Wednesday, July 29-On Time

Whoa. I was tired. Tried to sleep in this morning, but that is Sally's
talent, not mine. London time I got to bed at 5am and woke up at 11.
Local that was midnight and 6am. Laid around the hotel this morning
enjoying the cellular connection I had been without for 5 weeks.
Cruised the web, checked stock prospects, texted. Used the workout
room to lift weights and use the stair master, then showered,
breakfast and back to the room at 10AM. I picked up a good book in
London so we read for a while, took a nap and then caught the airport
shuttle to Newark airport about noon. Our flight is not until 5:30pm,
so it is a lazy day at the airport reading. It actually feels good
after the Europe trip. We were on the move everyday and really had no
time (gave ourselves no time) to sit around. So it felt good to sit
and read. About two the skies opened up and torrential rains
accompanied by intense lightning and thunder signaled impending flight
delays. Sure enough, by 4:20 we were bumped to 7:30. Then 8:30. 9:30.
10:00. Four intense thunder storms have pounded the field since 2,
each causing further delays, not because planes can't take off, but
planes can't land so there are no planes left to carry us away. So,
here we sit. We have been in the airport for 9 hours so far. How many
to go? Two at best, with no upper end in sight. For some perverse
reason I am enjoying it. I don't have anything really pressing, my
book is great, I have the Internet, texting and email to occupy me and
most importantly extreme temperature records are being set back home,
102 in Seattle, 106 in Toledo and high humidity. This air conditioned
airport with padded chairs and comfy carpet are just fine with us.

Chuck

Tuesday, July 28 - Close Out

It is hard to ignore an approaching change. For the last three days
Sally and I have been saying we have all day Tuesday to continue our
exploration of London. But now that the day is here it isn't free. The
trip has changed tenor. We don't have an open ended agenda. We don't
have unreserved days in front of us. The end of the day sees us
winging home and because of that all has changed. We must be
responsible again. We must meet someone else's time table. However
small, freedom has been deminished.
We started the day on a lazier note. It took us till 10 to get out of
the hotel. We could have left our packs at the hotel for a two pound
per bag fee, but that meant we would have to walk the three blocks
back to the hotel to retrieve our bags before riding the tube to the
airport. Instead, we opted to lock them in lockers at the train
station, as we did in Munich. When we arrived at the train station we
found the lockers were considered a terroist threat and in their place
a bag check stood. You turn over your bag like you would check your
coat at a hotel, take a ticket and reclaim it when you are done. One
difference. They X-Ray your bag before they place it on the racks to
make sure no bombs exist. Price? 8 pounds per bag. Rather than lug
them back to the hotel to get the cheaper price, we checked our bags.
Rode the tube to Notting Hill stop and walked to check out a street
side market called Portobello. It was a nice walk, and the shops were
interesting.
We walked back, took the tube to Hyde Park, walked through it and
caught the bus on the opposite side to Trafalgar Square with the
intention of walking to the Eye of London for a ride, a 400+ foot high
Ferris Wheel like viewing machine. We hoofed it to the base, looked at
the hour and a half line and decided it could wait for our next visit
and an early morning crowd beating start.
So, we found a place for lunch on Whitehall Street with a cute,
energetic, young Italian waitress (yes, she caught my eye). We
decided that anything else we pursued would be non productive, so we
returned to retrieve our packs and headed for the airport.
A little tenative after our last experience at the Virgin Atlantic
Airline desk, this time our reservation was confirmed and we were
issued boarding passes. The only hitch; Orbitz still had us booked on
tomorrow's flight as well as today's. To the end they could not get it
right.
I am writing this somewhere over the Atlantic. I have watched one
movie, started another, and have slept about half an hour. It is
12:50AM according to my body and London, but we will land in Newark at
11:00PM Newark time. I hope to get some sleep then.
It has been fun to record this trip each day. It afforded me a chance
to review each day and relive the main events. I hope those of you
that have plowed through all the episodes have not suffered any blunt
trama injuries from suddenly falling asleep at your monitors. No
cracked keyboards. No shattered mice.
One more day to go. Should be a lazy day waiting for a flight then six
hours across the country.

