A Castle With a View and a View of the Castle



Below is another shot of the south tip of Loch Ness and the little harbor at Fort Augustus, which I took after dinner Tuesday evening at a little restaurant appropriately called The Boathouse: 

In spite of the overcast nature of the previous evening, I woke up yesterday well before 6:00am with bright sunshine blazing behind the curtains in my room (although I dozed until 7:30--who gets up at 6:00 on a vacation?).  After breakfast, I headed up the A82 to Urquhart Castle, which sits overlooking Loch Ness.  This is what the lake looks like on a sunny day:

Like the other castles I've visited here in Scotland, Urquhart started as a type of hill fort originally and shows signs of inhabitation from long before there was ever a castle.  There is evidence that this was a Pictish stronghold (FYI, Macbeth was a Pict) and records indicate a visit from St. Columba, an Irish monk/missionary responsible for spreading Christianity in Scotland (and the guy whose bones/relics were once housed at Dunkeld Cathedral from the previous entry).  Anyway, as seems to be the pattern, the castle started rather simply, got built up further over the centuries until it was a massive fortress, and then changed hands about a dozen times or more as the English and Scottish forces duked it out for control over Scotland.  There was also a lot of kerfuffle caused by the MacDonalds, who held the castle for years before being kicked out by the king, and then retaliated with constant raids for decades.  Lots more back and forth, and then the last guy to truly occupy the place blew it up to keep it from falling into the hands of the Jacobites.  Seems like a tragic waste of a perfectly good castle (especially since the Jacobites were losing), but I'm not exactly an expert on castle warfare.

At any rate, what remains are various stone chunks of ruins and explanatory plaques, all laid out like the most awesome and gorgeously situated playground/fort ever.  There was a kind of excited glee in all of us adults as we climbed up and down all the narrow stone staircases to the various levels and took in the views.  I kept waiting for someone to divide us into groups, hand out flags, and fire a starter's pistol.

 

Below is one of the many boat tours passing by, probably on the lookout for Nessie.  Considering this lake is more than twice as deep as the North Sea (300 meters at its deepest point) and absolutely massive, it's not hard to imagine something lurking below.

 



Even with so many other tourists around, I somehow managed to have this little section to myself for a good fifteen minutes or so, which I enjoyed from a bench tucked around the corner from the bushes in partial shade. 

While I sat there, I tried to imagine what this place would have been like 500 years ago, fully inhabited and bustling with activity, noise, smells, etc. and most likely much more dark and enclosed.  I'd been reading a retelling of the Sleeping Beauty story  in the previous couple days called While Beauty Slept (well done, but fairly dark and gloomy), which has a medieval castle setting, so that further activated my imagination.  But I must admit I prefer the more open, peaceful setting of the ruins, nature gradually taking over and sprouting weeds, flowers, and bushes from among the rocks.

 

After snapping a photo for a family, they offered to take one of me.  You can probably tell how bright the sun was from my squint, a consequence of my resolve not to wear sunglasses so I could see everything in its true color.

 
I headed down a small path to water level and dipped my hands in it (cool, but not as cold as I was expecting).

And then there was this duck, who decided to take off just as I took a picture, which is now one of my favorite shots:

 

I then returned to my car and continued up the lake (which was a very pretty drive) to Inverness.  Now, nothing against Inverness, which I understand to be quite a popular destination, but at the sight of all the cars and buses stopping up every road, all the buildings and people packed on every block, and the heavy grey clouds above blocking out all the sunshine, I quickly (or at least as quickly as all the traffic would allow) looped around a block and drove straight back out.  Give me a two-lane country highway with nothing but hills and trees and wildflowers over that any day.  As if to affirm my decision, the sun appeared just a few minutes after I left the city.  I'm doing my best to soak it all in and trying not to think about what a shock to the system (and spirits) it will be to return home to Anaheim.

 

I love the beauty here, the slower pace of life, the peace and serenity and simplicity.  Obviously, part of my infatuation is due to the fact that I'm on holiday.  But a large part of it is that life here is vastly different from life at home.  The two Americans I spoke with who live and work here for real confirm that life here is slower-paced and more peaceful than it is in the U.S.  Work is just one part of life, and the idea of spending crazy long hours at the office seems insane here instead of the badge of honor it is in the States.  And then there's all the beauty and the history.  Part of me feels like I could move and live here in a heartbeat.  But part of me also knows that there would be some really difficult aspects.  Winter, for one, and the fact that for many months it starts getting dark at 3:30pm.  You get more daylight than you know what to do with in the summer, but the other side of the coin is a depressingly meagre amount in the winter. 

 

There is also the issue of loneliness and a life that might be a little too quiet.  Peace, quiet, and a fair amount of solitude are nice for some stretches, but if it were for a longer time, I could easily see myself getting depressed and/or going a little bit nuts.  As I witnessed in Perth (and other smallish towns from this trip), too much quiet and too few people out and about can be eerie and isolating.  At home, I can often get discouraged by how busy my life gets, and a frequent longing of my heart there is for less 'clutter' in my day of things to do.  More space and rest and quiet.  Fewer distractions so readily available (while here, I've watched only a small fraction of the amount of TV I do at home).  More natural beauty in the physical environment, which is actually something I think is a necessary and vital part of the whole rest and quiet bit.  But, as something Alix said at one point about living in St. Andrews made me realize, not having much to do can also be a kind of hardship, as can having to build all new relationships.

 

Of course, this is all a very hypothetical and luxurious dilemma to have, especially when I've been faced, over and over again in the last several weeks, with centuries of lives where the days were filled with the relentlessly grim task of simple survival.  To have a taste of all of this and to experience a longing for more of it is, in its own way, a very rich blessing.

 

But back to the fun stuff.  This afternoon, I almost went on a sedate scenic boat tour, but then changed my mind and went on one of these instead:

 

Best decision ever, as it turns out, because even though we had to wear giant insulated suits that made me feel like the Michelin Man and the wind was strong enough that it was like putting my face under one of those high-powered hand dryers, it was ridiculously fun.  Those boats go really fast, and our guide whizzed us all over with lots of sharp turns that were a tiny bit scary at first but exhilarating from start to finish.  Maybe you can tell from my idiotic grin that I'm kind of having a good time.

 

Along with the roller-coaster-like thrills was the added bonus of being able to cover long distances in a relatively short space of time.  Our final point before turning back was Urquhart Castle.  Here's what it looks like from the water:

 

During our ride, our guide told us about a pretty road up the east side of Loch Ness, so when we returned, I hopped in my car and headed that way.  It was one of those narrow-no-lanes-scary-ish roads, but even though there were a few times I thought I was going to end up in a ditch, being able to see things like this along the way more than made up for any momentary terror:

 

 

At the summit of the drive, there was a place to pull over and walk (or climb, really) a path to the real summit, which of course I did even though I was wearing rather impractical footwear.

Some sheep along the way (I thought about clambering down to them to finally get my sheep hug, but my flimsy shoes and the horned sheep's stink-eye made me reconsider.  Plus, they're not as fat and cute as the ones next to the hotel):

 
Almost there:

 

Absolutely stunning views from the top:

 

Interestingly enough, the couple I met at the top (seen here walking back down the path) were two teachers from Morro Bay, California. 

 

 And my final time returning to the place that's been my home for the past four days.  I'll be sorry to leave it tomorrow: