The last 3 weeks in Scotland have been one long blur of activity. As I put the finishing touches on this brief post, we are back home on Galapagos. This is the first time we’ve come back ‘home’ to the boat after a long vacation. It was strange and normal all at once. I miss our dog, Skippy, and the big spaces of the house we have. But Galapagos is welcoming and she looked just like we left her.  It’s all good and nice to be sleeping in our berths again. We had a long sleep and are awake and ready to greet the big job of getting the finishing touches on the boat to prepare for the boat yard experience. We’ll be glad to have a weekend at anchor between now and extensive boat work.

It’s hard to organize so many photos and so many stories into cohesive posts. But here is a collection of boat related bits from the trip. I’ll try to get a bunch of photo posts done, just so I can remember that almost an entire month was spent having the time of our lives! What a trip.

Boats waiting to be locked through on the Caledonian Canal. That’s a really long canal boat to the right. You can pay to go on it and go through the locks.

Mike was very excited that we got to see the Caledonian Canal and watch boats going through the locks. We fantasize about bringing Galapagos up to Scotland some day, but there’s a lot of ocean between there and Tacoma, WA. For now, traveling by land is just fine. We drove to Ft. Augustus to see the locks in action. Then, on our way to our last stop, we took a road less traveled so we could stop in at Neptune’s Staircase, which was much less dramatic than the name implies. It’s just a series of locks, one right after the other. I didn’t even bother with a photo as the weather was too nasty.

If you are looking for a good business venture, consider importing these dinghies like the one in the photo below. They are built from heavy plastic like the Portland Pudgy but with an additional feature: the bow of the boat folds forward and becomes a boarding ramp so passengers can disembark at the shore without getting their feet wet. It’s absolutely brilliant. Why they are not sold in the United States is beyond me, but we saw a number of good looking dinghies in Scotland that are not available here. There is very little use of rigid inflatables there. I wonder if they know something we don’t know.

As the end of the trip got close, we started feeling ‘all traveled out’ and needed a break. We had tried to book a place in Ft. William but even though it appears to us that Ft. William is simply one B and B after another in a long stream that continues forever, all of them were booked. Actually, I’m very glad we gave Ft. William a miss. I’m sure it’s lovely when the crowds are gone, but during high season, forget it. Really. I looked for a place for hours and came up empty handed. That was fortunate for us because we then found this charming place on the quiet side of Loch Ness, aboard a completely refitted fishing trawler.

MV Scotia W

I’m going to say this about the MV Scotia W: I could live there with no problem. Boy does a trawler have plenty of room! We had a lovely stay in the ‘Alba’ room with twin berths done up in comfortable mattresses, ensuite with a full sized shower and  head. I had pretty much the best shower of our entire trip aboard a boat! It was a perfect way to relax for two days, only 15 minutes drive to see the locks and lovely views of Loch Ness. And the host, Alex, is warm and welcoming and a good conversationalist. We had a great time there and would recommend his place to anyone traveling the Loch Ness area.

Very comfortable beds! We slept like babes!

Just the harbor at John O’Groats, far up in the north lands. This is where we had our warmest, sunniest weather. Go figure!

Early in the trip we drove past the Falkirk Wheel. This impressive piece of engineering is part of the canal system. That long channel in the air is filled with water. You float onto that, then the wheel lowers your boat into the lower part of the canal.  We were there too late to watch it working, but it was impressive. It does give me a moment of panic to consider a boat being in the air like that. Worse than at a boatyard.

Here’s a canal boat for sale. The docks were off limits or we would have peeked through the windows.

At Lindisfarne Island, a favorite place of mine, they make little boat houses out of the hulls of boats.

Down the beach from these boat houses, Mike found this anchor. Well, half an anchor. One has to wonder how this happened! And hopefully there was no boat depending on it.

“Just drive the speed limit. We’re going to make it. We’ll make it.”  I said this to Mike as he was barreling down the road on Orkney Island at speeds that made my hair turn grey. Somehow, we had become sucked into a vortex of time. It was probably those damned standing stones we saw that day. Two sets of them; but the second set,  The Ring of Brogdar, was really huge. I’m pretty sure that was the guilty party. Was that a disturbance in the force I felt while we were there? Or maybe we tarried too long at Skara Brea, the World Heritage site that showcases the incredible remains of an ancient neolithic village. We left there at a wee bit after 3:00 thinking we had plenty of time to get back to St. Margaret’s Hope. Somewhere, we had lost 1/2 an hour and we never found it again.

