Delay, or Day 31 in London, Vancouver B.C., and home!

My flights were actually scheduled very nicely for today, with a flight straight to Vancouver than a quick hop to Seattle. What wasn't as convenient was the hour layover (that was shortened by a late plane, then further made useless by going through all of the American customs rigamarole).

So the bus went smooth, the strike that threatened earlier this week was resolved, and the first flight was slightly delayed. I enjoyed my nine hours of quality entertainment (Justin Bieber's "Never Say Never" and a comedy called "Cedar Rapids" among them). The trick, so I've heard, is to stay awake going west. The meals, snacks, and drinks all certainly helped.

Our flight was delayed by five minutes, which is usually not an issue, but with an hour of customs proceedings, no one from the London flight made it to the Seattle flight. There were about ten of us, and we all got seats and a lovely additional hour-long layover, plus an another hour due to technical difficulties.  

However, the plane eventually got off the ground with me on it, and in Seattle I was. My parents and littlest sister picked me up in their day-old Nissan Leaf, and we had a Fathers' Day dinner with my old exchange student and her husband. He's a chatty one, and also named Alex, so we commiserated about their similarities.

I was on my fourth or fifth wind at this point, and the final leg of the drive back to our house was a feat of awakeness. I brought down gifts to bestow, and with that, I gave up the sleep fight (it had been 22 hours of sleeplessness at this point).

On Death, or Day 30 in Oban, Glasgow, and London

Our 7:45 bus was an early wake-up call, but with our early bedtime last night, it was pretty bearable, made even more so by the cold breakfast and packed lunch from our B&B hostess. We had all sorts of treats hanging on our door this morning to enjoy later in the day.

We didn't have to run to this bus, for the first time in a while. It was a pretty, quiet (and pretty quiet) ride. We woke up before getting to Loch Lomond, so were able to see one area of the country that wasn't on our itinerary (but the surrounding national park is definitely worth exploring in the future).

This was one of the few travel legs that was planned out before we left from the US, since we had to get to London tonight for our flights in the morning (well, afternoon for Alex, but he's probably headed to the airport at early o'clock with me tomorrow).

 
We had a five-hour layover in Glasgow that was originally for sight-seeing. However, we got to Central Station from the bus terminal, and both of us just sat, a bit exhausted with travelling.

The snacks we still had left from Ben Nevis gave us a boost, and we headed to the cathedral in Glasgow, meandering through a few other pedestrian streets and squares in Glasgow on the way.

Our trip was made a bit more urgent by bodily needs, so we got close to the cathedral, and I saw a free exhibit and ducked inside without really seeing what it was.

Turned out the museum we used so indiscriminately for a bathroom was St. Mungo's Museum of Religious Life and Arts. Doesn't sound so interesting, but on the first floor was an exhibit on rituals of life and death in a variety of cultures.

The second floor was a temporary exhibit that was on death and the belief in afterlife. The artist took a research approach to the exhibit with people filling out questionnaires, speaking into a recorder, or getting interviewed. One of the most interesting videos was the artist's son (8 years old) interviewing a grief counselor. He thought of the questions himself, and they were really intense in their inquiries. The one that was most innocent was what is one thing you have to do before you die?

After a laugh, the interviewee answered that it is most important to live. He expressed that every moment he is living is like his last, so he gives it his utmost attention. This was a spark of a conversation between Alex and me, and taking about really, it's the balance of the past, present, and future that create a full life, not the exclusion of any of them for the maximization of another.

It then also seemed appropriate that we next visited the cathedral next door, with a very intense necropolis on the hill by it. We gazed a bit at the massive columns before heading back to Central Station.

We made sure to stop by Gregg's, our bakery of choice, for our afternoon nourishment.

The train ride went through some beautiful countryside, both Scottish and English. We dinnered on filled rolls, fried chicken, crisps, and other things in our packed lunches from the morning. Margaret was a good "mom" to us, but I think we're both excited to get back to our real families tomorrow.

We arrived at London Euston (on the north end of town, I think) at 9:31, 7 minutes ahead of schedule. A trip and a transfer on the Underground and a bus later, we were at the hotel at 12:37am. Doesn't seem like it should have taken that long, does it? Tomorrow will be my last day of "travel" blog before I go back to my typical blogging (aka, probably not daily).

Travelers' Curse, or Day 29 in Oban, Mull, and Iona

The travelers' curse. Anytime you want nice weather, it rains, and anytime the weather doesn't matter (like on a travel day), it's sunny.

So we planned our trip to the islands of Mull and Iona today. And, as the curse would have it, we had a lovely drizzle to start the morning.

The daytrip, put together by Bowman's Tours, is a 45-minute ferry from Oban to Mull. Mull is the third largest of Scotland's islands (excluding the fact that Scotland itself is part of an island). The ferry was less windy and cold then others we've been on, so I appreciated being able to go on deck to see the coastline and the castles with minimal frigidness (and only a few Germans). Alex was giddy, pointing at islands saying, "Can we go there?" Clearly another location we have to return to.

We got to Mull, and got on a bus to take us across the island (maybe 40 miles). The driver, Alastair, was a local, having grown-up on the island and raised his kids there. He slowly chatted throughout the hour-and-fifteen bus ride to the next ferry. We were told to look out for otters, seals, and deer, but on the way there, the only thing we saw was sheep.

Around noon, after trying not to drift off during the bus ride, we got to the ferry to Iona. In the first three minutes, we saw a seal disappear around the bow. And then we just watched as the ferry coasted back and forth between the islands. It didn't tie up to a dock when it got to the slipway, so either the gangplank (which was big enough for cars) or some underwater anchor held it in place as we got off on the island.

