Back to Life, Back to Reality

There comes a time in all vacations when one must gather one's things, stuff them all into the same bag they came in, and go home.  Sometimes this is a blessed thing, sometimes a needful thing, and sometimes a sad thing.  For me, it is a sad thing.  I will miss my cabin, the silence, the birds at the feeder, the sunsets, and the solitude.  And a needful thing, for waiting at home are my children, my job, and my life all paused for a month, all waiting with bated breath for my return.
Despite the cleaning, packing, checking, lugging of luggage around airports, and the tedious flights home, we do pack up and leave, mostly because the people who own the cabin have rented it to someone else, and frankly because you can't live in vacation land.  Responsibilities await.

Coming home is very much like being dropped into the deep end of the pool during a hurricane.  The life you left for a brief moment starts right up again as your feet leave the airport and your people pick you up.  There is a flurry of conversation, then a tornado of laundry.  And then that languishing bit of packing that never seems to find its way back to where it belongs.  Where did it belong?  Perhaps it can camp out on my dresser until I find time to tuck it into that place where I won't lose it and then it will be lost for all time.  Somewhere between the conversation and the laundry you pass out souvenirs and well past ten in the evening you pass out, sleep like a rock in your own bed again, get up in the morning and go back to work, the experiences and memory of vacation dissolving like the morning mist, and life picks up in the same flurry of activity you left because it was too much and we wonder, did I learn anything from this experience?

Did I learn anything?

Well, one obvious thing we all learn from vacation is that all the stuff you brought with you in that one suitcase has suddenly grown to not fit in that one suitcase despite how you fold and cram it.
Another is: old habits die hard, but newly acquired habits linger.  I have been home for two weeks and still have an inclination to drive on the opposite side of the road, and I have had a terrible time turning off my straight-stick brain, although I haven't accidentally clutched my brake, yet.  It is a sad thing that nobody was able to see how well I learned to drive in Scotland.  My show-off side is rather disappointed.
Really, though, what have I learned?  I need to simplify my life so I can have time for myself on a regular basis.  That sounds so wonderful, doesn't it?  It does.  But what does it mean?  And how do you do such a thing?  I am a responsible adult and need to be responsible.  For me that means I have children to raise (thankfully they are almost grown), I have a responsibility to see them properly educated so I homeschool them, and I have to work so I have money to live, and I also have to spend time in needful Bible study and prayer, which should be a top priority, but is the one thing that always falls to the wayside. All these things demand my time (not to mention an occasional social engagement with my girlfriends, who are very important to my sanity), but they must be in balance in order for me to function and be my best.  Then the question is, how do I say no to some things and say yes to other things?  And how do I prioritize my responsibilities?
UUUGGGHHhhh!  I hate the word prioritize about as much as I hate having to prioritize.  I get uncomfortable flashbacks of junior high and an angry teacher crabbing at me that I seriously have to get my priorities straight.  Well, sorry, Mr Angry Teacher (whose name I have forgotten), but Economics will never be a priority of mine.  Never.  Just never.

OK.  Reality.  Priority number one:  needful Bible study and prayer time.
Priority number two:  homeschooling.  I need to be home in order to homeschool, right?  Duh.
So, priority number three must be work.

Setting priorities is all well and good (they look so tidy on paper and all), but putting them into practice requires another thing I hate and that is saying no.  If I say no to my kids who require my attention, they will be uneducated and upset with me.  A responsibility will go unheeded and that is BAD.  If I say no to work, they rely on me, too, and that responsibility will also be neglected.  If I say no to God, my life goes spiraling down the gurgler,  which nobody wants or needs, especially right after vacation.  So no matter what you pick, someone is unhappy.  If you choose not to pick, then I am unhappy and we're talking the gurgler thing again.  So, here's where I have to get tough, which is another thing I hate doing, because again, it upsets people and we can't have that.
What I have done, then, is cut back my working hours so I can be home to school my children.  I have yet to get a new Bible study, but I have one in mind that I want to get, and I am saying no to the small things that take up bits of my time that can be spent more productively.  The hardest thing to say no to, though, is the time in the evening when both my kids want to talk with me until it is nigh on midnight.  I don't know how to reschedule that so I can have personal time and adequate sleep.  But, I will continue to work on it and keep you posted.  I do have a plan, at least on paper.

An Unexpected Delight

What is it when something catches our eye?  A random chance, a coincident, or a nudge from God?  

I was reading on the couch on this rainy Thursday and the sun suddenly burst forth, which means, in Scotland, it will rain harder.  In my cabin, there are two sets of  french doors.  One facing the valley north which changes its glory moment by moment, and one facing the hill west that the evening sun splashes its beauty upon, lighting up the grass heads in a moment of splendor right before sun sets.  Out the first set of doors, looking into the valley, was the largest rainbow I had ever seen.  So close you could touch it.  So complete you could see where it landed on both ends.  So bright I could see every color as if it were painted on a canvas.  Breathtaking!  

Whenever I see a rainbow, I am reminded of God's promise given to Noah after the global flood in Genesis 9:

12 And God said, This is the token of the covenant which I make between me and you and every living creature that is with you, for perpetual generations:

13 I do set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be for a token of a covenant between me and the earth.

14 And it shall come to pass, when I bring a cloud over the earth, that the bow shall be seen in the cloud:

15 And I will remember my covenant, which is between me and you and every living creature of all flesh; and the waters shall no more become a flood to destroy all flesh.

Not only did God give us a visual reminder we can still see today of His promise never to destroy every living creature on the earth with water again, He was also the one who created light with the property to bend and create a rainbow.  Also did God create rain to refract the light to make a rainbow.  Also did God give us a nudge on the couch to enjoy His rainbow and be reminded of His promise that is still kept to this day.

This is an actual rainbow, not photoshopped, not digitally enhanced.  This is exactly as it appeared.

