What a wonderful, fascinating,
and genuine vacation

Otherwise, why the heck would anybody go to Scotland in mid-March? It’s rainy. It’s cold. The flowers are not in bloom yet. It’s cold. It’s rainy. You get the picture.

The queue for bagpipes was shorter than expected. They were supposed to arrive here in late January. By Thanksgiving, we had committed to go to Scotland with Brian, et al. Then Brian suggested I attend the Piping School as well. Huh? In theory, I would have had my Great Highland Bagpipes (GHB) for all of a month, which was about a year and a quarter since I started taking lessons. Brian assured me that budding intermediates would find the Piping School worthwhile.

Otherwise, why the heck would anybody go to Glasgow for nine days?

Surprise. Glasgow was wonderful. Yeah, it’s a city. Yeah, it appears blue collar. But it was vibrant. It’s not the “poster city” that Edinburgh is, so the locals aren’t constantly hammered by tourists; they actually chat with tourists... or at least, with those tourists who stop and chat. And as Joann found out while I was taking lessons each morning for five days, Glasgow has a bunch of museums worth going to. (I can recommend The Clyde Room of Ship Models.)

We arrived in Glasgow on Saturday, March 20, settled in, exchanged currencies, ate. (Haggis was absolutely wonderful, and much, much better than any “haggis” I tried at the annual New England Folk Festival Association shindig or at the Scottish Highland Games at Loon Mountain, NH.) The next day, Brian, Joann, and I walked around. Here, Joann is standing next to a tall pedestal at Cathedral Square. Above and behind the pedestal is a streetlight. (Sorry, the picture suggests the light extends from the pedestal; it doesn’t.) The ornamentation on the streetlight is a bell, a fish, and thistle (from the fish’s head). This is apparently the city’s logo. Note the weather: blue sky and pretty, which was typical during our visit...in Glasgow.

While I was blowing my brains out at the Piping School, Joann cruised Glasgow. She also took the train to Edinburgh, staying overnight. I caught up with her the second afternoon. After lunch (I ate haggis—detect a theme yet?—the local beer was good, too), we visited a music shop, then walked all over to find a kilt maker.

By evening, we wound up in front of Edinburgh castle, having walked around and below some of it during our traipsing around. The lit-up castle was too much for me to ignore with my camera. It looks better in real life. In fact, the old part of Edinburgh is definitely “poster city” material. Worth a longer visit. And more film.

By the way, the castle’s roots date back to at least the 11th Century, when the military fortress was used by royalty. The current castle probably dates back to around the 1650s.

The next afternoon, back in Glasgow, Brian and the brianettes went to the Mount Stuart House and gardens. This was a quick ferry ride to the island of Bute. The original mansion was built 1680s. The Stuarts have held the lands since 1204, living on the present site for almost three centuries. The current resident, Anthony Crichton-Stuart (I guess he’d be the 7th Marquess of Bute, but don’t quote me), lives in part of the mansion.

The mansion consists of red sandstone Gothic palace, fabulous marble stairway and columns and ceilings, many rooms, marble chapel, and grounds.

In this picture, you see the marble chapel in back. The lion sits on top, left, of the main entrance way. You can see the sandstone mansion between the lion and the chapel. The chapel is quaint. Built in 1896, it was recently used for a family wedding in 1998. Correction: Joann used it during the tour. The chapel was our last stop before we were let loose onto the grounds. After most of our group moseyed out with the tour guide, Joann stood at one end of the chapel and started singing opera. The acoustics were fabulous. Joann was, too. So much so, some of the kids came back inside the chapel to listen. (This was the first time I’ve heard Joann really let “loose”... other than when we took showers together when we were first dating. Opera singers can sing loud, which is probably another reason why I decided to learn bagpipes.)

I saw a couple of rooms suitable for me to have an office, but the heating bills would be horrific. Apparently the 6th and 7th Marquess agree; they opened the house to tourists, both for its historical value and to defray expenses.

I didn’t walk around too much in the gardens, which included forest and shoreline. Instead, I got captivated by lichen, moss, flowers, trees, and objects near the mansion. This, the structural end of a wide bench, is a camel. Note the weather: cloudy. The day was actually quite nice, until we started walking the grounds. Just during that time, it started to rain. It was over soon. (Hold that thought. It’s another theme.)

After a week in Glasgow, we rented a car and headed north along the coast, sallying forth east first for the Firth of Forth. (Well, not exactly, but I couldn’t pass up the alliteration here. We did see the Forth Rail Bridge. Civil engineering par excellance.)

We stopped at Dunnottar Castle in Aberdeenshire. This joint is on a flat-topped promontory with sheer cliffs on three sides. You’re looking at the approach in this first picture. This approach is along the fourth side of the promontory, which was connected to the “mainland” until construction of the castle was finished.

The Castle is a little bit younger than the 400 million years to make the promontory it sits on. Supposedly, it started as a missionary station on or near the rock in the year 400. A parish church was consecrated in 1276. The present Castle dates back to the late 14th Century.

This next picture to the right shows the approach to the castle. You’re standing above the front entrance, on top of a 9-meter-high “curtain wall.” To the left is Benholm’s Lodging, which is mostly inhabited by seagulls. Loud seagulls. They don’t have a problem entering the castle. Can you imagine trying to attack the Castle using this approach—the only ground approach to the Castle?

Another view of Benholm’s Lodging on the left (looking counterclockwise from the picture on the right). Benholm’s Lodging is somewhat still in use. Least of which is the very, very tiny museum on the top floor. Benholm’s Lodging is named that after a descendant of Sir William Keith, one of the King’s principal officers in the 14th Century. The lodging was built in the 16th Century. From the first floor, the defenders could shoot grape shot toward the warriors attacking the front entrance way. Otherwise, the building was used for, uh, lodging.

The next picture on the right is inside the towerhouse (the Keep; 14th Century). The stonework is still in good shape, even the stonework around windows and for the (cold) benches. But all the wood work, particularly the floors and ceiling, are gone. Makes for an airy residence, as you can see from this second-story view of the inside. By the time we left Dunnottar, it was snowing—wetly—then it turned to rain, which then turned to a normal overcast day.

I’ve got other pictures as we drove along the River Dee from Aberdeen to Braemar (B&Bing in Stonehaven and two nights in Ballater), then to the Trossachs (B&Bing in Aberfoyle), along the way day hiking in conservancy lands, whether flat forests or in the mountains. And remember the weather theme? As long as I kept my poncho on, it didn’t rain or drizzle; within minutes of taking it off, it started to rain. This was “rigorously” tested as we hiked up and down the 2,800-foot Morrone (1,600-foot climb).

Bear with me on this tangent. I remember my first business trip to the central mid-west United States. Why? People at the airport, car rental, hotel, and restaurants would ask “How are ya?” Then they’d look you in the eye expecting an answer. Very different than the busy-ness I found along the east coast (New York city, New Jersey, and Boston).

Back to Scotland. This vacation reminded me of that business trip so long ago. Maybe it was because Joann and I were visiting off-season, well before the locals got callous to yet another wave of tourists, and they had the time to sit and relax while going about their business. Several people tell us that the Scots are like this all the time. Joann and I instantly mixed with so many people we met—store keepers, B&B hosts, restaurateurs, other hikers. Wonderful people, wonderful sights, food was excellent (even the haggis), driving on the left wasn’t so bad (roundabouts work, I think, because the people in Scotland actually do follow the rules of the road), and so on and so forth.