really wanted to sample the hype, namely its claim to having the freshest seafood around. Now seated in a quieter place, we enjoyed a small salad of rocket (arugula) and parm, followed by a thick soup of smoked oyster and ham. Our tower-o-seafood arrived to the oohs and ahs of our neighboring diners. I have to admit, it was almost intimidating. Many layers of beautiful crustaceans and shellfish were waiting us. Our lobster lay unceremoniously splayed out on top; a rather ungracious thing to do to the poor guy. We dove in and entered hand to hand combat with this amassing of protein. After pulling apart heads from tails, scooping bivalves from the shells, and sucking on the ends of the smallest of lobster legs, we
were nearly defeated. I said nearly. We finished quite happy and shared knowing smiles with our new neighbors…Russians of course, who must have been awed by our efforts as we saw their own towers
arrive just as ours was defeated. All in all and in spite of the poor start to the lunch, the food – its
simple presentation and reliance upon the highest quality seafood – made this meal a good start to our culinary journey. And there were more adventures to come.

Check out their website for more info: http://www.lochfyne.com

A quick ride home and on to a 2^nd dinner at Out of the Blue Bistro! - see our next post

A quick ride home and on to a 2^nd dinner at Out of the Blue Bistro!

The countryside of Argyll is spectacular. After lunch we headed back to Thistle House for a rest and perhaps even a nap. We had arrangements to go back to Out of the Blue to meet the owner and talk with Noel, the chef, to get some background about him the bistro for this blog – and, of course, have another wonderful dinner. Our second meal started with us meeting up with the owner, Susan, and the shop-keep, as well as spending some time with Noel and his daughter, Kristie, our server and the all-around assistant, Lorna (sp?).

Chef Noel Dowse apparently has quite the culinary pedigree. Trained in Ireland’s Port Rush Catering College before apprenticing in Jersey at L’Hermitage Hotel (which no longer exists). He then moved “up-town” to the Savoy in London. His latest gig before heading to Scotland was in First Class lounges and corporate catering for British Airways at Heathrow Airport. Being friends with the owner’s husband, he had been asked in the early days of their owning the bistro to come be the chef but it took over a year of convincing him to get back into the kitchen. We were certainly pleased that he made the decision to do so.

His daughter, Kristie - delightful young woman as we've said - has not inherited her father’s skills in the kitchen. By her own admission, she is not a cook – far from it. In fact, she was asked not to return to Home Economics class in school after burning up the classroom kitchen with her failed Gummy Bear muffins. At least she’s able to laugh about it these days and accepts that Dad will always be the cook in the family.

Dinner tonight started out with the day's soup, which neither of us can remember what it was. But judging by the picture, I think it was a pea soup with crème fraîche. I do remember that it was as delicious as it looks. The real treat were the entrees! We both had the same main since it sounded so good, which it was. Drambuie Chicken  - as described on the menu:

Oven roasted breast of free range chicken stuffed with haggis, wrapper in bacon, smothered in a creamy peppercorn, heather honey and whiskey liqueur sauce. Served on a bed of grainy mustard mash.

What could go wrong with that!

A couple things that made this particularly nice, besides the freshness of it all, was that it was well seasoned, and the haggis wasn't fried in fat and therefore it did not over-power the dish. We've had haggis a couple other times on the trip, though tasty, it can have pretty strong flavor, be very heavy (due to being fried in fat...which it readily absorbs), but this did not. The chicken was surprisingly moist for being breast meat.

Click here full menu.

Once again, appetites satisfied, back to the inn for a night cap and sorting through the day’s photos before heading to bed.