Scotland 11 - Loch Ness

New day! Don't know the count anymore.

I woke at 6am to hints of dawn. Oh well, no falling asleep again now, not with the anxiety that bloomed alongside consciousness...  So I packed my suitcase (we're scheduled to hit the road at 8), stripped the bed, and started walking this road for the 5th time. 

By the time I reached the pasture it was light enough to see, and I repeated my search from last night. I know I crossed the stone wall at a shorter section, so I focused on the areas around the two most convenient breaks. Found nothing. Walked the guardrail back to the first house. Found nothing. Hiked back across to the standing stones [the Kensaleyre standing stones are almost as cool in daylight, 4000 years old and surrounded by prehistoric burial sites], and found nothing. It began spitting hints of rain. I walked through all the ferns. Still nothing. Despairing but with another hour before we had to go, I decided to walk the stone wall it's entire width - heading out of town until it hit a ditch, which I know I didn't cross. Still nothing. I then crossed up to the fence and started coming back again, when I finally saw a strap snaking out of long grass and ferns, and an enormous dread weight evaporated in a blink. 

Reconstruction of events: Somehow in the pitch-black night, I got crossed up. Instead of angling east across the meadow towards home, or angling northeast directly towards the roadway, I ended up heading north, crossing far more of the pasture than I needed to before hitting the southeasterly road home. Jumping the barbed-wire fence, the fence snagged the strap on my camera, pulling it out of the half-zipped pocket (the half zipped pocket is, was, a bad habit of mine), and dropping it very gently and silently into the long grasses and ferns growing at the base of the fence.

All's well that ends well I guess, and I even made it back in time for breakfast.

...

Back to the scheduled adventure! We left a rainy and foggy Skye behind and headed to the most famous place in Scotland, Loch Ness!  Ethan drove this leg, and it was pretty chill. Past the castle we didn't tour a week ago, past a very familiar lake ("I bet there's a nice restaurant there!" "Yeah, I bet it has a really easy entrance and then a really crummy one we'd end up using!") and then into new territory, but entirely on two-lane roads. Cake.  We even stopped at a layby where bonnie prince Charlie's lookalike was killed - he died claiming to be the prince, buying the actual prince enough time to flee. TBH, we just stopped so Oli could eat. 

[Not my pic, but without a doubt the best sign I saw the entire trip]

We arrived at Castle Uiraght Urquhart on the midpoint of Loch Ness just in time for lunch. This was the most powerful fort in all the highlands, and it's history followed a familiar theme... it was doing good castle things for hundreds of years, but it was then given to the English in some treaty. The locals didn't appreciate that, so Clan MacDonald made an annual tradition of setting it on fire. After a few years of raids they decided to have a blowout and robbed it blind. In addition to literal thousands of sheeps, goats and cows - they even took the doors, the feather beds, the pots in the kitchen.... complete ransacking to an impressive and petty level. And then set it on fire, of course.  The English were sick of this, and gave up. They blew the entryway so it couldn't be used against them and returned south.

I can't believe I didn't get a picture of the trebuchet. It was authentically constructed and massive.... and I only took a picture of a note to remind myself to find the documentary. Ada preferred the platform around it, as it had steps. 

All of this leaves a bunch of pretty run-down ruins, with great views of Loch Ness in all directions. Fun Fact: Loch Ness lies right on the subduction zone, making it abnormally deep, over 700 feet at the center, with recent research locating pits over 800. This depth means that the volume of water in Loch Ness is greater than that of all other lakes in Britain combined [1.9 trillion gallons - 7.5 km³].  After yesterday's hikes (and panics, for some of us) we could all use a slow day, so we didn't mind that it was a relatively quick tour. Plus, we had to get back on the road, as we were trying to cross the entire country. Again. 

Heading out, we were 5 minutes ahead of the other van, as Oli needed to eat again.  These 5 minutes meant that we got past the crash before the wreckers shut down the entire road, and after a lot of stupid round-abouts (who puts roundabouts on a highway?!) we finally started making real time, on easy roads with fat lanes and 70mph limits. We did learn about a new form of evil though: elapsed-time speed cameras.  These were located on gantries every 5 miles to calculate your average pace in order to be sure that you're not speeding even after passing the cameras.... Occidat Tyrannulis.

We were borderline on fuel... Low, but the dash said we had the range to make it, so I decided we'd fill up once we saw a station. But I decided this as we entered the Cairngorms - and there are no gas stations in the Cairngorms - just sheep, highland Coos, amazing views, and hills. Half way though we started getting desperate, and found a gas station on our GPS - 30 miles away. The range on the van gad said 65 miles before it went dark, but now it only says "GET FUEL NOW".  I did my best to play momentum games and stretch it the range, but the hills were brutal and the needle was dipping.  The mountains were beautiful though.  At one point, we saw a castle in the distance, and then slowly made our way towards it. Once there, we saw two lads laughing and taking pictures... but not of the Corgarff Castle, they were delighted by the street sign in front of it. 