Chuck

Monday, July 27-Showtime

Ssssshhhh! The show is about to start. I am sitting in row Y, seat 6
reporting live from the show "Wicked" in downtown London. We are just
a few minutes from curtain draw. You can feel the anticipation of the
crowd as they find their seats. Speaking of the curtain, there is a
map of Oz on the curtain with the Emerald City in the middle and
important places like Munchkindland and such scattered around. A huge
dragon hovers at the top of the stage over the orchestra pit.
Sally and I returned to the half price ticket place about noon today
and found 2 tickets that someone returned. I don"t really believe the
"just returned" story, but the price was within our limit, so we got
them.
What else did we do today? Sally did not sleep well last night, so
she slept in this morning. I fought the morning rush hour traffic on
the tube to go to the Globe theatre for a tour while she slept. The
Virginia Street Station was blocked off when I arrived at quarter past
8, and like a pile up on a freeway, men and women in business attire
with concerned looks to their time pieces were piling up against the
barrier. There was no explanation on the reader boards, just a transit
worker at the top of the stairs blocking access. I tried another entry
around on the other side of the block, but it too was blocked. I
decided to catch a bus and was waiting for the correct number to
arrive when I noticed people were entering the tube station again, so
I headed down.
The pile up of people that had accumulated over the past half hour was
now making it's way to the platforms. It was sardines in a can. I
stood back as the first train came, figuring their appointments were
more important than mine. Through the windows it was apparent the
train was packed full as it came to a stop. Only a few got off and the
hoards on the platform began filling every nook and cranny on the
train. The last woman squeezing on had to stand pigeon toed to get her
toes out of the way of the door and was leaning in against the crowd
to avoid the door clobbering her as it shut. I wish I had the presence
of mind to video the whole scene, it was amazing.
The next train pulled in with more room and we all crowded in for the
ride.
The Globe Theatre is a perfect recreation of the original from
Shakespeare's time, complete with thatched roof (although there is a
sprinkler head every five feet along the peak of the roof incase of
fire).
I paid 10£ to tour the theatre, yet to watch a play as a groundling
standing in front of the stage would only have cost 5£. But, every
play was sold out, so a tour would have to suffice. I found the place
enchanting and if I ever return to London, getting tickets in advance
for a play there would be a top priority.
Sally was up when I returned at 11:30, so we headed out to the half
priced ticket kiosks and purchased the aforementioned Wicked tickets.
Mussels and fries at a Rick recommended restaurant lived up to
expectation and we were off to the British Museum. Wow! Talk about
looting the world of it's treasures! Mummies, whole friezes from the
Parthanon, Greek Urns and a million more pieces of ancient priceless
artifacts in a Louvre sized complex. It was impressive to say the
least. We rented the overview audio guide so we could sample
everything and not get overwhelmed trying to see everything, which
would be a multiple lifetimes task.
By 5:30, closing time, our brains were full and our eyes buggy. We
walked and tubed back to our room by 6:30, showered and dressed and
were out the door by 6:50 on our way to Wicked which was a 10 minute
walk away.
The story was fun, the stage props and costuming amazing, the theatre
great and the two leading ladies excellent. Now, I am no play critic
and I can count the stage productions I have seen on one hand, but at
times I felt the quality was equal to a Toledo High production. In
comparison, this speaks highly of Toledo's various directors and
actors over the years, because Tracy McFarlane and crew's portrail of
"The Butler Did It" and Marshall Hughes and Tessa Buswell's
performance in "Christmas Night" were just as compelling or fun. I
guess I expected more from a London production of a major play.
Still, we had a great time and enjoyed ourselves.
On the walk back food was on my mind. We stopped at a grocery for
bagels, cheese, custard and milk. Half a block from our hotel the Fish
and Chips hole in the wall shop we had been walking by for days was
still open. This seemed a sign to us, so we stopped in and got an
order to go. While waiting for the fish to come out of the grease we
got talking to a kid in his twenties with such a thick regional accent
from somewhere in London that we could only make out half of what he
was saying. We just shook our heads yes and laughed when he did and we
had a great . . . conversation?
The proprietor was from Croatia and his helper was from Iraq. We
discussed politics and life in England before we took our Fish and
Chips, now wrapped in paper and slowly staining from the grease and
headed for the hotel.
Our late night snack, our first TV watching in five weeks, a show
about the history of air travel in Brittain and zonk-our last full day
abroad was over.

Chuck

Sunday, July 26-The Clocks

Where in the hell are we? Does anybody know? My GPS says I am in
London. My map says I am in London. The TV says I am in London. The
Internet says I am in London. But, what if there were no GPS, map, TV,
or Internet? What if I were floating in a boat on the middle of the
sea 300 years ago. Now the question becomes impossible to answer.
Latitude, how far north or south of the equator? No problem. The
sextant can accurately tell us that, day or night providing the sky is
clear. Longitude, how far around the globe we are from a set
position? Not a clue. An accurate clock is needed to tell us that,
and 300 years ago none existed that could keep accurate time on a
rocking ship. That was, until John Harrison entered the scene. He
created masterful clocks, masterpieces of mechanics and art that kept
time perfectly while lookin' good. He built his first, the H1 in the
1720s and it is still running today.
Why the history lesson? You guessed it. Today we went to Greenwich to
see the H1, H2, H3 and H4, the clocks Harrison built. The first 3 are
still running, nearly 300 years now. He created a frictionless
escapement he called the grasshopper that reduced friction to the
point no oil was needed, therefore no wearing and no wearing out. So,
I stood outside the glass enclosure watching this magnificent brass
machine keeping accurate time 300 years after his maker first put it
in action. Looking at the clock was like looking into Harrison's mind.
You could see how he thought the problem through, how he solved it and
how he tried to improve with each new clock. You coulld even see tiny
holes he drilled, and then decided he didn't need. Very, very cool.
We had taken the boat down the Thames to Greenwich, the cockney
accented tour guide pointing out all the locations of interest along
the banks. The tide was out, so lots of beach was visible all down
this famous watercourse. We rode the boat on the way back as well, and
got off at Westminister, intent on visiting Churchill's WWII bunker,
but the $20 a piece admission price was too steep for the cursory walk
through we had planned. Instead, we headed for the bus and rode to
Leichester square to scope out discount play ticket vendors more
thouroughly, took a walk to Picadilly Circus, then tubed back to
Westminister to catch the organ concert at 5. Got there 15 minutes
early only to discover it was at 5:45, so we took a walk, returned,
waited in line and entered this grand, historic church. We were
interested in hearing this organ after listening to St. Paul's. We
also had an alterior motive, to see the abbey without having to pay
the $22 each admission fee. The concert was free. I was a little
disappointed I was not going to see Newton's tomb, but the price was a
lttle steep. So in we went and what should be sitting right in front
of me as I sat down? Newton's Tomb. I had thought it was in the
basement but there it was right in the middle of the abbey.
The recital was great. Midevil church with 1950ish Kavaleski on
steroids echoing nonharmonic dischords throughout the grand structure.
As we were walking into the church a somewhat elderly male usher
angrily told Sally that this was not a tour and to put her guide book
away. She had been looking for a place for dinner while standing in
line. After the recital he was shooing everyone out of the church
using the word please a lot, but neither his tone nor the words
wrapped around the please showed he meant it.
We took the tube to a restaurant recommended by our guide, Rick
Steve's and it was excellent. Meat pies, fries and vegetables and free
WiFi to boot.
While we dined the rain settled in for the night, so we donned our
ever present raincoats and walked the half mile to our hotel.
Am I getting old? By the end of the day I am whooped! That overall
body ache tires to the bone tired. Or is it the long days? 6:30 to 11
most days. It is not the clean, fresh air! Europeans have not
discovered that smoking is the cause of their high lung cancer rates,
yet. The air is awash with the smell that is now mostly gone from the
US. You would think with socialized medicine they would make an effort
to lower the costs by initiating an anti smoking campaign and reduce
the number of cancer cases, but I have seen no evidence of such. So,
the stink continues.

Chuck

Saturday, July 25-Murder and Mayhem

Showered and down to the basement for breakfast. The proprietor of
this Hotel is as kind and conciencious as a person could be as she
sees to our meal.
Out to the tube and off to the Tower of London. It is a beautiful
sunny day and the lines are only one person deep. We walk right into
the tower and wait on the bridge over the moat for our Beefeater to
begin his tour.
Dressed in their signature black and red uniforms, these guys provide
a very funny and entertaining review of the history of events in the
tower. Generally, they focus on beheadings, murders and aristocratic
misdeeds, painting a sorry picture of midevil England.
We wandered through the tower after the tour, checking out the crown
jewels, bloody tower and Henry VIII exhibit, then exited and tubed our
way to St. Paul's Cathedral, arriving about one. We used the audio
tour to familiarize ourselves with the history and architecture, then
popped out to the cafe across the street for a shared lunch of Lasagna
and salad.
We walked across the river for a look at the Globe Theatre and a quick
walk through of the Modern Tate Art Museum, then back to St. Paul's
for evensong, a 45 minutes church service with two short sermons and
lots of choral and organ music. We wanyed to hear the organ play in
this massive arena of marble and stone We walked to the front of the
church to get a good seat where we could enjoy the music and before I
knew it Sally had taken a Hymn book and we were walking up into the
nave and alter area heading for the choir seats. We were not going to
watch the Evensong prayer session, we were now a part of it. The padre
(got that from Clint Eastwood in Grand Torino) came in leading the
choir. For 45 minutes the church echoed in glorious song and pipe
organ and we were completely enveloped in it. We had a cheat sheet
telling us when to stand and when to sit, and we even sang along (I
mumbled along) with the organ and choir at the end. Why watch when you
can participate? We walked out of the nave back into the rest of the
church and resumed out normal, humble lives.
We caught the tube to the Leichester area. This is where they sell
half price tickets to the shows on the day of the show. There were
about 10-15 store fronts set up claiming to sell half price tickets in
bold glowing signs, so we picked the one with no line. It was now 7
o'clock with shows starting at 7:30. We had been discussing all day
what to see from the 20 or more shows to chose from. Our top choice
was Wicked, but our ticket vendor consulted his computer and told us
it was sold out (it is Saturday night). Sister Act, the new adaption
of the Whopi Goldberg movie was getting rave reviews and two seats
were available, so for 39.50£ each we bought the tickets. Now, with 25
minutes to showtime we were about a mile from the theatre. The Tube to
the rescue! Take the Northern Line one stop to Tottenham Court Road,
then the Central Line one stop to Oxford Circle and tada! In the door
with 10 minutes to spare.
The show? Fantastic. High energy and very fun.
Out at 10:30, two Tube lines, a short walk and a stop for a chocolate
bar and we were back at the hotel.

