Stirling to St Andrews to Stirling

I am sitting in a very toasty-warm room in the Youth Hostel in Aberdeen and wondering how anyone can charge 20 pounds a night and not provide tea, coffee, hot choc or free wifi when other places (independent backpackers) will only charge between 10-15 pounds and provide you with both. This place is madly expensive and if you want to borrow a towel, that is 3 pounds, want to use the wifi for an hour – 3 pounds... I mean, come on. It is clean enough, but I have to make my own bed as well.

I am going to try and find a free wifi hotspot in town tomorrow and upload this, but we shall have to wait and see. No wait, I just remembered dad's vodafone dongle... we are online!

Right, Stirling. I left Oban at midday and had the most pleasing and picturesque train ride ever. The sights that we passed with breath-taking. There was this one place we passed (have no idea where) but as we travelled right alongside the Loch, the waters were so still that it was a mirror image of what was above. The snow-capped mountains and hills that surrounded it were perfectly reflected, not a single shimmer in the water. Never have I seen something so amazing – I didn’t even know those kind of scenes really existed. I was a bit sad to be leaving Oban. I really liked it there but I was off on the next leg and had no time to mope.

My first impression of Stirling was one of damp stone and coldness. The skies were overcast and that has such a bearing on your first impression of a place I think. I dumped my bags in my room and went for a walk to stretch my legs. I was feeling a bit lost in my travels and really didn’t want to sit in another restaurant on my own when I passed a familiar image on a building. It was of a kangaroo and it was like a beacon calling to me. I had found The Kilted Kangaroo (formerly the Outback Inn). I wouldn’t normally walk down semi-lit passages but the sign pointed that way so that way I went. I headed inside and was instantly surrounded by warmth and didgeridoos. I sat down for my meal and heard the sound of a strong aussie voice – the owner. I ate and as I went to pay he came over and asked me if I was an Aussie as he had heard me talk. When I offered up the truth about being a Kiwi he was kind enough to say that it was close enough. I ended up chatting with him for five minutes before going back to the hostel.

 I found out how to get to St Andrews from Stirling that evening and turned out it was easy enough and cheap enough so I opted to stay in Stirling for 4 nights instead of two and make a day trip to St Andrews instead – I even got a free night for booking two, so I only had to pay for 3 nights instead of 4.

My first full day in Stirling was not long but it was busy. I headed out to the castle and after a brief bit of haggling managed to get a small discount using my historic nz card. I was just in time for the tour, of which there was three of us, and it was fantastic. This rather jolly Scotsman wearing (I kid you not - I even took a cheeky photo while he was talking and not looking at me) tartan pants and matching tie, took us around and explained about the history of the place. It was great to hear about everything that had taken place at the castle with Robert the Bruce and William Wallce.

The tour only took around 40 minutes but I ended up spending three hours at the castle reading every plaque and information point. I even saw the massive loom where they are remaking the tapestries as they would have stood in the 1500s – it will take them two years to finish the last one – they have already completed 4! Part of the castle had also been painted this yellowly orange colour called the Kings Gold and King James II (I think) had everything painted that colour which to me looks gaudy as hell, but to them back in the 1300-1500 was a sign of wealth and power - a very kath and kim 'Look at Me' idea. I could also see the Kings gardens from the castle which were crazy. How the gardener designed them is beyond me. It would have taken some serious patience.

I tried to visit the cathedral next door but it was closed – such a shame as it looked stunning from the outside and I can only imagine what it would look like inside. I walked the streets of Old Stirling and followed the city wall for a bit. I was freezing cold, my finger tips were numb and I knew it was time to head back to the hostel. I had a late lunch at around 3pm and instead of making dinner later, made the executive decision to make rice pudding instead. Mmmm... rice pudding.

The next day I went out to St Andrews. The bus ride took two hours and was only 9.50 return which was super cheap. The first place I went to was the ruins of the castle. It was an impressive structure, hanging out off the cliffs. There was some fascinating history there including the fact that when it was under siege, those on the outside were building a tunnel to try and pop up inside the grounds. Those in the castle were pretty desperate for that not to happen so they were building their own tunnels, hoping to intercept them. Of course, those inside could only see the entry point of the outside enemies so had to guess the direction it took. After two false starts they actually managed to intercept them. The mines are still there and with a big warning over the site stating that you enter at your own risk, I descended. It was crazy how narrow and cramped the castle-side mine was. I had to double over and crab walk down. I stopped a few times, wondering just how far I was going to have to go and then I came across a ladder than descended through a narrow hole and popped out into a much bigger mine that was from those doing the siege-ing. It was so much bigger and would have catered to mules and the like. I got to the end of the mine and had to turn around come back out the way I had come in. It was liberating to go back out to the light. It was very imposing being down there.

Here is a picture of me at the castle ruins. (Yes, I have lost all resemblance of a tan and now am as white as the Scots around me and for those of you back home, that is really, really, really white! This is, of course, excluding a special breed of young women in Scotland with an unhealthy obsession with spray tan... and eyeliner.)

The other place that was quite creepy was the prison shaped like a bottle. Basically it was just a hope in the ground and down the hole it widens out like a bottle would. People were lowered in there and not everyone made it back up. I didn’t like that room at all and just like when I was in the torture chambers in Edinburgh, I felt sick and this dark oppressive feeling close in around me. I kept look behind me, feeling there was someone there. I didn’t linger there.

I next went to the cathedral... well, what remains of the cathedral. Mostly it is just two walls and when it had crumpled away a cemetery had been built in the middle of it. It was peaceful and quiet so I spent a wee while there, taking photos and absorbing the peace of the place.

I was so cold by then that I began a walk along the old streets before ducking into a little Italian restaurant for some lunch. I ate waaaay to much but I was so hungry that I didn’t care. I also had a prime seat by a window and the heater. Woohoo for me.

The bus was leaving in about 40 minutes and I didn’t want to miss it so I headed back to the bus station and realised that I hadn’t seen the famous golf courses that are all the talk. I headed down the hill and couldn’t believe that there five golf shops in a row. Talk about competition in the market. I had a bit of a walk around and took a few photos but I really didn’t want to miss the bus because I would have to wait for another two hours if I did so back to the bus I went.

For the next day in Stirling I took things easy. I was in no rush to do anything, to go anywhere, I was too tired. I went out for a few hours to the Smith Museum and to the King’s Knot garden. The garden was so strange. I had seen it from above, from the castle, and it was so well situated and easy to see, but from ground level it just sort of seemed like uneven ground. It must have been quite epic to create it without being able to see it. I think every time the king’s gardener would need to view it, he would have to walk up to the castle. Still, you wouldn’t want to disappoint the king.

That was my entire day. I had had enough and went back to the hostel. I finished my cross-stitch hairy cow and just saying, it looks freakin awesome! I went out for drink with the others from the hostel to the Settle Inn, where they were playing folk music and it was so busy and loud that you could barely move or hear it.

I am so tired though. I desperately want to have a bed day, but I can’t do it. I can’t bare to waste a day when there is so much to see and do... although, an early night isn’t looking too bad...

Oban – the gateway to not Iona

I have been in Oban for four nights. I arrived nice and early in the afternoon. It was only around 1.30pm and check in wasn’t until 4pm. The great thing about this backpacker in Oban was you could turn up, leave your bags, chill out on the couches, drinks their hot chocs and coffees and generally chill out till check in opens. I didn’t bother with the other things, but I did leave my bags and go exploring. Why? Because it was the first day of sun that we had had in a loooong time. It was sunny all day and the bus ride in was to spectacular (sunny) scenery. I have been feeling a little bit Vit D deficient so I was like a cat, chasing it all over town. Anyway, I had a really good feeling about Oban because it was sunny and bright and it looked really beautiful.  The port town is spectacular and although I had been before it had been the middle of the night when I had arrived and we had left first thing in the morning, so this time I got to have a proper look.

I went for a walk right along to the war monument so that I could look back over to the town and it was there that I sat down and did a sketch of the lighthouse and the Isle of Mull. From there I headed back towards town, face into the sun and walked up to the other war monument which is a mini roman colosseum built on the hill about the town. Very strange and incomplete as far as I can remember the story. The builder ran out of money, which funnily enough seems to be a pattern in the Scotland.

I sat on the hill top colosseum until 4pm then made my way to the hostel, more than ready to check in and get warm. I had even been to the information centre so that I could get the ferry timetable and bus timetable for getting over to Iona the next day.

The hostel was lovely and warm and for the first time since travelling I had been given a top bunk bed. I thought it would be bad but actually I enjoyed it. It was like my own little sanctuary.

