Thoughts from Scotland

The last time I took a major trip to lands unknown, it was for a conference in West Point, NY. I took a journal along and wrote down my thoughts. When I went to Scotland eariler this summer, I took that same journal along. I won’t publish everything I wrote, but here are some excerpts.

June 19th. 4:31 AM (London Time). Written in flight, BA0048 over Alberta.

I’m seated in the “baby section.”

It’s not the quiet solitude of flight I was hoping for, but still, it will do.

One bottle of Jonny Walker and the in flight entertainment is currently “We Bought A Zoo” (my choice).

My seatmates are French. In broken English, they tell me Scotland is beautiful, and that they toured it by bike. The woman next to me is every bit “entertained” by crying as I, her wringing hands say everything.

The wing to the left is stable.

I’m eating pasta, with a garden salad, chocolate marble cheesecake, and a bun, paired with a rather young 20mL Felicity Sauv Blanc, from South Africa. Possibly the best airline food I’ve ever eaten.

June 20th. 17:25. Written in route from London to Edinburg on East Coast Train. Darlington.

First Class was worth the extra Pounds.

I’ve enjoyed beer, gin, tea, sandwiches, pastries, more tea, and incredible views of England over the past 2 and a half hours.

No doubt it will continue for the remaining 2 to Edinburgh.

The sheep next to the track seem to know about the trains and don’t run in fright—I guess they aren’t Welsh.

The weather remains stunning as the sun moves to the west, though I admit that my sense of direction is off—moving North while facing South will do that, I suppose.

Life with friends in a foreign land is good.

June 21st. 21:15. Pitlochry.

The hostel today is everything Edinburg was not. Thick mattresses. Towels. Power in the room. Scenic Views. Whisky.

Driving for the first time was…. and experience. I nearly clipped a car in Edinburgh, the Passat just feels huge on these roads.

Only got the “wrong” side of the road once, where there was no traffic—good and bad.

The TDI is a crankin motor! Stop/Start is nice too. Averaging 50mpg, though the british gallon is a bit bigger than ours.

Visited 2 distilleries today, so far I am 210cL into my 500cL airline allocation. Edradour is on my watch list as of today.

Scotland is beautiful, even this wet. I already know I’ll want to be coming back again. Two nights of lamb in a row—damn it is good.

Update: 22:15

I noticed this yesterday but by far, the hardest adjustment to make is to the sun. At 10:15 PM, it’s not just light, it’s bright. Under clouds, it is not much more dim than mid-day. That’ll be good for Scott tomorrow.

June 23rd. 7:00. Craiglairch. 6 hours into West Highland Way Race.

Scott passed through checkpoint 1 at Balmaha right on time on a 20-22 hour pace. If it continues, we’ll be awaiting his finish @ 10 tonight. That would certainly be nice.

It’s raining some more, lots of road flooding. This rain wouldn’t be a big deal in Wetter Washington, just typical winter conditions.

Now, we wait. We can’t see him at checkpoint 2, so the wait is plenty long. Four hours to go. Patience.

The car is growing on me. Still to wide, and the gearbox is balky, but it is nice to drive. Very nice. The Stop/Start is nice when I mis-shift too. Driving on the left is getting easier and I love a road system built on roundabouts.

BBC radio is less than I’d hoped—there’s no good “alternative” radio to speak of.

Time for another nap.

June 24th. 00:04. Fort William.

So Scott didn’t make it. Tore a calf tendon. He kept trying though, and for 9 miles, I was with him. There was no concern of pace. Sadly. The nine miles were slow and beautiful, physically not terrible, but emotionally incredibly hard.

It was me that had to be there for Scott as he struggled to decide if he goes on. It was me that had to avoid deciding for him, for there were no easy answers.

I feel like I robbed Annie of something, but I also feel incredibly special to have been there. I won’t get many chances like that in my life.

Today was a recovery day and recover we did. Slept until noon. Saw a castle. Watched England lose to Italy (stupid Penalty kicks!).

We visited the most famous body of water in Scotland. Water. Water defines this place. I love it and even though the race turned out differently than we had planned, the trip will still be just about perfect.

June 25th. 22:47. Oban.

5 hours to alarm. Islay tomorrow!

Donollie is amazing, even as a wreck. There’s something about a family connection that turns a worn down, disaster of a castle into something special. The stones may not be much, but what they represent!

Oban is the best city IMHO we’ve been to so far. Habited by many genuinely active people, the city “feels” healthy (though the food sure as hell isn’t!). It’s small, but vibrant. It’s dense, like any good walkable city. Comfortable.

The castle was more open than I had expected, but not as much as I had hoped. There’s no 3rd floor and no roof, but the stone 1st floor is strong. Good views on a blue sky day. Pictures should be good, I hope.

The whisky in town is zealously loved, almost reminds me of the stories of 70s Detroit being completely dominated by Ford/GM/Chrysler.

There’s a real attachment. “It’s not good. It’s Beautiful.” It is a good whisky. Not too sweet. Not too smoky. Not too anything. I’ve liked it for years, but now I have a new appreciation.

Like every stop on this journey, I’d like to have more time here.

June 27th, 10:30. Aboard the M/V Hebridean Isles, eastbound back away from Islay.