Life Lessons

One cannot spend a month on foreign soil in a cabin alone without learning some things about themselves and the environment around them, so here are some of the things I have learned from staying in Scotland.

1.  Into every day a little rain shall fall.  Now Scotland is not known for sandy beaches and sunburns.  It is not that kind of vacation destination.  It rains.  It rains a lot.  But rain does not necessarily mean a day inside.  A raincoat makes a rainy day enjoyable and Scottish rain, at least what I have experienced of it, is not a lashing painful thing, nor a giant drowning downpour kind of thing.  It is a gentle thing, ranging from a misty day where the moisture hangs in the air but doesn't really fall, to a thick sprinkle, like the rain showerhead everyone covets, but no one buys.  All of the rain is sprinkles and it always rains hardest when the sun breaks through the clouds.  I have enjoyed many days out in the rain, and have enjoyed many rainy days inside with a cup of cocoa and the windows opened so I could hear and smell the rain as I read a book on the couch.

2.  I can cook.  I had my doubts, and bought some peanut butter just in case.  I have not experienced a lot of cooking success in the past many years of adulthood.  I burn things, and overflow things, and just don't know how to cook things.  I have never made a hamburger patty without cutting it in half in the pan and wondering why the blessed thing won't cook.  Perhaps one must consider outside factors to cooking success.  Like trying to cook with two screaming toddlers hanging off your ankles, or later trying to cook with the TV blaring and three people asking you to come look at something obviously more important than my potatoes boiling over.  Correcting math papers while grilled cheese sandwiches turn hopelessly black in the pan.  What's that smell?  Oh, yes, I was cooking something.  But alone in the quiet of my cabin, I can cook something and it turns out pretty good.  I made lamb chops the other day that were succulent and juicy, not black and jerky-like as usual.  And I didn't leave one empty pan burning on the fire, forgotten in the midst of laundry and teenage drama.

3.  I can overcome.  Fear of asking questions, directions, driving on the wrong side, making mistakes.  Whatever.  I have dealt with it all and have come out the other side much more confident and willing to do things I would consider way to scary to even contemplate much less do.  Go to some guy's house, grab one of his kayaks and launch yourself into the river.  He'll not be home, but he will leave the stuff out for you.  Did I mention he has four thousand sled dogs?  What?!  Are you mad?  I'm supposed to drive up to a stranger's house and take out one of his kayaks with no more directions than his is the only house on the right?  Ok.  I'll give it a try, though I hope the dogs are put away.  Crazy.  And yet, a month ago, I would have passed on the whole idea.  Following directions in Scotland:  go that way until you see a sign for (fill in the blank of a town name too long to read or pronounce) and turn left.  Then go til the road ends and you are there.  Road signs other than town names coming up do not exist.  Not once did I see a sign that said you are on Highway A84.  Or that you are going west on it.  All you get is the next five towns coming up in a long cluster sign right on the corner where you are to turn.  Gosh!  I hope that said Beauly.  Otherwise, I may be going to Bugscuffle or something.

4.  Nothing needs to be done.  I am on vacation.  I am on a stress relieving vacation.  If I want to sit in my cabin for a month and count the deer going by, I can.  If I want to drive for hours, go here or there, arrange a side trip, I can.  Quiet is allowed.  And needed.  Busyness is fun and wanted.  A balance of both is ideal.  Having nobody with you to crab at you about being bored, that is a blessing.

5.  It is okay to feel sad when it is time to go home.  It is not okay once you are home to allow the stressors that drove you to take a month long vacation to continue to drive you.  Something must be done or the vacation served no purpose other than a brief reprieve from the madness.

6.  It is good to be alone.  Alone does not have to be lonely.  I have spent much of my days talking to God, reading, working through a Bible Study, and have not felt lonely.  I enjoy the immense quiet.  It is peaceful and life-giving.

7.  Take a bath, however, and you will not be alone for long.  I am not a lover of the bath, but on rare occasions I will enjoy a bath, with candles in a darkened room, music, and bath salts.  And a soon as the sigh escapes my lips, there are my lovely daughters, age 2 and 4 to help.  Mommy let me wash your feet.  Mommy let me wash your face.  Mommy, mommy, mommy, and then my two year old is in the tub with me.  And why didn't I lock the door?  I don't think that would have deterred them.  Now that my girls are well into their teen years, I can take a bath by myself.  Hot water, bath bomb, candles...text message.  Why me?  Why?  How is it they know?  All the way to Scotland and still no bath without my girls.  I can, however, text without dropping the phone into the tub, so there.

Flora and Fauna

Half the fun of going somewhere else is seeing different wildlife.  Here in Scotland, there is quite a lot of wildlife, different and variated.  I can completely understand the magic of fairy pools, mushroom rings, and fanciful tales of elves and ents after really looking at the beauty growing all around.

I think this is a coal tit

I have seen great gnarled trees draped in old man's beard, tiny mushrooms growing atop green spongy moss, secret streams that trickle through the heather, great lumps of lichen covered rocks thrusting up out of the ground.  I even saw an orange mushroom with white polka dots on it!  I kid you not.  It caught my eye lurking under a fern, and there it was.  I half expected to see a fairy perched atop it.

There is also a wealth of wildlife that comes right up to my door.  I have bird feeders right off my deck and spend hours watching the birds bully one another for a turn at the food.  I have identified, I think, a coal tit, and a woodpecker (they aren't hard to identify), but the other birds that frequents the feeder, I have not been able to identify.  I raise the challenge for anyone out there to enlighten me.




In the evenings the deer come to graze right off my deck.  I have seen five at a time all around my cabin. I have tried to photograph them, but due to the angle of the setting sun, they are usually back lit and don't come in clear shooting through the window.  I don't want to scare them away by opening the door.

this is obviously a woodpecker

The brown one I can't identify

Kayaking Down the River Glass

Kayaking is one of my favorite things I usually don't get to do, so on the rare occasion that the opportunity presents itself, I am of a mind to take gross advantage.  Now I am not a daredevil kayaker.  I do not shoot rapids or launch myself off of cliffs.  My style of kayaking requires no protective headgear.  All I want is a nice day, a kayak and a paddle, and a quiet stretch of water. Peace.  Like a river.

