Nessie doesn't live here anymore

As we head back toward Inverness my youngest son can't resist -- he wants to stop at the exhibit we passed on the way in that features the Loch Ness Monster.  How could I blame him, he's been fascinated with Sasquatch since his days camping with the Cub Scouts and being scared witless with stories of such creatures around the campfire.  We were going to avoid it, thinking we were all far to sophisticated for such a thing.  His curiosity gets the better of him and we pull into the car park and pay the admittance fee and walk through the exhibit which features various small theaters with video about the legend.

http://www.lochness.com/loch-ness-monster-exhibition.htm

What I thought was going to be a hokey display --very sensationalized and all was actually very informative.  While there might have been some prehistoric creature on the verge of extinction during the time of St. Columba, scientist don't believe there is enough food sources in the Loch to support such a creature.  Loch Ness is not very rich in nutrients.  Sonar and core samples of the bottom of the Loch also have not turned up any evidence.  Examinations of the bottom of the Loch have turned up evidence of other key events -- a great flood in the 1800s, nuclear testing and Chernobyl.  Luckily the Loch has been spared the effects of acid rain.  I quietly applaud the park service for seizing the opportunity to impart an environmental lesson rather than taking the easy route.  They took the high road here. (no pun intended) 

We exit the exhibit and must follow the whole length of the gift shop cram packed with "Nessie"  t-shirts, key chains, stuffed Nessies plus the usual tartan fare to get back to the car park.   There may not be a Nessie in the Loch but she is certainly alive an well in the gift shop.  Still, the impression has been very positive and I am glad we made the stop.

Prehistoric Orkney--Skara Brae

Today we will visit the prehistoric and Pictish ruins for which Orkney is known for.   Our hostess Lynda at Houton Bay Lodge is a wealth of information.  We drive the 8 miles back into Stromness and right off the bat we get lost.  Never mind that we managed to get out of Edinburgh without getting lost.  We negotiate our way back out of town and finally get back onto the right road headed towards Skara Brae.

www.orkneyjar.com/history/skarabrae/

Skara Brae, situated on the Bay of Skail, is a ruin from the late Neolithic period thought to date from as early as 3200 BC.  In other words, these ruins are around 5,000 years old.  During the winter of 1850 a tremendous storm battered this side of the island and the ruins were exposed.  What initially was thought to be a Pictish ruin turned out to be one of the oldest and best  preserved neolithic villages  in Western Europe.  The site features a visitors center, gift shop and cafe as well as a replica house that can be viewed up close before viewing the actual ruins.  We view the replica and then head outside into the scouring wind to view the ruins which are several feet down in the ground.  We quietly look down into the small group of dwellings where men, women and children carried on their lives 5000 years ago and try to image the sounds of a prehistoric household might make -- the sound of children playing and the tending of daily chores.  Without the benefit of forged metal, using only bone, wood, animal hide and clay the inhabitants of these dwellings attempted to fashion lives for themselves.

Neolithic ruins, Skara Brae, Orkney Islands

We walk down to the beach where we find relief from the howling wind.  I find myself a bit frustrated because no words, no pictures, no vacation trinkets can adequately encapsulate what I am seeing and experiencing in this incredible landscape.  I look down at the pebbles and rocks on the beach remembering what my grandmother always did when visiting a place.  She never went to far flung places - Hot Springs Arkansas, and Florida-- but she brought home a rock or stone from wherever she had been, some of them quite large and many of them ended up forming a border in her flower bed.  Looking down I spot a small flat stone a bit bigger than a quarter with a rust colored background and charcoal grey veins.  I stoop to pick it up, wipe it off and let it dry out a bit before slipping it into my pocket.  The stone is older than the ruins themselves and a reminder that all places are special and millions of years in the making .

We climb back to the visitors center and have a very tasty lunch in the cafe before heading to our next site.

Beach, Bay of Skail

Beach, Bay of Skail

A Ferry Ride to the Orkney Islands

Our ferry is on time and the line of cars and trucks pulls into the belly of the ship and we climb the stairs to the upper levels of the boat. 

MV Hamnavoe which serves Scrabster on Scotlands mainland and Stromness, Orkney Islands.

http://www.northlinkferries.co.uk/on-board/


The MV Hamnavoe has 3-4 levels and is downright luxurious compared to my expectations.   My only other experience with ferries was in North Carolina taking the ferry to Okrakoke Island.  Looking back, that boat was a shrimp trawler compared to this.  It is outrigged with a bar, restaurant, gift shop and even a small electronic casino type area in addition to the massive holding area for cars and even large delivery trucks underneath.  We have a snack in the restaurant and walk up to the bar area, order wine and step out onto the back deck.

