Carolyn
J. Rose
Thanks
to the movement of tectonic plates in the Great Glen, the advance and retreat
of glaciers, and the endless work of wind and water, the Scottish Highlands are
a magnet for geologists as well as tourists. Set the science and scenery to
music courtesy of a piper playing on the roadside, and the experience is
unique.
The
last time we were in Scotland, twelve years ago, I had only one close encounter
with haggis and that was at a “Scottish Evening.” That tourist-geared event
featured pipers, dancers, and sample plates of haggis, neeps, and tatties. This
time, haggis seemed to be everywhere: on the breakfast buffet, as a stuffing
for chicken breast, as a pizza topping, and a potato-chip flavoring.
I
can’t digest red meat, so I had a sound reason to pass, and plenty of other
culinary creations on the menu. (A shout out to the NorthLink Ferry from
Scrabster to Stromness where I had some of the best mac and cheese EVER!)
Scotland
has some pretty comprehensive nutritional standards, so I found less sugar and
salt in many commercially made foods. Cheetos, those crunchy, cheesy curls
didn’t taste the same. (Note: this will be important later.)
My
77th birthday kicked off with a visit to Dunrobin Castle.
By this
time we were a little crispy (as in not quite burnt out, but getting there)
when it came to castle interiors, so we strolled the grounds. Being a gardener,
I appreciated all the hard work that went into maintaining the grounds. Not
having to do that work made the experience even more enjoyable.
I’d
brought along a guide to birds of the UK, but except for a hooded crow, most
birds I spotted were too far off or too fast for me to identify with any
certainty.
The crow had a taste for the granola bar I was gnawing on and hung
around until the crumbs were gone.
In
Dornoch, we browsed a bookshop, bought a mystery by a local author, marveled at
the huge mural in Greens Restaurant.
(Can you find Madonna and Guy Ritchie?) After ogling the mural, we treated ourselves to yet another scone. And, yeah, I slathered on butter.
Plenty of butter. After all, we had a long bus ride to Scrabster to catch the
ferry to the Orkneys. And, at the time, I had no idea mac and cheese would be
served on board.
The
next morning we woke up at the Ayre Hotel in Kirkwall, gobbled our way through
another massive display of choices on the breakfast buffet (croissants and more
butter!) and headed off into the distant past.
But
first, a few wonderful dry stone walls and a quick stop to see what you can
create with a little imagination and a whole lot of lugging and lifting. (For
more information, check out Friends of Stoneworks, Orkney)
\
And
then another quick stop at an honesty box because, after all, it had been an
hour or so since breakfast and it was cool and windy and we required the
insulation provided by a brownie or two. And, yes, Mike paid for them. (For the
record, I’m sure he would have ponied up even if he hadn’t had an audience.)
We
were glad of that insulation and our puffy jackets when we reached Skara Brae
where wind whipped off the sea and scoured the headland.
The Neolithic site,
revealed after a storm, seems to have been abandoned just last week instead of
thousands of years ago. With a little net surfing you can learn much more about
the site and perhaps form your own theory about why the inhabitants departed.
And
you can do the same kind of research for the Ring of Brodgar, but I’ll tell you
now that the stone ring is older than Stonehenge and the Egyptian Pyramids.
About half the original stones are still standing. Stark against the sky, they continue to mark off the seasons.
The
Standing Stones of Stenness are believed to be even older. Only a few are still
upright, some having toppled to the weight of years and others through the
actions of a landowner attempting to discourage trespassers. Fortunately, I
wasn’t considered a trespasser and could walk among them and touch them,
putting my hands where others had when they were set in place. I won’t go all
woo-woo on you, but I will say I felt compelled to keep my hand there for at
least a full minute.
After
Neolithic history, we had a taste of less distant past as we traveled along the
sheltered waters of Scapa Flow to the Italian Chapel. Built by prisoners of
war, it’s a monument to their beliefs and know-how and creativity.
On the ferry to Stromness, we cruised past the towering sandstone sea
stack known as the Old Man of Hoy,
In Stromness, which serves as a gateway to Scotland's most legendary Loch, Mike’s
mission was to find a cup of good coffee and mine was to explore the local hardware
store. I am, as many of you know, my father’s daughter, and I love to prowl the
aisles of a hardware store.
But
this is what I came for. If you look past the trebuchet and the ruins of
Urquhart Castle, you’ll see Loch Ness. It’s been on my bucket list since I
first heard a tale about the cryptid rumored to inhabit its depths. And I had a
plan to bring Nessie to the surface and settle the debate once and for all.
Unfortunately,
that plan depended on a bait no fabled monster could resist—Cheetos. But, as mentioned
before, Cheetos acquired in Scotland didn’t have as much kick. But, kicking
myself for not bringing superior bait from home, I tried, holding up the bag
and silently pleading with Nessie to rise from the dark depths.
And
perhaps she—or maybe he or maybe they—did. Monster-viewing conditions weren’t
prime. The sun emerged as we got underway and the wind picked up, creating
waves and whitecaps and splintering reflected light.
But
you can’t say I didn’t try. I squinted and peered as we cruised the length of
the loch. Well, except when I was chatting and laughing with MadDog and
Wildcat, fellow tourists. If you can’t find a monster, then find friends.
Later
I consoled myself by watching sheepdogs do their stuff, rounding up a flock and
spinning the sheep left and right as the shepherd directed through commands and
body language.
Meanwhile
a hairy cow (to locals, it's pronounced "Horry Coo") named Anita wandered among the members of our tour. She’d been
hand-raised and seemed unaware of her size and the damage she could do with
those horns.
And
finally, as we headed back to Edinburgh to prepare for another long day of
watching reader boards, trekking along concourses, and cramming into shuttles,
we stopped near Falkirk to see the Kelpies.
These towering sculptures command
the horizon and attention. But what are Kelpies? Well, by now you should
be good at research, so I’ll let you find that out for yourself. (Mike thought Kelpies were a long- forgotten breakfast cereal.)
.jpg)
