“…the blood is strong. The heart is Highland. And in my dreams I behold the Hebrides…”! (unknown exiled immigrant to Canada).
Prologue
Scotland 2010. There are no words, but permit me a meagre attempt to synopsize. Our 5th tour of Caledonia commenced with the bhoys meeting me at my place at 6 am Thursday the 14th and off we went to the Newark airport. Well, to Tim Horton’s first, and then over the border. A short, fast, 6.5 hr drive and we were at the Wyndham Hotel bar discussing our choice of hang-over remedies – you know it’s a good trip when eh??
THE Journey Commences
We met Jeff et al in the Newark airport pub for a few wets before 6 pm boarding. Continental is not a bad airline actually: each seat back had monitors with multiple first rate movies, and grog x2. Not bad at all. We landed in Heathrow for our connection to Edinburgh. Heathrow: AKA HELL! A short shuttle to another terminal via the ‘labyrinth’ and off we flew to Edinburgh.
Edinburgh – The Royal Burgh
‘Edinburgh Turnhouse’ airport is the opposite of Heathrow but I digress….. We met our seasoned tour bus driver – Wattie Grant, and I can say, without reservation, he’s been the best we’ve had thus far: pleasant, easy-going, likes a drop o’ the pure, knowledgeable, and a riot at the mic. On a new “executive class” bus no less: with 2 fridges, bathroom, poker tables with ample leg room. We had a vast array of enthusiastic attendees from every walk of life, all of great disposition, and all rarin’ for a hooter of a time – and so we did – every freakin’ day and night!! We Rhock!
We immediately went to the ‘Castle on the Rock’. Most went into the castle for a free tour (value 15 pounds each), and some of us settled for some settling pub libation. A subsequent tour of Arthur’s Seat, Holyrood Palace, a beer stop, and finally the Holiday Inn on Corstorphine Road. A few minutes to unload our luggage and we jammed ourselves into a bunch of cabs and off we roared to the Aulde City on the Royal Mile.
Deacon Brodie’s Tavern on “The Mile”
Every Scottish trip we take usually starts with the compulsory ‘Deacon Brodie’s Piss-Up’ and so we did. It was a great place to alleviate some jet-lag and get acquainted with our gang. It was also D’Arcy’s 22nd b-day! After closing, we set up a ceilidh at the hotel lounge and had a hoot! With tunes in our heads and hearts, bellies full of Tennant’s beer, we called it a night at approx 3 am.
Next day the bus went to Roslyn Chapel – of Da Vinci Code fame, the Royal Britannia, and a number of other attractions/ shopping. I decided to explore Murrayfield, the Old city of Corstorphine and Corstorphine Mountain. It was perfect Scottish weather: 50f, drizzle, occasional sun, wind, mist, and more drizzle. A short 1 hour climb found me atop the mountain with an amazing 360 degree vista of Edinburgh, the Lothian Mountains, the Firth of Forth, and the mountains to the north – breath-taking and lung-searing!
Sandy Bell’s and Another Bhoys Ceilidh – what the heck eh?
The next night we went to the quintessential Scottish trad session pub – Sandy Bell’s: Rarely any tourists, with a guarantee of some awesome session musicians. That night we caught 2 different session groups. I have to say that this ilk of musicians are quirky to say the least, and as talented. They play for free, rarely communicate, will play constantly all night, and are generally resistant to photos and or video. So we took a lot of pictures and videos, enjoyed some awesome trad Scottish music, drank copious amounts of Tennants, and left to have another bhoys ceilidh at our hotel. These sessions are really what everyone likes – writer included. Less formal, great inter-action and craic, interspersed with stories and jokes.
We have always lucked out with our fiddlers – Shelley, Miranda, and D’Arcy. But D’Arcy brings a healthy repertoire of fiddle tunes that defies his young age. He played multiple sessions throughout the tour and rarely repeated a tune. What a talent, and he’s from the Glengarry region no less; low maintenance; easy-going; animated; and, trust-worthy. Graham even dug out some of his old self-penned songs this night, which was nice. I thoroughly enjoy these impromptu sessions. Even over large soft-seat arts centres, any day.