Iona is about 3 miles by 1.5 miles, so instead of touring the abbey, as most people were apt to do with their 2.5 hours ashore, we started walking north.

Staffa Island was nearly in sight, through the haze that covered everything. Fingal's Cave, with basalt columns and puffins is that islands claim to fame, but neither could be seen, even when we walked through a sheep pasture at the far north end of the island.

The pasture was treacherously covered in sheep and horse droppings, but the wind got intense once we got out of the shelter of even the few buildings and up on a knoll in the middle of it. My raincoat hood was snapping at my ears, and the rain became driving. On the west side of the island were sand dunes with sea grass and crashing waves over black, sharp, volcanic rock. We stood there as long as we could before heading back.

The rain had picked up, and the light sprinkle had developed into sharp droplets that pelted through our jeans and hoods. The mile or two back to the village was head-down, hood-up. We fell bedraggled into a hotel for some warm drinks and a bit of slow Internet. We felt human again before heading back to the village for some browsing and ferrying back to Mull.

Our bus driver welcomed us back, chatted a bit, pointed out some deer, and then let us nap for a bit. I was trying to stay awake to watch for otter and waterfalls, but did my fair share of nodding off. We got back to the original ferry, and waited in line (with me jumping for warmth) to get back to Oban.

We were actually nearly dry (except our feet) when we got back to Oban around 6. The thought of going out again wasn't appealing, so we looked at half a dozen places for dinner before choosing an empty Irish pub. It seems that every menu has to have macaroni and cheese and lasagna on it. We split some nachos, a burger, some lasanga, and had probably our final Scottish beer of the trip, a nice smooth Belhaven.

After chatting with the owner of our B&B, Margaret, and her dog, we dried and went to bed. I think I was asleep before 10:30pm. 

Grass and Barley, or Day 28 in Fort William and Oban

We woke up again on couches, but this morning, it felt like a friend's place instead of a strangers. We decided last night that, sadly, without a car and trying to make the 11am bus to Oban, Glencoe was not going to happen. Just add that to the list of things to see next time in Scotland. (That list includes climbing Ben Nevis and taking the actual Quirang hike, instead of the crazy one we did.)

Alex also woke up with Sooty, the cat, by his face. I was only getting in the way of that relationship.

We got out a bit late, again, so ran down the hill to High Street (which we speed-walked through) and got to the bus with minutes to spare. The bus ride was pretty, but not quite pretty enough to prevent us from getting sleepy.

We got to Oban, and immediately started enjoying the quaint seaside feel. Oban is the "seafood capital of Scotland," and some parts definitely smelled like it. Alex mentioned that every place we've been to in Scotland has had its own feeling, and it's no different with Oban. We locked up our luggage at the rail station and headed for some lunch.

The past few days we've been eating a balanced but similar diet of raisins, peanuts, fruit, and granola bars (and chocolate). Today we treated ourselves to a hot lunch at a cafeteria-type restaurant. We then headed to the Oban Distillery.

Going to a distillery to see the Scotch whisky process has been on our list for a while, but this was the first (and will be the last) that was open and accessible. Our tour guide stepped us through the malting process of the barley (dried with peat smoke to add some smoky flavor), then the mashing (rinsing out the sugars in giant vats), then fermented, then the distilling. Theirs is distiller twice, then the first stuff that comes out is too strong ("the head"), then it is the correct strength ("the heart"), then it is too weak ("the tail"). The head and tail are put back in the storage container with the "low wines" (coming from the first distillation) and distilled again, again creating the "head", "heart", and "tail". Then, it is put in recycled bourbon casks of American white oak for 14 years. We got some ten-year-old cask strength (so about 58% alcohol, as opposed to after they add the water to bring it down to 43% when the bottle it), which was surprising smooth, for whisky. We then got to try their standard 14-year-old, which they've been making for over 200 years.

We stopped by the bed-and-breakfast, caught our host to give us keys, and then headed up the hill to a lawn bowling club!

Alex and I sat in the sun (yay, sun!) and watched the veterans play. I went inside to see if we could, but no one was at the booth so we contented ourselves with watching. The games were to 21 points, with your score each round being the number of balls closer to the jack, a small white ball, than your opponent.

After the afternoon games wrapped up, we headed further up the hill to McCaig's Tower. The story that Alex told me was that McCaig wanted to build a museum with a sculpture in every window, but he died before it was completed. Now it is a shell, albeit a pretty shell, and on the top of a big hill, with pretty overlooks onto Oban.

We headed next to dinner, though we got a bit sidetracked with a nap... well, at 8pm we were looking for dinner, and came out right before sunset (so, 9:30). We walked down along the water, and around the bend saw a run-down castle. Alright, last adventure of the evening!

Dunollie Castle had been built in the 1200s (like many of them), then abandoned and now was a fun walk up the hill in twilight. It was extra spooky from the time of day, but a good walk up and back.

Cloudy Days, or Day 27 in Fort William

So the grand plan for today was to hike up Ben Nevis, the tallest mountain on the British Isle. We have been thinking about it a lot in the past few days, figuring out what we'll take and what clothes to wear (since neither of us have completely appropriate hiking gear).

We woke up, and couldn't really see outside. It was kind of nice for the morning, since the sun gets up a good four hours before we want to, and with the clouds (and no curtains), it was just a gradual wake-up call. However, the amazing view across the water was blocked by the extremely low-lying clouds. The rain didn't help our conviction either.

So around 10am we decided that the Ben was a no-go. Sad, but my shoes are dying, so it is probably for the best.

