We couldn’t have had better weather for our 16 days in Scotland and by splitting our time between road-tripping and house-sitting we saw a lot of this strikingly beautiful country.
Gretna Green, Lockerbie & Glasgow
Our first stop across the Scottish border was Gretna Green, made famous as the place where English couples have eloped to since 1754. It all started when a law was introduced in England requiring any couple under 21 to have parental consent and all marriages to be conducted in a church. To get around this, young lovers fled to Scotland where these laws didn’t apply. A blacksmith’s shop in Gretna Green was the first place across the border and as angry parents were often in hot pursuit couples had to marry as quickly as possible after entering Scotland, therefore this became the place to do it. A simple handfasting ceremony over the Blacksmith’s anvil and you were legally married. It wasn’t until 1940 that these ceremonies were outlawed but the Scottish law that anyone over 16 can freely marry meant couples continued to come to Gretna Green and still do. However, now it’s more for the romantic allure of a history of forbidden romance rather than evading any laws. It’s also a busy tourist destination and busloads of visitors traipse through the shops selling a huge selection of tartan, whisky, shortbread and other Scottish products, eat at the café and visit the over-priced museum of romance.
Not far from Gretna Green is the village of Lockerbie. A small unassuming village that was flung into the global spotlight when Pan Am Flight 103 blew apart in the sky above the village on December 21st, 1988, killing all 259 passengers and crew and 11 villagers. It was an event that we remembered well – the grim pictures of people combing the fields for debris, wrapped up against the harsh weather, the burning remnants of unrecognisable plane parts and the crater formed by the fuselage with houses, their windows filled with Christmas lights, teetering on the edge as though looking into the hole that swallowed their neighbours. The baking hot day when we visited the memorial was a far cry from the conditions back then. The memorial is tucked at the back of the village cemetery and we were the only ones there. We briefly questioned if our visiting here was macabre. But it was a significant event in modern history and one that had a far-reaching effect. The main remembrance plaque is surrounded by many individual plaques with messages from the families of those who were lost. We were struck by the number of children and young people killed. 11 of them were students from Syracuse University, returning to New York after a semester in London. They were all 19 or 20. Back near the entrance to the cemetery was a visitor centre with a book listing every person on the plane, with information on their lives, careers and families. Lots of American military were onboard because in those days America still had troops in West Germany and they were all heading home for Christmas. The woman in the visitor centre was very pleased to see us and greeted us warmly. Not many people had been through that day and she was getting lonely. She told us that nearly all the families visit the site regularly and that Syracuse University offers a scholarship for two Lockerbie students to attend the university each year as a way of thanking the community of Lockerbie and remembering their fellow students. After answering all our questions about the impact of the bombing on her town, she continued to chat away about everything from the weather, Scottish independence, her marriage, kids, rugby, Whisky and the weather again. Well that’s what we thought she was talking about – it’s quite difficult to understand a broad Scottish accent, and especially one that’s so enthusiastically animated.