I also went to a touristy shop and saw the cutest little cross-stitch of a hairy cow. I loved it so much that I had to have it.

I met a few interesting travellers. A couple of girls were actually camping, tramping the highlands and had popped into the hostel for the night to use the showers. They were really friendly and I hung out with them for a bit.

The next day I was up and moving at 7am. I had a ferry to catch at 8.00 and you had to be there 10 minutes before. And so I was. I turned up at 7.50am and was told, sorry, I need to be there before then. The ferry was still there but I couldn’t board it. Sigh. That meant that I had missed the one and only bus that left at 1030. The next bus didn’t leave until 1230 which meant that I would miss the ferry to Iona on the other half of the island.

I walked back to the hostel, completely dejected and met a couple of other travellers who were catching the 10am ferry to mull so I thought, hey, why not? Before I left the hostel, I booked in an extra night at the hostel so that I could go to Iona on Monday on the 8am ferry which I had confirmed with the ferry people.

I arrived and caught the one and only bus that went up to Tobermorry.

Tobermorry is lovely. It is a traditional seaside port town but when I got there my first thought, was is this it? I had three hours stuck in this place. The bus didn’t leave again for a three hours. I think it was a conspiracy by the locals to force you to stay and buy there stuff.

I walked the main street and popped into a silver-smith’s shop and after a yarn with a local he pointed me towards a walk.

It was a very nice walk and wasted a few hours. It followed the coastline and headed inland a bit and all along the way were small waterfalls before finally I came across a massive one. It was so loud, the water crashed so hard onto the rocks that standing on the bridge I could feel the spray.

I headed back and was waiting for the bus and started talking to this nice old Scottish woman who was out with her husband on a day trip and she said that she was embarrassed to be Scottish by what was offered on Mull and the fact that you couldn’t leave for over three hours. I had to laugh but wisely didn’t air my own grievance on the matter.

The next day I headed off for a bit of closer to the hostel walking. I went to Kerrera  which is this tiny island with a population of 30 and a lot of farm land. To get there I had to walk 2 miles at a power walk. I really wasn’t prepared for how long it took to get to the ferry but I arrived with some time to spare so grabbed a rock and chilled for a bit.

The ferry itself is a little barge that you just walk on to and then off again ten minutes later. I met another girl called Ana, who was staying on the hostel. She actually works at the High Street Hostel in Edinburgh which is where I stayed at the beginning of the month. Small world. I joined her for a walk around to the castle. The castle was stunningly set on a Cliffside, completely impenetrable on all sides except one and the views from up there... wow. There was a stone beach which while amazing was also sadly littered with bits of plastic – bottle tops, bits of bottles... it is upsetting to see that something so remote has rubbish and it has all come from the ocean.

I sat and had my lunch on the stone beach before Ana and I headed back to the mainland. It was with heavy feet and hearts that we boarded the ferry, knowing that we still had a 2 mile hike back to town. As we began the slow trudge of the weary, a couple who were staying in Oban stopped and offered us a lift. YES! Thank you for small mercies. They were really lovely and it meant that we were only 5 minutes from the hostel as opposed to 40 minutes.

I slept so well that night and I was ready for Monday, the day I was going to go to Iona. I got up at 7am and was out the door by 7.25. I was NOT missing the ferry again. I turned up at 7.30 and asked for a ticket. The man nodded and said, ‘For the 10 o’clock crossing?’

“No, for the 8am one.” And then he told me that on a Monday the ferry leaves at 7am. You have got to be kidding me!? I actually looked at him, I rubbed my eyes, I could feel the tears threatening to spill over and told him that I had been told it would leave at 8am on Monday. I told him that I had even booked to stay an extra day in Oban especially for this and while he was regretful it wasn’t like that would change anything.

I was so dejected, so utterly weary, that I was literally fighting back the tears as I left the ferry terminal. It was only 7.50 in the morning. I plonked myself down on a bench looking out over the harbour and called home. It was nice to talk to Mum for awhile and I am so glad I switched phone plans. It only costs 1 pence (penny?) per minute to call NZ. Woohoo for me!

I did as mum suggested and treated myself to a hot breakfast then I went to the tourist office and brought a ticket for the sealife sanctuary, jumped on a bus and headed out.