We hung around our Couchsurfing hosts' flat for another hour or three before heading down to try to catch a bus to Glencoe. We were a little late, so we did some shopping again.

And, getting caught up in our shopping, we got to the bus stop while the bus we needed pulled away. Then I misread the bus schedule as 4:37 instead of 14:37. So we waited... and no bus. We wandered inside to the Morrison's (something like a grocery store plus a bit), wandered back out, re-read the bus schedule, and decided to give up.

We walked two miles to the Inverlochy Castle, poked around the ruins as the rain started, and got wet as we climbed the impressive hill back to our hosts' place.

Our suggestion for dinner was the same pub we met our host in yesterday. I had my first steak-and-ale pie (very filling for a day of not doing much).

When one of our hosts came back for the evening, he and Alex pulled out the guitars and jammed for a bit. Marjk taught Alex a song, the two of them came up with one about a happy Highland cow named Hamood (s/he mooed), and we all have a good laugh. We kept Marjk up past his bedtime, then turned in ourselves for somehow getting to Oban tomorrow.

Modes of Transport, or Day 26 in Portree, Armadale, Maillag, and Fort William

Alex and I needed to get from Portree, on the northern half of Skye, to Fort William, about 150 miles away. We started with a bus, to get to Armadale, the port on the southern side of Skye.

We were supposed to get into town center a bit early for some shopping, but we got there right before the bus was about to leave, so we just hopped on instead.

It was a good final tour to see Skye, and we were both lulled by the movement of the bus. Even with the gorgeous scenery and impressive mountains, there is something about a moving vehicle that puts me to sleep.

We got to Armadale ten minutes before the ferry, so bought our (pretty cheap, $8) tickets across to Maillag on the "mainland" (or Britain proper). Alex "made" me sit outside in the wind, but that was one of the few times I had to put my fleece jacket on today! Otherwise, it was a remarkably sunny day.

The point of getting to Maillag was to take the Jacobite Steamer to Fort William. It is an actual steam engine, which some folks might be excited about, as well as the train that is featured in the Harry Potter movies as the Hogwarts Express, which some other folks might be excited about.

We didn't get tickets ahead of time, but got some seats on the way back into Fort William. It is good we were going that direction, because apparently some people going from Fort William to Maillag that morning couldn't get seats or tickets!

After having our lunch at Maillag (though not the intense prawn dish we saw coming out of the kitchen), we sat on the train across from a couple from Minnesota. They had to stand on the way to Maillag, so were happy to be able to sit. They also alerted us of closing the windows during tunnels to prevent the cars from filling with smoke. When we left the tunnels, the windows were all fogged us with, you guessed it, steam! The ash flying in the window got a bit taxing on my throat, but the chugging made it feel like a real train.

We got to Fort William, and we were set to meet our Couchsurfing host at 6, so we wandered High Street (their pedestrian thoroughfare) for a bit. We asked at the tourist information center about hiking up Ben Nevis, the highest mountain in Britain, and got some good information about that and our other options.

We next went to the pub, had a drink with one of our hosts, and headed up the big hill to their flat. There were another two girls staying there as well, but a mix-up had them heading over to his friends' place instead. We had a chatty, interesting evening, watching some bad TV and talking about American/Scottish differences. Then, it was off to sleep on the couches with Sooty, the cat.

Corinne's Unhappy Hike, or Day 24 in Portree and Dunvegan

Yesterday, we explored the Trotternish Peninsula of Skye, which is the northwest of the island. Today, we attempted to explore the western side.
There was only one bus that took us to the west that ran on Sundays, so we hopped on, hoping to get to the Dunvegan Castle and the island's distillery. The bus driver informed us that the distillery was closed on Sundays, so we had a 45-minute trip out to the castle, a 70-minute tour of the castle, and a 45-minute trip back to Portree.
Alex couldn't be as thorough as he wanted (and usually is) in the castle. A few of the cool artifacts were a "fairy flag" that dates from the 10th century with some legends ranging from the Crusades to, obviously, fairies. There is also a bull's horn that holds half a gallon of claret (wine) that the heir to the clan chiefdom must drink to prove his worth. (Thankfully, it seems the female chief of the mid-1900s didn't have to do that.)
We sped through one of the gardens, then got back on our bus and into Portree. We had tea time, with some yummy shortbread and chocolate.
This whole trip, Alex has been pointing at mountains/hills and said, "Let's climb that." We had a bit of time, and Scotland has a free wandering law (basically, don't disrespect anyone or their herd animals, and you can go where you want). So Alex pointed out the mountain just south of Portree and we started up.
We first headed up a road that ran alongside, then found a logging road and went up that. It ended in a faint path through waist-high brush, but I egged him on, since there didn't seem to be other ways to go.
I was not very smart about this hike, and woke capris since it was a pretty warm day. The branches and bugs were attacking my shins, so I was a bit unhappy. I ended up splitting said capris while trying to climb on a log, so that just continued my not-so-rosy mood.
We went through the brush for probably half an hour before another logging road appeared. A woman just happened to be walking her dog along it (and looking very un-scratched), so Alex asked her how to get up the mountain. She gave us pretty clear directions, and we were off again.
If I was in a sour mood, Alex was ecstatic. We set off again, keeping an eye on the storm in the distance.
Every ridge we climbed over, there was another one higher that Alex wanted to get to. I was still concerned about the storm, and it got increasing windy as we went up. I asked him to pick out a final ridge, and, undoubtably, when we got up there, there were three more to be climbed.
I stopped walking there. Alex bounded up the next ridge or two to try to find the real summit, but he resigned himself that we weren't going any further and started headed back down with me.
So I ended the hike much more happy. We didn't have to scramble through the brush again. Alex ended the hike "90%" happy, since we didn't quite reach the summit.
We changed, went into town for dinner and some live music, and passed out before 11. 