Chuck

Friday, July 24-London Bound

The alarm pokes us alive at 6:30 to catch an 8:30 train from Sterling
to Edinburgh. Caroline is up with tea ready. A quick bowl of cheerios
and we say cheerio to Laurel Cottage, throw our packs in Caroline's
Volvo and make the 25 minute drive to the train station.
We are early enough to catch the 8:05, so we climb aboard. Sally
sleeps the hour long ride. I am freed from the steering wheel for the
first time in a week and go to work on catching up on blogs.
We arrive in Edinburgh almost two hours before our train to London
leaves so we seek out a coffee shop in which to plan our London
adventures. Over a bagette and a Pepsi we contemplate our 4 1/2 days.
I wander down the street with iPhone in hand like a man on a beach
with a metal detector looking for an open WiFi which I find about 5
shoppes down. Standing like a street prostitute with my back against
the wall I pull up maps and facts about London, then report my
findings back to Sally in the coffee shop pouring over guide books and
making notes.
Did I mention it is cold? It is the 24th of July and we are sitting
on the platform with long pants, fleece coats and hats and freezing
our butts off. The wind is cold. Thankfully, our train arrives on time
and we are whisked away.
This is the first time we have had reserved seats since our inaugural
train ride from Paris to Laussagne so we have to walk the length of
the train to our assigned seats, banging our stuffed backpacks against
the seated travelers as we navigate the narrow aisle. Once there I
return to blogging while Sally researches and sleeps. It is the first
time I have Internet service on a train, so I take full advantage
researching tidbits of info. It would be nice to skype some calls, but
everyone back home is asleep with the eight hour time difference.
We pull into London's King's Crossing Station at 3:45 as advertised
and make our way to the tube, Victoria Line for a short ride to
Victoria Station. We purchase "Oyster" cards (I don't know where they
got that name) which are underground multiple trip passes that allow
you to just swip your card as you enter and leave the tube. Very
efficient, and handy.
We find our hotel, the Morgan, and are quickly shown to our ground
floor room. A quick shower, and we are hoofing it to Westminister
Abbey, Parliment, Number 10 West Downing Street and Trafalgar Square.
The early evening sun is shinning brilliantly as we approach Big Ben
from the west, affording magnificent photos. It is amzing hpw many
people there are! So this is where they have all been hiding. Our
travels have been remarkably uncrowded, until now.
A dinner of fish and chips (when in London, do as the Londoners do?)
along the way and a tube ride from Charring Cross back to the hotel
and day one of London comes to a close about 11PM.

Chuck

Thursday, July 24-Closing Off Scotland

All good things must end. I suppose this is true, although my personal
opinion is one good thing just blends into the next one. With this
thought in mind it is our last day in Scotland.
We enjoyed our breakfast of cereal and pancakes with bacon and eggs
courtesy of Lorna, then boarded our mighty fuel efficient vehicles for
a tour of Fyvie Castle, about 10 minutes from Geoff and Lorna's,
another one held in the national trust. Four families have occupied
this place since the 1400's, obviously many generations of each
family. In each room of the castle is an expert to explain the history
of the room and it's furnishings. Rich, fabulous, as we have come to
see. At one point we noticed a fourth of a rounded turret with a
radius of about 10 ft nestled in an open book corner between two wings
of the castle spanning the second and third floors. Inside it was a
bathroom obviously outfitted in the last 50 years. We tried to decide
what you would call such an architechural feature as the name turret
implied an outside corner rather than an inside corner such as this
one. The bathroom inside inspired such suggestions as a turd-it or an
addition with relief.
With the end of the tour came the ever present gift shop in which
Lorna bought Sally a Scottish version of the ABCs. We coudna a read
it, so we recorded Geoff reading and interpreting the text to all our
delights.
Our time with the Reid family had come to an end. Sadly, but with
great memories to treasure we said goodbye and headed down the road.
We puttered along these narrow, twisting roads and soon stopped at
Balmarrow Castle in the Dee side, the summer home of the Queen in the
highlands. 7£ each let us on the grounds to see how the currently rich
and connected live, for 6 weeks each summer. A quick tour of the
ballroom, then out to the grounds and the gardens, a historical video
and we were back on the road through Cairngoran National Park on our
way to Caroline's for the night. We got stuck behind a very irratic
driver, obviously not used to the narrow roads nor left side driving.
We suffered behind him for 20 minutes before a straight section let us
pass. Umeventfully, we traversed the last 30 miles and arrived at
Catoline's doorstep at about 7:30, nearly 2 hours later than we
thought we would be. Dave works offshore and had to leave for work on
Thursday. She had been waiting dinner, so I don't think we earned any
points with Magnus and Mae. A great dinner, clean out the car, a
beautiful walk through the local woods with Harvey, their Greyhound
and the evening and day were spent. We set our alarms for 6:30 to
catch a train from Stirling (hey Braveheart fans, this is where the
battle of Bannochburn was fought and won against the English) to
Edinburgh, then on to London.
Because we were out traveling, driving the countryside it felt like we
did not see Caroline and Dave much, although looking back we spent
three nights with them and toured Edinburgh together. Next time some
cycling and hiking to the top of nearby a "ben" are in order.

Chuck

Wednesday, July 22-Whiskey

Dufftown is the epicenter of Scottish whisky production and only about
30 minutes from Geoff and Lorna's house. We decided to take two cars
today, so Geoff and I loaded into the Polo while Sally, Lorna and the
girls rode in the Reid's Honda. We drove northeast through beautiful
Scottish countryside, through the heather and peat covered hills to
Dufftown. Along the way Geoff pointed out the changing agricultural
crops, reflecting the changing soils and climate. In particular, it
was fascinating to see the rivers running brown, about the color of
already brewed whiskey. I was to learn that this is caused by the
rainwater running through the peat and leaching out elements and
compounds. It is the reason why this is the whiskey capital of the
world, for this water is part of what adds to the flavor.
In Dufftown we toured the Glenfiddich Whisky Distillary. An excellent
tour showing every step in this long process. They have been
distilling whiskey here since 1876. My favorite tidbit of information
involved the "Angel's Share", that portion of the alcohol that
evaporates through the oak kegs while it is curing for 12 to 50 years.
The barrels lose about a third of their volume and the alcohol content
drops from 64% to as low as 47% due to this phenomenon.
After the tour we stopped for scones and soup, then off to a castle
ruin not far from their house. Sally, Lorna and Eilidh (pronounced
Haley without the H sound) slipped off to view Pitmedden Garden while
Geoff, Maddie and I got to Tolquhon (pronounced toe-lone) Castle.
We were the only ones at the castle so we started off our visit with a
rousing game of hide and seek. I climbed 10 feet up into the flue of
one of the nearly walk in sized fireplaces as my hiding spot and had
to growl and moan to help Geoff and Maddie find me. We finished off
the tour with a game of tag which Maddie won.
Back to the house for another fantastic Lorna dinner, then off to a
Stonehenge like stone circle about two miles from their house, a drink
at a stone cave of a bar at the local country club and our last day in
Northern Scotland was at an end.
Does it seem to you that there is a lot of ancient stuff right near
Geoff and Lorna's house? It is incredible! There are 99 pre BC stone
circles within a 20 mile circle of their house, at least 20 castles,
who knows how many former estates not to mention 15 or more whiskey
distilleries. Throughout the drive between each location is drop dead
gorgeous scenery of rock walls, farms, and open countryside.