The sanctuary was actually really neat. There was not a lot there but I made it stretch out for two hours and even got a close up look at a couple of sea otters. How cute are sea otters!? I want one. They were feeding them and they have teeny little human hands that they catch the fish it and they sometimes roll around in the water and eat on their backs and are sooooooo cute!

While I was there I also got to see some seals that had been rescued and also some really weird fish, some not so weird fish like Nemo, and frogs that looked like they had naked human flesh and claws. I wasn’t sure if I liked them or not but either way I couldn’t stop staring at them.

For the rest of the day I chilled out on my bunk, working on my cross-stitch, re-downloading all of the maps for my gps that had been deleted thanks to Nokia (grrrr) and eating waaaaay to much chocolate.

Today I jumped on a bus to Stirling. It took me 4 and half hours but I arrived safe and sound with no fuss. I arrived around 4.30pm and found a great bar called the Kilted Kangaroo that is basically like an Outback bar owned by Aussies. I met one of the owners who thought I was an aussie but was kind enough to welcome me even if I was a kiwi. It was just nice to meet an accent that wasn’t totally foreign to me. I am feeling a bit homesick today, partly because I am terribly hormonal and tired.

The hostel is nice and warm and friendly but I am so tired that I think it is time for bed.

Isle of Skye (and rain)

Wow! What a busy couple of days I have had. I arrived onto Skye at around 3 in the afternoon. I left the Isle of Lewis at around 10am and caught a bus down to Tarbert (I said to the ticket lady, ‘Can I have a ticket to Ta-bet’ and she gave me a funny look then said, ‘Oh, you mean Tar-bert.’ They, unlike us, use all of the letter is the alphabet – they even use the ‘r’ sound). The drive down to Tarbert was beautiful and took us right up into the mountains before coming down on the other side and the seaside port where the ferry was waiting.

I was told by one of the sailors that the weather was pretty good and it would be a smooth crossing and it would have been too, I suspect if I hadn’t chosen to sit at the front of the ship. When still in the calm waters I ordered some lunch – haggis, neeps and tatties... mmmm... so tasty. However, as soon as we got out into the open waters the haggis was suddenly a lot less appealing. I could only eat half before having to push it away and not making eye contact with it again. I had to move away and actually it was much less noticeable in the middle of the ship.

When I arrived in Uig (Oo-ig) I had an hour long wait before the bus came. When it did, the driver took me over the hills and down into Portree where the hostel was.

When I first arrived at the Bayfield Hostel I was a little bit unsure after the rules had been gone over. No one was allowed to be in the hostel after 10am and it would be reopened at 1pm.  The kitchen would open at 7am and would be closed by 9pm. If you wanted to use the internet it was 1.50 per hour (where all other hostels I had been to were free and cheaper). And then there was the heating. It was on a timer, so it switched off and on (but mostly off). It was as if all the warnings about cheap scotsman saving pennies wherever they could were all coming at once in this one place. Murdo, the owner, was rich in advice and knowledge and would give it freely but switching the heating on only after 5pm for an hour then off again, then on again at 7pm... it was - interesting. I considered going to the other hostel but to be honest, despite those things, I am glad I stayed. I met three of the most lovely women who I have been sharing the room with. Two are from Denmark and are called Kit and Nana. The other was a Canadian called Lilly. The three of them are all in Scotland on an exchange, studying at Glasgow Uni. We hired a car together and with me driving we have spent the last two days exploring the isle. It is stunning.

On the first day we headed up to the Old Man of Storr, which is a huge stone the sticks out on its own on top of a very large hill.(You can see it far in the distance on the picture). We bundled up (never been so grateful for my Kathmandu jacket) and began the long trek up. We were told that it would take around an hour to climb up. It was only drizzling at first and that was  fine, and the weather was far outweighed by the sights. Although you first had to climb through an area that had been de-forested, the views were stunning and around a ¼ of the way up it turned into hilly countryside (sort of goat territory sans goats). 

The further up we walked the worse the weather got till it was pouring with rain, the wind was howling and I was soaked through and there was snow on the ground. I made it almost all the way up but I was just too cold and wet to go right up. The others  went a bit further up and also turned back. I began to double time it back down, thinking only about how excited I would be to strip off at the car and sit in my tights and jumper. My jeans were so wet that the dye was running out of them, my suede gloves were soaked through and were actually dying my hands purple. The only parts of me that were dry was my head, back and chest, heavily protected by the jacket which, despite being sopping, was still waterproof. Thank you mum and dad.