The Highlands – the mist-covered Bens
Every day we partook in our free Scottish breakfasts – which are buffet meals from another world: eggs of every kind, stewed tomatoes, ham, sausages, black pudding, HAGGIS, cereals, fruit, teas, etc…and generally real crappy coffee. It is simply a meal that can sustain any longshoreman for a full day.
On this Monday morning we chowed down on our second of these non-descriptive meals fit for Vikings: Then off we went to Sterling Castle, ancient Dunblane Cathedral, the Trossachs, the Braes/ pass of Killicrankie, Pitlochry for shopping and grog, through the high snow-covered peaks of the Cairngorms, and finally, to the capitol of the Highlands – Inverness.
The large room the bhoys shared at the five star Thistle Hotel, afforded D’Arcy a chance to play with the elderly crisis alarm – a whole other story. Jet-lag, mileage, and extreme ceilidh-ing caught up with this scribbler, post supper and a few jars, I must admit. This nonetheless, like every other evening, we would circle the wagons as it were and enjoy some good old-fashioned conversation – with nary a cell phone or blackberry interrupting to natural flow of engaging dialogue. Off to bed because tomorrow we cross the sea to Skye!
The Journey To Skye – The Black Isle, and The Road To The Isles
Subjectively speaking, Skye was simply the jewel in crown of this tour: Moreover the road to the isles along the Glen Glen, Urquart Castle, Loch Ness, hairy cooes, mountain climbing short-left-legged haggis, majestic red deer stags in the glens, snow capped Glen Morriston mountains, Lochaber, GLENGARRY -- seat of the MacDonells (the only clan to leave Scotland en-masse – from the chief, to the priests, the tacksmen, the pipers, all the way down to the lowest of crofters – they left before their inevitable exile, to Glengarry Canada), little or no tourist traffic, sad crofters’ ruins, rock walls, empty glens, and finally at the most photographed castle in the UK and also of the trilogy of ‘Highlander’ movies’ fame – Eilean Donan Castle – the seat of Clan MacRae. What a sight!
Eilean Donan Castle
I believe this was my nineteenth or twentieth tour of Scotland and perhaps my twelfth time viewing Eilean Donan and it still grips my soul every time I step onto the 12th Century stone causeway toward this fairy-tale like castle. No words can describe it. This time however I tested my new Columbia waterproof hiking boots, took advantage of low-tide, and walked along the rocky shore-line surrounding the castle instead. What an experience to view the castle from the water’s edge and its majestic ramparts of 16 ft thick stone walls. Scot, our favourite Binghampton dentist/ piper walked out to a stone skree-top near the causeway and played a few tunes, much to enjoyment of many tourists close-by. Speechless and back on the bus, we broke out the beer and crossed over the new bridge to the Dark Isle where Bonnie Prince Charlie was smuggled o’er the Sea to Skye by Flora MacDonald.
Skye – True Gem of The Hebrides: Na Gaeldachdt – Gaeldom’s Keeper
We drove over The Kyles of Kyleakin, past Plockton (of the Hamish Macbeth series) and landed on Skye – what a beauty. Wattie drove us slowly, with multiple Kodac-moment stops, toward Portree; past the rocky Black Cuilins; Raasay Sound; inhabited glens; snow-capped vertical-like regal mountain-tops – the splendour of which takes one’s breath away. Portree allowed us a few hours of walking, hiking, photography, grog, as the sun poked through dark clouds – exposing the ring of pastel coloured tenements that wall Portree’s circular fishing port.
I opted to hike the Trotternish shore-line, gasping at the cliffs that circumvent the north bay of Portree. A perfectly maintained path sponsored by the Clan MacNicol/ Nicholson of America, affords hikers the opportunity to enjoy the resplendence of this true gem of the Hebrides. There are no words.