We finally pulled ourselves away and continued to Glasgow. It was the hottest day on record, although that was beaten a few days later. The city was sweltering. These northern cities are not built for the heat. There were no leafy trees to offer relief from the heat radiating off the steel and stone and even the banks of the River Clyde are lined with concrete walkways. After checking into our hotel, we wandered into the city. The place was crowded. Everyone was out enjoying the unusual heat. In the central city the burnt orange sandstone buildings glowed in the late afternoon sun. Glasgow has some beautiful architecture, much of it from the late 19th and early 20th century, an era when the city’s economy was flourishing. The city is filled with elaborate Victorian-style buildings – like the impressive City Chambers flanking George Square – and elegant townhouses decorated with ornate Art Nouveau facades. The Royal Exchange Square is very stately, and the iconic Neo-Classical Gallery of Modern Art could be straight out of Rome. I had always assumed that Edinburgh was the cultural hub of Scotland, but it is Glasgow that is home to the Scottish Opera, Scottish Ballet and National Theatre of Scotland. There was even an architectural style unique to Glasgow, unsurprisingly called the “Glasgow Style” that was prominent in the early 20th century. As far as cities go Glasgow is quite dapper, not what we’d expected from one that made its fortunes from the dirty work of ship building
Lovely Lochs & Magnificent Munros
We left the crowds and heat of Glasgow and headed northwest into the land of lochs. Our first stop was the town of Balloch at the west end of Loch Lomond. It was a pretty town bustling with tourists, mostly heading out on cruises of the lake. It was another stunning day and we walked along a lakeside track to a bay where people were swimming. Further up the western side of the lake is the pretty town of Luss which has two claims to fame – that it is the prettiest town in Scotland and was the setting for a popular Scottish TV soap, High Road. It is pretty and very prim, with identical sandstone and slate cottages covered with rambling roses and with doorways adorned with hanging baskets. It looked like most of these cottages are now holiday lets and the existence of the village is now entirely down to tourism.
Our scenic drive took us through to Inveraray on the banks of Loch Fyne. The main attractions in this pretty white-washed town are the castle belonging to the Duke of Argyll, head of the Campbell clan, and the historic jailhouse. We stopped for lunch and as we were planning to camp for the next four nights thought we better get some repellent for the midges. We had been told horrific stories of midges as big as birds that attack anything and everything on the west coast of Scotland. These tales of flying clouds of menace had almost put us off our plans to camp. I had been told that the only thing to repel them is Avon’s Skin So Soft and that most shops in Scotland sell this. Sure enough, the first shop we walked into in Inveraray had plenty and after listening to the two women staff tell us once again the horrors of the midges we bought a supply and got back on the road to Fort William.
The pass of Glencoe is considered one of the most beautiful parts of Scotland, but the unpredictable weather means it is often shrouded in cloud. One guy we spoke to said he had driven through many times and had never seen the mountains. We were lucky, we drove through on the most amazing day. There was not a cloud in the sky and the scenery was spectacular. The road winds through this rugged and wild landscape skirted on either side by grand mountains. The warmth of summer had removed almost all trace of snow apart from the odd patch, and the mountains were soaked in vivid green, only their slate-grey peaks remained naked. We stopped to breath it in.
Apart from dramatic natural beauty Glencoe is renowned for being the site of on the most brutal massacres in Scottish history. In 1692 the pro-king Campbells slaughtered 38 of the MacDonald clan in their homes. This atrocity has become part of the Scottish folklore and the bad blood between the MacDonalds and the Campbells still exists.
It was late afternoon when we reached the town of Fort William on the shores of Loch Linnhe. This is the gateway to Ben Nevis, Britain’s highest peak at 1,345 metres. Our campsite was nestled in the beautiful Glen Nevis valley and the start of the Ben Nevis track was a short walk down the road.
