Holy Island Lindisfarne #2

After breakfast I walked round the harbour over past the castle built in Henry VIII's time, which we can see from our window. It is being restored and unfortunately is closed at the moment, but a nice walk, past sheep in stone walked paddocks, rabbits sunning themselves, honking flocks of geese, and a general air of a sunny fine morning full of quiet promise.

When I got back, we went off to explore a bit more of the island's offerings. The tide would keep the day visitors at bay till after 10.30, so things were pretty quiet, apart from an obnoxious noisy toddler. Who by coincidence was called Aidan, the same name as  one of the Island's key saints. Nothing saintly about that kid. But the ruins of the Priory were extraordinarily impressive. Something about the way the stone had weathered and the original carving and architectural form of the building made it well worth the visit. Here is Anne measuring the width of the fireplace in the monk's warming room.

Next we checked out the Lindisfarne centre, which had some great videos of people demonstrating some of the skills used by the monk's who produced the Lindisfarne Gospels. It would be so good to have a manual skill like that, to be able to focus so completely on a task, and contribute to the production of a creation so astounding and beautiful. By then it was coffee time. We visited the Pilgrim Cafe, and managed to get there just before the first wave of day visitors arrived. The cafe was deserted when we arrived but packed with long queues by the time we got our coffee and cake. Outside we were mobbed by a flock of hungry sparrows - it must be hard for them to adjust to the tidal pattern which restricts the availability of their main food source, crumb dropping tourists.

After lunch I unfolded the Brompton, pumped up the tires, and took it for a spin, covering most of the sealed road on the island. I think I will have a lot of fun with that bike. By mid afternoon the tide was down far enough for us to get across to St Cuthbert's island,  where the Saint is said to have retreated for some solitude. Not much solitude today, but a pretty place, with a colony of seals on a sandbar across the narrowing channel kicking up a right racket, a cross between singing and dogs howling carried faintly on the wind.

On the way home we visited the church of St Mary the Virgin, which has bits said to date from the 650s, and to be the oldest man made structure on the island. It feels like a special place.

We had a great dinner in a nice pub - the Ship Inn gets our vote for best on Island - then walked down the now deserted road to the causeway which was in the process of being covered by the incoming tide.

Tomorrow, we have to be up early. We hope we will be picked up by 7.45, in time to get across before the island is once again cut off. If the taxi doesn't turn up, we will miss our train and find ourselves spending another day on the island. Which would not be the worst thing that could happen to somebody. It has been a wonderful experience staying here. We both feel restored and ready for the next stage of the trip.

Holy Island, Lindisfarne #1

This morning, after a slow grind through Edinburgh's perpetual traffic jam in a taxi down to the station, we bid farewell to Scotland, and after 45 minutes we were standing in the sunshine at a bus stop, having a really good conversation with a couple of Canadian chaps, an academic on sabbatical, and a children's author looking for some inspiration. Funny how in random encounters there are people you really would like to know better. But, we all liked onto  the bus, us with our luggage and now a large bike box, they got off with day packs to explore, and we didn't see them again.

A beautiful day today, and the island was teeming with day trippers, all the car parks full and tour buses lined up side by side. But, the nice thing about being on an island separated by a causeway covered by the tide is that the elemental force of nature calls the shots. The tide table says that the causeway is not safe to cross after 5 today, so the place empties, and now there are just the 180 permanent residents and a few hundred tourists, and we are all here until next low tide whether we like it or not. It gives the place a peaceful air, knowing we are cut off from the rest of the world.

Our hotel is right next to the ruins of the Lindisfarne Priory, and our room has fantastic views of the Priory on one side and out across stone fenced meadows over the boat harbour and off to the castle.

It still feels like a simpler way of life here - the pub where we had dinner was a bit rough round the edges, but friendly and with good basic food. The village consists mostly of lovely small stone cottages, many covered with climbing roses.

We wanted somewhere quiet to have a rest before the next stage of the trip, and sitting on a seat by the Ouse looking out at the little island and listening to the waves on the beach, I think we might have found what we were looking for. It is a magical, beautiful place once the crowds recede.

Edinburgh #3

This morning Anne wanted to check out some shops at the St James Centre and to go to an exhibition at the College of Surgeons, neither exactly my cup of tea, so I walked with her over that way, then headed off up Carlton Hill, then over through Holyrood Park, past the ruins of the Abbey - the spot where James 1 of Scotland while out hunting encountered a stag with a cross in its antlers and decided that this was the spot to found an Abbey - as you would. All I saw was a squirrel, which didn't really warrant founding anything.

 It was a very pretty spot though. After  a admiring the ruins of the Abbey I set off up the side of the Salisbury Crags.