The River Glass runs right at the bottom of the valley out my cabin window and meanders in both directions for a few miles, then joins other things.  I took my kayak on a paddle up river from the Struy Inn (in Struy!) and paddled against the river current and the wind until I reached sight of my cabin and then allowed the wind to blow me back to the landing.  All the way up the river there was a white swan swimming ahead of me, just a speck in the distance, but it kept pace with me.

The wind was gusty and at times was downright fierce.  I paddled like a mad woman, but didn't get anywhere, but had to keep up the effort or get blown back downstream.  Then there were quiet, gentle spots where I cut through the river like glass, paddling with little effort.  At one turn in the river, a herd of cows stood up and stared at me, but for all my efforts I could not get them to moo at me.

Once my arms were reduced to useless noodles and my thumbs were hopelessly blistered, I decided to turn back.  The return journey was all the more enjoyable as I was floating with the current and the wind was at my back.  All in all, I paddled for two hours and I would guess I went two miles, gaging by the road that follows the river.

Every time I stopped to snap a photo, the wind would turn the kayak around and blow me into the river bank.

Finally, Beauly!

Beauly is a little around ten miles from Eagle Brae where I am staying.  The first week I was here, I drove to the Beauly Co-op to pick up a few groceries.  Later, I drove into Beauly to take the train to Inverness...twice.  Never did I actually go all the way into Beauly and look around.

Here, in the middle of nowhere, Beauly is actually a pretty big town.  There is a grocery store of a fair size, a gas station, several eateries, and a community center with free parking.  There is a goodly amount of houses right in town and some apartments.  Lots of B&Bs (tell the truth, you couldn't swing a dead cat and not hit a B&B anywhere you went in Scotland) and a hotel or two.  There are even some fun shops to poke around in, one being an antique shop stuffed full of silver household items.  But right at the end of a line of shops is a small ruined church and graveyard.  It was quite a shame that most of the grave markers had eroded to the point of smoothness, and many monuments in the yard had toppled over.  Still, it was a quiet place in the middle of town, and quite unexpected.  I felt a bit sacrilegious as I took some photos of the more elaborately carved grave markers.
Finished with that, I crossed the street, looking in the correct direction for passing cars, and traipsed down the other side of the street.  I stopped at a cafe and asked if they had any gluten free treats. They did, so I purchased a slice of orange-lemon cake and walked back to the car.  All in all, a fun side trip and I gassed up the car to boot.

Seafood and Squemishness

Ok, we have covered the topic of Minnesota seafood, but I wanted to add a bit more on the subject because I am rather impressed with myself and that doesn't happen very often.  Especially in the kitchen.
Yesterday was Thursday and the seafood truck guy came back with his truckload of seafood.  I ordered another filet of sea trout because it was divine and asked what else he would recommend, considering the list he rattled off struck no center of recognition for me and fish types (there was a yellow something, I don't know...).  He said the best thing on the truck were the prawns.  I think he called them king prawns or some such thing.  I asked how to prepare and cook them and he gave me good and thorough instructions, so I took my bag of prawns and sea trout happily back to my cabin and prepared for dinner.
Prawns.  With their heads on.  Complete with eyeballs...and antenna...and legs.  Oh my.
Step one:  cut off the head.  You cannot see my face right now as I recall just that moment, but rest assured I am grimacing quite severely and  trying not to gag.  I poised the knife above its legs and chop.  OH!!  Oh great googly moogly!  A large spatter of orange goo burst forth from the prawn, its beady black eye looking up at me with disdain.  I swallowed, rinsed the knife, vowed I would not vomit, and continued.
Step two:  remove the legs and shell.  Here is where I have visions of my children's pet hermit crabs crying as I pull off their legs.  I remind myself these things are dead and God gave them to us for food, so they don't feel bad, and I shouldn't feel bad.  I pulled off their legs and the shell attached to it.  Now the fish truck guy said to pinch the tail and the bottom bit of the prawn should squirt out of the bottom, and it did.  That part was fun.
Step three:  rip out the entrails.  Prawns have a black intestinal track running the length of the outside of their body.  You simply slice your knife down the back and flick out the offending black bit.  Yeah, right.  That black bit is sticky and a bit gross and does not want to come out without a fight.  Then I noticed another black stripe on the inside curve of the prawn and cut that out, too.  I rinsed the prawn off in cold water and set it aside.  One down, three to go.  So far I have not thrown up.
On my second try, I did find the sweet spot behind the head to avoid the orange burst of guck.  All four prawns cleaned and ready and no vomiting.  I am rather pleased with myself at this point.  I usually can't cut apart a raw chicken without gagging.  The final test:  can I cook the things and actually eat them now that I have witnessed and participated in their butchering?
I cooked the prawns in a hot pan with butter, salt and pepper, having no garlic to hand, and ate them on a bed of rice.  They were delicious!  They were the most flavorful shrimp-type things I had ever eaten.  It made shrimp from Red Lobster compare to raw rubber bands.  And I like shrimp from Red Lobster...especially the coconut shrimp.
I will say as a final caveat, I did have to concentrate on enjoying the flavor of the prawns while trying not to think about what I just did to keep from gagging.  But I ate them and enjoyed them.

I have purposefully not included photos for the comfort of my readers.

