Around Skye

After breakfast I headed to a car hire place on the outskirts of Portree, to collect our hire car for the day, picked up Anne, then we set off northwards, past the Old Man of Stor, wreathed mostly in cloud as we drove past. At each of the sights and sites along the coast there was a large tangle of parked cars, motor homes and tour buses, plus crowds of people.

The cloud burned off and the day got warmer, getting up to round 25, which is a veritable heatwave for Skye. A vast improvement on last night where I had 5 layers, a buff and a beanie on, and was still a bit chilly.

On our way we visited the Museum of the Highlands which made an honest attempt at communicating something of the culture and history of the place. Some of the exhibits were a little hokey though. We thought if we stayed here too long we'd wind up looking something like this.

We worked our way up and across to Uig, where we had nice lunch in the Uig hotel (recommend the chowder)with marvellous views across the Sound.

For our last stop we headed over to Point Neist, the most westerly point of the island. To get there required quite a distance along "single track". This is essentially one narrow lane with passing points at irregular intervals, sometimes a couple of hundred metres, sometimes considerably more. It is a system which probably works with little traffic and mostly small vehicles, driven by people with reasonable driving skills and good manners. This afternoon there were way too many cars, motorhomes, vans, and the drive became like a game of chicken.

But the light house and landscape at Point Neist were worth it. 

We drove home again by single track across a wild deserted mountain range, before dropping the car off and heading out for a fantastic dinner of freshly caught scallops, in a restaurant with a wonderful view across the harbour.

Today we drove 114 miles. We feel like we've got a bit of an idea of the island - it certainly is a beautiful diverse place, a geologist's delight. I hope Skye can manage it's increasing popularity, and that some of the money being generated through the booming tourist trade gets put back into improved services and into the community that lives here. We tourists must be a real pain for the locals.

Tomorrow, we are off to Inverness, where the temperature is forecast to reach high twenties.

Isle of Skye, Portree.

This morning we didn't have to catch the train till after midday, and we had a late check-out, so we slept in a bit and took it easy. Which was just as well as neither of us slept well. After a nice breakfast and packing, we were farewelled by the hotel's boarder collie, who was doing a great job keeping an eye on the hotel foyer.

The train ride from Fort William to Mallaig is famous, partly for the Glenfinnan viaduct which appears in the Harry Potter movies apparently, but most of the trip is stunning. Today was grey and misty, and the rugged mountain tops were wreathed on cloud, with beautiful lochs and waterfalls.

The train was late, and we had to hurry down onto the ferry, so we saw almost nothing of Mallaig. What little we did see was through thick fog.

A number of the foot passengers on the ferry seemed to be discovering for the first time the unique nature of Skye's transport system. Buses are infrequent, and timetables well hidden. We had arranged for a taxi to pick us up, but unbeknown to us, the original driver had been called back for a family emergency, and we stood waiting in the drizzle for an uncertain ten minutes or so, till a lovely lady in a blue Van appeared and drove us to Portree.

We had early dinner in the pub, and went for a shuffle and reconnaissance mission scouting out possible dinner options for tomorrow night. Portree is a pretty town, and it has a nice vibe. It is busy with tourists and every second building seems to be working the tourist trade in one way or another. But it is still a friendly place.

On the walk, one of the sisters from our train trip yesterday came running out of a restaurant where she was having dinner to invite us to meet for a drink. Not tonight for us unfortunately - we are recovering from dinner last night and need an early, quiet night.

Our room has a fantastic view over the harbour, and a nice spot to sit and plan the next few days. We are hiring a car for the day tomorrow, which will certainly be different.

Fort William

This morning we were in a taxi by 7.30, for a drive through almost deserted streets to Glasgow's Queen St Station. The drive took us all of 15 minutes. The station was bristling with police officers, possibly to deter would be terrorists or to reassure people in the aftermath of the appalling Manchester bombing. Everyone we spoke to today talked about it - it really confonts everyone's basic sense of human decency, to deliberately target young people like that.

The train is slow and a bit chaotic, but a lot of fun. The scenery is picture postcard beautiful for mile after mile. We got talking to two Glaswegian sisters heading off to Skye for a family reunion and a bit of a holiday. They​ were very entertaining company and the trip to Fort William passed very pleasantly.

The hotel is at the opposite end of town to the train station, so a bit of a schlep with the bags, but worth it - a fantastic view and the nicest space so far on the trip.

While Anne had a rest, I walked along the Great Glen path to the ruined 13th century Castle of Inverlochy site of the first Battle of Inverlochy, and several hundred years later, the second Battle of Inverlochy. Holders of the Castle lost both times. It is a ruin but still substantial to this day.

  It rained most of the time, but there were some magnificent views of Been Nevis, and across the loch, but I am afraid the lambs in the paddock through which the Great Glen pathway passes were the cutest.

We had dinner in the hotel, which was twice as expensive as last night's, but about half as nice. There must be a moral in there somewhere.

A bit of a later start tomorrow which will be good as I think we are a bit tired.