Chuck

Tuesday, July 22-John Muir's Birthplace

Okay, I freely admit it. I am a John Muir groupie. I'd he were in a
rock band today I would be following him around the country in my VW
van. I was first drawn to Yosemite after reading Muir's "My First
Summer in the Sierra". We went to Madison, Wisconsin to see his
childhood American home and the desk he created while in college. I
even trespassed onto his original boyhood farm and got chased off by
the landlord. So, today is the day I set foot in the very home he was
born in on the coast in Dunbar, Scotland.
Sally was enjoying the morning sleeping, so I went out for a walk. I
have to admit it was hard to stay in the room last evening, knowing
Muir's ancestrial home was just a few blocks away.
This morning I was greeted with clear skies, warming sun and the
strong scent of the sea as I walked along this famous North Sea town,
home to Dunbar Castle and the world's most famous and effective
conservationist. I found his home on High Street, right on the main
street of town. His ultra religious dad ran a meal shop (oats, wheat,
barley) in the ground floor at street level and the family lived
upstairs.
The house turned museum did not open until 11, so I walked back to the
hotel, woke Sally, went for another walk while she showered and
dressed, had breakfast downstairs and then we walked to town to see
what we could find before the Muir museum opened.
What we found was as beautiful a small Scottish seaside town as you
could imagine, and on the shore the remains of Dunbar Castle. This
castle served a prominent roll in Scottish history, yet was torn down
in the 1850's, the stones used to build the current harbor. Enough of
the castle foundation exists to give a feel for it's former size and
position, and the sea gulls have turned parts into extensive
rookeries. We walked the waterfront, then turned up to Muir's home.
To accomodate a museum is such a small building the entire house was
gutted so that only the outside walls remain. The interior now has a
free standing three story interior. The ground floor discusses Muir's
life in Dunbar as a kid and it's magnificent natural surrounding's
influence on Muir. The second story us about Muir in America,
especially his connection to the Sierra's and Yosemite. The top floor
provides environmental news and suggestions about how to make a
difference in the world, as did Muir. The displays are excellent, with
many, many quotes from Muir's writings. I get pretty choked up when
reading his words. This display evoked the same response. Truly, the
power of one person.
We left Dunbar a little after noon and headway for Oldmeldrum near
Aberdeen. Sally again guided me with expertise through the labyrinth
of highways surrounding Edinburgh and we were soon heading north,
passing through Dundee. We stopped at Dunnottar Castle, near
Stonehaven. This famous castle ruin is located at the top of the
cliffs on a promentory overlooking the North Sea. Position,
Position, Position. See the pictures along with this post rather than
suffer through an inadequate description.
We continued northward passing through Aberdeen just in time for rush
hour. About a hundred traffic circles later and we were out of
Aberdeen and headed for Geoff and Lorna's house just outside
Oldmeldrum. We had stopped to purchase beer for our hosts. For Lorna
we got a bottle of Red Speckled Hen beer because a dog had recently
attacked and killed one of her hens and for Geoff we got Bitter and
Twisted beer, what we thought was an appropriate name for this
outrageously fun loving and gregarious Scotsman. We arrived about 5,
had a chat, then loaded into their Mitsubishi Shogun to visit an
Estate near them home. On the way we stopped at a 14th century church
just down the road and looked at some very cool headstones, some with
skull and crossbones, then onto the estate.
Scotland has a huge number of extremely large estates (1000s or
10000's of acres in size) that landed families can no longer afford.
They give them to the Scottish Trust. At this point they are open to
the public and maintained by the trust. One can tour the castle,
repleat with the last occupant's furnishing and picnic or stroll the
grounds. There are hundreds of such sites and the number grows each
year as more and more of the uber wealthy redistibute the hoarded
wealth back to the people.
We stopped to pick up the daughters at the golf course where we had
dropped them before our tour (they are great kids but hanging out in
graveyards and estates with old fogeys is too much to ask of even the
best of the best) and after a late evening chat called it a day.

