And Then I Drove Some More

Yesterday I bid farewell to Perth and started the journey north.  I say "journey" because far from being a simple trip from Point A to Point B, this experience encompassed not only the more literal definition of traveling, but also the more metaphorical definition of undergoing some sort of challenge and resulting transformation.

My first stop, once I'd circled the city of Perth a time or two trying to get to the right highway (it's a small city, fortunately), was Birnam to see the famous Birnam Oak, which is the last of the great trees from the medieval forest that used to be there.  There is a newer forest now, "newer" in the sense that the trees about one or two hundred years old are "newer."  Given my earlier difficulty with finding the right tree, I was relieved to find some clear signage this time around.

 

The signs are not only informative--they're also funny.  When I saw the tree above, I got all excited and started snapping a bunch of photos.  And then I read the marker in front of it:

At the next big, old-looking tree, I had learned enough to read the sign before taking photos, and this one gave me a chuckle as well:

And then there it was--the great Birnam Oak, which has grown so large and heavy it's had to be propped up with posts.

 

Once upon a time, this was a younger, shorter tree, and if it had been in the play Macbeth, Malcolm would have ordered his men to hew down its branches to hold in front of them to disguise their numbers, hence looking to Macbeth like the forest marching upon him.  What confuses me, though, is why Shakespeare would have chosen Birnam Wood when it's nowhere near Dunsinane Hill.  In fact, there are several woods much closer.  Perhaps the photocopied research I received will explain.  If not, I might have to look into that a bit.  Either there's some significance to Shakespeare's choices or he was bad at geography (or just didn't care about minor details like that).

 

Trees and distances aside, I enjoyed a walk along this lovely section of the Tay River, which runs through much of central Scotland. 

 

Just a couple miles from Birnam is Dunkeld, my next stop.  The cathedral here used to be a Christian mecca in the medieval period (building started on it in the 1200s), housing the relics and bones of  St. Columba.  Part of the cathedral was restored in the 1800s and currently functions as the parish church, but the older section remains in ruins that are currently closed to the public and undergoing some structural repair. 

Below is the one section of the old church still open--the bell tower.

The weather was, as I was told by a shopkeeper, typical Scottish weather--sunny one minute, then cloudy grey and raining the next.  Sometimes it was sunny and raining at the same time.  The same shopkeeper recommended that I make a stop for lunch at a place called Bruar Town, which was basically a shopping center selling all kind of local foods and lots and lots of Harris Tweed.  I stocked up on a few gift items, ate a ridiculously overpriced salad, then got back on the road. 

By now the terrain had changed quite a bit.  Instead of wide, green fields interspersed with gently rolling hills, these highland hills were much higher, craggier, much more densely covered with trees, and more dramatic as a whole.  At home, I tend to be something of a lead foot when I drive.  This is because my life at home is usually quite busy and I'm focused on getting to wherever I'm going as quickly and efficiently as possible.  This is also because there is nothing worth looking at on any of the drives--in fact, it's often quite ugly, making me even more eager to get where I'm going.  But here, you see this:

I was driving on a 2-lane highway, which turned into a road with no clear sides, and until I got a little more used to it, my heart was in my throat every time a truck or bus would come careening around a bend, forcing me to hug the edge of the road and passing by with only a hair's breadth between us.  But there were long stretches where there wouldn't be any other cars at all, and it was easy to imagine myself the only person for miles.  In some ways, this was very disconcerting (especially as my phone, and therefore my GPS, had no reception), but it was also very peaceful.  I could toodle along as slowly as I wanted, drinking in all this beauty and pulling over to take photos whenever I was moved to.  Surprisingly, I felt no anxiety about getting lost even though there were a number of times I had no idea what road I was on or if I was heading in the right direction.  There really aren't that many roads in this part of Scotland, so I just trusted that if I kept driving, I'd eventually come to either a sign or a person who could point me in the right direction.

   

Stopping to ask for directions was actually part of the fun as I met some very nice people along the way, one of whom assured me I could always turn around and come back for the night if I didn't get where I needed to be.

 

Fortunately for me and my bladder, I did eventually arrive where I needed to be, which was here: 

 

This is the Glengarry Castle Hotel, my "splurge" of the trip (thanks in part to a very sweet and generous gift from my neighbors/second-parents, Jerry & Lynda).  It's a manor house that got turned into a hotel, and while it's not quite Downton Abbey, it does feel a bit like I'm staying at my genteel granny's house.  Below is my room and the views out the two windows.

 

 

I love the view of the water (Loch Oich), but I think I might love those sheep just a tiny bit more.  I can hear them "baaa," and they are so fat and puffy and sweet that I've had to fight the urge to run downstairs, climb over the fence, and just go hug one.  They're probably quite dirty and smelly up close, but all that puffy wool makes me want to get hands-on, kind of the way seeing a mound of dough just makes me want to squish it.

Okay, back to the manor house, which has these two lovely and comfy rooms downstairs where guests can hang out.

 

I'm currently in an armchair in the latter one typing this up and looking up now and then to gaze at the lake below.  The grounds surrounding this hotel are really beautiful, and I took some time this morning to explore them, following this path along the lake:

 

If you can zoom in on the photo below, you'll see a big bumble bee on the left.  He was going in and out of each blossom, humming with gluttonous contentment.

The hotel itself isn't a castle but is named such because of these ruins of Invergarry Castle (once visited by Bonnie Prince Charlie) which stand further along the property.

 

One of the things that struck me as I was walking around was how quiet it was.  It was just me and the lake and the trees and wildflowers.  Oh, and the insects, which could be quite noisy in comparison.  It reminded me of how seldom I am in a place of such quiet and stillness, nowhere in particular to go, nothing needing to be done, but just being and surrounded by beauty.  I could almost feel my soul taking a huge, deep breath.

 

I've shifted gears here, and while the entrance hall to the hotel sports a whole table of brochures and almost everyone else staying here jumps in their cars after breakfast and disappears for the day, I'm enjoying a kind of lackadaisical meandering from one moment to the next.  After my exploratory walk, I lay on my bed listening to the sheep and dozing for a bit, read a novel for a while, and then with (a late) lunch time rolling around, decided to drive up a few miles to the town Fort Augustus.  After driving through a bunch of villages yesterday that were comprised of four cottages and a B&B, Fort Augustus seemed like a lively hub.  There were actually a few streets that had restaurants, shops, etc. and near the parking lot, I saw a sign for a rare animal shelter.  Hopeful that there might be some sheep I could squish, I mean pet, I paid the 2 pound entry and jaunted down the path.  These little pygmy goats and a miniature Shetland further on let me pet them, but the few sheep I saw stayed well away from the fence.

 

At the center of town is one end of the famous Loch Ness.  I briefly considered doing a boat tour, but I think I'll wait and see if a sunnier day presents itself and go then.  Meanwhile here's a somewhat gloomy Loch Ness shot:

The big excitement in town occurred just after lunch.  Fort Augustus has a canal allowing boats passage to and from Inverness through a series of locks.  I gathered along with a large crowd to watch this boat slowly lift on the gradually rising water before the gates opened and it moved on to the next lock to repeat the process.  It was the most exciting boring thing I've ever witnessed.

(the boat entering the first lock--the crowds gathered soon after)