Finally out of the Cairngorms near Balmoral (the Royal Family's highland estate and summer residence), we were back on the single-track roads, along with dozens of ring-necked pheasants. An animal I'd only ever seen a few times in my life, and now there were three of them running down the street ahead of me, ten in the field, and another dead in the shoulder - and it continued like this for miles. Only 10 miles left. The gauge is bang on empty, and I'm only mentioning it in silent prayers and not to my mother.  Two miles left, we could hike this if we had to, put a jerry can in the pram.... Finally, finally, we made it to town, and then to the fuel station on the far side. 57.08 liters. The tank is specced at 57. 

Emotionally exhausted, I passed driving off to Ethan, and fled to the second row on baby duty. Ada was not napping like she was supposed to, so we were doing anything to keep her happy. I must have put her boots on (to either her feet or her hands) 200 times. At one point, she was sucking on her thumb, and then switched to sucking on her fingers, which turned into shoving her entire hand down her throat until she hit her gag reflex - which she found hilarious. So you'd hear a sound like she was going to vomit followed by peals of coughing-giggles. The rest of us started laughing, which only encouraged her more, and we were all in tears before we could distract her away.

Finally, finally, we made it to Stonehaven.  It's a coastal town on the eastern edge of Scotland, and a quintessential British seaside resort. A bit past it's prime, trying very hard to be cute and mostly succeeding... We unloaded into our bnb (also cute, with views of harbor), then took a stroll along the boardwalk to pick up dinner (Indian - we've had enough haggis). The other car arrived, and we caught up over curries. They'd spent an hour in traffic from the accident, fled down back-roads, and once they made it to highways they were routed around the Cairngorms. Their loss. The day ended with some baby-time and an early bedtime - after taking care to back up my SD cards.

Tomorrow... A castle! Hiking! Surprise!

Scotland 10 - Quiraing and Cursed Standing Stones

 Day 9? [Nope, it's 10]:

Today is Kuerig and Storr! (I'm gonna fix it to [Quiraing], but just know when I wrote this I wrote kuerig the whole time.) We all woke up early (to screaming), packed food, and loaded up both vans to hike Quiraing. Last night we (we meaning Adam and Ethan) planned out a route after consulting five  different trail-mapping apps, and came up with a great through-hike plan taking advantage of our vans. Rolling out, we cut east across the island on a very rough single-track ("Warning: Road may be Impassible in Certain Conditions"), arriving at the upper trail-head before normal people had their morning cuppa. There, everyone unloaded from the vans and set off across the mountain. Everyone except for my Dad and I, who followed me in the second van while I absolutely bombed it down the single track to a wide shoulder on the east coast. There we left one van and sprinted back up the mountain to the trail-head. After triple-checking that we had all three sets of keys, we set off across the trail to catch up with the family, who were planning on starting slow, maybe letting Sagey walk for some of it.

Quiraing is amazing. Our first steps out of the carpark offered incredible cliffs left and right, while the ocean spread out afore, and as we left all signs of habitation behind the views continued to improve. I've said it before, but the landscape doesn't look real. It looks like something out of a fantasy movie where you'd say "earth doesn't do that" - but when massaged by centuries of sheep and man, apparently it can.  Speaking of, we passed several sheep on the trail, though thankfully their offerings were fewer and further between than the last few hikes...   Half an hour in - wondering if our family had forgotten the "take it slow and wait for the carkeys" part - we rounded a bend and saw them chilling in a slopey-meadow-thing! (Is there a word for that? [A corrie.]) They'd stopped for diapers/snacks/a peepee behind a rock!  We exchanged updates and shared our mutual shock at how breathtaking this trail was.  And then just as soon as we were reunited, I split off again, opting for a sheep-trail over a upthrust while they took the trail beneath and around the spur. 

Stepping off the beaten trail - and then out-of-sight of the beaten trail - elevated the otherworldly beauty to a sublime level. All the gorgeous cliffs and views, but you can't help but imagine you're in an age before man - assuming you can ignore the ear-tags on the sheep that hang out in these blind glens. I spent a few quiet minutes waiting for the family to traverse the longer route, just idling alongside the livestock. Soon enough some familiar faces rounded the crag, and I headed down to rejoin the clan for a group selfie.

The next mile was more of the blessed same. Incredible views, easy hiking, great rocks, this might be the best trail I've ever hiked - Via Ferreta is the other contender, but that's comparing apples and ordnance.  In terms of sheer aesthetic pleasure..... 