Chuck

Tuesday, July 22-John Muir's Birthplace

Monday, July 20th-Scottish Friends

A quick breakfast of Cheerios (when did Nestlè start making them and
General Mills stop? Did the General retire or has it been that long
since I ate Cheerios?) and we were on the road south back to Dave and
Caroline's. We were a long way north-about a three to four hour drive
through the highlands, so we picked a few destinations along the way
to break up the drive and get a taste of Scotland. We took a quick
drive into the Cairngorms National Park for an embarrassingly short
look-see, then later stopped by Blair Castle for a tour.
We knew we were approaching Blair Castle about three miles before we
reached the front gate because we were driving allong this huge stone
wall that encloses the entire land tract. The castle is the ultimate
man's room. The entry foyer is three stories tall and has hundreds and
hundreds of guns, swords, spears, muskets, cannon balls, bayonets and
knives geometrically arranged in artful fashion from floor to ceiling
along with a stuffed deer. I took it as a reminder that the owner
means business when he says no picture taking while on tour. We had
to do a quick walk-through due to time constraints, but between Blair
Castle, Versailles, and Newschwander it became apparent this was the
age of competitive Castle building. Lavish rooms, painted potraits
bigger than life size, inticately carved marble fireplaces and
monsterous rooms with atmospherically high ceilings all say, "I'm rich
and trying to impress you.". And they did.
In spite of implied and real threats I did manage to iPhone a few
pictures which give a taste of the lavishness. Especially the use of
antlers in decorating. It is amazing the number of antlers that can be
acrued when given a couple hundred years to collect them. The
geometric arrangement of hundreds of dead animal skulls and horns
create the pattern seen in the ballroom pictures. Gaston from Beauty
and the Beast would be proud.
We got to Dave and Caroline's a little after noon. Geoff & Lorna with
children Eighly and Maddie-friends of Dave and Caroline's were going
to be stopping by for lunch. We met Geoff and Lorna two summers ago
when they were touring the US with Dave and Caroline. We offered the
use of the Caldwell's beach house for four days, (thank you Bill and
Pat!) and we spent a couple of those days with them.
We had a rowdy lunch of meat, cheese, rolls, fruit and more, were
amazed at Geoff's juggling skills (we gave Geoff, Magnus and David
juggling balls), visited a bit, gave the ladies hats that Di had knit
for us and then Geoff and Lorna were on their way home. We visited
with Dave & Caroline for another hour or so then jumped back in the
car, headed for Dunbar and the birthplace of John Muir on the west
coast. The rainy skies of morning were clearing and a late afternoon
sunny drive was in the offing.
Sally did an excellent job navigating me around Edinburgh, keeping us
south of the city on the bypass roads and by 7 we were in Dunbar.
We had many things to take care of for planning our trip to London and
securing our flight home (Orbitz still had not taken care of getting
our flights booked in the right date) so we got a hotel room with WiFi
and spent the rest of the evening researching and phoning on Scype.
The hotel was very reminicwnt of the one depicted in the movie "Hot
Fuzz" a British spoof on American cop shows. The proprioters were
eccentric, the facility old, but well kept.
A word on driving vs trains. On the continent we took trains
everywhere. They were quick, on time and left us with hours to plan,
blog, and stare out the windows at the passing countryside. In
Scotland we have been driving, thanks to the generosity of Dave and
Caroline. I have my eyes glued to the narrow winding road, Sally's
eyes are glued to the maps and our brains and hands are occupied
navigating and staying alive on these twisting byways. We see the
country, but it is not as relaxing, and we have no time for planning
nor writing. Given a choice, if the train and car go the same place,
the train is the definite winner.

Chuck

Sunday July 19-Scotland's West Side

Scotland weather was not to dissapoint us. We woke to continued
drizzle and clouds nearly to sea level. We could see William Wallace
running through the heather in his kilt through the mist and clouds.
It was perfect. We took a small ferry across a loch and headed further
west, averaging about 25mph on the single lane road with turnouts. By
noon we had reached the ferry to the island of Mule, but we had just
missed it, and the next did not leave for an hour and a half. We
decided to retrace part of our route and head north, passing the
famous Loch Ness, ending up in Inverness. It was a fabulous drive, and
we stopped many times to see the sites enjoy the countryside. Our time
restraints did not allow for hiking or backpacking, but we were intent
on getting a good overview of the land, and this we were accomplishing.
We had planned to get a room for the night to perform Internet chores,
but the weather looked good and the camping was cheap and right in
town, so we pitched our tent right next to a Jawa Sand Crawler sized
bus and sleeping trailer, and listened to them repairing droids all
night in Norwegian (see picture above). The thought of meeting that
bus and trailer on the Scottish narrow roads would even give Darth
Vader nightmares.
We toured downtown Inverness for an hour or two, has a dinner of
canned Irish stew ( that had a fat content somewhere between a hunk of
lard and a pound of butter), took showers at the adequate facilities
at the campground and slept the sleep of contented traveler.

Being a teacher of science, which includes teaching systems of
measure, allow me to comment on the English system of measurement,
with apolgies to my Scotish friends.
It is Bizzarro World again. Fuel, gas and diesel, are purchased by the
liter, but car fuel efficiency is measured in miles per gallon. How do
they know how many gallons they have purchased if it is delivered by
the liter? They carry the conversion factor between liters and
imperial gallons in their heads to do the conversions, 4.54.
Milk is sold in pints, not liters.
They still use the unit of a stone to measure the weight of objects
and people. A stone? 14 pounds. 6.25 kilograms. So again to compare
this measure with the rest of the world they must carry these
conversion factors in their heads.
Now, in their defense they are a step ahead of us in the US. Besides
the world of science and sofa pop we are still suffering with miles,
gallons, teaspoons, pounds, inches, cubic feet, ounces and the like.
No simple conversion factors, no logic to the system, a hold over from
the years of peasants and kingdoms.