I wanted to climb Ben Nevis, but only if the weather was perfect. I see no point in slogging up a mountain that is covered in clouds. The weather forecast for the next day looked to be ideal and as the evening wore on I made a firm decision that I would do it. At about 3am we were woken by the people in the neighbouring tent talking and rustling, it sounded like they were getting up. We thought nothing of it and went back to sleep. It was a hot night and being so far north the sun barely set so I was awake early and thought I may as well get underway with this climb. Finally sorted, with a pack filled with fruit, nuts, water, and extra clothing in case the weather changed, I kissed Andrew goodbye and headed off down the road to the start of the track. I knew what to expect as I’d read about the track, and it was true to word – a relentless climb from the beginning to the end. The 6.5km track winds up the valley and across a ridge to Ben Nevis itself and then gets steeper and steeper. There were plenty of people on the track and I struck up conversation with a few, making time go faster. It was another record-breaking hot day and it was thirsty work. A mountain waterfall half way up provided a welcome re-fill of water. Not far past the waterfall the grass and tussock disappeared and with it the defined track. From here the path over rock and scoria was marked by piles of stones, although with the amount of people on the mountain that day there was no chance of going astray. Further up, we all scrambled over a large patch of snow and then up a steep rise, which teasingly looked like it may be the top, before going over a ridge only to see more rock rising in front. Finally, 3 hours and 45 minutes later, I reached the summit, which was more of a flat plateau the size of a rugby field. The expansive view was worth it. A nectarine, some water, and a few photos later and it was time to head back down. I felt surprisingly fresh and didn’t need much of a rest but heading down was harder than I excepted. The rocky uneven path and the sheer steepness of the track made a quick descent impossible. The climb may have made me puff but it was easier than this and I was glad I’d taken my walking poles to balance with. After an hour watching every footfall it started to get tedious – I’d achieved my goal, now I just wanted to get back to tell Andrew all about it. Finally, 2 and a half hours later, I made it back at the campsite where I found Andrew sunbathing happily. Our neighbours’ tent had gone, and Andrew said they started their climb at 3.30am (yes, that was them getting up at 3am) and didn’t get back until almost one. It took them over 9 hours and they were much younger than me! I felt pretty chuffed with that. The only side effect from my walk was a pair of knee length red socks.
Isle of Skye, Loch Ness & Inverness
After Fort William our next destination was the Isle of Skye where we camped for two nights. Skye is a beautiful and rugged place shaped by the elements and although a popular tourist destination still feels wild and remote. Our campsite was by an inlet at Sligachan, with the imposing Black Cuillin mountains as a backdrop. A walking track lead up the valley along the river towards those formidable black mountains and eagles soared in the distance. We spent two days exploring the island – driving along narrow rural roads occasionally overrun by sheep, through cute seaside villages with white-washed houses, and past amazing cliffs and rock formations. We visited the ruins of the medieval Duntulm Castle, the former seat of Clan MacDonald, scattered on the clifftop overlooking a deep cove swirling with kelp. We walked up a valley overlooked by mountains to the Fairy Pools, where waterfalls spilled from one deep-blue pool to the next. And we visited Tallisker Distillery where an exhibition told of not only the history of Whisky on Skye but also the history of island people who settled here and endure the harsh conditions of island life. The sunshine and dry weather we were relishing is not the norm here. On the day we left Skye we drove for miles down a one-lane track to the Kylerhea Otter Hide to see if we could spot some otters in the wild. We waited patiently, straining our eyes to see a bob of a head or a flick of a tail in the sea below. But not this time. We saw lots of seals and birdlife but no otters.
After Skye it was off to Loch Ness. Our first stop was Fort Augustus at the extreme southwestern end of the lake. This compact and picturesque little village is where the Caledonian Canal joins Loch Ness through a series of five locks. In fact, the town is dissected by the locks so wherever you are in the village you can watch boats slowly come down through locks to the loch. While we were there a yacht and three launches patiently worked their way down the watery staircase. Locks are fascinating to watch.
After lunch we continued around the lake to Dores at the northern end of Loch Ness and renowned as the place to get the best view of this famous lake. It is here that Nessie Hunter Steve Feltham has been based since 1991. He lives alone in a small campervan and along with keeping an eye out for a monster spends his days making odd little Nessie models that he sells to tourists. Andrew tried to strike up conversation with him, but he was gruff and rude and clearly didn’t want to talk – what did we expect from someone who has spent the last 27 years living in solitude and hunting a mythical creature.
You may be wondering about those midges I mentioned earlier. The huge man-eating Scottish midges that drive even the hardiest of campers away. We didn’t see any. A couple of small hovering fruit fly-type insects and a few wasps, but nothing more. Either they weren’t out this year, or the New Zealand sand-fly makes every other sand-fly pale in comparison.