Glasgow #2

This morning after breakfast we did our washing at the nearby laundromat, ably managed by a kindly lady who seemed to be doing about 10 jobs at once, including keeping an eye on stray tourists who might absentmindedly leave things in the washing machine.

Feeling much restored with a bag full of clean clothes, we strolled through the gardens to the Kelvingrove Museum.  It was a mixed bag of an experience. It is always a challenge for Museums to determine which audience to pitch for. This one seemed to go for the 10-12 year olds, and the captions on all the exhibits were well meaning but rather fatuous attempts to engage that age group. From what I could see, they were more interested in chasing each other or playing with the hand driers in the loo.

There was plenty of interesting stuff in there though. We we're interested to get a feel for Scottish art, and there were rooms devoted to The Glasgow Boys and the Colourists. But fairly hard to get a coherent narrative from what was on show. One thing we particularly liked was the Lafaruk Madonna, a tryptich painted by an Italian who was held as a prisoner of war during World War 2 in what is now Somalia. The painting  was done on flour sacks, and adorned the walls of a mud brick chapel. It was striking - Fra Angelico like angels and Madonna and child, but with the stark landscape of the camp as the background.

After lunch we caught the metro into down town Glasgow to have a look around, and for Anne to get some runners to supplement the ones which have become seriously waterlogged.  The Glasgow metro runs in a loop. The trains going one way run on the inside or "inner" track, trains going the other way on the "outer" loop. Which is perfectly logical and straight forward if you know that. But I didn't know that, which led to an exchange something like Me:"what platform does the train for Buchanan Street leave from?" Attendant behind plate glass "Outer" Me: "?Pardon?" Attendant:"OUTER" Me:"Sorry?"Attendant:"OUTER!" etc.

We shuffled up and down what seems to be the main shopping mall of Glasgow for a while. I particularly liked the clothes shop that had as it's window decoration hundreds and hundreds of old singer treadle sowing machines - I guess paying tribute to Glasgow's past as a textile and garment production powerhouse.

We caught the metro back to Kelvin Bridge, and walked past the eponymous bridge, with it's intricate wrought iron work,  itself a great example of Glasgow's past as a manufacturing hub.

For dinner we'd booked into a nearby Scottish Tapas restaurant that the taxi driver who drove us here had recommended. I was a bit dubious, to be honest, but it was fantastic, each tapas unique, Scottish, and delicious. And relatively cheap too. Best meal of the trip so far award to the Ox and Finch.

Tomorrow we are off early in the morning to catch the train to Fort William, which should be a change of pace. We have enjoyed Glasgow though. On the Kelvin bridge there is a rather strange coat of arms, with the motto "Let Glasgow Flourish". Amen to that.

Glasgow #1

We bid a fond​ farewell to Durham this morning. The train was packed with people heading to Newcastle, including a few squatters in our reserved seats. They tried to ignore us, but Anne evicted them, and we settled in to enjoy the beautiful scenery as the train winds it's way up the coast towards Edinburgh.

After Newcastle the voice over the past changed to almost impenetrable Scottish.

We determined that the train was going as far as Motherwell. We asked the impressive looking chap who came to check our tickets what we should do. He assured us that we should stay on to Motherwell, and there would be a bus waiting to take us to Glasgow. Motherwell had a nice comforting ring to it, so we sat tight.  When we arrived at a rather Dungey concrete station in the middle of nowhere, a similarly impressive looking chap advised us to follow the crowd up the stairs to the bus. A flurry of cursing passengers dragging huge cases bounced their way up the stairs.  When we arrived, two other chaps in fluoro vests told the by now cranky crowd to get lost, no buses for the likes of you here, none of our business.  The passengers seemed to have a higher than average percentage of people with personality disorders. General chaos. Welcome to Scotland. We were sent to another platform, and eventually another train appeared, and despite a persistent clunking noise, it carried us all slowly and safely to Glasgow station. Feeling a bit frazzled by this point we sprung for a taxi, and the driver was friendly and helpful, a good antidote to the earlier experience. The girl who checked us in was lovely. And the young waitress who sprinted about 500 metres after us to reunite me with my phone which I had left behind, well she sealed the deal - Glasgow people are really nice.

I went for a walk around Kelvingrove Gardens while Anne had a rest, then we had dinner at what claims, probably with some justice, to be Glasgow's best Indian restaurant. We sat next to a group of young women all of Indian descent, all clad in beautiful bright saris, who chattered away in Hindi, but would occasionally switch to English, which they spoke with broad Scottish accents.

After dinner we went for another walk through the gardens and past the rows of fine sandstone terraces that face the gardens. There must have been some serious money in Glasgow in the 19th Century. This side of the city has some impressive architecture, but the Stewart fountain, which commemorates the men who brought clean water to Glasgow, is perhaps best described as quaint. 

We have noticed that the twilight's seem to be more peaceful and magic the further north we go - just beautiful out there tonight.