Eventually we had to hike up through a saddle, which was a bit too athletic to be sheer pleasure, but the views remained viscerally majestic. From there we continued across the face and up to a stone-walled pasture perched atop this massif. Half way through the meadow, however, my brother yelled at us to stop. We regrouped and started checking all the map-apps again. We'd missed our turnoff, and were now on a side trail that lead up to a lookout - a bit more elevation than we really wanted. I recalled a turnoff just after the saddle, so we started picking sheep-trails to shortcut back to the turnoff... Adam finally made it back to the stone wall and realized these trails ended in cliffs, so we sheep-trailed our way back to the main artery, resigned to backtracking a bit.

This is where the joy of the hike muted, and fell back into the grind. We had a mile to do, all downhill (thankfully), but the babies were done with it, the squad stretched out, and it was all-eyes on the goal. I loitered back with my parents to offer a company and an occasional hand so the pace wasn't terrible, but it was still a slog.  Around every bend we expected to see the carpark, and we always saw one more curve. But we kept approaching the sea, so we knew it couldn't remain eternally one corner away. Finally we saw the road at the bottom. One last push up a berm, and huzzah! A black Benz in a lay-by!

We feasted. Bread, peanut butter, clementines, crisps, luke-cold pizza - objectively mundane but it felt like the meal of champions, the most delicious fruit I've ever tasted. Recharged and in much better spirits, we loaded all 10 of us into a 9 passenger van (Ada loved getting to ride on a lap) and headed back up the mountain to the other van. This time we did not bomb. We slowly slunk through the train of noobs making a mess of single-track and failing to understand passing zones. 

Up top, we split into two vans. Adam and Dani still wanted to do Storr, and the rest of us felt no need to tackle another hike. I drove the second van, and we headed back down the noob-zone single-track so Ethan and Hannah could see yesterday's waterfall, just a few miles east. This was a mistake. We could have bailed west and looped the island in the time it took to get through the first mile of noobtown. The Peugeot ("Peu-GO GO GO PLEASE GO PLEASEEEE GO") in front of us was terrified to put a wheel in the gravel even at walking pace, and I had to bully him down the entire mountain. That said, he at least went. There was one dude who was just stopped in the road - half a dozen cars reversing to wide spots on both sides as he got out of the car and started looking around. After 5 minutes I offered to pass the wheel to my mom - Ethan and I would go push his car off whatever rock he'd hit - but the woman in front of us put her car in park, and started marching down the mountain berating him. He jumped in his car and drove away.  You're #2 on my list. Not as bad as the jobsworth at Castle Stryker, but it's a near thing.

Off the mountain, the rest of the drive to the Mealt Falls was dead easy. We parked, jumped out, and checked out the falls (and Brother's point, yesterday's midday hike) quick as you like - it's still a very meh view of a very cool waterfall. And with that done and dusted, we boogied on home.

We got home around 2.30, didn't really feel recovered until 3.30, naps lasted until 4, and dinner was at 5.... so it was just a very chill afternoon without any major "thing".  Adam and Dani got home with their report on Storr ("we jogged the shorter loop - ok views, too many people, not nearly as cool as Kuerig"), and my dad had a very different report ("Got a hot chocolate at the Storr-store, played with grandbabies in the parkinglot, it was fantastic"), and then we attempted to eat all our leftovers for dinner, with decent success.

I just wanted to post another Keurig picture

Tomorrow, we head across all of Scotland to the eastern edge via Loch Ness and the Caigherhorns  [Cairngorms]. Honestly, I would spend another week in Skye - every hike is gorgeous, whether it's a world-class banger like Kuerig or a rando goat-trail behind some carpark. There's every chance Stonehaven is just as amazing though, and only one way to find out. 

11k steps for the day.

...

Actually, Scotch that. I've still got miles in these legs and hours before I'll asleep, time for a bonus adventure! So after finishing up my blog, I loaded up my camera gear and set off for the standing stones about a mile up the road, on the shore of the saltwater loch. Are these ancient? Don't know. Will they look good in a long-exposure photograph? Also don't know, but we're gonna find out!

It's a totally moon-less night with no city-glow, so it's ridiculously dark, but 90% of the hike is on sidewalks so that's just a fun twist. I did have to use my phone flashlight to cross the fence/ferns/wall and into the pasture.  Even this close, it was too dark to see the stones, so I checked the GPS for a final hint.  And I found them! 4-5 feet tall, definitely stones, definitely standing.  I set up my tripod, propped my cellphone on a monolith to pull focus, and dialed in some basic astrophotography settings. It was ok.. I tweaked the settings, and experimented with light-painting the stones to balance the exposure - settling on running back from the camera and giving the stones a single slash with the flashlight. I got a handful of pics that look gorgeous on the back of the camera, we'll see if they're as good fullsized, but great success! I packed up, tromped back across the field, jumped the fences, and trudged back to the house. 