Before heading to Inverness for the night we made a quick detour to the seaside town of Rosemarkie on Black Isle peninsula north of Inverness. This was where my great-aunt Molly lived in the final years of her life and where she died. In the sunshine and warmth, it is a pretty town, but we could only imagine how cold and bitter it would be through the long dark winter that engulfs this part of the world. Aunt Molly wasn’t Scottish, she was English, but after a short stint in New Zealand she moved to this small town in a remote part of Scotland where she had no family and where she lived out her last days. If my memory of her is right I can’t imagine her leaning into the wind as it whipped along the beach or hiking over the heather-covered hills soaking up the views across the bay, but perhaps she did and perhaps that’s why she lived here, for the remote beauty of this place.
Back in Inverness we climbed the viewing tower in the castle for views over this small city. Church spires and a clock tower punctuate the skyline and across from the castle, on the opposite side of the River Ness, the sturdy cathedral sits quietly. It’s a quaint and quiet city. The castle is relatively new, built in 1840 as a prison, but it sits on a site long used for fortifications. In its long and tempestuous history, the previous Castle was set ablaze more than once by the mighty MacDonald Lords and endured a number of sieges. Scottish history turbulent and bloody.
Through Whisky Country to Aberdeen
The next day we took to the road and headed across country towards Aberdeen. Our first stop was not far from Inverness in Culloden. The bleak and expansive Culloden Moor is where, on April 16, 1746, the last of the Jacobite Risings took place. It lasted only an hour but heralded the end of the distinctive clan system bringing many changes to Highland Scotland.
We continued across the Highlands to Speyside, the spiritual home of malt whisky. This region of incredible natural beauty is home to the largest number of distilleries in Scotland because here the weather conditions are perfect for Whisky. It’s the driest and warmest part of Scotland, ideal for growing barley, and when combined with the pure clean ‘soft’ mountain water creates some the world’s most famous whiskies. Instead of taking a distillery tour we decided to do something different and visit the Speyside Cooperage where the whisky barrels are made. The man at the desk said is would be the best four pounds we spent that day and he was right. The tour took us into the cooperage workshop where every year they make and repair over 100,000 oak barrels. We were told of the importance of the partnership between cooper and distiller in creating the perfect whisky. Many of the barrels are ex-bourbon, port, sherry, or peated casks which give the whisky the bulk of its unique flavour. Each distillery has a different requirement for their unique whiskies and the barrels are “fired”, charring the inside, to these specifications provided by the whisky maker. The art of making a barrel is unchanged over time and only natural materials are used. Not a drop of glue or a single nail goes near the barrel and many of the coopers use the tools their great-grandfathers used. Watching them work is mesmerising. They have a rhythm to their movement and systematically churn out barrel after barrel. The hammer they use is four times heavier than an average DIY hammer and they work from 7.30 until 5 each day. Paid by the barrel they are incentivised to keep going and only take brief breaks. Our tour guide told us that good coopers earn over 80,000 pounds a year, but not many are still working after 50. It’s hard on the body. Last year at the Cooperage four of their best coopers attempted the Guinness World Records title for the fastest time to build a 190-litre barrel. They had a time of 7 minutes 30 to beat and David McKenzie finished making his barrel in a blinding 3 minutes 3.18 seconds, successfully securing the record. That’s a barrel made from scratch and ready to take whisky in just over 3 minutes – amazing! This tour had opened our eyes to an industry that we had never given much thought to, but one that is a vital part in the art of making fine whisky.
Down the road from the Cooperage is Dufftown the town built on seven stills and the malt whisky capital of the world. With less than 2,000 residents it is a tiny town and exists almost solely for whisky. On the outskirts of Dufftown is the Glenfiddich distillery. We stopped and walked through this magnificent complex, read the history of the place and browsed the impressive whisky gallery where there is no limit on how much you can pay for a special edition bottle. Out of our league.