I was almost all the way to the bottom before I mis-stepped on a tree root and slipped down. By that point I was back in the deforested area and it was incredibly muddy so as I slid down I collected a bit of mud all down my left side from hip to foot. I was so miserably cold by then that I dejectedly got up and kept going because really, being muddy was just the cherry on the cake and there was no point complaining.

We all drove back to the hostel and changed clothes before heading back out.

We headed all the way up the top of the isle on the east coast before making our way back down the west coast. The weather wasn’t great for the rest of the day but we made the most of it, doing most of our sight-seeing via car.

That afternoon when headed back to the hostel and then out for dinner. We went out to the hotel’s restaurant and it was the weirdest moment when we walked in and all conversation stopped. All the locals (the men) were sitting around eating and then we walked in. It was a wee bit awkward but we stayed. The food was lovely (and you should hope so if the locals eat there) and by the time we had finished everyone else had left – not because we were there but the kitchen/restaurant closed at 8pm. You know the Samoans, Tongans, Fijians etc run on Island time. It is the same out here on the islands. No rush, no fuss but when you are travelling and need to be somewhere and buy something it is a little bit more than frustrating.

Anyway, on the second day on Skye we headed South towards Dunvegan and Glen Brittle. In our lonely planet guides it did say that Dunvegan castle was open on reduced hours in winter so we turned up and apparently (only on the sign) it says that by appointment only. I mean, come on! We aren’t the only people on the island who are tourists. So with that plan out the window we headed out to the second location which was Neist Point Lighthouse right on the point (shockingly). The drive out was really amazing and the roads were narrow and well worn with many potholes that had been patched up so you can imagine what it was like driving.

There was only one other car at the park when we arrived and when we looked out over the top of the hill you couldn’t even see the lighthouse because you actually have to climb down some very narrow, very steep steps in the cliff side then walk along a winding path, saying hello to the many sheep littering the area. It was completely open to the elements but it was worth the buffeting from the wind. We must have spent a good hour and a half to two hours taking photos and just absorbing what was around us. However, I was busting for a wee and freezing cold so I headed back up to the car ahead of the others. The sun had actually broken through the clouds but there was some thick cloud rolling in and I refused to get drenched again. I debated ducking behind a rock and peeing with the best view in the world but to be honest, one) I could hold it (go the camel bladder) and two) the wind was so high that I would have wet myself regardless of the direction I would have faced and that is just not pleasant.

The others joined me in the car about 30 minutes later and there were a bit wet as the rain had started. The good thing was that I had eaten my lunch while waiting for the others so while they ate, I drove us down to the next stop which was the Talisker distillery, with a brief and much needed detour to some loos. However, when we arrived at the distillery (wait for it...) it was closed – not because it was winter but because they had decided to do renovations.

We kept going south and the weather continued to get worse. Our last stop for the day was Glen Brittel and the fairy pools. The weather was so atrocious by that point we didn’t actually find the pools but because it was the last stop be decided to ignore that it was raining and go on a little walk. We did come across an amazing waterfall. Kit, who had a waterproof camera actually lost it while we were there. It was such a shame and she was quite upset but I said to her that it was probably the fairy folk who had stolen it, trying to lure her further into the Glen and away from safety, as fairies were known to do those sorts of mischievous things and we were near their pools. She quite liked that so it is the story she is going to use (just not when she claims her insurance).

It was around 3.30pm when we got back so after changing into something a bit drier, Kit and Nana went food shopping for dinner. I had the rice, oil and herbs and chicken stock so the other three supplied the veges, chicken and dessert. I cooked dinner with their help.

It was such a nice way to spend our last night together and it was Valentines day too, so we did something a bit special: we set the table very formally like a restaurant, had cold water sitting in a tea pot for pouring (in lieu of a carafe) and a huge stewing pot of hot food in the middle of the table. Afterwards we had tiramisu and twix fingers and played dominos.

We swapped emails and numbers and they are going to take me out on the town in Glasgow when I get there at the end of the month.

I packed my bags that night and said my farewells then went to sleep and had the worst sleep ever. I was so paranoid about missing my alarm that I woke up every two hours to check. My bus left at 7.45am and it took me 4 and a half hours on the bus to get to Oban, but now I am here in a cosy warm room writing my blog and thinking it is time to go get some dinner. Possibly pizza... hmmm...