Of Back Roads and Evil GPS Machines

I have a Garmin.  We purchased it for a trip to Kentucky and since it's been laying around virtually unused since then, I figured I would purchase the UK chip and use it in Scotland.  It was a brilliant stroke of genius, I thought.  No folding of maps or hastily written cryptic directions blowing around my back seat, no.  Technology is my friend.  Well, apparently not in Scotland.
The Garmin only works if it is plugged into the car.  If you take it inside any structure, it has lost it's ability to find you on satellite.  Hmmm...  It also took two days to find me on said satellite (two days of trying, not two solid days).  Anything I wanted to visit, the Garmin had never heard of.  But slowly, I was beginning to figure it out.  See, in America, I could put in to the Garmin: find the Creation Museum and magically the little red line would snake its way through the states and land on the Creation Museum.  Flag planted.  Trip planned.  But here in Scotland, the Garmin must have become suddenly unhelpful.  I would like to go see the Loch Ness Center and Exhibition.  The Garmin says, "What?  There can't be such a place."  So I put in: find Drumnadrochit.  Oh!  That it can find.  Now if you pull off the road half way to Drumnadrochit and put in: find the Loch Ness Center, it can find it...magically.  So a long road trip may be managed by breaking it up into bits and then stringing them all together.  I found that it can find towns much more easily than attractions.  Apparently, the places I visited were rare and wonderful finds since the Garmin could only locate them if we were within 20 miles of the place.  If at all.

Besides being unable to locate things, my Garmin has a strange sense of logic when it lays out a trip.  Case in point:  I wanted to go to Dunvegan Castle by way of Uig.  Now there are two roads in all of Skye.  On the map, one is red and one is green.  If you find yourself on any other road, you are lost.  I could not convince my Garmin to go the way I wanted to go, so I went my own way and forced it to recompute.  I enjoy that.  It's like teasing the voice that bosses me around and scares the crap out of me on long trips.  Payback.  Recompute!
As vengeance for forcing the thing to recompute on the way there, it decided instead of simply reversing course and taking me back to my B&B on the major road, it would send me down a back road only Satan in his glory could have laid. I kid you not!  Seven miles of the scariest road I have ever driven down.  Now in Satan's defense, the road was paved, and the paved part was smooth.  Unfortunately, it was only one car width wide and the shoulder of the road consisted of a one foot drop off into potholed death.  Which I had to venture into because I met a car head on and there were no passing places nearby.  At all.  The scenery, however, was breathtaking and wonderful, which is why Satan chose to put this road in.  To punish us for wanting to enjoy God's glory.
I did, in fact, make it out alive, no thanks to the road that in the last mile decided to lay a sharp switchback followed by a decent only a roller coaster would appreciate.  And a man on a bicycle in the switchback who looked like he was ready to die.

Evil Garmin.

Skipping off to Skye

You can't very well visit Scotland without choosing an island or two to visit.  I chose Skye for no other reason than the idea appealed to me.  I figured it was no further than a trip to Duluth, so why not drive on over.
The first thing to consider is how to get there.  With Skye you have a choice:  drive over the bridge, or take the ferry (and there's more than one).  In my vast experience with doing brave things, I quickly decided there was no way I was driving my car onto a ferry, so I took the bridge.  Caution is the better form of valor, right?  Ok, so I am just a chicken.  I can take it.
The second thing to consider is what to do when you are there to make the most of your time.  I was originally thinking of making it a day trip.  Hit a few highlights, take a walk or two, and head back to the cabin.  Then I began researching all the possibilities: castles, museums, shopping, hiking, kayaking, seal trips, etc.  In reality, I could have spent about five days on Skye just fulfilling my wish list.  So I settled on three days, two nights and intended on cramming in as much as I could stand.
The third thing to consider is the weather.  If you don't want to hike in a downpour, plan on inside things like museums and shopping in town.  If you don't mind hiking in a downpour and have planned ahead and purchased rain pants as well as a rain coat, then by all means, hike in the rain.  I had not considered rain pants or really rain at all, so things did not go as planned.

I had planned on leaving in the morning, stopping a few places on the way to tour, and getting into Portree about noon or so, so I could do a few walks before I got to my B&B.  Old Man of Stor, Kilt Rock, and the Quiraing were on my list of walks to take and all on the way to the B&B.
When I crossed the bridge into Skye, it started to sprinkle.  By the time I got to Portree, it was pouring, windy, and cold.  I had planned on stopping in Portree to do some shopping, so I donned my rain coat and stomped around the town.  It is always a good idea to stop first at the Information Center and get a map of the area and hit the public toilets (which were very nice), before adventuring out.  Oh, and remember where you parked.  Portree has quite a few interesting shops to look through, my favorite being Skye Batiks, and many cafes and restaurants, some with gluten free fare.

So, after I was thoroughly soaked and chilled to the bone, I decided against hiking in a windy downpour and continued on to Staffin to the Hallaig Guest House where I was staying for the next two nights.  Betty greeted me as I dripped onto her floor and asked if I would like dinner (it was about 4:30 at the time) and she had tomato soup for dinner!  Oh joy and rapture!  Hot soup!  And it was delicious!  I went to bed that night, hot soup in my stomach, listening to the wind howl and the rain lash against the windows...and sheep bleating.  Really.

Day two I had planned on going to Dunvegan Castle and chatted with Willy (Betty's husband) about the best route to take.  He suggested going up around the Quiraing through Uig and around to Dunvegan, so that is the route I took.  The scenery was fantastic!  I stopped at the Museum of Island Life on the way, which by far had the best gift shop of all the places I stopped.  I could have bought one of everything there, but settled on a sweatshirt, and now regret not picking up some other things.
Castles are always fun to tour.  I enjoy the art and artifacts, and the architecture of the building.  Dunvegan did not disappoint.  The castle was worth the tour, but the gardens were amazing!  You could spend a good hour or two walking the grounds enjoying garden after garden.
After that, I had to gas up the car, so I found a gas station in town and headed back to the B&B.