It was late afternoon when we arrived in Aberdeen and we immediately noticed the colour of the buildings. They are all silvery-grey and sparkling in the sunlight. Against a backdrop of vivid blue sky, it looked quite beautiful. No wonder this city is often called the “Silver City”. This distinct granite is used for everything from houses to cathedrals.
When oil was discovered in the North Sea off the coast of Aberdeen in the mid-20th century the city became know as the Oil Capital of Europe and the industry has been lucrative for this area.
After checking in to our hotel we wandered into town and while Andrew got a much-needed hair cut I worked out what we should see in the short time we had. Meanwhile Andrew asked the hairdresser for her opinion and was told there’s nothing to do or see in Aberdeen. This opinion was a bit harsh as it is a handsome city with striking buildings. The architecture is an eclectic mix of many styles and eras, but all built in that distinctive silver granite. The Neo-Gothic Marischal College, part of Aberdeen University, with its intricate lacy façade, and then there’s the odd Flemish-Gothic style New Town House complete with pointed turrets, and of course the usual churches and chambers.
Edinburgh
The next morning, we left early and drove directly to Edinburgh to meet my sister Meagan at the Airport. She and her husband were on holiday from New Zealand, but Allister was combining their trip with work and had gone to Bath for some meetings, so Meagan flew up to Edinburgh in advance. It was great to see her for the first time in over 14 months. Once we had collected her and checked into our hotel we all headed into the city to explore.
Edinburgh was heaving with people. Unlike Glasgow this city seemed to be centred around tourism – every shop on the Royal Mile sells tartan, whisky, fudge and shortbread and kiosks touting city tours and underground ghostly experiences are many. We wandered up towards the castle occasionally browsing in the touristy stores. St Giles’ Cathedral was closed and outside a group of aged men were practising marching. We watched for a while, bemused at their questionable skills, and then asked one of them what was happening. Apparently, the Queen was in town and would be attending the Cathedral the next morning and they were getting prepared. Edinburgh castle sits at the top of the Royal Mile on Castle Rock and its dark grey form dominates the city’s skyline. Outside the castle seating and lighting was already being installed for the Edinburgh Tattoo in August.
We wound our way back down the hill past the Scottish National Gallery where street performers had attracted a small crowd, down Princes Street past the ornate Neo-Gothic memorial to Sir Walter Scott and up towards St Andrew’s Square, finally finding a pub for a drink and dinner.
We were back in the city the next morning and walked down to Holyrood Palace, where the Queen resides when she’s in Scotland. She was in residence that day, the royal flag flying high. Across from the palace is the Scottish Parliament. We met Meagan back up the hill beside the memorial to Robbie Burns and walked back to the shopping precinct past Calton Hill where the memorial to Scottish philosopher Dugald Stewart Memorial sits, looking like an authentic Grecian temple.
After making the most of the summer sales at M&S it was time for us to get to our next house-sit an hour north on the outskirts of Perth. We left Meagan in Edinburgh as Allister was arriving that evening and made plans to catch up with them both in a couple of days for some Whisky tasting.
A Doggy Disaster
The people we were house-sitting lived in a beautiful renovated manse surrounded by a lovely big garden in a small rural village not far from Perth. They had two dachshunds, a wire-haired and a miniature that were very both very sweet.
Unfortunately, tragedy struck on the second day of the house-sit when one of the dogs died. He was not a well dog and was on a lot of medication for his bad heart. The owners had told us that he had collapsed the previous week during a walk but had seemed to bounce back. However, all walks were off and we were to keep him his quiet as possible. He was ok the first day but by Monday he was struggling in the heat, panting a lot and just not quite right. I called the vet who knew his circumstance and she told us to keep him cool and watch him, but I said I’d prefer to bring him in so they could monitor him and she agreed. We were preparing to go, I had his collar and lead on, when he lay down, put his head on the ground, sighed, and took his final breath. I was devastated. We knew he was ill but had never anticipated this. We put him in his basket and took to him to the vet. I walked into the reception, said they were expecting us but that he had died and was in the car. I’m not sure who burst into tears first, the receptionist or me, but we both stood there bawling. The vet nurse came out to the car and took him through to the examination room. They were so lovely and took care of everything. We left him there and went home with just Athos the miniature. After trying all day, we finally got hold of the owners and broke the sad news to them. It was awful. The poor little one had never been without his friend and was obviously lost, crying for him at night and needing lots of cuddles and attention. He wouldn’t let me out of his sight for the rest of our stay, following me everywhere like a little shadow.
