Accommodation

by

Hiking Around Melrose

6:28 pm

What a delightful day I’ve had.

1)         A-two hour ‘stroll’ around a tiny museum about Trimontium, a Roman fort near here. Why two hours ? A most wonderful audio tape packed with wit, humour, and facts.

2)         Lunch. I decided to treat myself since I have a bit of extra money. I came in around 11 :50. ‘You serve lunch?’ I asked. ‘At 12’ ‘Oh, then I’ll have a half pint of Guinness while I wait.’

3)         The Trimontium walk, which just happens to occur only on Thursdays! A guide led us to the fields and explained where everything was. It cost about £2, but I had met an elderly man named George Giles just before the walk and he insisted on paying for me. We made conversation during lulls in the fascinating lecture/stroll about Trimontium. Our conversation (a lot about religion and belief or lack thereof in God) continued around tea and cookies (part of the tour).

There was a pause while we walked along a wall that was about the width of this open notebook (a ft or two.), with a four-foot drop on one side and an eight-foot drop on the other! Upon reaching town, we parted with a cheek kiss (very comfortable) and a handshake. When he’d gone, I found myself holding a £10 note in my hand. So, I’ve met a wonderful man, sort of the grand-father I never had, and I’m financially ahead and I found some thistles which I’ll go pick (just one) this evening.

The only problem is I didn’t get around to calling the Dumfries tourist information centre (literally no time to do so). I might do so early tomorrow morning. I can afford two nights in a B and B if necessary, although I’d like to remain under a £20/night limit.

8:58 pm

Found a thistle. Damn are they painfully prickly!!! Tomorrow, I’m taking a ‘scenic’ tour to Moffat. From there, I’ll try to get to Dumfries! I figure a night or two there then Ayr.

Everything is so lovely!!! The Abbey is bathed by late evening sunlight which is literally radiating through clouds. I’ll be honest, there’s a hole in the sky which looks like the gateway to heaven. Only heaven is on Earth.

map1

by

Stirling to Melrose

map

11:29 am

I’m on a bus waiting to depart. Destination: Melrose. Yep. I’ve had luck today. Here’s how it’s gone :

1) Huge breakfast with extra bread and jam to eat for lunch with peanut butter

2) Walk to bus stop. Told bus to Edinburgh 2hrs. Train: 50 min. (travelling time)

3) Go to train station. Fare to Edinburgh very similar (few p. difference at most. Less than £5). Next train leaves in 10 min.

4) Get to Edinburgh. Told to go to bus station. Get there on my own with no detours.

5) Find bus to Melrose. Less than £6. Leaves in 15 min. Time to get bed booked and buy a snack!

6) I’m on my way. Cost: a lot less than the train to Berwick!!!

6:06 pm

I’m in the absolutely lovely Melrose youth hostel, a Victorian mansion. From the common room, I have a view of the abbey, which is even better from the dining room! I cannot believe just how different the Lowlands are from the Highlands. I slightly regret not bringing home some Highland dirt and a thistle when I had the chance. Oh, well. Scottish dirt is Scottish dirt!

The Abbey was great and included an audio tour. I gave my last respects to Robert the Bruce at the site where his heart is buried. Yup, it made its way back!!! This is on thing I’ve been most lucky with. (When the heart was found the second time, a year or so ago, I think, it was taken to Edinburgh for tests. There were incredible delays with getting it back to Melrose. I missed the burial by only day or two, but at least the heart was home when I went to Melrose, and not lying in some scientist’s office.) It was like visiting a grave — I guess it was a grave. It was most moving, to say the least.

So, I plan on two nights here, perhaps one in Dumfries (if I find a cheap place), two in Ayr, and one very near the airport ! Melrose is great in that everything is very nearby and the hills aren’t very high! My trip is just about over and I don’t feel that I’ve wasted my time. It’s a good feeling.

8:16 pm

I have not felt such peace and pure contentment since Colorado. I mean, I’m sitting this close to ancient (okay early medieval to 19th century) ruins. Melrose is such a beautiful abbey, mostly red and yellow ochre, but there are other colours as well, best seen inside. Digress.

I think I’ve invented a new sport! The sport’s name ? Mud skiing. It involves going hill walking in inappropriate attire such as worn down sneakers that won’t adhere to anything and light coloured jeans. Now, find a steep, slippery, muddy hill (you have to be at the top). Now, carefully pick your way down to the first muddy and slippery patch you can’t see. Allow yourself to slip down it, gaining momentum. Once you’ve stopped sliding, KEEP MOVING VERY QUICKLY until you reach the next muddy and slippery spot you can’t see. Allow yourself to go full speed down that one, gaining more momentum. You should end up literally barrelling down the hill. The point of the exercise is to get to the bottom on your own two feet, without falling, without dirtying your clothes, and with a very minimal amount of mud on your shoes. Impossible ? Hell, I did it !