Wet Shoes, or Day 25 in Portree and Elgol

With a full Scottish breakfast (which might or might not mean eggs, toast, potato scones, bacon that's more like ham, and sausage), we got to the bus just in time for our two-hour journey to Elgol, on the southwestern part of the island. As we got on the bus, an American girl asked if we were going to do the boat tour of the loch by Elgol. We started chatting about our vacations, and made it to Broadford, where we had to switch buses. While we were waiting at that stop, I was talking about how we were couch-surfing the next leg of our trip, and a French woman started talking to us about her couch-surfing experiences! Two friends in the course of an hour!

We "convinced" the Frenchwoman to come on the boat tour with us, and we all got our tickets.

We walked along the rocky beach for a bit to an over-cropping of porous rock. We figured it was volcanic because it looked like a solidified sponge.

The weather this morning was wet, drizzly, and rainy, so the additional ponchos Misty Isle Boat Trips gave us right before we got on the boat were a welcome additional protection. We cruised out to the entrance to Loch Coruick, and saw some seals on the way!

It was still kinda gross, but we had an hour and a half until the boat went back, so Alex and I and the American girl headed up the loch.

We started on a path, but turned off it once it became too muddy. We continued around the bend, and kept going and scrambling along.

Our shoes were getting wetter and muddier, and we had quite a few paths that were pretty close to going straight through water. After a little under an hour, we were at a lookout over the the loch. It was still pretty misty, but it was pretty pretty.

We cruised back, then slogged with our wet shoes back to the bus and Portree. We dried and headed to dinner. 

Running and Buses, or Day 23 in Portree and the Trotternish Peninsula

We had a lazy start to the day (deceptive). We had our breakfast at our B&B, then looked at a few bus schedules and suggestions before passing by a fun run on the way into town. (I hear there was a half-marathon today, which will continue their tradition of following me around.)

We stopped at the tourist information center and got some other bus schedules and our first idea for the day: hiking up to Old Man of Storr. Our bus wasn't for another hour, so we went to the grocery for some victuals. I handed the cashier a 2-pound piece for a one pound purchase, and was halfway out the door before I realized he didn't give me any change. I went back inside, and he said he would have to count the whole register to give it to me. I felt pretty bad, and we had twenty minutes before our bus at this point, but I watched him disappear into the back. Alex bought another Irn Bru, and the cashier came back ten minutes later with my pound. Hey, that pound is worth $1.75! We caught the next bus out and began our hike.

It was a steep but hikeable mile or two up beyond the forest, then another half mile or so above the "treeline" to the rock formation that was the Old Man. However, we ended up walking between the Old Man and the cliff wall behind it (which was "not advised", but we felt safe about it) before approaching the Old Man itself.

We started up there with a group of young Chinese tourists (which seems slightly rarer than seeing middle-aged Asian tourists). They  headed down, and the outcropping got a lot quieter. There was another couple up there, so when Alex said "hi, Old Man", the woman turned around. Thankfully, Alex was pretty obviously talking to the rock and not her husband.

We had a bit of time before the next bus, so Alex and I took to wandering the hills. We ran into more sheep (including a sheep skull that transmitted its powers to Alex) before heading back down to the bus.

We weren't quite sure where we were going next, but it was still early enough for another hike (or "walk" in the Scottish parlance). We decided on a location, and the bus driver suggested a route. Thankfully, Alex had a rough map so we could sort of have an idea of where we were going.

We walked through some rolling hills up by some lochs, with only the scrubby grass and heather (and sheep, always sheep). We made it up to the base of Quirang ("queer-ang"), a cliff-structure that we followed for a while. However, we were just crossing a stream when we realized we had 35 minutes until the bus came. We spent ten of it following the stream out of the mountain, another five getting the the road, and then the final twenty walking/running the 1.7 miles back to the main road where we could hail the bus. I was pretty tired on the bus ride back to Portree.

The roads around the Trotternish Peninsula, where both our hikes were, and where the bus circled around, are single lane with turn-offs every fifty feet or so. Mostly cars pulled off for the bus, but in addition to the two-directional traffic, there were also the sheep on the roads that a driver has to look out for. They are pretty good at running from the bus (opposite of us).

An easy meal of takeout, a shower, and I was out before the sun went down. 

Off to the Island, or Day 22 in Inverness, Eilean Donan, and Portree

We had two choices for this morning. One was to take a bus at 9:30. The other was to take a train at 11:00. We made the right decision and grabbed enough food for breakfast and a partial lunch after we checked out at 10:00.

I was asleep for the first half of the train ride, but the scenery when I woke up was already more hilly than when we left Inverness. We were in the Highlands before, but we were really in them now. (And sheep all over, to complete the picture.)

We arrived at Kyle of Lochalsh (don't know what a kyle is, but Loch Alsh was right there), and hopped on a bus to the most romantic castle in Scotland: Eilean Donan. It was rebuilt from 1912 to 1932 by a pair of Macs, then became a summer home. It was the most lived-in castle I've seen yet, which can really inform the rest of what we've seen. We chatted with one of the docents, then caught the last bus back to Skye.

We are staying at Portree, the northern most village on Skye. The only bridge to Skye is about 3/4s of the way south, then the ferry back to the mainland is at the very south (and where we'll be departing from on Tuesday).

We spotted our B&B from the bus, so it was a short walk back to it from town. It is a cozy pair of houses, but the one we are staying in doesn't have Internet (which is why I'll most likely be posting in the mornings for a bit).