Day three I had planned on visiting the Clan Donald Center and then hitting a shop called Ragamuffin (you can google it) which is just off the pier in Armadale.  So I said goodbye to Betty and Willy and headed out to Armadale.  The drive was fantastic, and the scenery divine.  It really makes me think about how blessed we are.  God didn't have to make the earth beautiful, but he chose to anyway, to His great glory, and He put a vast quantity of it in Scotland.  We used to consider Wisconsin God's country, but I amend that.  Scotland is clearly God's country.  So off we went.  Clan Donald Center is a reading museum, which means there is more to read than see, but they displayed it well and I enjoyed it.  They had some artifacts and some excellent paintings and a very good history of the Clan Donald and the Isle of Skye.  The castle is a ruin you can walk over to see.  It is right on the ocean, so the views are fantastic.  And the gardens around make for good walking.  After reading my way through the museum, I quickly jaunted off to the ruins, and headed straight for the cafe.  I was starving and as I have mentioned previously, fainting from hunger is embarrassing, so best skip all the walking and stuff food in my face, quickly.
The cafe had soup without gluten and dairy so I got the soup, some chips, and gluten free chocolate cake!  I almost kissed the guy behind the counter!  Chocolate Cake!!  Be still my soul.
Back in the car, rain began to pour down, and I headed to the pier.  Ragamuffin!  It is one of those stores that speaks to me.  I want one of everything they sell!  I expected it to be expensive so I budgeted the bulk of my spending money just for that.  I was planning on buying an outfit, but once I got inside, it was really spendy, so I settled on one thing and bought a sweater.  And I love it!  I almost skipped to the car, but people were looking, so I squirreled away my treasure and drove on.

I hit Invermoriston by about 2:30 and had about an hour left to drive when I got to the junction for Drumnadrochit and the road was coned over and a van was parked in the intersection.  A highway worker came up to my window and reported:  there were two serious car crashes on the road ahead, one on the way to Drumnadrochit, and one on the way to Inverness.  He said the roads would be closed for hours.  I asked him was there an alternate route?  He said I could go back to Skye and take the other road over to Beauly.  That would be two hours back and two hours going around.  He said I could go get a drink at the cafe and enjoy the day.  I didn't tell him what I thought of that.
I parked my car at the hotel and bar and went to enjoy the day.  Apparently there is a lot to see in Invermoriston when you need to be there for an indeterminate amount of time.  I walked over to see a waterfall, walked in the woods, hit some shops in the town, and finally sat in my car and had a snack.  While sitting there, I prayed for the crash victims and the emergency workers, and I also asked that they would get the road open before dark so we could all go home safely.  About 4:30 they pulled away the cones and we were on our way.

Home again, home again, jiggety-jig.

In the kitchen

I will have to admit, as far as kitchen skills go, I am not a great contender.  My biggest concern coming to Scotland was finding a can of cocoa powder to feed my insatiable need for hot chocolate, and then there was all that stuff about cooking food and eating things to maintain a conscious life (as I have said before, fainting from hunger is embarrassing).  So I was able to trot off to a local grocery store and obtain the holy grail of cocoa powder: a large canister of the stuff.  Now we are not talking drinking chocolate or those hideous packets of mix-in-hot-water stuff regardless of tiny marshmallows in the mix, I am talking baking cocoa.  The stuff you have to lovingly mix just right or it is ruined.  (If you have never tried hot chocolate with baking cocoa and are deluding yourself with said packets, I dare you to try it:  one to two heaping teaspoons of baking cocoa, the same amount of table sugar, add dribbles of milk one at a time while stirring.  Once it forms a paste looser than peanut butter, you can add the rest of the milk and stir to mix.  Nuke til hot or heat on the stove if you still live in the stone age.  Adjusting the amount of cocoa powder and sugar make the drink either milk chocolaty or dark chocolaty as you prefer.  Add one scant drop of vanilla extract and float off into chocolaty goodness)  sigh...

So, having purchased the cocoa powder, I am eager to make some hot chocolate.  As they have generously supplied the sugar, I head to the sugar canister to scoop some up and never anticipated this:  Packets of sugar!!  Not kidding.  How many packets of sugar equal about a tablespoon?  Quite a lot.  How many packets are left after two weeks?  Not a lot.  I'll have to order more.

After fun with cocoa, I went to oatmeal.  How hard could that be?  After all it is a simple ratio of water to oats just like rice and homemade syrup.  Here are the instructions on the bag of oats: for best results cook on the hob.  Allow approximately 50g oats per person.  Place oats in a small sauce pan and add 300ml cold water.  Alternatively milk may be used instead of water to give a more luxurious, creamy porridge.  Bring gently to the boil and simmer for 2-3 minutes, stirring continuously.  Add sugar or salt                                                                                     to taste.  DO NOT REHEAT.

There were no measuring cups to use, just the scale.  Could this giant scale actually measure out a scant 50g?  That would be the first 5 lines on the scale.  Most scales aren't very accurate under the first 10 parts.  But I'll give it a whirl.  So, I assumed the 50g goes with the 300ml for one serving and measured it out.  Worked out great!  Never made anything by weighing the ingredients before.  And the scale was quite accurate.  It even measured the weight of the paper towel.

There's two down, actually three down.  On my first night here I made rice with no measuring cups.  I did have a teacup, so I made rice like my grandmother did.  One teacup of rice, two teacups of water.  Done deal.  The next challenge:  seafood.  As it happens, a seafood truck comes once a week to the resort and sells freshly caught seafood.  How can you pass that up?  Now I am a lover of Minnesota seafood, you know, the stuff that comes from Red Lobster.  Nobody knows how it actually gets here still fresh, but it magically does (we being so close to the coast and all).  I have heard from those people on TV who claim that really fresh seafood is sweet.  Or at least it has a sweetness to it.  Like coconut shrimp at Red Lobster...mmmm...shrimp...

Anyway, my longtime standing favorite is scallops.  I've only had them about three times in my life, but remember liking them quite a lot.  So logic dictates that fresh scallops should be better than the magical whatever we get in Minnesota, so I bought some.  And I asked the fish guy how to cook them.  He said cook them on the hob, not at the highest number, but just one less.  Flip them when they are toasty and cook the other side the same.  I can handle that.  I ordered three and thanked him and took my treasures home to cook them.  