10:20 pm

Everything is just fine and perfect and wonderful. I feel such peace. I wish I could feel like this in the ‘real’ world. I called home and actually got (my mother). She’s going to put some money in my account. Turns out I had a whole £100 left, but for some reason I was unable to extract half of it. Oh well, Friday I’ll have the extra cash, so I’m going to enjoy my weekend. Horseback riding, perhaps?! (I can’t explain the frame of mind I was in as I wrote this entry. It was like I was floating on clouds. I had no worries, no stress, no negativity. It was pure bliss, I suppose.)

by

Perth to Stirling, the Wallace Monument, and Bannockburn

11:43 am

I’m sitting by an oak tree planted on 11th Sept, 1997, ‘the 700th Anniversary of William Wallace and Andrew Moray’s decisive triumph at The Battle of Stirling Bridge’.

map6

I am sitting, gazing in awe at the site of the Battle of Stirling Bridge. Straight ahead, I see the Abbey Craig and Sir William’s monument. It is a long way to the monument, but not a trek. It is a sacred pilgrimage that only too few could understand. It is peaceful here now. The grass is neat and green, trees dot the field. But the monument in view serves as a reminder that the Scots will not be usurped.

I’ll be on my way, now, with a lump in my throat and my heart heavy at the thought of the thousands of casualties—on both sides of the border—who died for a proud ideal of conquest and a proud ideal of freedom. Scotland the Brave.

12:45 pm.

After a strenuous uphill trek that almost makes Ben Nevis look easy (let’s not exaggerate) I’m standing (actually sitting) as close as I’ll ever come to the Wallace statue. The wind up here is phenomenal, so I’ll go in. I truly feel I have reached my Holy Land.

6:26 pm

Wallace’s mighty claymore… as simple as the man who held it was courageous. There was great video presentation in the form of ‘Wallace’s Trial’, a special video screen in the shape of a man’s face was attached to a body. It was most convincing. ‘Wallace’ spoke much as I would have imagined he’d speak (in terms of choice of words). I learned one new thing about Wallace: as Guardian, he began dismantling the feudal system in Scotland to replace it with a fairer system based on Ancient Greece and Rome.

I must admit that the climb up a very narrow spiralling staircase was terrifyingly enclosing. Had the various landings been any further apart, I doubt I could have made it up to the fantastic crown and its glorious view over the environs. (The sky had cleared, seemingly for me!) Getting down was worse, my head was spinning as I inched my way down and people squeezed their way up. (That staircase was one of the most negative experiences in my trip. I really do have a mild case of claustrophobia.)

I enjoyed a wee lunch in the tea room after. Unlike American and Canadian museums, Scottish museums don’t seem to…um… inflate the prices of meals offered in their restaurants.

After? A walk back to Stirling bus station and a bus to the Bannockburn Heritage Centre. I felt something different there, as I crossed the field of Bannockburn to Bruce’s enormous equestrian statue. My ancestors died there alongside their King and friend. In a sense, my blood was spilled on that battlefield. Both monuments were sobering moments, but it was at Bannockburn that I finally realised the pride that one feels at being allowed to wear the Bruce tartan.

Something in me has changed now that I have achieved the main goal of my pilgrimage to Scotland. It is as when I walked the Plains of Abraham in Quebec City. I cannot explain the feeling, but it is a special one indeed. Perhaps it is the knowledge that I have stood where history dramatically changed its course (although I sometimes feel that history’s course is set) and where the destiny of nations was forged. I used to say that Colorado was the most spiritual experience of my life. Scrap that. Walking the fields of Stirling and Bannockburn are far more so.

I’m glad I have chosen to spend two nights in this converted church (The Scottish Youth Hostel). It’s £11.50/night with breakfast, but I have one night free. Incredible that when I tried to book ahead I couldn’t get one here, and when I arrived on the spot, there was one! It helps that I arrived before 10:00AM.

So tomorrow, the old town jail and the castle. Perhaps a (very) quick run to Falkirk if there’s time. It is the 700th anniversary of that decisive (for Wallace) battle.

Now, for a major digression—a note on Fort William, of all places, as well as Glasgow. In Glasgow, I was greeted with bagpipes and despite the city’s similarities with Montreal, I knew I was in Scotland. In Fort William, I was greeted with a polka festival. Felt like I was in the Ukraine or Eastern Europe! The moral of this story? Scotland is a cosmopolitan country. She is a modern country trapped in an ancient land. She is beautiful and vibrant, peaceful and serene. No, the Scots are not (historically speaking, of course) barbarians. Who would not fight for all the Scots have? You know what? The English are/were just jealous!!!

