My Trip to Scotland

So that you don't have to read about my trip in reverse order, I'm posting this as a "sticky post", meaning it will stay at the top for a while. It will serve as an index to the various chapters of my story, each of which will bear the date/time stamp of when the events actually occurred (as originally hand-written in my journal... well, many of them, anyway).

So, check back here regularly, as I publish my trip journal in cereal form (OK, it's really "serial"... but I thought "cereal" would be more fun...)

Chapter 1: Communication Breakdown
Chapter 2: Terminal Boredom
Chapter 3: Change Is Inevitable...
Chapter 4: Postponed
Chapter 5: Departure, Redux
Chapter 6: On The Tarmac
Chapter 7: Airborne
Chapter 8: Philadelphia Freedom
Chapter 9: The Plot Thickens...
Chapter 10: Terminal Hell
Chapter 11: Have I Ever Told You How Much I *LOVE* The Airport in Philadelphia?
Chapter 12: Escape Velocity
Chapter 13: Restless
Chapter 14: Really, Really Green
Chapter 15: ... And Then She Kissed Me
Chapter 16: Glasgow
Chapter 17: Stalker
Chapter 18: Free-Range Goats
Chapter 19: Laggan Behind

Laggan Behind

(Please... don't give me grief for the title. These titles can be SOOOOO hard to come up with, when you visit many different places in one day.)


307-310: Laggan Dam.
311-316: The A86 road from Spean Bridge (ten miles north of Fort William) to Laggan, which is the route to either Aviemore or Perth.
317-320: Ardverikie House (www.ardverikie.com) built 1870 on the shores of Loch Laggan. Loch Laggan is a man-made loch, created as a reservoir for the British Alcan Aluminium Company for their plant in Fort William. Ardverikie Estate was the setting for the BBC drama, Monarch of the Glen.
321-323: This is the beach at the east end of the Loch near the gatelodge for the Ardverikie Estate. At this time, the beach was huge due to a relatively dry spell; however, when Scotland's weather does its famous wet spells, there is NO beach visible and the land will be flooded up to the road edge.
324-326: More scenery on the A86 to Laggan.
328-330: The railway level crossing in Kingussie, the trains run from Perth to Inverness along this line.
331: It's a lucky lad who's got a lovely lass for a chauffeur!
333-335: Ruthven Barracks. (http://tinyurl.com/ruthven) Built in 1719 by the Hanoverian troops in the hope of quelling the imminent Jacobite uprising - the barracks were eventually taken by Prince Charles Stewart in 1746 by the said Jacobite army and razed to the ground.
337-339: View of Kingussie village in the bacground, looking back from Ruthven Barracks.
341: A recurring theme - yet more farm animals roaming freely!

Free-Range Goats

This was part of the same day-trip as the "Stalker" post... but I just felt like making it a separate post.

I was amazed at the goats that were running around free, wherever they chose to go. I can only imagine how it would be if pigs or cows ran around unfettered like that here in the States

Anyway, here are some pictures of free-range goats in Scotland. Sing along with me...

"Born free..."

Stalker

Don't worry... not the "creepy guy who won't take no for an answer, and secretly videotapes you in the shower" kind of stalker. No, In this case, it's "Castle Stalker". That is the real name of a castle in Scotland (and as Dave Barry would say: no, I am not making this up).

We got to see Castle Stalker, Loch Linnhe, Loch Leven, Castle Tioram, and the Seven Men of Moidart (which you can read about here), as well as some other places.