As I neared the house, I realized the camera flap on my bag was wagging open. And more importantly... there was no camera in it. My heart sank, and I had to double check my sanity... Am I sure I had my camera? Yes, I used it. Am I sure I don't have it now? Yup, definitely not here. That's also half my pictures, with no backup. I never heard or felt it jump... Maybe it fell out hopping fences? 

So I walked the mile back to the monuments, and then searched the fenceline, the wall, walked the field multiple times, all with no sign of my black camera amongst the moonless night.  After 45 minutes I had to call it, having seen nothing but a rabbit. I continued to search entire hike home, but no luck.  So I set my alarm for 6am and hoped. 

18k steps for the day

[...]

[Imagine you're panicking and trying to fall asleep anyways]

[....]

[You have to fall asleep so you can wake up early]

[....]

Scotland 9 - Western Skye and Dunvegan

Adam's skepticism
is appropriate.

The E/H/A crew headed out early to visit Fairie Beach. Having visited a beach yesterday, I felt no need to hike to another beach, and opted for the slow-train out. Our goal was to meet them at a castle at 10am, so we packed some lunches and headed out to kill time on our drive to the castle. Our first spot was Fairie Bridge. It was.... an old bridge. But only an old bridge. IMO, not even worth a pin on google maps, let alone the fey moniker, which left us with even more time to kill. 

So I directed our crew to a [disappointingly modern] rock on google maps! But as we arrived, we learned said rock was on top of a hill, and we can see so many rocks without hiking uphill.  So I pointed our crew past the castle, down a one-lane, and out to a viewpoint!  This was a decent stop, and we could look back across the water and see today's castle!  Definitely lacked the zoom lens needed to really flaunt it, but as an excuse to hike down a random beach - 10/10. I found a raft of kelp that had washed ashore, which made a fun slippery-bubblewrap trailbed. Some of the rocks were treacherous, some were great, and there was a bigass heron! It's official name is Grey Heron [my note to the editor said "check and make sciency"...  Ardea Cinerea is the third largest bird in Britain]. I made the mistake of choosing a different trail back to the car. It was not a trail, it was a dry(!) stream-bed lined with brambles. An hour later Adam plucked a tick from my pants.... 

Having successfully burned off the wee hours it was time to head to the castle! Where, after a potty break, GRAMMY AND POPS WERE THERE! Super exciting, and E/H/A also magically appeared from the diaper room scant minutes later. Reunited as a family, we planned to impress a passer-by into taking a family portrait, but several locals volunteered before we'd even found our footing. Another checkbox ticked, we headed into the castle where they told Sage that there was a key hidden in every room, and it was a fun game to see how many of them she could find!  So of course the whole family became heavily invested in finding keys. Significantly more invested than Sage. 

The castle is a charming amalgamation of rework ranging from the 1200s to 1800s, built on foundations they claim date back to the 1000s. It was also never turned into three floors of military bunks, never abandoned, and never exploded by southron bastards -  meaning it's in amazing condition and still full of the family heirlooms. In addition to the standard muskets, plates, and blades it featured: an elephant tusk, a wooden cup over a  millennia old, and the traditional coronation drinking-horn (If you can't chug 1.5 liters of claret you're a whelp not fit for royalty).  It's a very cute castle, and the tour route is nicely calibrated to be fun but not overwhelming. 

Out on the back green, looked out over the bay (and the beach we trod this morning) where we saw a boat turn into the harbour. - "Is that the seal tour?" - "OH. BECAUSE THE SEALS!" 

We counted 17 seals chilling on the spit of stone across from the castle, with a few more swimming in the harbor. All doing cute seal things (mostly loafing). We passed the binocs around to all the tourists in courtyard, and eventually tore ourselves away to finish up the castle. On our way out, we reported our key-count to the doorman! 11! He informed us there were 17, and pointed out one we'd missed right where we were standing. That stung a bit.... 

Next, we did the castle gardens. Some practical gardens for food and spices, and then the more typical manor-grounds intended to show off the family's wealth - in this case featuring waterfalls which was a nice touch. We finished up with a visit to the cafe to supplement our packed lunches and ate outside, which required imprisoning a few bees under our cups but was otherwise quite nice. All in all, I enjoyed this castle more than the two bigger ones, and not just because it had seals - though I admit I'm biased on that front.

After lunch, we split up again. Half for naps, and half for Dun Beag Broch. Also known as Dunvegan Fort, it is a stone ring much like those in Ireland: Dry-stacked rocks on the top of a mountain and about 1500 years old. Slightly more advanced than the Irish versions, Dun Beag has two walls buttressed so they could build it taller - most estimates place it around 30'. Now crumbled to a fifth that, it's still an impressive build with stairs and chambers surviving to this day.  The most surprising part is the sheep poopoos everywhere, including on top of the ruined walls. Which also means there are sheep close enough to be gently encouraged to pose by the ruins. Adam put it best:  "Rocks, sheep, ocean. Done. Perfect picture."