I made it back in time to board the short drive to our Island Hotel – The Donnolie – on Raasay’s Kyle. This Inn faces the ocean with a perfect view of Raasay and its towering ramparts, over the straight bearing its name. Graham and I decided to ‘Spartan-it’ as it were, with brisk 3 mile hike in what I can only describe as a early winter gale coming in from the sea. It was awesome. The raging waves crashing in on the rocky-shore, a wind that through us off-balance every other step, horizontal rain: what a way to build up an appetite. Back at the Inn, once we figured out the room heating complexities, a few jars, it was off for our free evening buffet feast of roast-beef, fish, pasta, salad/ soup, and dessert.
“…We Come To Ceilidh in The Glen…”
Adjoining the hotel is a quaint trad Scottish pub (who knew) – a perfect place for a kitchen-ceilidh we thought – and so we did, again. What a hoot for all, including the locals that crowded our circle for the experience. Another late night of ceilidh-ing and off to our racks we went. The sound of the weather beating against our window compelled me to fling it open and view this meteorological / mythical event in awe – if for but only a few moments. Next morning Graham woke us with an invite to the dominant mountain vista at our window ledge. There were no words.
Another mammoth-like Scottish breakfast: the perfect launching-pad for our journey to Armadale – seat of the Lord of the Isles. Thereon we waited for the MacBrayne ferry to Mallaig. An hour and a half wait gave us the time to enjoy the sun peaking through dark clouds, with a walk on the black-ink marble stone ballasts that point toward the sea. Those of you who have viewed the tourist-crowded “Giant’s Causeway” in Antrim would love this find. Similar eight-sided ballast marble rocks on a 15 degree angle facing the sea like stacked cannon barrels. Wonderment!
It’s a Lovely Day in Mallaig!
Maillaig’s fishing port is not how I remembered it. It is now cleaned up but it has managed to retain its traditional fishing port ambience and feel. The road to Lochaber is likewise not as I remember it. In 1972 most of the highlands’ roadways were one-lane MacAdam roads with a pull-over “lay-by” every 500 yds or so. Now they are mostly narrow, very narrow, two-laned roads – with absolutely no shoulders. Wattie’s expertise put to the test.
Glenfinnan – Where the Bonnie Prince was met by 4000+ Clansmen in 1745
“…news from Moidart…” summoned the clans to this hollowed place. Supposedly, post a few hours wait, a disappointed Prince Charles Stuart and a few loyal soldiers got back in their row boat to head back to France, when in the distance he heard the sound of bagpipes and clinking armour. Over the hills, running down to Glenfinnan, were the Camerons of Lochiel, The MacDonalds of Clan Ranald and Glenladale, the MacDonells of Glengarry, the Frasers, Clan Murray and many other smaller clans. Thereupon they raised the Royal Stuart Standard, and the enterprise to retain the Stuart Crown as well as the preservation the highland-clan way of life was commenced.
Like a fjord through the Lochaber Mountains and Lochs, the Glenfinnan monument stands stoically, almost hauntingly, against the dark backdrop – a tribute to a way of life that remains only in our dreams. What a sight – no words can describe the experience.
On a lighter note, D’Arcy and I decided to christen the moment with a squirt at the very meeting place and then we blindly headed off across the heather-moor. I got unceremoniously tripped up in the soggy bracken, lunging from small hillock to hillock – almost breaking my neck – all to D’Arcy’s un-sympathetic roaring laughter. Thanks buddy! We continued our hike round the Loch and across some hills till we came across bear path and thought it best to return to the safety of the bus and its many beer laden fridges.
Neptune’s Staircase and Fort William
The road to Fort William is simply spectacular. A challenge to everyone’s vertebrae and shutter fingers, we were all rotating from side to side in awe of the highland splendour. Unlike North American vistas of this calibre, the Highlands seemingly sprout out straight up right there at the road’s edge – giving one a feeling of being part of the breath-taking scenery. Heather covered mountains in the mist, craggy rock battlements, waterfalls, arctic flora next to Caribbean palm trees challenge one’s suspended reality of the panorama that surrounds us!