Here's a slideshow with all the photos... Descriptions of the photos are just below the slideshow:


200-209: Castle Stalker, Loch Linnhe and the Islands. Castle Stalker is privately owned and can only be accesses by foot when the tide is out. We had lunch in the cafe overlooking the Castle.
210-211: This was a craggy mountain formation I liked on the road from Duror to Kentallen.
212: Just a view I liked of the mountains in the distance.
213: A road sign not bloody likely to be seen in the U.S.!!
214-216: View of the Pap of Glencoe (the small pointy mountain on the left).
217-221: Loch Leven and Glencoe village.
222-223: Ben Nevis from Ardgour.
224-229: The Corran Ferry.
232-284: Views from the road from Ardgour to Strontian.
288-290: Castle Tioram - a ruin, another castle only accessible when tide is out.
291-295: Loch Moidart and the Seven Men of Moidart.

Much love and thanks to Tina, who provided the descriptions, with just a wee bit of tweaking by me (proving that next time I take a trip, I need to bring a notebook along!!).

Glasgow

I had originally planned on seeing Glasgow by myself, on Saturday. Not because I wanted to see it by myself, that's just kinda how it worked out. Except... it didn't, because I didn't arrive on Saturday!

But Tina was bound & determined that I **would** see Glasgow. At that point, I would've been quite happy just to get some sleep! But, in hind sight, I'm glad we did see Glasgow. We took a "hop on, hop off" tour on a double-decker bus, with the top deck open-air. It was a little cool and breezy, but we had a great time!

Here are some photos:


Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.
Tina was insistent that we visit the Glasgow City Council Building. To be honest, it didn't really sound that interesting, but I decided to just go with the flow. And boy, am I glad I did! Here I thought it would just be some boring governmental building... WRONG! It was so incredibly ornate and beautiful... who knew? (Obviously, Tina did.) I learned an important lesson: if Tina says something is interesting, it most likely is.


Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.
By the end of the day, I was wiped out... and slept nearly the whole three-hour drive from Glasgow to Fort William.

(Special thanks to my friend, whose blog I got the link to the flickrSLIDR photo slideshow from. No names; she knows who she is!)

... And Then She Kissed Me

The plane had finally landed!

I'd made my way into the Glasgow airport, along with my fellow passengers. I'd gotten through Immigration, and then Customs.

Suddenly, she called out my name, walked right up to me, put her arms around me, and kissed me. Right then and there, I knew that the past two days had all been worth it.


Tina and I "met" over the Internet in mid-January, through a dating site for plus-sized folks (although I've told her all along that she just barely qualifies). By the time I set foot in Glasgow, we'd been e-mailing, chatting, and talking on the phone for 5½ months. Some of those conversations literally went on for hours (I may have my gripes with AT&T Wireless, but they do have some decent rates for international calling). The upshot is that we got to know each other probably much better than we would have, had we been dating in the traditional sense -- in other words, living in the same area. (NOTE: Tina is the person who made that observation first, so I must give credit where credit is due, although I wholeheartedly agree with it.)

She is British, but has lived in Scotland since 1990 (UK residents can move about the country, just as we in the States can; you'd be surprised at how many people I've talked to that didn't realize that Scotland is part of the UK). She is younger than me (I won't say by how much; a gentleman does not disclose a lady's age). She drove a hundred miles to pick me up at the Glasgow airport. That doesn't sound like much to us here in the US, with our interstate highway system... until you learn that most of the roads she had to travel to get there are narrow two-lane roads, and it's nearly a three-hour trip.

Like me, she's a military veteran. Like me, she is divorced, and has a son in his early 20's (in fact, they are almost exactly one year apart in age). She is sweet, gorgeous, funny, smart, strong and sexy, and I can listen to her talk at length (her accent is LOVELY). Not to mention that she thinks I'm a good-looking guy...

I keep wondering why she's avoiding the optometrist.

;-]

Really, Really Green

We were close to Glasgow, and I was getting antsy.

As we descended from the upper cloudosphere, I looked out the window and down towards the ground... and I was simply awestruck.

Everything was green.

And I don't mean just a little, here and there. A lush, vibrant, beautiful green.

This was my first glimpse of Scotland. Long before we were low enough to make out cars, buildings, road, natural landmarks, or anything, really... the color green was almost overwhelming.