On our hike back down to the car I slipped on the muddy trail (stream) and totally soaked a buttock, so I sat on my jacket and it was off to the fairy pools! I'm pretty sure they just realized in the 1910s or something they could prepend "fairy" to anything and tourists would flock to it. It's still working.

After finding a spot in the massive lot, we descended a steep half mile. past a rock [click reviews], to the bottommost pool. At this point, A/D decided to send it (with Oli literally along for the ride), while my parents opted to follow at Sage-pace. I chose the aggressive option, which meant almost two miles uphill, climbing past a dozen waterfalls towards their source at the base of the mountain. All the "Fairy Pools" are basins hollowed out by waterfalls as River Brittle cascades down the hillside... Inviting looking, but I saw no kelpies, and a woman enjoying a dip at the peak proved my suspicion they weren't fatal. However the pools dragged in tourists by the busload, even folk not made for hiking - which might include me.  Like half of us, I was pushing - as we neared the top I was just pacing Adam and Dani, no thought to the scenery, no thoughts at all really, aerobic autopilot carrying me to the finish line.

Note the carpark
in the far distance

It was worth it to see the mountain up close, even if the pools didn't strictly justify the hike [I'm sensing a pattern here.] The hike back down was more fun. Dani set a quick pace (she was afraid my parents would try to carry Sage out of the valley), which meant we were speed walking down a broken trail. Once it started level out (relatively speaking) Dani decided to jog the rest of it. Nope, I'm out. I'm already sweating and fighting off midges ("No-see-ums" are the worst bit of Scotland. We intentionally chose September to avoid them, which has worked so far - maybe midges are the true fey in these pools?). Off in the distance, Dani then picked up 35 pounds of toddler and pushed up 100' of elevation. That woman is built different.

After that last brutal uphill and some recovery, the whole crew reconvened for some pretentious pizza (venison salami, artisanal sundried tomatoes, spice imbued honey - it was delicious) to finish up the day. We put the kids to bed, discussed possible hikes for the morning (A/E are debating between Quiraing and Storr), and I was the last to head to bed - at the late hour of 9pm. 

Scotland 8 - North Skye

We started early this morning, scoffing down breakfast and prepping some sandwiches, prepping to take a run at the northern-Skye loop. We know we're not going to be able to do all of it today, but we figured we'd do what we could, and try to fill in what we missed tomorrow.  This traveling with babies thing is a different kettle of fish... Technically, the baby is pretty good. Bubs (we call him bubs for some reason) can and will sleep anywhere. Car, backpack, restaurant, all good. The two toddlers are more finicky. We used to run hard to hit as much as we could - more recently in VN I did more than I could, so it's a nice change of pace.

First  stop was the Fairie Glen. We actually missed our turn because we were distracted by a cute circular castle, but a quick schwit had us up a few one-way roads and into the Fairie Glen.  What is a Fairie Glen? It's.... Some lumpy land that has been terraced by sheep, with a few spirals drawn/dug into it?  But also some rocks to climb, and everywhere here is super scenic, so it's hard to be upset with a tourist trap. As a bonus, we got to watch a sheepdog herd his flock a few pastures over, it was a good stop.  

Leaving the Fairie Glen, our car left early to get out of the way as some noobs were creating a tailback in traffic trying to park. Which gave us time to go to the distracting castle!  Nobody else in our car felt any need, so I jogged down - past the "Please Do Not Pass Gate" and the "DANGER, KEEP OUT" signs - right into the tower itself! It was a total let-down. Just a busted-down door into a hollow cylinder of an old fortification with a handful of birds roosting in it. But I'm still glad I did it, because I would have wondered forever, like that one tower in England I didn't climb 25 years ago.

From there we set off across the top of the island. One lane roads through cow-pastures, with cliffs, the sea, and the Hebrides off in the distance. We even saw our first Highland Coos (long-haired cows that have become the unofficial mascot of Scotland, featured in every gift shop and seated on a significant percentage of dashboards). And, since I was navigator, I could even snap some pictures! But I missed the coos. 

The next stop was Duntulm Castle - a completely ruined MacDonald castle set on a peak over the ocean.  I sorta gave away the surprise there, it was completely ruined - abandoned in the late 1600s and immediately looted for stones to build the new fortifications. Only a few walls standing, but great views of windswept cliffs and the Scottish sea. You know me by now, I'm into this sh...sttuff. Ancient ruins thrust over harsh shingle and dark seas... Ugh. Gimme a minute.. aight.  At one point I heard "Brice, I need you" and "Don't tell your brother" simultaneously, and it goes without saying that the summoning won over the admonishment. As requested, I slithered into the rocks to discover a small hunched passage, which ended a few yards later in a cramped room, enough for storage or a secret hideout, where a missing cobblestone  offered light, glimpses of the sea, and ventilation, holding the breeze to only a hint of hobo-pee.