The Ring of Brogdar. My second set of standing stones on this trip.

Our ferry left the dock at 4:30 and we were told to be there at 4:00, which is really like 4:15 when you see how long it takes to load a ferry. Any ferry.  It was now 4:06 and we were still well north of Kirkwall, which was 15 miles from the ferry dock. Short of sprouting wings, or running over the bloody tractor that decided right then was a good time to pull slowly out in front of us, we would never make it. It looked like we might have to spend the night on Orkney Island. Oh, woe is us.

As we rounded the curve toward the ferry terminal in St. Margaret’s Hope,  we witnessed our ferry pulling away from the dock. It was like rubbing salt in the wound to see that it was actually 4:50 pm and the ferry was leaving 20 minutes late. Even so, we weren’t there. I almost had a panic attack when I saw that ferry leaving. There were certainly words coming out of my mouth. Lots of words.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to stay on the island.  We didn’t have nearly enough time there. It’s that I didn’t want to pay for another hotel,  IF we could even find one. We already had a perfectly serviceable, if dark and cavelike, room back in John O’Groats, a place that, while not technically at the end of the world, sure feels like it is. I’m kind of cheap that way. If I’ve already paid for a hotel, I want to stay there, even if I’m not crazy about the place.

But here we were, and my panicked brain almost went down the rabbit hole of woe. What if they couldn’t get us on another ferry for several days? What then? What if we couldn’t find a place to stay for the night? I had already resolved myself to a sleepless night sitting in the car in the the ferry parking lot. My brain can get very dramatic at times.

Inviting white sand beach. Looks warm, but isn’t.

I’m kind of proud to say that I was able to talk myself out of that panic and consider whatever money we spent on this little adventure to be, well, just money. Which is not to say we can afford to waste it. But in a pinch, you do what you can. So it was with an open heart and my tail between my legs that I walked into the ticket office at the ferry and told the nice people behind the counter that we had just missed the boat.

The woman looked at me in a disappointed and disapproving way. It was mild, but direct. Man, that hurt, but I didn’t blame her. I mean, we looked terribly irresponsible.

“Did ye just lose track of the time, then?”, she said in her Scottish lilt. I swear she was trying to find some redeeming quality in me at that point.

“Well, no, actually. I don’t really know what happened, to be honest. We thought we had left in plenty of time to get here but what with tractors and road work, and other American drivers on the road going too slow, it just took way longer than we thought. I’m still wondering why it took so long myself.”

Incredible Neolithic village of Skara Brea.

Apparently these things must happen on Orkney Island, because she immediately said they could put us on the ferry first thing in the morning. Then she apologized to us that it was the early ferry! Are you kidding? I wanted to kiss her and bear her children! She didn’t charge us a fee, either. We were well prepared to have to pay extra because, after all, we were on the roster so no other car could take our place. But no, not a peep about that. We were told, jokingly, not to be late. I half joked back that since we’d likely be sleeping in our car in her parking lot, we would certainly be on time. And I think at that moment, she actually believed our tale and knew that we had not done this on purpose, just to spend more time on the island, but were really a bit out of sorts about it.

As I was telling Mike the good news out by the car, the young man who was also working the desk came out and in a worried tone,  told us if we needed a place to stay to try the Murray Arms Hotel right up the hill. If there was no place at the inn there, we should try this other hotel up the road. He looked very concerned that we were actually going to have to stay in our car, and you know, that really could have happened. It was a Bank Holiday in Scotland and everything was booked. Everything. I had little hope we’d be able to find anything that was available, much less affordable.

So we drove to the Murray Arms first thing, literally 2 blocks away, and asked at the desk. And, of course, the nice young woman said they were fully booked.  However, magic was in the air. As she was calling another place on our behalf,  the manager came in and said they had a last minute cancellation. A couple had decided to check out early, leaving their room free. Whaatt?? What kind of magic is this?

Touching little Italian Chapel built by Italian prisoner’s of war during WWII. You just need to read the story. It’s incredibe.