We ate at the "cafe" (not with the accent, so they rhyme it with "laugh") at the Caledonian Hotel. It's run by a well-known chef, but it has good prices since it's a cafe. We ate a bundle (including more haggis for Alex and a venison burger for me) before picking up some sweets at the grocery and turning in for a blessfully early night. 

Ness, Ness, and More Ness, or Day 21 in Inverness, Culloden, and Loch Ness

Oh, it was painful to get up before 8 today. We wanted to catch an 8:45 bus to get to the Culloden Battlefields as early as possible so we could also do Loch Ness this afternoon.

And we made it! With minutes to spare (which I used to grab granola bars, which actually exist in this country). We got to the high tech visitors' center and spent an hour or two watching and listening to the audiovisual. The Battle of Culloden was the last stand of Bonnie Prince Charlie, when the Jacobites (made up of many Highlanders) were sorely defeated by the government supporters. The government supporters lost 50 men on the battlefield; the Jacobites lost 1,500.

It was rainy when we headed out on the battlefield with our nifty GPS audio guides. The battlefield had been drained a bit, so wasn't quite the moor that it was in 1746, but we got the idea (cut down by half or so by the road in the middle). Around the field were the stones memorializing the clans that fought and a cairn to memorialize the battle.

We grabbed some lunch stuffs then hopped on a bus back to Inverness to head to Loch Ness next. We missed (or there wasn't scheduled) a bus for right when we came back, so we wandered over to the train station to check out transportation options for tomorrow to get to Portree, on the Isle of Skye.

We headed actually to the Urquhart Castle, on the shores of Loch Ness (which is just a lake named Ness, just like the river in the town we are staying, and the "inver" or entrance to the sea at Inverness). It had three changes in command that came with slightly interesting stories, but for the most part, I just enjoyed climbing around the castle ruins. And there was sun!

It was suggested that we walk the two miles back towards the town with the Nessie craze, and so we did, passing a bunch of sheep and cattle along the way. We waited for the bus again, and got back into Inverness.

It was about 8pm by this time, so we were ready for dinner. We ended up at an Irish pub that served Scottish food, so I had a chicken breast stuffed with haggis. We also had a black pudding for an appetizer and a toffee pudding for dessert. How much more British can you get?

We were both tired from this morning's early start, so we were thinking we'd walk the block up to the castle at Inverness, see the sunset, then head home. And we did that... but heading back to the guesthouse was actually an hour or two of walking along the river, skipping around the bridges between the islands, watching them get dazzlingly lit up by incomprehensible Christmas lights, then, somehow, ended back up at the guesthouse.

Another travel day tomorrow... Hopefully with another castle too!

Chants, Drunks, and Fish, or Day 20 in St. Andrews, Edinburgh, and Inverness

 We were up and at 'em all early this morning. We had to browse the golf stores (since Alex is a golfer, and after my fabulous round yesterday, I'm nearly there), then get our "cakes," as the cashier called them (read: donuts). We had either fifteen minutes or an hour and fifteen minutes to check out of our hostel and get to the bus stop, so we rushed and caught the bus back to Edinburgh.

Yesterday (and the day before), we were trying to figure out how best to get from St. Andrews to Inverness. It seemed the best way was via Edinburgh (again), so we had about an hour of deja vu (even eating apples again) before our 3.5 hour bus to Inverness.

I fell asleep half way through the trip, and when I woke up, we had gone through our stop in Perth and were fully in the Highlands of Scotland. There were sheep, and hills, and scrub, and maybe even a hill with some snow.

We got off at Inverness and trekked to our guesthouse on the opposite side of town. Dragging suitcases to somewhere unknown is never quite fun, but it is better than carrying them (and Alex has it in his head that we are too cheap and too healthy to take a cab or bus around towns... just means I'm tired every night).

We tried the doorbell before realizing there was a key inside the first doorway hanging up for us. We let ourselves in, ditched our stuff, and headed to the cemetery across the way.

We looked at the mostly Scottish last names, recalling people we knew with those last names. Upon exiting the cemetery from a different entrance, we were soon wet from the drizzle that started and a bit unknowing of our location, besides knowing the cemetery was remaining on our right. We made it back to be introduced to our host before the reception area closed. After some bad British tv ("My Super Sweet Sixteen UK"), we ventured out to forage.

After a few days of quick food and fruit, we treated ourselves to a sit-down meal at an Indian restaurant. Alex fed me a green hot pepper (and then he had to eat one in retribution).

So we were full, with no curfew, and quite a bit until the sunset, so what do we do? Go on a four mile (at least) hike.

Alex wanted to see where the Ness River met the firth, but then one thing led to another and we were by the Caledonian Canals, passing a fisherman, someone chanting, a railroad crossing, and a drunk guy asking for directions. And you are lucky I made it this far through the post, because my eyes feel like closing and not opening again, which isn't good for our 7:30 wake-up call (think monsters and battle cries for tomorrow).

Hitting the Links, or Day 19 in Edinburgh and St. Andrews

We just barely got checked out by 10am this morning, then walked to the bus station across Old Town. We stopped at Greggs ("our" bakery) and got a bit of food for breakfast.

However, once we got to the bus station, it was more like brunch. And once we got on the 11:40 bus to St. Andrews, it was more like lunch.

We drove past some horses, sheep, and hairy coos, and dropped off our bags at the station so we were unencumbered for our venturings.

It was pretty close to a nice day when we got here, so we hit the links right away. "The links" being the Ladies' Course (also called the Himalayas), a miniature golf course. I totally bested Alex (though he has a few years experience on me). We played a full eighteen holes at St. Andrews!