Isle of Lewis

I have been on the Isle of Lewis for the past few days and it has been fantastic, if not different. My first impression of the town was one of starkness. There is not much beauty in the buildings but the people are friendly. My other impression was one of complete backwardness. It was only Saturday afternoon when I arrived. There was still a good four hours before closing time for most shops and yet when I went for a walk to the Tourism info office, it was closed. Strange and not a little bit annoying, but what was stranger still was the fact that Sunday is a complete shut down.
When I first turned up at the hostel there was an entire student rugby team and coaches leaving so my room wasn't ready. That was fine though as I just dumped my things and upon realising that the world would stop the next day, went on a hunt for a car rental place. The first place I found said they were open till 5pm and was ironically called Kiwis - not sure why but they actually had a kiwi as their symbol. I turned up at 3.30pm and... they were closed. I gave them a call and after sounded quite annoyed that I had called them, they gave me the number of another place called McKinnon's who were thankfully still open. I hired the most budget looking car you can imagine a rental place owning - rust on the bonnet, scratches every where... at least I didn't have to worry about adding anymore - they would never have noticed. It cost me 32 pounds per day to hire and I paid another 5 for the extra, extra insurance just be sure. It was the best idea I had.
I also had to go to the supermarket and that was a crack up. There was feeling that the end of the world was actually coming, you know that made panic that happens the day before Christmas day when everyone is suddenly aware that they won't have access to the supermarket the next day - it was like that.

Sunday morning I woke bright and early then, being the only person in the hostel, had an extra long shower, made a packed lunch and headed out in the car. The most amazing sight greeted me when I got out of the town. The land is richly boggy and vary in shades of brown with lochs everywhere. There is one major road which I took and I can count on two hands how many cars I saw in the five hours I was out. I headed all the way out to the Butt of Lewis (tee hee). It is the top most point on the isle. There are huge rocky outcroppings and gannet colonies on top of it. It is completely open to the elements and there are not a single fence or barrier between you and the cliff and the heavy winds trying to push you off it. It is safe to say that I stayed well back from the edge.
From the Butt (hehe) I drove back down and stopped off at a few different historical sites along the way. The first was Steinacleit stone set which is an ancient pile of rocks that had once been housing around 3500BC. It was my first time to walk over the boggy marshy land because you had to park the car, go through a sheep fence and walk up the hill.
I also made my way to the Black houses which are the original type of housing on the island. They are beautiful with thatching on the roofs, low rock walls and no windows. The modern-ish ones have windows in the ceiling. Down from the black houses is a rocky beach with high cliff walls.
By that point in the drive I was busting for a loo and there were no sign posts. I went to the beach next door called Dalmoore and gratefully there was one there. The way down to the beach however, was via a one car road littered with sheep. It was a new experience having to negotiate sheep. Most moved out of the way except for one who stood half on the road and started baaing at me. It was a mexican stand-off and it felt a bit like the sheep was shouting at me, telling me to get off the road. Proud to say, I won that round. I ran it over. Haha... no, just kidding, I edge forward until it moved.

Next I went down to the Callanish standing stones. Now, there is something impressive. They stand out on the horizon and they are huge. The stones are set in a circle with lines of stone coming off from the centre like arms and legs. It was so impressed with the stones that I actually went back the next day to have another look at them. You can see from the photo that the weather is freezing.
After that I headed back to the hostel. I didn't want to be driving around once it got dark - what with there being no lights at all on the roads.

Today I slept in little. I am fighting a horrible cold and apparently my body decided I needed sleep. It was 10am when I left. I took off towards the beaches and this giant chess piece on Uig Sands. Apparently, around 100 years ago some guy stumbled across a pile of rocks and inside the cone was a set of viking chess pieces. They are in the British museum now and no one knows the exact location of where they were found. A few years back an artist was commissioned to create a statue of wood. It is pretty cool looking and I kind of want a Viking chess set now.
The only way to get out to Uig and the chessman was going down a B road. That meant one-car roads with passing points. It wasn't actually that bad. I was more nervous about the signs stating or warning that deer frolicking/running out onto the road and the fact that it was starting to sleat. However, while I was worried about those things, I was absolutely stunned by the landscape that you have to traverse to get to the beach. I passed through gorges, up the sides of hills, follow rivers, pass lochs and through small villages.
I am off to the Isle of Skye tomorrow. I have booked 4 nights because I have been told that it is stunning and there is plenty to see. Can't wait. This has been high on my list for a long time.