First thing I notice, is that the scallop is not just a round chunk, but it has another fleshy bit hanging off the side with an orange tip.  Don't know if you eat it or cut it off, so I left it and fried them up just like the guy said to.

Regular magic Minnesota scallops, if you've ever had them, are a bit tough, stringy, and a bit fishy.  And if you are lucky, they have a bit of grit in them somewhere that surprises you halfway through chewing.  Scottish caught sea scallops cooked the way the fish guy said to cook them are soft, creamy, and weird tasting.  I can't even explain what it tastes like.  I did eat them.  I am not sure I enjoyed them.  But the TV guys are right, they do have a sweetness to them.  Not sweet like sugar, but sweet like fresh water, if that makes sense.

Notice the extra bits that are orange?  They are orange all the way through!  I did not eat them.  Andrew Zimmern i am not.  Yick.

Ticket to Ride

Let me tell you, the train revelation was a good one.  Here's an addition to it's awesomeness:  the train station in Inverness is right next door to the Bus Depot!  I know!  So adding to my riding of public transportation in foreign lands ability, I added a bus trip to the Culloden Battlefields.

Beauly Train Station

On the bus

Here's how it goes:  drive to the train station in Beauly and catch the 10:19 train to Inverness.  Then take a right out of the train station and wander around a bit.  Ask for directions to the bus depot.  Follow directions to the bus depot, stand in a long.. slow.. moving.. line.  Ponder the possibility that while you are standing in said line, you may be missing your bus to the Culloden Battlefields.  Once it's your turn, inquire about a bus ticket and inquire where to pick up the bus (very important!) because it is not at the bus depot.  It is somewhere else.  Go to the somewhere else and check out the buses as they go by.  You need the 5A.  You see the 5A.  You don't just get on it and hope for the best, you ask the driver, just in case, if he is indeed going to the Culloden Battlefield.  He responds, no, but he is going near it.  You can take this bus and I'll drop you near the battlefield.  It's a five minute walk.  Or you can take the next bus in 20 minutes.  Near or next...near or next...near could mean anything.  It's near...right through that cow pasture, on the other side of that river, past this next town, down that giant hill.  I ask him if you can really walk to it from there.  He assures me it is a 5 minute walk and hastens me to make my decision.  Fine!  I purchase a round trip ticket from him and get on, trusting in his five minute walk.  And away we go!
The last stop the bus makes is at Cumberland Stone, next to a stone.  Really.  A real stone.  Anyway, he motions for the rest of us on the bus, here's the stop for Culloden Battlefield.  He points us down a small hill.  You can see it from there and there is a sidewalk all the way to the front door.  Being impatient pays off.

Culloden Battlefield is a museum on the cite of the battlefield where the Jacobites and the English fought over the sovereignty of the king; the King of England or the Stuart King from Scotland.  There's a whole lot more to it than just that.  Google it if you want to learn the whole story.  It is a complex matter rooted in all kinds of political intrigue.
At the museum, the displays take you through the entire story from both points of view, the English and the Jacobites, with a collection of memorabilia to add to the story.  They have a 360 degree room where you stand in the center of the battle and witness it firsthand.  Once through the museum's displays, you can go outside and walk some paths along the battlefield.  They have a row of red flags marking off the English line and a row of blue flags marking off the Scottish line.  You can barely see the one side from the other.  It is quite astonishing how large a battlefield actually is.  I couldn't imagine the amount of soldiers, horses, and canon that filled the place on that day.

The pointy rock nearest the bottom is the rock I set on the stone

As you follow the paths, there are markers where certain people fell in battle or where they stood in line.  I found a spot where the Macdonalds fell and took a photo of the memorial stone.  It is customary to leave a small pebble on the stone as a rememberance, so I did.
There is something sobering and sad about the place; not just that it marked the deaths of so many soldiers, but that it also marked the death of a way of life as well.

The Train! The Train!

There is a train in Scotland and it stops in Beauly which is a pretty easy drive from Eagle Brae. There is a parking lot at the train stop in Beauly which is signed and pretty easy to find.  If you wait outside for a while a train comes by and it is pretty easy to get on it and go somewhere else.  Today I took that train to Inverness and walked around the town all day!  Oh, and did I mention once you get off the train in Inverness, you are already in the city center so all you have to do is walk out the door, wander around aimlessly and you will find all kinds of really fun shops and eateries.  If you happen to be sensitive to gluten and dairy like I am, none of those eateries have anything you can eat in them.  I did inquire at a specialty food store if there were any gluten free eateries out there.  She said there is one called Nourish, or something like that, and gave me directions.  I thanked her and spent the next hour trying to find the place with no luck. I eventually settled on a cafe and had a quiche (which was served cold!) and a salad and a lactaid and prayed for the best.  Thankfully, I got the best and went on my merry way without crippling stomach pain (sometimes you have to roll the dice between stomach pain and fainting from hunger and fainting is so embarrassing).

Looking down High Street

My daughter, who shall remain nameless, has been homeschooled since first grade and every year I have purchased for her a school uniform.  Why?  Because she likes them.  She asked me to pick her up a school uniform with a badge on it from Inverness.  I thought, seeing school is just about to start, how hard could that be?  I walked off the train, out of the train station, turned down the first street I was on and there in the middle of the block was a school uniform shop.  It was as if the clouds parted, sunlight shone down from above, and angels sang.  I didn't even have to ask for directions!  In I went, got her a sweater with a badge on it and a pleated skirt, mission accomplished!

My older daughter wants a sweatshirt that says Scotland on it to go with the seven thousand other sweatshirts she has that don't say Scotland on them.  I haven't found the perfect one for her yet.  But I trolled lots of stores looking for just the right one.

