Mon, Aug 1, 2005 (Day 62)
8am on Saturday, July 30th we were out the door of our Edinburgh hostel and hiking our way to the royal mile to meet our Haggis tour bus. Fraser and Ewan were our guides – excellent fellas – the latter’s enthusiasm, candidness and storytelling making all the difference between a decent tour and a fantastic one. Right from the start I could tell this was going to be an entertaining experience.
We left Edinburgh around 9 and departed for the north, crossing the massive bridge over the firth of fourth. The first stop was a wee village where a folklore legend “the wolf” – a terrible man as the story goes – had his remains stored in a beautiful little church. We were advised not to touch the coffin, for that would bring a curse upon the tour… oOoOoOooo.
From here, it was further north to Cullodin, site of the battlefield of the last Jackobite (anti-English) rebellion – very crazy. Stopped in a small town for lunch… Steve and I had our first taste of a “nip” of 12-year-old single malt Scottish Whiskey (Scotch) – not bad, tho I can see how it’s an acquired taste.
Kept on north through the city of Inverness on our way to the world famous Loch Ness. Steve and I even took off our shoes and waded out into the freezing water to see if we could coax Nessie into a photo-opt. No dice. Hey, at least I can say I was in Loch Ness.
Damn it’s cold and rocky! We continued on down the Loch to arguably one of the most famous castles in Scotland: Urquart Castle. A very cool castle filled with all sorts of crazy awesome history. We ended our day with a demonstration on the old highland way of life, including all their tools and crazy weapons, at a small history shop not far from our hostel in Fort Augustus. Took it easy that night watching movies with a couple aussie chicks from the tour.
Up at 7am on Sunday the 31st and onwards to the road to Skye! Absolutely beautiful drive to the Isle of Skye, an island off the northwestern coast of Scotland renowned for its scenery and heritage. Stopped @ “The Old Man of Moor” (a tall thin boulder perched at the edge of a cliff – representing a man who was frozen in stone there centuries ago, as the legend goes). Steve and I had a drink from an “enchanted” mountain stream, and then raced down the grassy hill back to the bus. Northcott and I raced down, naturally he kicked my ass, but I took solace in the fact that he completely bit it and wiped out with a massive summersault-like spin near the bottom of the hill… though that just made him a fan favorite on the tour bus. Saw some amazing sights… had a nice little hike up the side of the hill to the Moor (Steve and I got a pic of us doing a pose like the Samurai statues at Laura’s house with our walking sticks on the edge of the hill). After the hike we continued to the Isle of Skye – so amazing. We stopped at a brook which had a legend that if you dunk your head into it, you will become beautiful. Naturally, everyone on the bus had to go for a dunk. We headed up through Portree, and then back to “Kylackin” (the town just over the bridge to Skye), for an evening of booze, fun, and mixing with the locals. Interesting times for sure.
Up early on Monday (August 1st), and said our farewells to Skye. From here, we headed southward to Glen Coe and Eilean Doan Castle – absolutely spectacular stuff. I don’t think any description of Glen Coe can really do it justice. We stopped for lunch there, and it is arguably the coolest naturally formed place I’ve even been… just an amazingly steep cut valley in the highlands of Scotland. Unbelievable. But damn those Midges (little flies).
From there, it was down through Sterling – saw the castle and the William Wallace monument, and then on down to Bannockburn, site of the great victory of Robert the Bruce (I refer you to the movie Braveheart for the somewhat inaccurate but nonetheless entertaining background). From here, it was on home to Edinburgh where this crazy adventure began, albeit with a few extra friends in our ranks. Pierre, (our Minnesota teacher pal, and all-around nice guy and old man), joined us for trip down to the internet café to take care of some business. And what I mean by that is: Northcott went on the internet to talk to Ginny, while I stood in the street waving my wet towel around like a crazy homeless person in an attempt to get it dry. When backpacking (or hitchhiking), there’s nothing more important than a towel, and there’s nothing worse than a wet towel.
After that was taken care of, we 3 headed on up to the bus station b/c there were lockers there. Our bus to Prestwick (which is where our flight to Ireland departs from), wasn’t due to depart until 3:30am, so the boy and I figured we’d lock up the bags, hit the town for the evening, and then head on down to the station around 2:30am to collect the bags and be on our way. This turned out to be a near-catastrophic move… but more on that a little later.
At the bus station we met up with a few more merry travelers from our tour group: Patience (from the US), and “the ‘Peggers” (Lee and Krista) from Winnipeg. All 6 of us were here in Edinburgh for at least a few more hours together, so we decided to make an evening out of it. We headed on down to Princess Park and watched a drunken vagrant whom we named “Kris Kringle” annoy and scare random people. From there we headed down by the castle where apparently there was some sort of Scottish line dancing event taking place – so naturally we took in a bit of that. By this time, our time was starting to run out, so we said our goodbyes to the crew, and Steve and I headed on back down to the Grassmarket for some booze.
We decided to hit up a pub called “The Last Drop”, a reference to the gallows that used to be located just outside the door. Stepped inside, ordered a beer, and wouldn’t you know it, we ran into more fellow tour-mates! So we drank with them (Americans) for the rest of the night and had a laugh.
So… at 2am the boy and I figure we should mosey on back up to the station to pick up our bags and be on our way. We head on down to the main door. Interesting. There’s no lights on. We try the door. Locked. The bus station was CLOSED! We run around to the back of the building to the secondary door, hoping it would be open. No dice. We’re boned. Our flight to Dublin leaves in a few hours, and our bags are in lockers which are locked in a bus station. Then, all of a sudden, I see cleaners in the station. Thank god! So I start banging like a madman on the door. The cleaners see me… but they don’t come help. They appear to run away! AHHHH!!! Out of sheer frustration, I keep banging and banging at what I now realize is a partially busted door (mind you, I didn’t do the busting. Someone had obviously attempted to kick in the safety glass at some point earlier in the night). Then I see two security guards coming my way on the inside. I yell to them to let us in, but naturally they tell me the building is closed. We explain the bus/flight situation to them, and I show them the locker key. Thankfully, the guard finally agrees to go in and get the bags and pass them through the fence to us!! HOLY FACK THAT WAS CLOSE! How could we be so stupid to not check if the bus station closed? I have no idea… but thank go those guards were there!
As they say, all’s well that ends well… and that it did. A STELLAR couple of days in thee Scottish Highlands. Awesome tour – we definitely could never have done all that on our own.
QOTD: “Now listen here young man” - Old Man Pierre, 29 years old
“These mountains are damn sexy” – Ewan, the tourguide, sounding a lot like fat bastard
“Fancy a SNOG?” – Ewan again. Snog is Soct-talk for makeout
“There are 3 rules on this bus. No sleepin. No fartin’. And No Snoggin!” – Ewan
“Population: Tire!” – Amy from Mississippi at random, and Northcott and I were very impressed.
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