 The path I chose didn't take me up to the top, which was disappointing. I went most of the way up, then most of the way back down. Getting to the top required going all the way back up again. I decided that I had the general idea, and headed back into town, which proved to be remarkably close - amazing to have such a rugged wild place so close to the city centre.

I went back to the museum and spent a few happy hours there. Scottish history is such a ripping good yarn, and seeing some of the objects makes it come to life. There is the very stool which Jenny Geddes threw at the pulpit in St Giles, in outrage at Charles 1's attempt to impose the book of Common Prayer. Her stool throwing sparked a riot and the beginning of the resistance and of the Covenanter's movement. There is the blizzard mask which was worn as a disguise by Alexander Peden, to hide his true identity while preaching during the "Killing Times".

And heaps besides of course. But you do get museumed out after a while, so I wandered home for a cuppa and a bit of down time, meeting Anne on the way.

I discovered while browsing on the net that there was a bike shop on the other side of town which sold Brompton folding bikes. They are way way cheaper here than in Australia, so I thought I would check them out to see if they had the model i wanted. After getting thoroughly lost and walking about double the distance, I found the store. They had a demonstration model for sale at a good price, and I had a good feeling about the place, so I am now the possessor of a Brompton M6R, an older model, but one which has not seen a lot of use. The shop really carefully boxed it up and let the tires down ready for the plane flight as well as doing all the paperwork for the VAT refund. All I have to do is schlep a rather awkward box round for the next few weeks.

Caught the bus back which was marginally quicker than walking - Edinburgh traffic seems to consist mostly of double decker buses, log jammed in stationary standoffs.

We went for dinner to a great little restaurant near here, with creative fresh cooking, nice service and a good vibe. Wildman near Potter Row gets our cheapest and nicest award.

After dinner we went for a stroll through the University of Edinburgh, down to The Meadow, a large open space with people running, cycling, playing tennis or just wandering about in the mild Twilight.

Tomorrow we leave Edinburgh, and Scotland. A complicated diverse and beautiful place, whose history is still very much in play. We would love to come back again.

Edinburgh #2

First thing after breakfast we schleped our washing back down to the laundromat. What do laundromats say about a culture? Both the Scottish ones we have visited have been run by kindly but super efficient, smart women, who keep those all those socks and undies moving smoothly through the process.

With the comforting knowledge of packs filled with warm clean clothes, we set out to explore Edinburgh a bit more. We wandered through the Old Town and up to the entrance to the castle, but whether it was a bank holiday or just that's how it is these days downtown, the streets were packed with people and just navigating a way through was hard work. And it started to rain, so we made our way over to the National Museum of Scotland, where we spent most of the rest of the day, wandering mostly through the history of Scotland and the early people's sections. It is a fantastic collection.

On the way to the cafe there are a couple of massive whale jaws, which a precursor of the museum requested. The jaws have some fine scrimshaw engravings, one completed by a Wm. Hardie. Probably​ no relation.

There is so much amazing stuff in there, extraordinary Pictish carvings (looking suspiciously like Leunig figures), 

ten of the Lewis chessmen, the Covenanter's Covenant, the wonderful brass eagle lectern stolen by the English during the sack of Holyrood Abbey in 1544. So many stories, so much to marvel at. And a splendid view of the city from the terrace.  We will probably have to go back again tomorrow.

Edinburgh #1

We had a charming breakfast in our hotel. Guests from the wedding that was held there last night wandered in, looking a little the worse for wear but still in high good spirits. The young lad, who was straight out of a Dickens novel, was serving. Anne asked for Earl Grey Tea. He looked panic striken for a moment then vanished, to return triumphantly bearing a pot of green tea. But we were well fed and ready for the day.

We discovered as we were leaving that our train tickets were at the right time, to the right station, but for the wrong day. Dunkeld is not a staffed station, so we tried calling the number listed if you wanted to alter a booking, to be told that we needed to go to a station. Anne pointed out that we were at a station but there was noone there. Go to another station was the helpful response.

We decided to get on the train and buy another ticket if we had to. When the train appeared, I carried over some heavy wooden steps so Anne could climb up the three foot gap to the first Step of the train. It proved to be a popular piece of temporary infrastructure - most of the people waiting on the platform rushed over to use it.

The train conductor was a nice gentleman who didn't charge us, "a mistake, ye didna mean to do, did ye, and ye will nae do it again", and the trip was pleasant except for the two girls talking animated nonsense in the seat behind us. But you can't have everything.

We have been in small idyllic places for the last week, so the gritty surrounds of Edinburgh train station were a bit of a shock. And the slog up the stairs to the plateau on which much of the city is built didn't help. I got a tad geographically challenged, but a kindly if rather rough looking older chap gave us clear directions, apologized for the steepness of the stairs, and sent me on my way up the disturbingly named Fleshmarket   Close with an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

We decided today was the day to catch up on our washing, I identified a laundromat in the vicinity, and we bundled up the laundry and headed down there, only to find that laundromats here close at 4 on Sundays and we would not have time to complete wash and dry cycles. Given that exactly the same thing happened to us a week ago in Glasgow, you might think we would learn.