Outside the castle (and amidst the sheep-droppings), we had our sandwiches while we waited for the second-shift to pass through the castle (Babies means things happen early and often in shifts).  Finishing up lunch, my youngest niece decided it was naptime, so that half the kin was gonna bail for the BNB. My mom and I abandoned their car for the other, and the rest of us all continued on to "Kilt Rock and [Mealt - wasn't even close] Falls" - It was another let-down. The falls themselves are pretty impressive, but you're peering over a railing on the edge of a carpark to see some mid falls disappear over the edge toward the ocean.  The falls themselves seemed pretty cool, but the view and setting (a muddy lot) didn't show them off properly - they need a drone.  Well up the shore we could see (mostly through binoculars) some climbers struggling up massive basaltic pillars rising out of the sea - It looked fun, but it also looked chilly - and cold could suck most the fun out of it. 

As we left the lackluster-falls, my mom realized she had the housekeys. Our only set of housekeys which my brother needed for naptime. After a lot of frantic texting, it was decided that my parents would meet up with them to pass off keys, and leave A/D/S/O and I to hike a trail they were interested in. We gave my dad a rundown on the nuances of Scottish driving (press this button to park, shoulder-marking should be just inside the wiper-nub, side mirrors help) and sent them off into the lands unknown: Western Skye. (He was totally fine). 

Now abandoned, it was time for Oliver to eat, so A/D/O nestled down in a cemetary at the top of our chosen trail, while Sage and I set off ahead.  This was secretly a ploy to tire Sage by  having her walk, but it ended up being a delightful time. We talked (mostly about sheep and sheep poos), Sage did such good walking, and I only had to carry her past a few treacherously-muddy sections.  By the time her parents caught up we were all impressed that she'd made it over a half-mile on 2 y/o legs. And, of course, we all pretended to be SUPER impressed.  Sage, on the other hand, was suddenly *super* tired once Daddy was there to carry her. I've found my niche. 

Reunited, we quickly arrived at the sea (moderately cold, but not brutal. Little waves, probably because the Hebrides are there as barriers). The beach was largely rounded riverstone (sea-stone?), where here and there ragged stone slabs projected over the sea, and small patches of grey cropped up occasionally. Sage, of course, wanted to be carried. I, of course, was off bounding between boulders and stone-slabs, checking tide pools, scampering across the beach. As great as this was, the trail didn't end here, and we still had time to kill while my parents ferried keys (and unbeknownst to us, went to a coo-cafe.... which is somehow a thing). So we headed off across the fields towards the star of the show, an upthrust peninsula jutting into the Minch.

The fields were flooded. Small streams flowed over and around the grasses, and none of us had any chance of remaining totally dry. Dani rolled the dice with one brave step, and her entire foot disappeared into the muck - but luckily she got it out fast enough (with a baby on her back - she's a badass) that her socks remained dry though her ankles were soaked. Typical Scotland - we're lucky this trail wasn't a stream, merely crossed by them.

Across the fields, we found a nice sketchy cliffside path, where thankfully I didn't have to carry a child. Apparently when you hike with children all the time it wasn't a big deal, but I didn't want a squirming backpack on a cliff. This trail gave us an amazing view of the falls from earlier. They're distant off our left, but I totally get the hype now - and immediately to the right, more amazing views of more incredible cliffs. Once we'd landed on this wind-swept bluff, Dani decided she wasn't game for the final leg. Adam nd I kicked some sheep-poo out of the way and set her up in a nice little wind shadow with the babes, and set off to speed-run the final leg.  It started out with a nice narrow edge, and then we had the final spire to climb. I attempted to send a likely-looking (but unbroken) route, doing some moderate climbing on sketchy terrain. When a handhold pulled out on me near the top... I gently tapped it back in place and down-climbed, taking the trail more traveled to join Adam at the top. It was cool. Great views, strong wind, sketchy points... but really, destination as an excuse for the journey. <Find a reference for this in my own blog, or directly reference sanderson>.  Time to return (and goaded by my first failed route), I chose an alternate route down, heading down the back and traversing a sketchy corner with a few hand-jams. It wasn't that technical, but it was pretty consequential, which always focuses the mind nicely.

Almost the same pic, but so great I'll double down.

Then there was nothing left but to double back. Across the narrow neck, load up the chillens, reverse the cliff edge, try (and fail) to find a dry path back across the marsh, ower the stony beach, and grind back up the hill. But we found a nice surprise when Pops was waiting for us halfway up the hill! He told us all about the Coos, and Sage told him all about sheep poop. I've probably said the word poopoo more today than in the last 20 years of my life combined.

On the way home, we swung by the coop to pick up supplies, which was a great excuse to get a bottle of the local gin. Distilled in the Hebrides from Sea-Kelp, it's.... quite good. Not worth the price necessarily, but kelp! Hebrides! Expansive and well-oiled blog entries!  We went around the table, showing our favorite pictures of the day, and recounting our favorite part. Sage went with sheep poopoos.