A lot of people are talking about "going green" these days. Scotland was green when green wasn't cool.

Although this is NOT my photo, it will give you at least an idea of the degree of Scotland's greenitude.


(Photo is property of Osbornes Estate Agents, and they retain all rights.)

Restless

It was about 6 am. Not 6 am Eastern Time; 6 am in the United Kingdom. (And, from this point until further notice, all times referenced will be UK times.)

We'd been airborne for about four hours. It was daylight. I didn't even know what time it was, until I finally flagged down a flight attendant (and somewhere in the back of my mind, I'm still wanting to call them stewardesses... well, except for Larry).

I'd had no interest in the in-flight movie, 27 Dresses. Thank God for my MP3 player...
... but even then, you can only listen to music for so long. Once I found out what time it was, it almost made it worse. I guess, since it was such bright, blazing daylight, I'd hoped it was closer to landing time. But no, it was still about three hours away.

*Sigh*

Escape Velocity

A page on Northwestern University's web site explains that escape velocity is "the speed that an object needs to be traveling to break free of a planet or moon's gravity well and enter orbit".

For some reason, I felt a similar need to break free, to fight against unseen forces that were seemingly conspiring to keep me from departing the United States, and to finally get to Scotland. As I got on the plane in Philadelphia, I actually dared to hope that this would indeed be that breakaway. Finally, as we taxied away from the terminal, the tension built, until finally...

The captain came over the intercom, and explained that we were eighteenth in line to take off. EIGHTEENTH. Seriously. OK, so I'm thinking, WHY does the FAA allow the airlines to book so damn many airplanes to take off at the same time?

I lost track of time, mainly because I was trying not to worry... but after probably 30 minutes or so, we finally took off. Not long after that, we left U.S. airspace (ironically, on a U.S. Airways jet). So, now all I had to do was occupy myself for the next seven hours, and let the pilot and co-pilot do their jobs.

But, at last... I had indeed achieved escape velocity.

Have I Ever Told You How Much I *LOVE* The Airport in Philadelphia?

(alternatively titled, "How to Kill Seven Hours in an Airport Terminal Without Killing Yourself First")

Of course, it would WHOOSH right by, right? I mean, it's only seven hours, how bad could it be?

Bad. Really bad. The resident flies should be thankful I didn't have a magnifying glass. Seriously, the highlight of my day was finding a wall outlet with which I could re-charge my cell phone and my MP3 player.

It was just SOOOOOOOOO boring. At least it was nice and cool... for which I was very thankful.

By the way, did you realize that you can nap in a phone booth? OK, technically, more like a phone cubicle. Yet another good use for the inflatable neck pillow I bought at Wal-Mart.

Let me pass on a valuable tip: If you should ever find yourself having to spend a long time in an airport terminal with heavy and/or obnoxiously-sized luggage (such as a guitar), DO get one of those airport carts. Well worth the 3 bucks.

Anyway, the seven hours eventually DID pass... and I didn't kill myself, nor anyone else...

Not even a fly.

Terminal Hell

After a very long wait at the baggage claim area to retrieve my checked bag, I walked outside the terminal to catch the shuttle to the Wyndham Hotel in Mt. Laurel, New Jersey (which is a suburb of Philadelphia... kinda sorta). I saw it whizzing by, I yelled for it to stop -- but, as I was later to learn, I wasn't at the proper pick-up area, so God forbid that some shuttle driver might consider bending the rules just a tad. So, I made my way to the "proper area", to await the shuttle's return. While waiting, I spoke to an English couple whom I'd briefly talked with in the queue at "the podium". The discussion eventually turned to my guitar, and I mentioned that Beatles songs were part of what I liked to play. That's when they told me that they were from Liverpool. What's more, they said I could stay with them if I was ever in Liverpool (not an idle threat, the lady gave me her business card). Well, I was truly blown away, to say the least.