Durham

A beautiful morning in York, and we retraced our steps over the river back to the train station in glorious sunshine. The train to Durham belts along at 120 mph, and the 98 k to Durham with one stop along the way, only takes an hour. Though we left in Bright sunshine the was  dark band of cloud on the horizon in the direction we were heading, and it was raining when we got off at Durham. We found our way to the hotel, and had lunch. By the time we were finished the weather had cleared.

We walked down the hill over the foot bridge through the old Town, then schlepped up the hill again to the magnificent Durham Cathedral. It was impressive, right from the Sanctuary Knocker on the door. 

The church houses the Shrine of St Cuthbert, Abbot of Lindisfarne where we will be going in a few months. After the Vikings raided Lindisfarne, the monks took St Cuthbert body from the island and toured with it for a number of years before, legend has it, the coffin - located at the site on which the cathedral stands today - became so heavy that the monks could lift it. They built a simple chapel over the coffin which subsequently grew to the mighty structure of today. The Durham Choral Society was singing Mozart's Requiem. The space, with it's massive patterned columns, vast stone vaulted ceilings, and austere lack of decoration, really is profoundly impressive. After sitting awestruck for a goodly while we paid our respects to St Cuthbert, then headed to the nearby cafe on Palace green.

In the the courtyard where we drank our tea there is a recent plaque commemorating Scottish prisoners of war from the Battle of Dunbar 1650, who died and we're buried on the spot. We we're having a nice cup of tea on the site of a mass grave of Scottish prisoners who had been kept in the Cathedral or the Castle, and who had died in their thousands from disease and starvation.

We wandered down to the river next, to get a different perspective on the city, hired a row boat for an hour. Good to get some upper body exercise. And nice to just drift along a bit watching the sights and the river's goings on - ducks and ducklings, gung ho rowing skiffs, ancient bridges,  a trio of lovely Muslim women meandering helplessly as they tried to work out how to row. We tried to give them a few pointers but their boat seemed to have a fatal attraction for the river bank. We left them to it, perhaps they are still there now.

We found our way home, had a rest, then a very nice dinner in the pub, then wandered out for a walk, stumbling upon a completely unexpected park land, the Vale of Flass which is both the site of a Bronze Age monument, Maiden Bower, and a significant site for the Battle of Neville's Cross. The place is so deeply overlayed with history, you sit down for a cuppa or go for a random walk, and something significant will be there. And/or it will be an area of outstanding natural beauty, so common they are signified by an acronym:AONB.

Tomorrow we leave England for a while and head across the border to Glasgow.

York #2

We had timed our visit to York, by pure chance, to coincide with the opening of a joint exhibition on the Vikings put on by York Museum and the British Museum. So we had a slow start, pottered the 400 metres or so through the gardens and the ruined Abbey, and we were there when the doors opened​.

York does tend to go in for the entertainment experience in it's historical displays - I guess it keeps all those people who like wearing period costumes employed - but the strength of this exhibition was the richness of the collection on display.

I really liked the hoards - literally buried treasure. They show just how far the Vikings engagement with the world stretched - Arabic as well as English as well as Viking coins, and demonstrate that they were ready to deal either by currency or by weight of silver.

Another cool part of the exhibition was the use of VR. There were a number of different helmets shaped like a viking amulet on display round the corner, each with a different scene. When you put the helmet on, and viewed the scene of the Vikings encampment, with the Vikings gathered round their fires, the helmet had a distinct wood smoke smell.

The museum itself is built over and includes sections of the Abbey ruins. It is very atmospheric - a sense of the layers of history, right down to the skeleton of a chap from roman times the builders discovered when they were digging the drain for the downstairs bathrooms.

The only downside was the soundtrack - the same few bars of the March of the Valkeries can do your head in after a while, and we had to flee to Betty's Tea Rooms, a substantial establishment about the same vintage as the Majestic in Lisbon. I feared it might be a bit twee, but the food was excellent and the service really nice. We have found the people here in the shops to be very friendly and a lot less stressed than London.

  Anne wanted to look in some shops so I headed over to the Castle Museum, which I mistakenly thought might have something to do with and include entrance to the adjacent Castle.  Unfortunately not, I discovered 10 pounds later.

We explored more of the tiny streets and lanes, then headed home for a rest. The York Museum ticket is good for the whole day so I headed back to check out the rooms pre Roman York and of Roman artifacts from their occupation.

Late in the afternoon we wandered down by the Ouze - a largely different collection of narrow boats down there tonight, and explored a different corner of the city before finding our way to the Chinese restaurant we'd picked for dinner.

We were forming some unrealistically Rosey views of York as some sort of modern Utopia, but the walk home brought us back to Earth - a succession of homeless people looking wretched on chilly rainy evening, a person slumped unresponsively in a doorway while a paramedic worked away and some deadbeat looking associates watched on, some really stoned or drunk people lurching across the road arguing vociferously. We were glad to get back through the park to commune with the squirrels and the pigeons, and to hunker down for the night back in our room.

Still, while clearly not without its share of social problems York is still a lovely place. I think if I lived in the UK, somewhere round would not be too bad.

Tomorrow we are up early and off to Durham, continuing our progress northwards.