Chuck

Saturday, July 18-Driving Lessons

Do you remember the first time your dad (or mom) handed you the car
keys and you slid behind the wheel for that inaugural solo flight? All
the things you had learned came reeling through your head: don't hug
the center line, don't put a wheel in the ditch, first gear is up and
to the left, cross traffic on a left turn, hug the curb on a right
turn and so on. By now, all that is so automatic we don't even think
about it.
I remember my first day well, as if it were today . . . because it was.
I also remember reading Superman comics when he went to Bizzaro World,
where everything is backwards; they deliver garbage to your house,
planes crash on purpose, people drive on the left side of the road . . .

I have landed in Bizzaro world. In place of my dad, Dave handed me the
keys to his VW Polo, a cute little diesel car with steering wheel and
control pedals on the wrong side of the car. Everything that used to
be automatic now requires . . . egads, thought! I have to constantly
remind myself to stay against the left curb. All that is true about
right turns - hug the curb, only look at the oncoming traffic, now
applies to left turns, and worst of all, when making a right turn be
sure to stay to the left as you enter the intersection, not the right.
All goes well when cruising down the road, it is the intersections and
turning that get confounding. And, just as you think you are getting
the hang of it and you start to relax a bit, your old instincts take
over and there you are on the wrong side of the road with oncoming
traffic bearing down on you.
If this is not enough to deal with, I launch down Scottish roads that
are narrower than any I have ever driven before. In the small towns
the road is only one and a half lanes wide so you have to know the
corners of your car perfectly to negotiate the streets, all while
sitting in a drivers seat on the wrong side of the car.
To make matters worse, our chosen destination is the western shores
where the population is so scarce that the road is only one very
narrow lane wide with turnouts every few hundred yards where two cars
can pass, around blind corners and over small rises. Often one or the
other must back up to a wide spot so the two cars can slip by each
other. And through all this stay to the left!
Also, now that I am driving from the right side of the car, all the
rest of the car is on my left. I am not used to it being there. This
means that I tend to run the car close to the ditch because all that
bulk of car is not supposed to be there. The narrow roads are lined
with rock walls and close growing trees. I often hear Sally saying,
"Chuck, your getting really close to this rock wall", or " Chuck, we
are really close to these trees." I have found that if I consider
myself riding a motorcycle
with a side car attached to the left I tend to give that half of the
car the respect it deserves.

Bizzaro World.

After a leisurely morning at Mackay's (pronounced ma-kye) we again
tried to get Orbitz to fix our return flight. They said they would
call us back in two hours. We visited with Dave and Caroline and
readied for our driving adventures. After two hours they emailed us to
tell us they had lost the phone number and could we please call them
again. We just loaded the car and left.
We drove through Glen Coe, the most beautiful part of the Highlands.
Heather mountains rising 3000 ft with fiord like lochs licking their
feet, swirling in mist with the occasional kiss of sunlight. Truly
beautiful. This is also the site of the McDonald clan massacre.
We camped here at the Red Squirrel campground. There is no limit to
the number of campers, you just park where you can, find a bare piece
of ground to pitch your tent and squeeze in with the rest. It was
Saturday night so it was packed.
We found a spot and pitched our tent in the rain. About 2 am I woke to
our adjacent tent occupant violently tossing his cookies, or I suspect
in this case, his overindulgent whiskey. Luckily, Sally slept through
this flemy, gutteral demonstration of projectile vomiting.
I love car camping.

Chuck

PS. Take a look at the picture of us in the car. I am driving. Do you
notice anything unusual?

Saturday, July 18-Scottish Honors

The B&B scheduled us for an 8:15 breakfast so we left our masterpiece
theatre bedroom, trundled downstairs and had a full Scottish breakfast-
cereal, fruit, eggs, ham, sausage, haggis, tomato, beans, toast and
tea. Wow.
Caught a city bus to downtown in what to us was typical Scottish
weather, drizzel, rain and windy. Toured the castle at Edinburgh with
audio headsets to learn the history of the place. Amazed to find how
many times this castle on a rock changed hands between the Scots and
English. Even saw the septre, sword, crown, and jewels of Scotland
along with the Stone of Destiny.
Had a snack at the castle cafe, watched them fire the 1 o'clock
artillary shell-even when you know it is coming you still jump-then
walked the Royal mile down King Street to the Parliment building. Now
that is a cool building! Designed by a Spanish architect it is truly
an artsy building. Rather than snoozing you with a description, google
it on the web. It is worth looking into.
A great walk through downtown and a short ride on the bus again and we
were back to the cars.
Drove out to David and Caroline's cottage in Muthill, pronounced Mu-
thill. Enjoyed a great evening and dinner. First impressions of
Scotland - beautiful countryside and very friendly people. Everyone we
came in contact with was willing to banter, laugh and talk. Looking
forward to a good sleep and a day of making arrangements for tomorrow.