Ach! It's Nessie!

I have been out and about for the last few days travelling further up into the highlands, meeting friendly travellers and locals alike. I am now making my way up to the Isle of Lewis. The crossing is to take around three hours and the scenery outside is simply beautiful. It is rugged and untamed in the extreme with natural waterfalls and rocky outcroppings dotting the hillsides. I am a little bit in love with the place and wouldn’t at all mind finding a nice wee cottage (as the locals say) and setting myself up in the highlands. Perhaps when I am rich and shameless and I can.

The youth hostel that I stayed at was very relaxed, clean and quiet and I met a few of the people that work there. All of them are travelling and just stop to work at the hostels for a few weeks doing the cleaning and such and get free board. Not a bad deal. Will have to look into this.

Inverness was picturesque and bigger than I thought it would be. Apparently it was recently qualified to be a called a city which the locals are very proud of. I travelled up from Edinburgh by train. It took three and half hours but it was a pretty relaxed trip. We travelled up through the Cairngorns (?), a huge mountain range. As we headed further up the country the more snow lay on the ground, so I naturally assumed that it would be freezing in Inverness, but it is actually in a glen, very sheltered from the weather. It was warmer in Inverness than it was in Edinburgh.

The hostel (it's the tiny house nestled behind/to the side of the cathedral) was a short walk from the train station so once I had dumped my gear, I headed out for an afternoon stroll along the river Ness before heading back and booking a tour and cruise for the next day. By that point I was absolutely shattered thanks to an almost sleepless night. Four Italians had moved into the room in Edinburgh, gone drinking and were doing two things: 1) the most indescribably hideous farts that ever graced the nation and 2) snoring so loudly that the people next door were shouting and banging on the walls and I, having tried unsuccessfully to stick it out, gave up and moved first into the corridor to watch a movie (this was at midnight), then later, grabbing a pillow and a thick cardi, taking myself off to the lounge to sleep on the couch. I got around three hours sleep before the morning staff came in, switching on all the lights.

It was fair to say that I was entitled to an early night when I got to Inverness and boy did I sleep. Like a log – a dead log.

In the morning, refreshed and ready to face the world, I headed out to catch the tour bus. It cost 29 pounds but was well worth it for the cost of transporting us down to the cruise at the beginning of Loch Ness, the tour guide giving us some great information, the 30 min cruise down the Loch, then an hour at Urquhart Castle and another hour at the Loch Ness information centre where you watch mini videos on the myth and science of hunting for Nessie.

Just so you know, I saw her – the picture is proof. Haha.

The people around here are very lucky to live in such a place and for the most part, every single one I have talked to is keenly aware of this fact.

Urquhart castle was by the far the best ruined castle I have seen and again, when rich and shameless, I will live in one – not a ruined one, but a restored one.

The ruins give a fantastic glimpse of what life was like and the stories of how it had been built, seiged, sacked, rebuilt then destroyed by the owners to make sure that the English king wouldn’t be able to use it to gain a foothold in the highlands.

We went to the info centre about Nessie and despite all of the science and what-not, I am inclined to go with the locals on the belief that Nessie is in there somewhere. I did here one crack up story though about a couple that were driving along the side of the Loch when apparently Nessie ran across the road from the hills in front of them, then slid down the rest of the hill into the Loch below. Uh huh. Me thinks a wee bit too much hash and whiskey was imbibed that day.

Originally the plan was to go to the Orkney Islands today but trying to get the bus and train to match up with the ferry was ridiculous. The bus from Inverness arrived at Scrabster (the port outside Thurso) at 1245, but the ferry left at 12 noon. The next ferry didn’t leave till 7pm and I wasn’t prepared to lug my backpack around for 7 hours. No thanks. So plan B. Off to the Hebrides. I have been told that there is not much there except for bogs and stunning scenery so I think my next three days will include a bit of tramping across the wild. There are also supposed to be standing stones which are older than the pyramids of Egypt. I have also been told that it is strongly religious so everything will be shut tomorrow. Must remember to go shopping tonight...