And it was good we did it then, because the rest of the afternoon wasn't fit for anything. We walked on West Sands, the beach right by the course, until it started raining. On the beach were these squirts of wet sand, like Playdough being pushed through a tube. Each was accompanied by an airhole a foot away. Our guess was razorclams, with an airhole and excavating their burrow.

We hid under a shelter for a bit, allowing me to dust off my sandy feet. After the first burst of rain, we made it dry all the way to St. Andrews University (and past Butts Wynd). However, it was too wet then (and getting a bit late) to go in and appreciate the castle ruins and cathedral ruins that we walked by.

We had a meal of fish and chips between attempts to find Internet or use a payphone to contact our CouchSurfing hosts. After failing on both counts, we checked into a hostel for the night.

Alex was still raring to go (though "Friends" was pretty tempting), so down towards East Sands this time we went. It was sunny (amazing for both Scotland and 7:30), and we made it to the harbor right by the sea pretty quickly (with only some slight cat-stalking).

Though we didn't know at the time, the tide was in, allowing brave souls to be out in sailboats, kayaks, and surfboards. We saw some especially brave (or stupid) people climbing out in their bathing suits). The water seems to be warmer than the air, but that's still impressive.

We looked out over the coastline, and, as we are now guity of doing for the second day in a row, pointed and said, let's go there.

The sun was on its way down toward the horizon, but we had a good two hours to make it a few miles on a trail on top of cliffs by the coastline.

It was remarkable. We stopped every hundred feet with a new angle toward St. Andrews, or the cliffs and rocks below, or the snails or trailer parks on our path. And the weather held nicely as we forged ahead (and through a less used and much more vegetative trail then the main one, at one point).

The journey was amazing, and I can only hope Scotland is going to continue to be as picturesque as this evening.

We arrived back into town at the end of dusk, or 10:30pm, for some Jaffa Cakes (I don't know, Alex has heard of them and wanted to try) and pizza. Feet again very tired. 

Hills, or Day 18 in Edinburgh

We woke up around 9 (though it takes Alex a bit to shake off the sleep, especially if he is partially jet-lagged) and, after a stop at a tempting bakery, headed to the Royal Mile. The Royal Mile is a stretch between the Edinburgh Castle and the Holyroodhouse Palace. It is about a mile, actually.

Last night, we went up to see the castle and such, so getting there wasn't a problem. Between the walk up all the stairs and the long ticket line, we were starting the introductory tour at noon.

The castle was comprised of quite a few buildings, including one that housed the crown jewels (hidden for 111 years). There was also St. Margaret's Chapel, the National War Memorial, the National War Museum, the Great Hall, and miscellaneous chambers and dungeons and towers. We poked in them all, which made for a good way to work up an appetite.

We walked back down the hill (see how hills are going to be a theme today) and got some lunch. Besides my regular tuna melt, and Alex's British steak pie, we also got a haggis roll, and discussed the finer points of the differences between scrapple (a Pennsylvania sausage) and haggis. Alex still thinks it doesn't count, but I didn't like it enough to have it served on a plate in front of me.

We walked back up the hill to the Royal Mile, and continued down. I was getting a bit concerned that we didn't have much time until attractions closed, but we managed to squeeze in to St. Giles Cathedral and The Writers' Museum (where we looked at stuff about Robert Burns, Sir Walter Scott, and the philosopher David Humes). No wonder Edinburgh is called the Literary City.

We finished up the Royal Mile at Holyroodhouse Palace, peeking in for a quick picture before the gates closed. Rick Steves recommended a hike up to Arthur's Seat, a huge hill/mountain in the park next door, so we started up a path.  

We got up the (first) huge hill after half an hour, then started discussing the second and huger hill behind us. We weren't so confident that we climbed Arthur's Seat. Maybe it was just a foothill (or foot rest) instead?

With over two hours until our tour of a close, we decided to hike down our hill and up the even bigger one. We were high on adventure and not being in a city.

So we hiked more. We thought there was a gentler sloped hike up the north side of the Seat, so we headed up the trail. However, we started following the trails that headed more and more uphill. Pretty soon, we were at a 45 degree tilt, using our hands a bit to help us up the grassy and rocky mountain.

It got its most exciting when we were nearly rock climbing between two outcroppings of rock. A few minutes later, we reached the summit!

This was definitely Arthur's Seat. There was a plaque with the name on it.

We spent a bit of time cooling down and picture-taking. Then we headed on a better path downhill (though there was a bit of sliding down some gravel still).

We booked it back to our tour of Mary King's Close (which was not a small feat, considered with had just climbed a few mountains and it was yet another hill to get back up the Royal Mile).

Mary King was a widow and a seamstress back in the 1600s, and the alley ("close") was named for her. The alleys got paved over a while later, so we got to go underground and learn about her and her neighbors through the centuries. Fascinating, not terribly spooky, and we made it out for a glimpse of sunset and to wander and find something for our poor stomaches.

We avoided the hill on the way back to the guesthouse, but I doubt we've learned for good. 

Coffee Shop Confusion, or Day 17 in Oslo and Edinburgh, Scotland

Today's was one of the best 5:30am's I've ever seen. It was bright and sunny, and I was almost glad for my four hours of sleep. Almost.

Alisa joined me at this hour to head the quarter mile to the central station to catch our respective modes of transportation to our respective airports. She wasn't flying back until this afternoon, but felt more comfortable spending her time at the airport than alone at the hotel. Besides, she could fill our her tax rebate on some pricey things that she got and theoretically get some money back.

