As I gaed up by yon gate-end,
When day was waxin' weary,
Wha' did I meet come down the street,
But pretty Peg, my dearie!
Her air sae sweet, an' shape complete,
Wi' nae proportion wanting,
The Queen of Love did never move
Wi' motion mair enchanting.
Wi' linked hands we took the sands,
Adown yon winding river;
Oh, that sweet hour and shady bower,
Forget it shall I never!
Scotland
First Impressions
We arrived in Edinburgh on a
flight from Boston at about 8 o’clock in the morning. There was not much to see at the airport as
it is a distance outside of the city. We go
to the Hertz rental office and wait in line for our rental car. I have been designated the driver. So without having slept and being in a
strange country, I get into a car with the steering wheel on the wrong
side. I think, “I can do this. I just have to remember to stay in the wrong
lane”. However it was a bit more
complicated than I thought. There are
roundabouts every few miles and the cars which are driving on the left come at
you from the right when you enter the roundabout. My long ingrained habit is to look to the
left. So, in addition to stay in the
wrong lane I would have to add “look the wrong way, or else”. Thirdly, I am used to the bulk of the car
being on my right, not on my left. So,
as a consequence, I was constantly driving too close to the left. The car had an automatic warning system that
made a horrible vibration if I got too close to the left. Unfortunately no one had explained this to me
before we took the car. I did not know
it was a warning system at least initially.
This propensity for hugging the left came to a bad end in a small town
on the highway south to Sunderland when, squeezing between parked cars and
oncoming traffic, I clipped the front tire of a brand new electric drive BMW
which had its wheels turned to pull out of its parking spot. Here, with my head spinning in shock, is
where I had my first encounter with a Scotsman.
The driver whose name was
Craig was delivering the vehicle to a buyer and had been on the road all
day. He showed me that the wheel was no
longer turning as it should. Our car had
no damage on it as it had only nicked the rubber of his car, but something was
messed up in the steering mechanism of his.
He was gracious, saying the only important thing was that no one was
hurt, and that was why they have insurance.
I probably had ruined his day, along with mine, but he was not angry but
courteous and gracious. We were in front
of a convenience store run but a Pakistani Scot who was also courteous and
gracious and told me not worry.
Nevertheless, I had visions of having to buy a new BMW. I was sick to my stomach and unable to focus
on anything that was happening. But we
managed to get all the paperwork exchanged. I asked if we should call the
police and file an accident report but no one else thought that was necessary. It took me a couple days to feel right
again. We tried to contact Hertz to let
them know, but could not get through. We
parted that little town not having notified the police or the owners of our car,
and when we turned it in 9 days later we told them at the desk what happened
but they had no notice of it in their paperwork. Apparently insurance did take care of it.
The landscape of northern
England and southern Scotland driving south from Edinburgh was open farmland
and rolling hills. It was easy to see
how this land had been fought over for so long by so many different
peoples. The climate is mild, and cattle
and sheep dot the green hillsides as they have done for thousands of years, despite
being at the same latitude as icy Labrador.
It seems less rocky and less forested than New England but time and
again I was reminded of scenes from home Connecticut in places, New Hampshire
and Vermont in others, and along the coast it looked like Nova Scotia. We got into the Highlands but not to the far
north. I never saw the windswept heath
covered hills drenched in cold rain that I had imagined the whole country being
like, but perhaps in another season or farther north it is like that.
The buildings are mostly
made of stone. Edinburgh in particular
is a city of gray sandstone. It is a durable natural material, although
drab and grey and everywhere. The
buildings in the city are built joined together all up and down the streets,
each with its own little garden space in front.
The only break in the houses is when they arrive at a crossing street. The older city streets are the same although
downtown Edinburgh has its share of modern buildings mixed in with the grey
sandstone.
Edinburgh castle is truly
impressive, built on a massive volcanic plug looking down on the city and the
Firth of Forth it is a harsh, rugged reminder of the battles that were fought
here. One side of the rock that it is built on is a
sheer cliff and the opposite drops gently away from the great entry gate
complete with moat below. The famous Royal
Mile is the walk down this slope to Hollyrood Palace where the Queen of England
still comes once a year to perform her royal duties. Mary Queen of Scots lived here as well. We
toured the castle and walked the Royal Mile stopping to eat on the way. The street is cobblestone, the buildings grey
sandstone and it seems there are a hundred shops selling wool sweaters. We were there at the time of the Fringe
festival when performing artists converge on the city for three weeks.
The next morning we left our
rooms early from the Murrayfield hotel and headed in town to take a bus tour of
the Scottish Highlands. Our driver’s
name was Duncan, a tall man of about 40 wearing a kilt. He said he had been a truck driver before but
now really loved his job as a tour bus driver.
He said he often went into the mountains of the Highlands to fish. He regaled us with stories the whole trip,
telling us about Dumfermline and how Andrew Carnegie was a boy there, and
telling us about the 3 bridges over the Firth as we crossed on the newest. He
brought us to our first stop which was Dunfeld by the river Tay. We have a few minutes to walk into the woods
to get close to the ancient church behind the town. Then we stop at the Hermitage where the Duke
had a hunting lodge and his own personal hermit for entertainment. There are towering Douglas fir trees on the
woodland path to the site of the hunting lodge which were planted by the Duke
over 200 years ago.
Then we stopped at
Pitlochry, a charming village dead center in the heart of Scotland and a famous
vacation spot for royalty and many others.
We ate at a little Italian restaurant and then walked around town. I stopped in the John Muir Wildlands Trust
shop. I had forgotten that John Muir was
born in Scotland. I bought some wildlife
calendars and notebooks which I think I left in the Hotel in Edinburgh. Then we resumed our journey stopping at the
Queen’s view, a scenic outlook over Loch Tummel. There was a Chinese family from New Jersey
with us on the trip and I got to talk to them a little bit, trying out my
Chinese.
After the Queen’s view we
went to Aberfeldy to see the Black Watch statue and, more importantly, the Dewars Distillery of which we had a tour and
a sample of their Scotch straight out of the barrels.
From there it was a long ride back to
Edinburgh for a late night meal at the Murrayfield hotel restaurant, and up
early the next day to catch the plane back to Boston.