We found a great Italian restaurant, complete with the most over the top Italianate murals. Italian food is closest to what we mostly eat at home, and seems to agree with us, and Caio Roma is cheerful, unpretentious, and very good.

Restored by some good food, we went for a stroll through the remarkable city of Edinburgh. The abundance of amazing buildings and vistas around every corner is head spinning. And the levels are disconcerting - you are walking along a street and suddenly there is a street at right angles but 100 feet below. Rather like being in an Escher painting. And there are lots of interesting monuments and carvings. I liked the rampant stags on the Walter Scott monument outside St Giles.

We are glad to be staying in one place for a while, and it looks like there is plenty to explore here.

Dunkeld

Whatever the shortcomings of our hotel in Inverness, we slept pretty well, and it was only a few minutes walk to the station. And the train was great, the Aircon worked, the views of the mountains in the Cairngorm national park were sensational. The only down side was the three foot drop from the train to Dunkeld Birnam station - Anne hurt her knee getting out.

Our hotel for tonight turned out to be a bit more of a walk than we thought. When Anne first checked it we think she might have had the car option rather than the walking option selected. But it is a beautiful walk.

The hotel has a genuinely old world feel, magnificent staircase, sitting rooms, even a wide eyed young lad, who must be all of thirteen, earnestly serving at dinner.

It is, as Queen Victoria observed, "and pretty, pretty place" set in a lush valley on the River Tay. We walked over to see the old cathedral, once host to sthe remains of St Columba, and badly damaged during the disestablishment of churches in Henry VIII's time. It was subsequently at the centre of the Battle of Dunkeld in 1689. A very atmospheric place.

After, we walked along beside the Tay, admiring the wild flowers and the profusion of self sown Russel lupin's along the bank. We walked down to admire the Birnam Oak, said to be over 900 years old, and the last survivor of Birnam Wood. Next to it is a 300 year old sycamore tree, of about the same dimensions.

We stopped for a drink in a bar overlooking the river, admired the aerobatics of the birds that look like a cross between a seagull and a tern, but with a brown head. Also the impressive Scottish dancing of the little girl about four years old whose parents were sitting a few tables away.

Nice dinner in the pub, during which the skies opened and there was a huge straight down deluge of rain causing much excitement.

We have really enjoyed Dunkeld.

Portree to Inverness

Last night the Scottish Fiddle and Accordion had their annual how down booze up in the hotel where we were staying. Must have a good night, everyone seemed pretty quiet this morning. The sky gets light round 4.30, and the brightness woke me up so I creaked around the squeekey floor as quietly as I could, made a cup of tea, and sat at the window watching the fishing boats coming and going and the sun light up the cliffs across the Sound.

A beautiful morning in Scotland. We caught the bus back down to Portland, then across the bridge to Kyle of Lochalsh. It was nice to see that end of Skye in bright sunshine - when we came in it was largely obscured by mist and drizzle.

The train was sort of what we've come to expect from Scotrail - the Aircon in the carriage where our reserved seats were located was on the blink and the carriage was like an oven. The train made a show of starting precisely on time, but came to a halt a few hundred metres down the track, where it sat in the sun for an unexplained period of time, before finally trundling off.

The  scenery was spectacular though. Rugged mountain ranges looming over clear sparkly lochs, with little islands and rustic stone lodges that seemed to be only accessible by water. A variety of different landscapes but again, a really great train journey.

We were a little hot and frazzled by the time we got to Inverness. Anne left her dark glasses on the table in the train, but a kindly Scottish lady tracked us down on the platform and returned them to her.

After checking into our hotel, which is a bit more utilitarian than the last few nights, and which has a great view of the back off a few souless slabs of concrete, we set out for a walk down along the banks of the River Ness, to rehydrate and unwind from the trip. We found a nice hotel with tables in a leafy garden, plenty of shade, and a view of the river rippling by and of the passing promenade of slightly sunburned Scottish people all giving their summer outfits a first workout for the season. We met an English couple we had bumped into on the ferry to Skye a few days ago.  We sared a few reviving ales and had a good old natter anout a wide range of topics,brexit, steam trains, children, books, film's,  the meaning of life ... That was after the third drink.

After they left we stayed on for dinner (very nice, the Waterfront gets a good recommendation) then wandered back along the river bank, last groups of young people having a nice time hanging out in the grass on the river bank.

We are feeling a bit tired today so our exploration of Inverness has been pretty cursory I am afraid. Certainly a pretty place along the river.