I flew Ryanair, a super budget airline that makes you pay for everything and bombards you with ads during the flight. But, it got me safely to Edinburgh.

Alex and I were supposed to meet up at a coffee shop right out of arrivals. There were only a few wrenches in this plan. The first was that he was on a domestic flight (because he transferred in London) and I was on an international one. The second was that there were at least (as I found out later) four Costa coffees in the airport.

An hour of waiting and an hour of Internet and a lot of hand-wringing later, Alex came out into the international arrivals area where I parked myself, and all was again good with the world.

As he said, he was just wasting time so we could check in to our hotel right away when we got there.

And that we did. I got lunch, Alex got a nap, and we both breathed a sigh of relief to be in Scotland.

After our rest break, we headed out in the dreary to see our first bits of Edinburgh (that weren't from a bus). We had our climb up closer to Edinburgh castle, then a walk to Greyfriar's Bobby, then some wandering back to our guesthouse. Back to the chilly weather too.

Ski Pole Church, or Day 16 in Olso

With yet another (and our final day) of remarkable sun, we (with our convenience store breakfast of yogurt and orange juice) headed to the pier to take the ferry to Bygoy, or "museum island" (not literally, that's just what they call it).

We had to walk along a row of houses to get to our first museum. Just after I mentioned it'd be a good place for a lemonade stand, we saw two young entrepreneurs selling candy on a corner. Good for them!

The Viking Ship Museum was our first taste of the Vikings this whole trip, besides the knick-knacks in every souvenir shop. There are three boats that were found in burial mounds, all from before 1000AD. One wasn't restored, so we could see how much had disintegrated or shattered. The other two boats were restored to a sea vessel and a pleasure vessel. It wasn't hardy enough to survive disturbed waters.

We next headed to the Norwegian Folklife Museum. It was another outdoor museum (like Skansen, in Stockholm), so we wandered and saw some farms and a few farm animals. There was one farmhouse that was making lefse, which I know as a potato pancake. However, they were using wheat flour and charging $5 a slice. I'll take Grandma's lefse, thanks. They did give us a free porridge tasting (but that was gross, so I'm glad they didn't charge).

The museum also had relocated a stave church onto their property. "Staves" are the upright logs used to support the church (unlike most period buildings where the logs are horizontal). "Staves" is also used to refer to barrel wood and to ski poles (in Norwegian).

Besides having a cool name, it was intricately decorated with cool wood-carvings. We saw more of them at the indoor museum with folk art.

Also at the indoor museum was an exhibit about the Bydoy Boy's Home, a reform school (and child prison) for boys from the 1890s to the 1950s. They made a movie about it ("King of Devil's Island") that I want to see now.

We left the museum and walked back to the ferry dock. On the way to the peninsula, we asked if we could buy tickets onboard, but ended up needing cash, which we didn't have enough of. The attendant said we could just buy the tickets later. However, on our way back, there wasn't a ticket booth or ATM in sight. So we asked a different attendant, who just told us to ride back for free.

Alisa used this as rationale for our evening of random food and drink locations. We had sushi, then the most disappointing milkshake I've ever had (it was chocolate milk with ice), then a pizzeria called Dimple Dolly's, then a pub where we watched Norway lose against Portugal. Our last night together and in Scandinavia! But a 5:30am wake-up call...Ski Pole Church
With yet another (and our final day) of remarkable sun, we (with our convenience store breakfast of yogurt and orange juice) headed to the pier to take the ferry to Bygoy, or "museum island" (not literally, that's just what they call it).

We had to walk along a row of houses to get to our first museum. Just after I mentioned it'd be a good place for a lemonade stand, we saw two young entrepreneurs selling candy on a corner. Good for them!

The Viking Ship Museum was our first taste of the Vikings this whole trip, besides the knick-knacks in every souvenir shop. There are three boats that were found in burial mounds, all from before 1000AD. One wasn't restored, so we could see how much had disintegrated or shattered. The other two boats were restored to a sea vessel and a pleasure vessel. It wasn't hardy enough to survive disturbed waters.

We next headed to the Norwegian Folklife Museum. It was another outdoor museum (like Skansen, in Stockholm), so we wandered and saw some farms and a few farm animals. There was one farmhouse that was making lefse, which I know as a potato pancake. However, they were using wheat flour and charging $5 a slice. I'll take Grandma's lefse, thanks. They did give us a free porridge tasting (but that was gross, so I'm glad they didn't charge).

The museum also had relocated a stave church onto their property. "Staves" are the upright logs used to support the church (unlike most period buildings where the logs are horizontal). "Staves" is also used to refer to barrel wood and to ski poles (in Norwegian).

Besides having a cool name, it was intricately decorated with cool wood-carvings. We saw more of them at the indoor museum with folk art.

Also at the indoor museum was an exhibit about the Bydoy Boy's Home, a reform school (and child prison) for boys from the 1890s to the 1950s. They made a movie about it ("King of Devil's Island") that I want to see now.

We left the museum and walked back to the ferry dock. On the way to the peninsula, we asked if we could buy tickets onboard, but ended up needing cash, which we didn't have enough of. The attendant said we could just buy the tickets later. However, on our way back, there wasn't a ticket booth or ATM in sight. So we asked a different attendant, who just told us to ride back for free.

Alisa used this as rationale for our evening of random food and drink locations. We had sushi, then the most disappointing milkshake I've ever had (it was chocolate milk with ice), then a pizzeria called Dimple Dolly's, then a pub where we watched Norway lose against Portugal. Our last night together and in Scandinavia! But a 5:30am wake-up call...