Day Trips from Dron
After a dramatic start to the week we didn’t feel a lot like sight-seeing, but we were only here once, and needed to make the most of the great location.
We had yet to go Whisky tasting and waited until Meagan was in Scotland before we went. The day before the dog incident we went to Tullibardine distillery, not far from Dron. We were lucky to be the only ones on the tour and tasting so got a very personalised tour of the distillery. We were telling our guide about the Cooperage we’d visited, and she told us that because of the heat the barrels were starting to leak, and they have a full-time cooper onsite fixing the barrels. The unusually hot weather is also affecting barley crops which will in turn affect whisky production. If you’re paying more for your bottle of single malt in 5 years’ time blame the summer of 2018.
St Andrew’s was less than an hour away and was our first outing with Athos the miniature dachshund. This compact seaside town is full of history, with castle ruins, an historic university, stone archways, cobbled lanes, an ancient abbey and distinguished churches. But it is golf that it is most famous for. This is the ‘home of golf’ and there are no fewer than 10 courses including the oldest and most iconic golf course in the world, aptly named ‘The Old Course’. We took Athos for a walk through the golf course and watched a few groups play through. Athos is tiny but struts along like he’s 10 foot tall and everyone stops to admire him. An American tourist even asked to photograph him. He posed obligingly.
Friends from home, BK and Roanna, were in Edinburgh for a couple of days and we met up with them at the Falkirk Wheel, not far from Edinburgh. The Falkirk Wheel is the world’s only rotating boatlift, which is used to connect the Forth & Clyde and Union canals. This iconic landmark is the showpiece of the Millennium Link project which re-connected canals to make coast-to-coast navigation possible for the first time in over 40 years. The wheel replaced a series of locks that took forever to go through and it literally is a big wheel that rotates while the canal boat sits in a cradle of water, taking it from the lower canal to the upper canal. It is a magnificent, mechanical marvel and is amazing to watch.
We took little Athos with us again and stood on the walkway by the upper canal watching the wheel in action. We knew BK and Roanna were on a boat trip through the wheel, but it was still surreal to be standing there in the middle of Scotland and see our friends from Tauranga waving at us from the canal boat as it glided by towards the wheel. Once they were off the boat we went together to Helix Park, home of The Kelpies – two 30-metre-high horse head sculptures. These incredibly expressive steel structures were created by artist Andy Scott and represent the mythological Kelpies, Scottish shape-shifting creatures that possess the strength and endurance of 100 horses. At the same time these sculptures pay homage to the heavy horses of Scottish industry who pulled the wagons, ploughs, barges and coal ships that shaped Falkirk and the nation. We had coffee and a good catch up while over-looked by these magnificent creatures.
On the way back to Dron we stopped at the site of the Battle of Bannockburn. Fought on 24 June 1314, it was one of the most famous events in the wars of Scottish independence. A bronze statue of the great Scottish leader King Robert the Bruce stands in the middle of the battle field. He’s an ancestor of mine.
The week came to an end and the owners returned from their holiday. Athos was overjoyed to see his family and they were equally happy to be reunited with their wriggly little man. However, their homecoming was tinged with sadness after the loss of their other dog. They were very thankful to us for handling the situation and extremely kind and understanding, but it must have been terribly difficult for them not being there when it happened.
We said our goodbyes, gave Athos an extra tight hug and headed south to England.