Crossing the River Ness

So, after shopping all over town, I hit the information center, got a map and took a walk along the river and around two islands in the river, then on to the Inverness Botanic Gardens, and back to the train station.  The walk took about a bit over an hour and the Botanic Garden was really a neat place to see.  I wish I could take plants back home with me because they had some really nice potted heathers for sale.  They also had ice-cream.  Everywhere here has ice-cream.  I think it may be a national obsession.  Seriously, everywhere ice-cream.

Inverness Botanic Gardens

The Loch Ness Monster

All you've ever wanted to know about Loch Ness and its famous monster is packed into a very well made production you walk through and watch at the Loch Ness Centre and Exhibition in Drumnadrochit.  Parking is well managed and flows up the hill and around the back side of the castle-like structure.  Walking in to the front doors, you purchase your ticket for the show, watch an introductory video, and enter a series of cave-like spaces for the tour.  Each stop has a video of about 10 minutes describing a portion of the history of Lock Ness and the monster sightings.  Each chamber of the tour houses set pieces and props to go along with the topic of discussion.  The entire production is very well researched and science-based, and very interesting.  The entire show lasts about 45 minutes.

So, here's what you do at the Centre:  go first to the ice cream shop (called the Necessity) and purchase boat tour tickets for the next hour (it takes 45 mn to see the show so get the boat tour for afterward), go see the show, bum around the gift shops for a bit, then board the small bus outside the hotel restaurant that will take you on the boat tour.  Enjoy the boat tour!  It's worth the money.  (Take your dramamine beforehand so you don't vomit on the boat.)  Then arrive back at the Centre.  Have a bite to eat there or better yet, cross the street in front of the hotel and follow the sidewalk around the corner and over the bridge and enjoy a cute little village of shops and eateries two blocks walk from the Centre.

From Loch Ness Urquhart Castle

This is down the street in Drumnadrochit

Waterfalls and Pony Trekking

Today I drove out to Pladda Falls to walk the waterfall and enjoy the day.  The waterfall was stunning to say the least.  They are always my favorite things to see and if you can get right up close to them all the better.  This one has an excellently marked trail system, well laid trails, and excellent view points.  To get right down to the falls required going off the well made trail onto a small muddy trail that hitched around a tree at the edge of a cliff (right at the edge, not even an inch away) and down almost a vertical drop.  Hmm.  Mud.  Vertical drop.  I debated the worst case scenario.  If  I slid on my backside all the way down, would I actually fall in the water or could I slow myself down by clutching at passing trees?  Could I look like I meant to slide down the trail gracefully instead of tumbling like the uncoordinated middle aged woman that I am?  And if I reached the bottom without incident, could I manage to climb back up the slippery slope?  Had I been twenty or so, I would have chanced it.  But being older and wiser and having ungracefully tumbled down far too many muddy trails, I decided caution was the better form of valor and went the other way;  half to save me the embarrassment of having someone of official status come haul me out of the river, half to save myself from mangling myself right before a trail ride.   (I have discovered in my 40 plus years that it is never a good idea to mangle yourself if you have other plans that day.)

The trail around the falls was surrounded by blooming heather and tons of wild blueberries.  Wild flowers spread around and huge trees towered overhead.  I actually saw a few fat bumblebees fly into a hole in the ground right in front of me, and some large mushrooms growing around the mossy tree roots looking all the world like fairy gardens.  It was truly beautiful.

After about an hour or so of walking, climbing, and photographing, I got back into the car and rode to Cougie Lodge for pony trekking.  Sasha and Iain Macintosh have quite the setup.  I arrived a bit early, but no matter, Iain was busy getting the ponies ready for the ride while Sasha was just coming in from a previous ride.  Friendly and knowledgeable, they got everyone ready for a two hour trail ride.
I haven't been on a horse for probably six years, but years of horsemanship lessons at camp kicked right in and I found no difficulty riding an English saddle versus a Western saddle.  If anything, I found the English saddle a bit comfier.  Although truth be told, we just sauntered down the trail, no trotting or running, so I can't attest to falling off in less than favorable conditions.
Sasha was a masterful horse lead, managed the trail ride like the professional she is.  I was able to manage my own horse, and the other two riders, a mother and girl about 10, were happy to allow Sasha to lead their horses on ropes for them.  It was so enjoyable to listen to the girl chatter on joyfully about everything and nothing, squealing and giggling over the pony's antics, and just fully enjoying the experience like children do.  We adults chatted with each other while we drank in the scenery.  Oh to live in such a place.  It reminded me of moving to Wisconsin where it was so quiet and beautiful (icky house and poor company notwithstanding).

www.highlandponytrekking.com

Of Driving and other Frightful Pastimes

We are spoiled in Minnesota.  We may not realize it as we slog through construction and curse at other drivers, but we are spoiled.  We have roads.  With shoulders.  And ditches.  Roads that two cars fit abreast with room in the middle for a third if we liked (or a large piece of lumber).  In Scotland, that is not the case.  There are roads, mind you, but not like ours.  They have dual carriage ways and single carriage ways.  The dual carriage ways have a dotted line between you and the oncoming traffic.  The single carriage ways may or may not have room for two cars to pass each other, no dotted line and no shoulders.  They do have passing places which are small niches carved out of one side of the road or the other that should you meet another car coming toward you, you can slow down and smudge over a bit and the two of you can wave and pass each other.  Where there should be a shoulder, there is a crumbly bit of pavement that is edged in either foliage that has taken over a foot of the road, a small wet ditch about a foot deep, a cliff going down into a river gorge, or a stone fence.  The road may or may not be wide enough for two cars to pass and a car is headed your way.  No passing place, stone fence, and a car bearing your way.  I dare you not to panic.

Oh, and did I mention, locals drive these roads at 50 mph plus.  And they are curvy.  Very curvy.