Another gentleman whom I spoke with was a new grandfather. He and his wife were returning home to England after visiting their daughter in Boston (who had just given birth to twins three weeks earlier -- the daughter, that is, not the city of Boston -- keep up with me, people). He was a pleasant and very interesting individual who bore more than a passing resemblance to the late Rodney Dangerfield.

So, there was some good to be found in my extended wait for the shuttle. That helped to offset the bad, which included the heat (somewhere around 83 degrees), with very high humidity.

The shuttle finally made its way back to us around 10:45. By that time, there were roughly twice as many people waiting as would fit in the shuttle (such as my new friends from Liverpool), and one couple who had a special-needs daughter. I asked the driver when he'd be back around. He said in about an hour, so I decided to let those traveling together go on, while I waited inside where it was nice and cool.

(NOTE TO PHILADELPHIA AIRPORT MANAGEMENT: Time to steam-clean the carpeting, peeps. It stinks!)

I went back outside around 11:35, thinking the shuttle would be back soon. Silly me! New Granddad (not to be confused with Old Granddad) and his wife were still there, having also opted to wait for the next shuttle. (Hell, we probably would've had better luck waiting for the space shuttle!) "Wait" being the operative word here. The shuttle did finally make it back... at about 1:00. After a 30-minute shuttle ride, we finally made it to the hotel in Mt. Laurel. By the time I checked in and got to my room, it was going on 2 am. Sheesh!

The Plot Thickens...

An announcement came over the PA system, requesting that all US Airways passengers for Manchester come to the service desk. (Actually, they called it "the podium", but it didn't look like any podium I'd ever seen.)

It was there that we received the lovely revelation that the flight to Manchester had been cancelled. After a very long wait in line, I was the recipient of a good ol' fashioned "good news, bad news" kinda deal: The good news is, my new flight is a direct flight from Philadelphia to Glasgow. The bad news is, the flight doesn't leave until 9:00 tomorrow evening! Oy!

They did provide hotel and meal vouchers, which did serve to lessen the sting... just a bit.

Philadelphia Freedom

(NOTE: Title denotes heavy use of sarcasm. Proceed with caution, and observe all relevant safety protocols.)

I was very glad to get off of the plane in Philly, city of cheese steaks, cream cheese, and brotherly love (not necessarily in that order). Little did I know what was to lie ahead for me; if I had, I have no doubt that my unhappiness alert level would've been raised to at least tutti-frutti.

The problems began with the fact that the first leg of my journey is domestic, whereas the next is international. That was the cause of a long walk, a bus ride, and another (even longer) walk... throughout which, I never even left the airport.

After all that (and I hadn't even reached my gate yet), I was pretty much wiped out. So, in an attempt to reduce any unnecessary walking, I phoned US Airways for an updated status, only to be informed that my flight to Manchester had been pushed back from 8:50 pm to 2:00 am.

Arrgh!!!

Airborne

The 30-minute delay on the tarmac eventually grew to be a 45-minute delay. But finally, we took off. For the first time since 1984, I'm flying.

It fascinates me how the ground looks from the air, and how it looks to be looking down through the clouds.

This flight turned out to be bumpier than expected (understatement), probably becuaus it was a commuter jet. You know how it is on a roller coaster, just after you've crested the top of a hill, and you feel like you're free-falling? There were a few times when it felt like that... and let me tell ya, I said my prayers more than once. I talk to God on a regular basis, but it still felt good to re-affirm things.

NOTE TO SELF: Don't ever bring a guitar on an airplane again. The snippy little flight attendant, Mike, was threatening to have me bumped to another flight, saying that the overhead compartments on this jet were not big enough for a guitar. Luckily, there were a couple of empty seats on the flight, so my guitar got its own seat.

So... even though a couple of things about this flight made me nervous, nothing of any significance really happened.

On The Tarmac

Finally on the plane...

... and then we have to sit and wait for a new route, due to bad weather.

Ugh.