Naked People, or Day 15 in Oslo

We woke up and opened the curtains, and I was overjoyed with sunshine. Oslo has the best weather! At least for today, and forecasted for tomorrow.

We wore flip-flops and capris and t-shirts. First, we visited the fortress and royal reception rooms in the castle there. Guess what? Christian IV helped build it and it burnt down at one point. Big surprise.

We did get audio guides that allowed us to listen to ghost stories about the castle. There was a hound of death, little witch-y "vampires of the night" that caused fires, a Swedish tease that got shot, and a starved maid.

We next wandered to the actual royal palace, for the less than a century that has been a sovereign Norway. After circling, we realized there weren't any tours or anything, just a cute park around it.

Not really interested in any of the museums in town (and still wanting to soak up sunshine), we decided to walk the final half mile to Froggner Park.

After grabbing some luscious red strawberries for a snack, we got to the park and admired the statues that were meant to symbolize birth to death (all of them naked).

While we were walking along a path, two workmen were conferring over a large baby bird one of them had discovered. We rubber-necked for a bit, then, not wanting to leave it in the middle of a pedestrian path, we tried to shoo it off to the side. A minute into our futile effort, a man walking by just picked it up and set it by the trees. Small problem solved. The whole surviving problem probably wasn't, but there was only so much we could do.

Out of ideas, we sat (me in the sun, Alisa in the shade next to me), playing cards and gawking at the Norwegians that were down to bikinis and bras (in addition to cooking and drinking in the park). An hour or two of this, and I was parched, and we were ready for some food.

We made it halfway back to the hotel, found a sidewalk cafe to have some combination of lunch and dinner, and regained enough strength to make it down Karl Johans Gate, the big pedestrian thoroughfare. We both had chafing sandals, so a walk back to the hotel was in order.

A television with seven channels doesn't leave a good chance for English programming, so we watched "A Walk To Remember," dubbed. Part way through, we realized it was dubbed in German. Alisa and I managed to work up some tears anyway, then we were off for a sunset drink at the harbor.

There's a juicier story that has to do with tonight, but we'll save that for in-person storytelling. 

Fjord and Field, or Day 14 in Balestrand, Flam, Myrdal, and Oslo, Norway

This morning dawned grey (and also probably dawned at 4am, but these Scandinavian countries have great curtains). We spent a bit of time at the hotel, then out taking pictures, then hopped on our ferry to Flam.

The ferry was a stunning ride through impossibly tall cliffs by the longest fjord in the world (I think, but you might not want to quote me). We got whipped by the wind, then stayed inside where it was dry for the rest of it.

We had a few hours at Flam before our ticket up on the railway. We had some food, bought some souvenirs (including a coat for Alisa... only about thirteen days too late), and readied ourselves to head up the mountain valley.

The Flam railway is world-famous. It climbs 864 meters in about twenty kilometers, with it's steepest incline being 1 meter up for every 18 meters. Not to mention its gorgeous views of the Flam Valley.

We made it up to the top, and as we were walking to the building in Myrdal that housed travelers between train transfers (as we were doing), Alisa spotted our Italian friend from the sunset in Bergen!

She was overjoyed, and I was happy for a bit of giddy fun and socializing. We cracked jokes about nettles (since apparently Italians eat something like them too) until our train to Olso arrived.

It was another picturesque ride, and we finally rode out of the clouds enough to see the sun! This threw my body way out of whack (lunch? dinner? naptime? all of the above?).

We passed through more green countryside, and more farmland as we descended from the mountains. I also finished my book.

And then, we got to Oslo. We met up a final time with Italian Friend and his colleague before checking in to our hotel. The next few days will be our adventures in Oslo before I head to Scotland early early on Sunday!

Snowballs, or Day 13 in Bergen, Askwall, and Balestrad, Norway

We woke up at the crack of dawn (well, here the sun was well up, but somewhere, it was dawn) and headed for our first boat of the day. Today we were doing our first half of one of the "Norway in a Nutshell" tours. And by tours, all it really means are all the modes of transportation are set up for you, but you kinda guide yourself.

So we got on our express boat, and went up the coast to Askivall, where we jumped across the dock to a fjord cruise. We spent a little less than two hours going up the Dasafjord, and being amazed as the cliff got higher and the rocks got more sheer.

The mountains, at first, weren't cone-shaped, like one normally thinks of them. They were bulbous mounds sticking out of the horizon or off a cliff-face, defying gravity it seemed.

We got off our boat, and were pointed to a local restaurant (probably the local restaurant) for lunch.

It was a fixed dish of salmon, apple-butter sauce, and nettles. Yup, like the stinging kind, except they had been cooked and mashed (and flavored deliciously) until the "tickle" went away. We were all pleased with the meal, including the couple from Utah that we got to chat with.

We transferred to a bus to take us up some windy, one-lane roads to Sognefjord, where we are staying the night at Balestrand on the water.

On the bus, we saw a bunch of cute clusters of houses with smokestacks, and piles of wood, and sheep in the (sometimes unfenced) pastures. As we climbed, the woods became thicker, then sparser as we hit the point where snow was still on the ground.

The driver let us off at a pull-off where he told us to walk a bit to find a waterfall. Not only was there rapids where we walked to, but a tiny but sturdy metal bridge to go across it. It was roaring and load and the spray woke me up from the lull of the bus.

Next stop was to look down from the sheer height we were at (which was incredible) and throw a  few snowballs.

We got to Balestrand a bit cold and soggy, so after getting to the hotel, it was looking at the view out the windows here and a pilgrimage to the grocery store for lox and cream cheese. And chocolate. And bad TV ("Supersize vs. Superskinny", "Cops", "Dating in the Dark").