Here is what I have discovered about driving in Scotland.  First, do not stare at the crumbled edge of pavement on your left, you will fall off the road.  Look out front like you normally do.  Second, the other drivers know if there is room or not to pass and they will clue you in.  Try to ignore the fact that it looks like your side mirrors are going to high five as you pass each other.  They wont.  If the motorist coming toward you is not worried, slowing down, or moving to the side, you can both pass each other with a bit of room to spare.  You can actually see this if someone is in front of you (extremely helpful).  If the other driver is slowing down, slow down yourself.  If he moves over, you move over if you can.  Sometimes you can't and it's on the other driver to make the space if they can.  If the passing place is on your side, it is your responsibility to judge oncoming traffic and use the passing place and wait for the other car to pass.  You can also stop on the road opposite a passing place and let the oncoming car veer around you in it.

Now that I see there is some rhythm to the roadway, I have had much more pleasant driving experiences.  At least on roads.  Once you get into town, the intersections are a whole other matter.

In the wee hours of the morn

Beep Beep Beep... The noise pulled me instantly out of a deep sleep.  The kind of deep sleep where you are not quite sure you actually heard something or just dreamed it.  Your brain pauses for a moment to re-acclimate and debate whether you should panic or not.  Hmmm,  worthy of panic, not worthy of panic.  We'll keep the heart on notice while we wait.  Perhaps it will do it again.

Beep Beep Beep...  Oh, yes.  Definitely heard that.  Not worthy of panic decides brain, but worthy of investigation.  I know, I'll just get up in the dark and look around at what could be making that noise.
Flashlight in hand, I checked out the bedroom, all the while I am pretty sure I should know what makes that sound.

Beep Beep Beep...  Not in the bedroom, perhaps in the living room.  I pick up my phone, my kindle, neither of them seem distressed.  Did I leave the fridge door open?  Nope.  The oven on?  No.  Since I am in the kitchen, I noted the time: 5am.  And no, it wasn't the clock either.  Must go upstairs.

Beep Beep Beep...  Got it.  My old backup phone is sitting on the computer desk panicking and out of juice.  Fine.  I can certainly fix this at 5 in the morning.  But just when I am pounding down the stairs feeling a bit grumbly about a panicking cell phone disturbing my sleep AT 5 AM!, I round the corner and see this:

Funny how something you considered an annoyance turns into a blessing.

Going up the hill

This morning I decided to take a walk.  There is a path up to the hydro weir, so I figured I'd go hike up there and if I felt up to it, hike to the top of the hill and take a look-see.  Well, the hydro weir is at the top of the hill.  The climb was quite vigorous but the view was worth it.  Once I crested the hill, the vast expanse poured out before me, heather a-bloom, streams a-gurgling.  There was a good bit of craggy rock a bit higher to sit on, so I crossed a stream with much gracefulness and scrambled up the rocky bit and sat down.  The wind was strong on top of the hill and this song that David Crowder sings came to mind:


"How He Loves"
(originally by John Mark McMillan)

He is jealous for me,
Loves like a hurricane, I am a tree,
Bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy.
When all of a sudden,
I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory,
And I realize just how beautiful You are,
And how great Your affections are for me.

And, oh, how He loves us, oh,
Oh, how He loves us,
How He loves us all

  I have always loved the imagery in this song, but sitting high in the hills, the wind blowing so hard all around, I felt God's presence strong as the wind, but gentle enough not to blow me off the side of the hill.

It was a good day.

On my own

Oh glorious jet lag, I have not felt your fuzzy-headed vengeance, for I followed the advice of a well traveled person and stayed up all day walking and writing and whatever.  I will, however, admit to becoming a bit slug-like and unresponsive for the last few hours.  I dare anyone else to fare better considering an 8 hour first flight, a 3 hour layover, an hour and a half second flight, and a frightening 45 minute drive on the wrong side of the road.  And all of it without falling asleep.

I did finally manage to cook dinner, take an amazingly hot bath in a tub that actually covered you with water.  All of you.  All at once.  Without bending your knees and splashing.  Allow me a moment...

Ok.  I was in bed by ten, Scotland time.  Tried to read through swirling eyes, gave up and was out in a matter of seconds.

I did not regain consciousness until 1:30 pm the next day.  I am not even all that ashamed to admit I had breakfast at two in the afternoon. It does make for a short day.

So, today all I did was run into Beauly for some additional groceries and things I didn't want to pack and lug all the way here.  The second attempt at driving was much better than the first.  The really narrow road is not that long.  And I am proud to report that I did not scream every time I passed a car on that road.  Didn't even squeak.  I made all the proper right handed turns and remembered to look for cars in the correct directions.  When I got back to the cabin, I felt like Tom Hanks in Castaway when he ran around yelling, "I have made fire!"

"I have driven a car!"

Amsterdam

Another view near my cabin

The stove

Dinner

 

Funny sign

The view from my deck

...and she DRIVES on the wrong side of the road!

I am truely a fortunate woman, and so are all the drivers near and around Inverness today because I had the best gift anyone could have given another human being.  I had Ian helping me navigate driving on the wrong side of the road.  If it wasn't for his generosity, most of northern Scotland would be dead by now and I will tell you why in one simple word: ROUNDABOUTS.  Don't they sound so fun, so carefree, like a merry-go-round?  Roundabouts...round and round we go.  No.  That is not the way they go.  First there's anticipation.  Here it comes.  I think I may have it...I see the signs.  Then there's confusion.  Wait!  Where is the traffic coming from?  I am supposed to merge with them?  In two lanes?  With all these triangley bits jutting into the road disorienting me?  And change lanes?  Twice.  And then get off...no!  Get off more... to the right...around that car.  Now go!  Then there's a bit of screaming.  Not the loud horror movie screaming, the little near miss screaming.  Just a bit and then you're done.  Oh wait.  There's another one right up ahead.

My hero Ian helped me navigate, oh maybe seven or eight of those things IN A ROW!  IN TRAFFIC!   And he did a great job!  I would not have made it if it weren't for him.

I am now safely in my cabin, with the car turned off.  I made some dinner and even figured out how to work the stove.  I am so tired...