Hubby on the back deck of MV Hamnavoe

Enjoying my wine on the back deck of the MV Hamnavoe

The engines chug and chuff away while we look out at the far distant landfalls -- mainland Scotland to the south.  It is possible to view the typical Scottish weather patterns of drier on the east side while the west side shows more gathering clouds.

 Most of the passenger prefer the side of the deck which will have a good view of The Old Man of Hoy as we approach Stromness.  I linger on the west side in the warm Sunshine and ponder how on earth I will ever describe what I am seeing in my travel journal.  It's a rather simple view of sea, sky, clouds and sunset but it feels so vast, deep and wide.  All sunsets are unique and artists have driven themselves to madness trying to paint sunsets.  I simply chose to take a picture and leave it at that.

The Old Man of Hoy comes into view on the right side of the boat, a large chimney shaped rock formation off the Island of Hoy.  I am told that rock climbers routinely clamor to the top.

Old Man of Hoy, Okney Islands

Our ferry docks in Stromness, we fetch our car, pull out and turn right to head to our nights lodging eight miles away at Houghton Bay Lodge in Orphir on the southern tip of the main island.   http://www.houtonbaylodge.com/ It is a short trip and we find our accomodations to be homey, well appointed, comfortable and quiet.  Our hostess Linda is very welcoming and a wealth of information.  The Lodge sits on land that overlooks Skapa Flow  http://www.scapaflowwrecks.com/  the body of water that features a rich naval history dating from the time of the Vikings to the scuttling of the German Fleet in 1919 after WWI and key events during WWII as well.

We settle in.  Sam goes for a short run, Thomas skateboards out behind the lodge and Will and I find a trail through some pasture that leads to a small bay.  Something is bobbing in the water and soon we discover that a seal has surfaced silently regarding us.  Very far off on the horizon is an oil platform and all around us it is very quiet.  The vast sense of space-- that lid on the top of the world feeling-- is so very evident here .  Walking back to the lodge we realize how tired we are.  It is still daylight but very late.  We have a we dram of local Scotch in the bar, shut the blinds in our room and remind ourselves that lack of darkness is not an indicator of when to go to bed.

Clearances

Dornoch Castle Hotel

Negotiating our way back through Inverness, we head up the east coast of Scotland towards Thurso/Scrabster to make our 7:00 ferry to the Orkney Islands.  We have plenty of time to make stops in between.  Crossing several Firths we come to a town called Dornoch which has a 13th century cathedral and a picturesque restaurant called "The Garden Restaurant" (inside Dornoch Castle Hotel) as you can take your meal in the high stone walled garden which we do.  http://www.dornochcastlehotel.com/dining/



The Garden Restaurant/Dornoch Castle Hotel

An extended family is there celebrating a baby's  christening as well as an elderly couple with their Westies snoozing under the table.  It is  relaxing. We order roast beef sandwhiches on hardy bread with horseradish and salads.  In the garden, children play while the adults relax.  After lunch Will stays behind in the restaurant lobby to sit in a comfy chair to nap while the rest of us explore the town Center. 

Dornoch Cathedral

Dornoch Catheral is directly across the street and I cross to have a look.  What I found was some of the most magnificent stained glass windows yet on the trip.  http://dornoch-cathedral.com/ The windows at St. Giles in Edinburgh were magnificent but I suspect they have not been cleaned in a while.  These windows seem lighter and cleaner.  Some of the windows are contemporary while others date back to the 1800s.  They are so densely packed with symbols they have concocted a childens game of finding the different, objects, animals, and insects.  Snakes, mothes, butterflies, crosses, flowers, trees, swords and birds:  it was all a visual feast. 

A large number of the windows feel more Victorian in nature while the others have a more Charles Rennie McIntosh/Arts and Crafts era feel to them.  There is even a window donated in memory of Andrew Carnegie, the  Industrialist who emigrated from this area to America.  They are stunning and moving and I go across the street to snatch my sleeping son out of his chair to take him across the street.  He was glad I did. 

Loaded back in to the car we continue up the coast on the A9 and it reveals stunning vistas of the North Sea coastline and my nerves kick in as it feels like a roller coaster ride.  My muscles stay tense even as we turn inland towards Scrabster.  We begin to see many abandoned crofts now, evidence of the Highland Clearances - a time when landowners saw more profits in grazing sheep on their lands rather than collecting rents.  What followed was a forced depopulation of the Upper Highlands.  Many of the people headed for America to find their lives there.  http://www.educationscotland.gov.uk/scotlandshistory/jacobitesenlightenmentclearances/clearances/ 

The further we head inland the worse it gets.  The land is skinned bald of all trees and a landscape of wind turbines appears ahead on our left.  It feels like we have landed on another planet or have been propelled into a strange future.  When they speak of the Scottish Diaspora the Clearances are one aspect of  what they are referring to. 