Yesterday’s sailing was marked by blue skies and calm seas. Today the blue skies are replaced by fog, but the seas remain calm.

The island was all that I had hoped for. The whisky was more than I had hoped for.

The Laphroaig tour is well regard and deservedly so. Just the experience of malting makes it really special. Only 6 distilleries in all of Scotland still run their own kilns.

Islay seems like a beautiful, but hard place to live. Isolated, incredibly small, and shockingly limited service. Port Ellen doesn’t even have an ATM!

I drank too much last night. I was noisy too. Apparently. Note to self: don’t do that again.

Breakfast this morning was the best by far. Blood pudding is nothing like I expected, much stronger flavour and grainy texture.

Islay and Oban. I’ll miss them both.

July 1. London.

London is London. Getting here was arduous, a lengthy process involving queues, coaches, sitting in a station for hours, and frazzled nerves. But eventually, Virgin finally got us to Euston. Normal time for Edinburg to London: 5h 12m. It took us 13.

It might rain a lot here, but bad things happen when all the rain comes at once.

Once we arrived, we got the taxi driver from hell. After midnight after a 13 hour journey and he refuses to accept our Scottish notes. Every person in London that hears this exclaims “He can’t do that!”. I’m not sure if that is true, but clearly the exclamations of the driver that we will have trouble with our RBS/Bank of Scotland/Clydesdale notes are false. Asshole.

Aside from that introduction, London is quite nice. It’s less friendly than my small experience of New York, but quite a bit more than Seattle. We’ve been getting nice weather, which is a change.

Yesterday was a full day of sightseeing tourism. Original bus tour, riverboat tour, lots of people, nobody local.

That all changed at 19:30. The Lion King. The 50 quid was worth spending, for it was a phenomenal show. Bombastic, bright, and the opening 5 minutes was utterly amazing.

Today, I will go to the British Museum. The Legendary British Museum. I will also go to see ‘As You Like It,’ set in the St. Paul church, near where we watched the Lion King last night.

Matinée show at 14:30, hope that gives me enough museum time. If not, there’s always time tomorrow.

It’s now to the point in a vacation where I look forward to the end while simultaneously dreading it.

July 2, 08:25. London.

Last full day. The London Museum is awe inspiring. The artifacts are numerous and overwhelming. While I spent several hours to do most of it at once, that isn’t the best way to go. It’s better to spend several days and limit the time per day—else one gets “museum’d out” before one runs out of museum.

In my case, I ran out of time. 3 hours is not nearly enough, but at 13:30, I needed to go—Shakespeare awaited.

I’ve seen ‘As You Like It’ before, but never have I seen anything like this. Rather than use a single stage, they moved the audience to different very small, very intimate stages set up in the garden. Only one was a “proper” raised stage, the rest were just props in the grass. It was fun, even when London skies spit on our heads. Well worth £11.50.

The city is highly walkable and I took advantage. My journey back from St. Paul’s church included a very busy Trafalgar Square (Canada Day in London!), Buckingham Palace, much of Hyde Park (the quiet, non-monument side) and a lovely and unexpected statue of Yuri Gagarin, celebrating 50 years of manned space expeditions.

It might have taken me two hours to get back to the Hotel, but I enjoyed it all.

July 3, 9:47 AM PDT (17:45 London time). Over Iceland, or maybe Greenland, BA0049.

Travel Day. Quiet day. Breakfast, check out, walk a block to Paddington, 15 minute train to Heathrow, and the long wait to fly began.

We could not hand over our Whisky laden bags until 12:10, so off to the pub. There, we were entertained by one very drunk man who had already been cut off. He was working very hard to get another by buying somebody else drinks.

I think we already missed the big scene, alas. He didn’t try to use us.

Security at Heathrow is a breeze. The TSA really should watch how the British do things and use Heathrow as an example.

Once past security, we visited the duty free. My 5.1L of Whisky rapidly became 6.1L. Oh well!

Despite my best effort to avoid them, there are babies in this section too. I tried, at least I didn’t have to hunt for a spot to store my carryon.

Once again, good meal. BA might be compensating for reduced flavour at elevation, for the meal had it in spades. Very tasty indeed!

The in-flight entertainment has crashed three times now, time to give up and just use the iPhone. Or write.

It’s still a good day to fly. I celebrated the start of the return by listening to ‘On My Way Back Home’ (Band of Horses), a great anthem for days like these.

6 hours, 41 minutes to go. I’d like to thank Laphroaig for my rent, it is quite nice at 36000’.

July 4. 7:34 AM. Renton. Starbucks.

Finally, we are well and truly headed home. The flight was, as Scott and I toasted at in the Heathrow pub “uninteresting.”

I will fly BA again. Crying babies or not, those flights were the best flying experiences I’ve had in years. Annie’s stories of her United flights home were a sharp contrast.

We had two meals (dinner and tea), copious and common drink service, in-seat entertainment, and the comfort of the 747.

Annie got standard domestic crap on a narrow-body. Across the pond. Terrible.

We left Washington in cold and wet weather, it only got worse in Scotland, and finally London was nice, at least comparatively.

To return home and find real warmth is joyous. What a way to end a vacation.

I may have been “just” ready to leave, but I sure am ready to be home!