Turns out, it’s the very best kind of magic where things just work out for the best. We had an absolutely lovely room, just the kind I had imagined staying in on an island in Scotland, filled with light and comfortable beds. It was the kind of room you don’t mind spending a little time in. Mike didn’t even ask the cost. He just put his credit card on the table and said we’d take whatever they had and were very grateful to them. We celebrated our lucky find by having dinner in their bar.

As we ate we made a little bet about how much the room would cost us. I said at least 150 pounds, and he thought 120 pounds. Turns out we were both wrong. That room goes for 190 pounds, but we got the room, with dinner and beers, for 126 pounds and change. We just shook our heads in wonder. The way I figure it, the room had been paid for by the original couple and when they suddenly decided to check out early, they received half their money back. We paid the other half. I have to say, that level of honesty and kindness always leaves me amazed and humbled. Not to mention grateful. They could have easily charged us the full 190 pounds for the room, but they didn’t.

Trompe l’oeil interior.

The extra time spent on the island was well worth it in many ways. We got some practice being flexible and going with the flow, skills we will be needing.  And I enjoyed a long walk on the beach at the harbor at low tide and discovered it was littered with small fragments of decorated porcelain and pottery. Enchanted, I picked up several, along with the biggest scallop shells I’ve ever seen. Back at the hotel, I showed these pottery pieces to the woman working there. She explained these were pieces of dinnerware from the remains of ships sunk in WWII and these were common on the beaches.  The presence of these pieces of pottery made the history of Orkney Island’s role in WWII that much more present and personal on that Memorial Day weekend. Servicemen who gave their lives ate off these plates; a poignant reminder of the human sacrifice all war requires.

Some of the fragments of dinnerware and vessels found on the beach.

We’ve made a pact to go back to Orkney Island, a wild place with a deep history.

More trompe l’oeil. What looks like tiles, is done with paint. Prisoners did this. Can you imagine?

That lantern is made from beef tins.

On our last full day in Edinburgh we wanted to do something that would really allow us to remember our time here; some activity that would leave a lasting, if not permanent, impression on us. It was time to climb to the top of Arthur’s Seat. From that bold face of rock overlooking all of Edinburgh and the sea beyond, with the wind whipping my hair into foam,  I made a startling discovery.

I am shatteringly out of shape.

823 Ft. high. The tiny dots at the top are human people.

The climb to the top of Arthur’s seat is steep and long and rocky. Though I started out with the proverbial spring in the old step, by halfway up, I was seriously questioning my choice of venue for the day.  It’s time like these that I begin to sing little songs in my head. Yes, this is a window into what keeps me going when the going gets tough.

St. Anthony’s Chapel ruin, a nice rest stop before the long slog.

“One day (step) at a time, Sweet Jesus,…that’s all I’m asking from you”.  At times of stress my religious upbringing is likely to rear its head, this time along with a vague memory of an ancient family love of country music. Like many people who have left organized religion well behind them, I am apt to call on the Lord God Almighty when I have questioned my own human willingness to punish myself for having a body. I mean, who else is going to listen to me complain? Also that song has a good rhythm that helps a woman on the downhill side of middle age continue to put one foot up in front of the other.

Looking closely you may be able to see the dun colored Edinburgh Castle in the distance, in the center right area.

Seriously, walking the sidewalks of Tacoma is not the same thing as walking a vertical trail. Who knew? Well, I did, but I forgot. That’s probably best. Had I remembered how hard it is to defy the gravitational pull of earth and rise above it, I would have stayed home.

“I am woman, hear me roar…”. Almost to the top, my legs had their own version of this song called “I am jelly, hear me snore.” I was so very tempted to entitle this post, “Almost-Pensioner Makes it to the Top of Arthur’s Seat and then Takes Nap”, but that was too many words.

Palace of Holyroodhouse, with Holyrood Abbey in the center foreground.

Of course, we made it to the top. Because failure is not an option once begun. Hey, I think that attitude’s pretty much how we find ourselves with a big sailboat, getting ready to set sail.

We got our wish. This hike made a lasting impression on our souls, and even on our hips and knees. Enjoy the spectacular view. We certainly did.

We just need sheep here.