A week from today, my trip will be over. Note to self, call the airport Friday. But I won’t be done with Scotland, far from it! There’s so much I won’t have time to see: Kildrummy, Aberdeen, Dundee, and Glamis Castle, St. Andrews, Cambuskenneth Abbey… The list grows longer every day. Still, I have seen more than enough. Besides, I want there to be something for me to come back to!

As the days go by, I find myself getting more and more used to the routine (perhaps I should put that in quote marks. The only routine is packing and unpacking, saying hello and goodbye, going place to place.) of travelling. ‘Home’ and all its luxuries seems so far away. Slowly, this is becoming real life. I’m not ready to go back, far from it. All I really miss from back there are green vegetables and tofu! But, I see the money slowly trickling to nothingness, I have just a little more than I initially budgeted for, but my expenses have begun to increase. Thank goodness for self-catering! (A ‘little’ more than I had initially budgeted for?! I would find out a few days later that I had almost a full £100 more than I thought in the bank!)

8:56

I’m in the common room and a light keeps flickering on and off, ‘tinkling’ as it does! A music and light show all in 1!

I love Stirling! I do! I do! I do! It just gives off the most incredibly good vibes. I had planned to go for a short stroll around the hostel grounds (a cemetery), but ended up on a longish stroll around town! I found the castle and cannot wait to visit it! The jail looks promising also. Stirling is the first place where I’ve wished I could stay ‘forever’, the first place I’ve wanted to ‘do’ completely before moving on. Still, I want to move on and I’m trying to decide on the next place to go. It’s either Ayr or Dumfries. I guess it’ll depend on available beds and ease to get there.

by

In Which I Explore Edinburgh, See the Queen, and Go to Perth

about 3:30 pm

I’ve had a ‘slow’ day. It began around 9. I had vague plans to walk through Holyrood Park, but it wasn’t any fun with my heavy pack. So I proceeded to get lost following a royal procession out of Holyrood and seeing the Queen (she’s tiny) get in a car!!!

After, I went to a museum that focuses on how (Edinburgers?) have lived during the past 200 years. It was fascinating (and free! (why does it start to rain just when I decided to plop down?)) Besides that, I haven’t been up to much (just uphill!). I’m waiting to meet John and Linda at five. It’s silly that I’ve come all this way and will only be able to stay a half hour. It’s a full hour’s walk back to the bus station and the latest for Perth that I can afford to take is at 6:55. (So, I did end up going to Perth! Turns out there weren’t any beds available in Stirling the night I wanted to go, and to go to Stirling from Edinburgh you have to go by Perth and change buses.)

3:45 (of course the rain doesn’t last (I mean ‘atmosphere’ but the cold sure sets in!) (when it rains, the Scots say it’s ‘atmospheric’. When it snows, the Scots say it’s ‘dramatic’. Why not!)

Do you know what I found to be the creepiest thing in Edinburgh (besides the hidden vaults?) It’s silly, but it’s those strange back taxis rushing along on cobblestone streets late at night!!!!!!!!! In a way, they look like miniature hearses, I guess.

On a more positive note, from Princes street, the castle is magnificent! It looks like it’s growing right out of the rock, like it sprouted from the volcano. I must admit that from without, I don’t find the castle all that ‘beautiful’, but it is impressive and grand, a worthy fortress to defend this city. I remember being up with one of the cannons when a tourist pointed one out and joked that it must have been misfired, indicating the scaffold-covered Walter Scott Monument in the distance. Sure enough, the cannon was aimed straight at it!

On a backpacking holiday such as mine you more often than not find yourself living out of doors during the day. Right now, for example, I’m sitting on a bench next to a busy intersection! No matter the weather, unless you can afford restaurants, you eat outside, usually while walking (the pizza yesterday was tricky! (it was pouring!!!)) Luckily, Scots’ diet seems to be tailored to this lifestyle; most food available in restaurants or deli counters is easily eatable ‘on the go’ (today, for example, I picked up a yummy cheese/onion/potato pasty-thingy at a co-op, which I ate on my way to this bench (59p).)

I must admit I’m looking forward to eating 3 regular meals a day sitting down! What I don’t miss (oddly enough) is my bed, only my pillows. The mattresses and the comforters I’ve encountered here are divine, thick and moulding and warm. The only time I’ve had to use my own sleepsheet was at Ben Nevis, everywhere else it was supplied with the price of the night. In Inverness, I didn’t like their system of tucking the pillow into a pouch (I like to cuddle up with it!) so I used the pillow case I brought.

A few general notes:

roundabouts=great fun! (esp. in a bus). I can see myself driving around one for hours ‘à-la-Mr. Bean-on-the-way-to-the-dentist’!