[I'm gonna leave my last note-to-editor-Brice as-written:]
<running Ada up and down stairs?  chilling as a family in the living room? dance parties? passing around baby duty? Add in how nice it is to exist as a family here/other posts>

[PS: my dad sent me this pic two months later, and it was too badass not to add: ]

Scotland 7 - Trains and Skye

Also, coins hammered
into a stump. Because.

Today we say goodbye to Ballachulish and head off to Skye. We woke early and packed the house, because we had a date with a train. Unlike most appointments with trains, we were not getting on the train, we just wanted to watch a train go by. And not just any train, the Harry Potter Train, on the Harry Potter Bridge!  I've also seen it in the Stone of Scone movie, but the crowds are only there for Harry Potter, and there were crowds.

And the crowds were wild. I'm no stranger to unconventional pursuits, but usually I'm doing it alone. Hiking across a field and climbing up a muddy slippery hillside to take a picture of a train.... that sounds like a good Tuesday. That does not sound like something I'd do with thousands of people, streaming out of multiple car-parks. And this cycle repeats a few times every day. 

We picked our spots, took some test shots to work out angles/lenses (I went with a 50'), talked other people out of standing directly in front of us ("come up here, it's a great view"), and finally heard a train in the distance. After what felt like an eternity, smoke puffed over the ridgeline of the mountain, and suddenly, the train was on the bridge! Looking gorgeous and magical, blowing it's whistle and flaunting. Before you know it, you've snapped your perfect photo [it was not perfect, it was blown out and I had to edit in the smoke from my mom's shot] and you're left with a few breathes to appreciate it, and quick as you like it's gone.   We let the masses start their exits and waited around a bit, and as eventually started down the hillside the commuter train passed in the opposite direction. He was also flaunting his stuff, tooting all three of his horns, and loving it. What a legend.

Oh, and we saw a rainbow!

Excitement accomplished and the #1 ticked off Hannah's Scotland wishlist, it was time for this convoy to continue north.  Gorgeous drives, but unfortunately I don't have any pictures because I was behind the wheel. It's definitely easier after a few days of practice, but I'm not up to my American comfort level where I would absolutely [not break any laws about cellphone use on the highway.]

Lunch was supposed to be at <dunno>, but they were closed. I did get this picture of a goose though:

Second lunch was the place <dunno> recommended, and it ended up being far nicer than a restaurant we'd normally choose, especially with toddlers. I had to take Ada out to the porch to burn off some energy, and was treated to great view of a loch almost a mile wide, and the mountain on the far side. Lunch itself was delicious, though I was disappointed Cullen Skink was just a stew, and not actual skink. 

Driving north again, we put in another 2 hours until we got to Eileen Donan, a castle on the coast. It stood for centuries until the Spanish stashed supplies in it to help the Jacobites rebel against England... which was all well and good until the English realized the gunpowder had arrived before the cannons. So they stormed it and set torch to the magazine. Nobody was all that excited to go see it except for me, so we snapped our pics across the tidal firth, hit the bathrooms, petted a few dogs, and loaded back up.

The stop was long enough to wake up Ada, but not long enough to burn off her energy (even with the dogs) so she spent the next hour screaming. Happy? screaming, but at the top of her outsized lungs. We crossed into Skye, and the landscape only grew more bizarre. The natural history of Scotland boils down to an anthropogenic ecological disaster. 10,000 years ago, Scotland was mostly forests. Over the last 4000 years, the entirety of Scotland was logged for building materials and fuel, so much so that most the castles that we visited had to import timber as nothing large enough grew anywhere on the isle. Alongside this deforestation the was a huge uptick in grazing, both from sheep and from deer now unchecked by predation-  all the wolves and bears had been eradicated from Scotland. This grazing pressure prevents (or at least significantly slows) the growth of forests, as all the shoots are eaten away - which is especially significant given the extremely short growing season since the latitude limits the hours of sunlight and the temperature. This is why the Scottish hillsides look so stunning. 

Driving into Portree, we saw a giant mountain (possibly Storr?), which was way too large to be covered in meadow as it was - sunlit in the distance while we passed in and out of rainstorms.... it really looked like a backdrop. The closer hills were all quite scenic, but believable. Storr looked like someone had hung an enormous painting across the heavens, a unique feeling of derealization I hadn't experienced since my first total eclipse. 