Chuck

Thursday, July 16-Trains, Planes and Automobiles

The European portion of our adventure is at an end. Today we travel to
Scotland. First we take a train from Salzburg to Munich, then a plane
from Munich to Edinburgh, and finally a car from the airport to our
night's lodging. If only we could have worked a boat into the day. . .
Up about eight, a quick shower and off to town to find a cash machine.
The campground does not take plastic, and does not want "Mickey
Mouse"(US Dollars), so I have to grab a few more Euros to pay the
bill. About a mile walk to a machine, cash in hand I return to camp.
The sun is out and it is warm, so while Sally pays the bill, I head
for a shower to clean up for a day of sitting. The 11:18 train is
sitting at the platform when we arrive at 11, so we board and start
pouring over books about Scotland, making decisions about what we want
to see. Concentrating on Lochs and Glens, the train announces our stop
and we are a disheveled mess off books, notes and food. We quickly
stuff it all into our packs and scoot of the train as it stops. We are
getting more comfortable with the trains. We used to stand with our
packs on 5 minutes before it stopped.
The Salzburg to Munich train was about 2 minutes early. This put us on
the platform just in time to step into the connecting train to the
airport instead of waiting 18 minutes. If it had been on time, the
connecting train would have pulled otu at the exact minute we pulled in.
At the airport we checked our bags, went through security and found
our gate, then got a bite to eat.
As we flew over the English Channel I was surprised at how narrow it
is. I did not realize while over the coast at Dover you can see
Calais. Now that I think about it, at 15 miles it should not be
surprising, but in my mind I pictured the curve of the earth obscuring
coastlines from each other. It put the Battle of Britian, the German
arial attack on England in a new light for me.
We landed at Heathrow, hung around for 20 minutes after going through
customs and security again, then we were airborne for Edinburgh. We
landed a few minutes after 8, and David and Magnus found us at the
baggage claim.
We first met David and Caroline in 1993, when we were living on Orcas
Island for the year. They were biking all over the world and Sally
happened to meet them on the ferry. They stayed with us on the island
for a few days, then they were off to Australia and New Zealand to
avoid our winter. They cycled into Toledo the next spring on their
way down the west side of the US, spent a few days with us while we
were living in our tent and building our house, and then they were off
again. We saw them again two summers ago when they were traveling with
their family, this time in a van. We were finally getting to their
side of the "pond" to visit them.
We walked out to David's Volvo, threw our bags in the back and I
walked around to the passengers side to get in. David calmly says,
"Chuck, your on my side." I looked in the window, and sure enough,
there was a steering wheel where their should be a blank dashboard.
As we drove to the B&B Caroline had picked out for the night I felt
weird sitting on the left side of the car as a passenger, looking at
the traffic moving in the "wrong" direction in each of the lanes.
Maybe I am getting old and inflexable, but it appeared very foreign to
me. But, Hey! That's why we are on this trip, to experience things
foreign to us.
The B&B was this exquisite sandstone house in Edinburgh with a four
post bed in the most beautifully appointed victorian room you could
imagine. Wainscoting, wall paper, sculptured plaster cove molding on
the ceiling, more pillows than you could hope to use, 10 foot
ceilings. It was scrumptous. I wanted to lay awake all night with my
eyes open just so I could enjoy the room.
We went downstairs to the sitting room and visited with David and
Caroline until 11, catching up on families and politics before calling
it a day.

Chuck

Wednesday, July 15 - Maria & Mozart

Sometimes, in the pursuit of knowledge we must do extraordinary
things. Think of Scott, Perry, and Shackelton and their polar
expeditions. Think of Marco Polo, Magellan, Neil Armstrong and Jaques
Cousteau. They all pushed the limits of human knowledge forward
through amazing feats of courage, insight and moxie.
This is a pretty stellar group to draw association with, but I too
braved difficult territory in the pursuit of new knowledge yesterday
and came away with a treasure trove. What was this heroic feat? I
rode on the "Sound of Music" tour through Salzburg and the adjoining
countryside for 4 hours yesterday. Yep! Are you impressed? Huge tour
bus, about twelve women and me, stops at all the locations used in the
filming of this 1965 classic and new information at every turn.
Did you know Lisel fell while jumping between the benches in the
Gazebo scene, stuck her leg through one of the windows and had to have
stitches? Did you know Christopher Plummer once said "I'll be damned
if I'm going to carry that fat kid over the mountains on my back"?
With new knowledge like this it makes the arguous journey seem trivial.
The best part of the tour was leaving Salzburg city and driving to the
Laken district, where mountain encased lakes sit with tiny towns on
their shores. Very beautiful.
We arrived back in Salzburg at 1:30, spent an hour charging the iPhone
and talking to a former Microsoft employee born in Salzburg, raised in
the Middle East and living in Bellevue these past twenty years, with
months overseas now and then. She was complimentary of Americans,
saying they were the most generous of all people both with their time
and money. But, she thought the US image had been destroyed by the
Bush administration. In fact, we have had nearly everyone tell us
this. The owner of our campground called the US dollar "Mickey Mouse"
money due to it's declining value and the amount we have spent on
wars, continue to spend on defense and spend buying stuff.
With 35% battery on the phone we hopped a city bus for Mozart's
original house in Salzburg, only a few blocks away.
With audio tour held to ear we walked through the rooms Mozart lived
in and saw harpsicords, pianos and other instruments of his day while
hearing his music playing in the background. It was amazing to see how
much his father had he and his sister traveled at ages 5-8, a three
year tour, with young Wolfgang composing music for courts all over
Europe, including Louis the XV in Versailles, a palace we visited a
few weeks ago.
We crossed the river to old town and toured the narrow streets, bought
fresh green beans for dinner at the open market and bussed back to the
campground for an exciting night of laundry.
Camped next to us were Gerhart and Brigette (pronounced Bri-gee-ta)
Wacker from Frankfurt, a 50ish couple bike touring for 2 weeks down
the Danube. We shared a late evening beer at the cafe at the
campground, swapping stories about our homes, retirement possibilities
and touring.
We retired to our tent, and with strains of "The hills are alive, with
the Sound of Music. . ." playing in our heads we fell asleep.

Chuck