Nothing has prepared me for this sight and the way I feel looking at it.  America is a nation of scattered people. Even within the confines of our nations there are conflagrations of all sorts,  mostly economic, that cause people to scatter even further.  I grew up going "home" with my parents to hamlets in Eastern Kentucky several time a year.  I don't know why at the time I never noticed the rotting farmsteads, imploded tobacco barns, and the preponderance of people older than my parents.  I suppose I had nothing else really to compare it to.  This was normal to me.  It was not until I was in graduate school gathering county-level data on population that I realized that some Eastern Kentucky counties had lost nearly half of their population since WWII because of the collapse of the economy. 

And now here I am in the middle of Scotland and suddenly I come face to face with this wounded sense of place -- or rather wounded sense of place lost to generations of people who were forced to leave.  The feeling doesn't ebb as we begin to drive around the edge of Loch Rangag.    A good travel experience, I believe, can sometimes have the same effect as going to the optometrist for prescription lenses.  You don't realize how blurred your vision has been until it undergoes an adjustment. 

The past certainly meets the future here with abandoned crofts and alternative energy being slowly and methodically churned by the wind turbines on the hill. At least The Scots have figured out a way to produce clean energy and I wonder if the Appalachian coalfields will ever undergo this sort of transformation. 

I am afraid Scrabster will have the same lonely desolate feel, though soon trees begin to reappear as well as living, breathing farms.  Gradually all seems well again.  We pull into Scrabster with an hour and 20 minutes to spare before our ferry leaves.  The boys have cabin fever from being in the car far too long. We pull the car into the queue and get out to stretch our legs. 

Wind turbine Sutherland

Driving in Scotland

Our "ride" A Volkswagon Passat (stick shift)

We've had a wonderful time in Edinburgh and were glad we arranged to stay an extra day.  Today we head north in a rental car.  Sam heads out to retrieve our rental somewhere in downtown Edinburgh.  I must say that this was the part of the trip I dreaded most -- driving.  He returns with the car having spent some time practicing driving around the city.  Edinburgh can be a challenge to drive in what with all the intersections featuring the convergence of several roads not just 2 and street names that go from one name on one end of the block and then change to something else at the beginning of the next block!  Plus, for Americans, your brain keeps screaming at you that you are on the wrong side of the road. 

While Sam was at the rental car agency two Scandinavian women had given him their spiral bound extremely detailed driving map of Scotland as they had just spent 10 days touring the Highlands and the Islands etc.  God bless them!  Since I was the dedicated navigator I honestly don't know how we could have gotten anywhere without those maps with only one working cell phone with spotty navigational capabilities.

Hubby at the wheel.

Luggage loaded we cautiously set out to navigate the streets of Edinburgh and hopefully find our way north toward the Firth of Forth Bridge.  We took out two orange road cones and scrapped an orange construction fence up against the passenger side door but all in all we are still alive.  Of course, an American in the front passenger seat feels like they are in the driver seat and one can't help but press on an imaginary brake.  I had fairly worn a hole in the floorboard of the car by the time we got to the bridge.  Admittedly, it was a bit like Mr. Toads Wild Ride but once we got out of Edinburgh it was smooth sailing for the most part.  Relieved we sail up the A9 towards Perth taking in the sights.  My husband is my hero for climbing behind the wheel and I'm not too shabby myself for navigating us out of Edinburgh.

Driving on the left.....

We eventually stop in Pitlochry on the outskirts of The Cairngorms National Park to have a bit of lunch.  The name of this small town is Pictish deriving from the Picts who were among the earliest inhabitants of Scotland settling mostly on the Eastern side.  Names prefixed with Aber- Cat- Dol- and Pit- are Pictish in origin.  The eastern side of Scotland features many town names bearing these prefixes owing to the fact that the Picts settled predominantly on this side of Scotland well before written history.  We find excellent refreshment at Drummond's Restaurant and Public Bar http://www.pitlochry-scotland.co.uk/restaurant/pitlochry/drummonds-restaurant-and-public-bar/ a family owned restaurant with fresh homemade victuals.  Satisfied,  we pile back into the car and head north toward Nairn our final destination.  Hubby has a tee time at Nairn Gold Club late in the afternoon and we are anxious to settle in and explore the Moray Firth. 

My youngest taking a snooze.

Hello Kitty!

Hello Kitty!



While resting up at our hotel Sam went down to the front desk to inquire as to where we could get a reservation for dinner this evening.  He comes back with a 10:00 reservation at a place on Georges St. in New Towne called Tigerlilly.  Nothing earlier, it was this or hotel food.  My 48 year old mind conjures up a slightly Bohemian place that is reasonably quiet, artsy and with excellent local organic food maybe even a little light jazz if we're lucky. I wasn't even close.  It was Friday night and we were met with a pounding disco beat and a trendy bar scene as our hostess saw us to our table. 




Years ago my husband had worked with a woman from Edinburgh who favored revealing clothing and spike heels even for conservative business meetings and we never understood where she got such a notion in an industry like insurance.  Now we know!  She was hanging out at some of the night spots on Georges Street and forgetting to change her costume come Monday morning.  I was the only female in the room in flat shoes and clothes that clearly put me on the dowdy middle aged tourist end of the spectrum.  I knew for a fact, at this point, that both teetotalling grandmothers were spinning in the their graves because I had brought both of my teenage sons to a night club where there were scantily clad women and profuse amounts of alcohol being served. 



 Still, the food was good featuring fresh local seafood and steaks and the wine list was quite good.  I managed to have a wonderful conversation with my 19 year old son over the pounding beat of Michael Jackson's "Billie Jean." Clearly though, this was not the sort of place for the dinner conversation that I craved after a day of sightseeing. 

The best conversation was the taxi ride home when the kids pinned us to the wall accusing us of liking such a bar scene when we were younger.  Honestly, we did our fair share of cutting lose on Friday night but we were in graduate school and we favored flatter shoes, cheap Mexican food and copious amounts of beer at a dive bar downtown. 

Kilts and such

Kilts and such

Yesterday on the Royal Mile we had seen an enormous monument that looked like a church steeple from Castle Hill.  Thomas said it was Mordor as it was Gothic and mysterious in design and dark colored even though it was stone.  We approached the monument next to Princes Street Garden and we finally realize this is the Sir Walter Scot monument.

If this monuments doesn't convey the Scot's feelings toward this man then nothing will.  It is literally built to resemble holy sacred ground.  The interior spiral staircase ascends to a middle chamber that resembles a church replete with stained glass window.  Sam and the boys climb to the very top, I stay behind because I don't like how high up it is.  Outside I find a bench and watch people in the park below.  All the time Thomas is taking a picture of the top of my head from the top of the monument.

Regrouping we head up to the Royal Mile via Cockburn Street.   Lots of shops here all selling everything from utilikilts to tartan bra and panty sets.  I remind myself that all these shop keepers are just trying to make a living in economic situations that appears to be worse than in the U.S.  The news the night before features sometimes violent demonstration in London over what to do about pensions.   Thomas finds a skateshop and I find two print dealers before we reach the end of the Royal Mile in time to see workers cleaning up from the Queen's visit that afternoon.

 The Scottish Parliament building is to our right and for anyone who likes modern architecture this is a feast for the eyes.  Once inside, the displays and kiosks in the lobby went a long way in helping me believe in the basic democratic process again even though it can be slow and tedious at times.

 

Heading back up The Royal Mile, we are finally going to order Will's kilt .  Edinburgh has more kilt shops per square mile than any other place in the world and not only do some of them sell kilts but tartan boxer shorts, coffee mugs and panty hose.  Seems you can put tartan on just about anything.   Having visited several kilt stores we decide Hector Russell www.hector-russell.com is the one for us in both price and quality.  They will custom make the kilt and and ship it back to the United States.

Will wants a Buchanan tartan kilt the same way some people pine for a jersey of their favorite sports team.  Proud as I am of my heritage, I have no desire to have a kilt or one of the fanciful tartan dresses with the fancy bodice.  I wouldn't mind having the weathered Buchanan throw for the family room couch but know that in the end if I really want it, I can find it on the internet.  Besides, I don't really need it. 

A jovial blonde lady measures Will's waist and hips while Thomas goofs off wrapping himself in a shawl and mimicking a character from Braveheart.  Prices for kilts vary tremendously to say the least.  The cheap acrylic kilts, that are most likely made in China, leave you dancing around trying to keep your dress tail in check if a strong wind kicks up while the real wool, heavy and medium weight kilts stay put when it becomes breezy.  The pleats of a well made kilt sway when walking just like water rippling in in a pool.  The mark of a better quality kilt is just this movement.

Will leaves the store happy that he will finally have a kilt and dreams of the places he will wear it - The Renaissance Festival, church, The St. Andrew's Ball in Cincinnati and even Halloween.  He has foregone buying other trinkets to acquire this one item. 

We swing through New Towne on the way back to our hotel scoping out a good restaurant for the evening.  We are tired of hotel food and pub grub.  We will find something a little more upscale this evening.....

My son dressed in his kilt at St. Andrew's Ball.