Ada finally stopped screaming. And started again! Just wanted you to experience that relief snatched away, as she was on and off the whole time. But we finally made it just beyond Portree to our cabin. Very cute, all the rooms are themed by color and Scottish ephemera tastefully applied to every wall, but in a cozy way.  Some freezer-pizza for dinner, and bit of gin liberated from a shelf of otherwise empty bottles. After dinner, dad and I walked down to the church on the corner, and then hiked up to the rock peak we can see out our back windows. Great views (and a rainbow!), but once you reach that peak (which possibly had an eagle? an owl? on it, you see yet another peak behind that...). We were tempted, but there were only 2 fingers of sunlight left, and I'd rather not hop fences and trudge through overgrown fields in the dark. Looking further into it though, it's 4 miles out our back door to Storr. That's just my sort of dumb shit unconventional pursuit. If we're have another quiet afternoon in.... no promises.

Scotland 6 - Ballachulish

Today's before-lunch hike was in town! No need to load up our minibuses, we just bundled up and walked out the door. A quick cut through town, and up into the woods. The woods are very nice, very springy, and of course, very squishy with damp as well - reminiscent of the Pacific Northwest. The trail wasn't that long, but there was a surprising amount of elevation, and suddenly we were stepped out of the forests onto a winsome overlook with the town laid out before us, a quarry to our right, and a rainbow over all.  

So we hiked to the quarry! It was pretty cool, but unfortunately all the exceptionally cool parts (like the waterfall and main slate face) were fenced off. [Edit here]. The slate mine was the largest in Scotland, and the key industries in Ballachasdf. This massive hole produced ~2,000,000 tons of shingles over it's life [which means 15-20 million tons of mining], employing ~700 people [45% of the population at the time, and the current population of the town] - even paying for the towns doctor. [Edit 2], it started pouring rain! We crossed the street to the visitor center for lunch? Brunch? Elevensies.

After Elevensies there came a break in the rain, and we split up - some of us going to visit the slate arch, some heading home for nap time.  The slate arch is the last of 7 inclines used to transport slate from the quarries to the harbor, and the engineer in my who designed water-powered inclines as a child visiting Pittsburgh was delighted to learn they used the weight of filled carts to drag empty carts back to the top. Not super photogenic, but we weren't gonna come all this way and skip the final 200 yards.

After the arch we split again as another contingent headed off for naps, and my parents and I chose to check out the peninsula.  We very nearly didn't, as the rain began intensifying to down-pour levels, but "If you dinnae like the weather, bide a wee bit and it'll turn". As soon as we hit the bridge we were going to hide under the rain stopped, and by the time we walked out the peninsula trail we were in full sun.  It was a cute flat trail with great views, including Eilean Munde and the Isle of Discussion, where clan members would abandon you and your enemy with enough bread, cheese, and whiskey for you to settle your issues. Once you came to peace (or at least an agreement) they'd let you leave. [Nope. All the islands were considered neutral territory for safe meeting, and they'd surely share a dram, but there's no record of actual stranding to force the issue.] And we saw another rainbow!

Peninsula conquered (if you can call a casual stroll conquering), we headed towards home, stopping at the grocery store where I made sure to get some digestive biscuits (basically chocolate-covered graham crackers we discovered twenty years ago on our first European travels) in addition to the essentials.  A mile later, we arrived back in nap-land, where we chilled, babysat, and watched the weather cycle from rain to rainbows time and time again.

Dinner was mussels over pasta, because the Shack had sold out of all other Seafood, and since it was so early (5pm was pushing-it for the youngest among us) we had time to hit to Castle Stryker! We had to continue on in the morning, so this was our last chance to see one of the most iconic castles in Scotland. 

We drove 20 minutes south, passed back and forth from rain to rainbow, and finally caught sight of the quintessential keep.  We pulled down a back road to find a small lot covered in "no parking" signs and traffic cones.  We're only gonna be here for 5 minutes, so even my mom agreed to send it.  But then a local walked out onto his deck in a high-vis jacket and shook his finger at us. Naughty Naughty. Proper tosser this one. Normally I'd wave a different finger back, but if he's so pedantic he'd put on an orange vest to scold us, he's already called the coppers. So we loaded back up and sought out another viewpoint. But if you're reading this, <STALK THIS MUPPPET AND NAME DROP> : you're a total wanker and an embarrassment to the your clan. <look up his clan history to make fun of how far he's fallen> [I've now had two months to calm down, which is good. Because a few weeks ago I was still ready to get myself barred from the Isles]

Anyways. A few minutes up the road there was the closed castle-view restaurant, which looked like it had been closed for at least a season.  So we served around a planter, made ourselves at home in the carpark, hopped a fence, and just like that - sorted! Pretty good views. Not the shot I was hoping for, but I'll take it. Better than getting deported because I told a council lackey to attempt something unnatural with a ewe. And then Hannah bemoaned the fact that Ethan who was carrying his daughter across the pasture... so I hastily made up some excuse about needing to check on them and jogged past the sheep to get a better picture. I mean reprimand them?

Overall, success! And as the sun set on our trip back we saw a few final rainbows, which I think brings us to an even dozen and my personal best.