A stop at ‘Neptune’s Staircase’ (the Caledonian Canal – a series of multiple locks in a short distance – elevating boats some 67 ft to the next sea loch) leaves one awestruck at this 17th century feat of engineering marvel. Some shopped the afternoon away, some hiked, and some characters (Mike, Jeff, Graham, D’Arcy, Scott, Annalise, this scribbler, and our endeared “half-pint”) opted for an afternoon of pubing – joyful bliss!
In view of monstrous Ben Nevis (highest mountain in the UK), our 5 star ‘Ben Nevis View Hotel’ boasted of a world-class spa, pool, gym, top European cuisine, a great pub, and spectacular accommodation. At 7 pm we all gathered in the dining lounge for another free (free is good) outstanding 4 course meal. Thereafter, we met in the pub for another engaging evening of good ‘craic’. The always industrious Scott somehow found a Fort William ‘Strathspey and Reel Society’ fiddler willing to part with a ‘D’ string, which enabled D’Arcy to resume his fiddling mission before we turned in. The trad style fiddling they both displayed harkened me back to the kitchen-ceilidhs of my youth – pure euphoria! Fort William: a magical place indeed.
Post another hearty breakfast, we headed off to one of Scotland’s prized possessions – Glencoe, Glen of Weeping, the seat of the malfeased MacDonalds therefrom.
Glencoe – The Glen of Weeping
This place, this awful place – Glencoe, a terrible beauty! The story goes that the loyalist Campbells of Glenlyon descended upon the MacDonalds of Glencoe, ordered to put all to sword by William of Orange, and murdered their highland hosts while they slept. A local hotel has a sign that says: “no tinkers, no hawkers, and no Campbells”. That, in and of itself, should underline the intensity of this place, this awful place. ‘James of The Glen’, hung by the Campbells for his Jacobite participation, left to rot on the gallows by bridge, pales in comparison to the Glencoe massacre.
We pulled over at the location of the massacre, at the foot of the most beautiful highland scenery known, with virtually nobody there but us; on this blustery cloudy day – perfect for the mood, and simply took it all in. Scott again timely pulled out his pipes, and like a Trojan, played the haunting ‘Minstrel Boy’ and then “Scotland the Brave”. The wind blowing down the Glen, occasionally obscuring the skirl, was truly captivating. There are no words.
Rannoch Moor, Lochaber, Loch Lomond
Rannoch moor, lying between two great mountain ranges, is the stuff of legendary clan battles and ghost stories. No words. Really there isn’t. Shortly thereafter we stopped on the ‘bonnie bonnie banks’ by the “steep sides of Ben Lomond”, post a rendition of the same notoriety, on the bus, by all participants. Loch Lomond: Truly an exalted place. “…You tack the high road and I’ll tack the low road and I’ll be in Scotland afore ye…”. Hearts and minds full of memories, we headed off to Glasgow, past Luss and Dumbarton, across the Clyde – to Europe’s city of Culture!
The afternoon was reserved for last-minute shopping and pubing. Our accommodation was the 5 star Jury’s End on the banks of the Clyde, close to George’s Square, Buchannan Street Mall, the Piping College, and Glasgow Green – where I ran to and fro prior to our last ceilidh – in the hotel lobby no less. Tourists staying there, must of thought we were paid musicians, considering all the photos taken of us playing, not to mention Irish dancers and dancing hotel clerks. What a way to finish off the perfect Scottish Tour!
Post Script
Scotland Tour 2010, unlike none other. There are no words, but herein, a meagre synopsis nonetheless!
Before I head back to court tomorrow and the cold reality of normalcy, I ponder, almost heavy-hearted, how such a short trip as this leaves one so absorbed by the experience . The answer has to be Scotland, its heritage, its culture, good music, and good friends.
‘Tapadh leibh’ to all tour participants – a new found kinship! A tantot et a la prochaine – Irelande 2011 peu t’etre?