Edinburgh’s layout: she’s an ancient city and has maintained a very ‘medievalish’ layout. Quebec city looks medieval, but Edinburgh has all the closes, wynds, and dead ends that only an ancient city could have. It would be fun to explore all these dark corners, but scary, too. Who knows what kind of people I’ll find at the end of a dark (in the middle of the day!) alleyway?! I could live in Glasgow, but not here, I think. I thought Edinburgh’s age would make her charming and soft, but it’s rather the opposite. It doesn’t feel safe. However, it’s the personification of my ‘dream’ or ‘ideal’ of an old European city. Edinburgh was hardly bombed during WWII, unlike London, which has very little old ‘stuff’ left (or so I’m told). I’d like to try one of them double-decker buses they have here. I might try to find one that’ll take me part of the way to St. Andrew’s Square to catch the bus. Later.

map5

10:13 pm

I’m in Perth, in a magnificent residence that loses its magnificence when we step indoors! The common room is the only really ‘nice, room in this hostel and it stinks! Still, it’s cheap, and if I stay at a more expensive hostel later on, it’ll be free (like Ayr; I just remembered the offer isn’t available in Glasgow, darn).

John and Linda were wonderful. We had a cup of tea and I stayed for almost 1.5 hours (I arrived at 4:45). I sure am glad I caught a bus that took me almost straight to the bus station! The book’s great (and autographed). I’m going to start it as soon as I finish this sentence!

by

Never Say Never Again: Climbing Ben Nevis

(As context for this post, I was still at this point in my life very heavy and extremely non-athletic. Little did I know that a love of hiking up mountains would be borne from this day!)

NEVER AGAIN!!! If I see another mountain in this lifetime, it’ll be too soon! At least I attempted the Ben, unfortunately, I was forced down because of weather. I was at least three quarters of the way up, darn it! I must admit that it’s my pride—that is my false pride—that got me so far up. I left in rainy, sticky weather only to encounter rainy, mucky, freezing weather. I was dressed properly, but still uncomfortable.

The ‘path’ up was unbelievable, most of it was just crumbly rock. My boots have an amazing gripping power. In a way, I’m glad clouds obscured the summit and hid the valley. I would have fainted if I’d seen either A) how far I’d come and/or B) how far I still had to go! When I finally came to my senses and headed down, I discovered that going up was physically exhausting but going down was emotionally terrifying! And painful. I never thought I’d get off that mountain!

Someone estimated that I’d make the climb in 5 ½ hours. I turned back with only a half hour to go. It was a difficult decision to make but I’d decided many things : 1) I wasn’t about to become another Ben statistic (I lost track of the number of times gusting winds came too close to blowing me off. And I’m still trying to forget the gushing stream I had to cross. One mistake and I would have been swept straight down three thousand feet.); 2) no challenge is worth dying for; 3) I’d already proven to myself that I could push myself beyond the limits of my endurance (physical, yes, but especially emotional. You have no idea how scared I was climbing that thing).

I’m proud of what I accomplished, but disappointed that I didn’t make to the very summit.   It was my only chance; there’s no way I’m ever doing back up there !

The first couple of hundred feet coming down were terrible. As with going up, I couldn’t see more than fivein front of me. But about halfway down, the clouds began to clear and the sun peeked out. The glen became beautiful. And I saw just how much I’d climbed; despite my disappointment, I felt a certain amount of ‘good’ pride.

The weather cleared up very quickly as I came down; a beautiful loch was revealed to me. The most frightening part of the whole ordeal (I won’t lie, it was an ordeal!) was crossing this torrent of water. The first time (going up), a man helped me across, but my glasses were so steamy, I couldn’t see where I was going! Arriving safely on the other bank, I promptly tripped—twice. I wasn’t hurt but boy was I embarrassed! The man wouldn’t keep his eyes off me for several hundred feet! Besides that, there were a few scary slipping incidents but nothing major.

Igot off the Ben unbruised (nope, two lovely shiners the next morning, one on each knee!), alive, and with a lot of respect for it. I didn’t take this trip lightly, but I could never have foreseen how it would turn out, me against the elements. I can’t believe the people who literally sprinted up and down in under four hours!

The Ben is something to try once in a lifetime, and just trying it means something. But, as I said: NEVER AGAIN!!!

(Hoping to do so in 2017, LOL)

7:02 pm

The bunkhouse is almost full tonight! I must admit that I got the heebee jeebees when a van full of men came carousing in. Turns out they were loud because they weren’t used to staying in a place like this. They are actually very funny! (funny, that is, until they wouldn’t shut up and were yelling from midnight to 2AM!) Then, a guy I met through Haggis waltzed in, followed by at least two women and one more guy.

I had to do all my laundry tonight. I hope that most of it will be dry tomorrow, especially my big sweater. I’ll never take a washer and dryer for granted again! It’s tough wringing out those tee-shirts and pants, but a woolen sweater…!

I called ‘home’ again and left a message. It’s for ‘their’ sake, not mine.