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The countryside once crossing the border was fairly English in nature, fields, villages and streams. Yet on approaching the city from the south, isolated mountains began to appear. Stu once again intuitively navigated us into the city centre and we walked from our car up Cockburn Street with our heavy pack. It was still quite cold in Edinburgh so we had to don gloves, hats and scarves for the walk however these soon came off as the street was a very steep one, the recovering smoker and the lazy university student had a bit of a struggle. Our room was across the street from the hostel in an apartment building so after climbing the stairs to the top storey we dumped our gear and headed back out to explore. We turned right at the top of Cockburn Street onto the Royal Mile where we walked to the top to see the castle in the golden afternoon light. The car park was deserted at this time of night so we had one of the best views of the city relatively to ourselves for a long time. Stu was taken very suddenly with the desire for a cup of tea so we
left the castle car park and headed down into the city, down the very steep streets and through the garden at the base of the Castle rock.
On Princes Street was a French market selling all sorts of wonderful foods and so after finding no tea shops we gave up in despair and got some great potato bake for dinner. We sat in silence on a bus stop seat, under the shadow of a statue and watched the buses go up and down Princes Street, a bit tired from our big day driving. After staring into space for a considerable amount of time, we picked ourselves up and headed up Princes Street for a look, when we ran into Carlton Hill. Upon climbing the stairs, one is presented with a beautiful view across the city, out to sea across the sprawling suburbs and over to the ragged volcanic mountain on the edge of the city. It was dusk and the setting sun cast a beautiful warmth across the sandstone structures and made the streets below seems like cavernous depths with the shadows drawing a hood across the tops of the buildings. After this we walked back up the hill
to our hostel and crashed for the night.
The next morning we were up early and at breakfast pocketed some butter and jam left on the table. Necessity. We walked up the Royal Mile, a pretty old street full of touristy tartan, shortbread, kilt hire and whisky shops to the Castle at the end of the street and the top of the hill. The castle was a bit disappointing as the replicated displays and the hoards of pushy tourist took away from the history and misery of the place, a general feeling I have gotten from most monuments in Britain. There was however, a great view across the city, although this view was also accessible from the car park out front where the Edinburgh Tattoo is performed yearly, without having to pay the thirteen pound to get in.
The high cost of entry is something I increasingly noticed on this trip and a factor that troubled me more and more with each visit. Perhaps it’s my history education or perhaps one could say that I am too lefty for my own good, but I believe that places of national significance should be open and accessible to all classes
and creeds of people. The exorbitant entry fee they charge would make it impossible for many middle to lower income families to afford seeing these places, which only alienates a huge sector of society from accessing their shared and intrinsic cultural heritage. Private bodies such as English Heritage and the National Trust do an honourable thing by protecting and maintaining properties for the future yet without significant government funding are forced to charge the patrons for entry into these places. It’s my belief that nobody should really own these places, but rather that they should rather be placed into the protection of a state affiliated bodies that maintains them for the common use of the people, rather then the enjoyment of a select few that can afford to use them. England, and Europe, is endowed with such a wonderful cultural heritage that is so visible in the castles, battle fields, buildings of government and preserved towns that it seems a shame to cut these off from future generations who miss out on experiencing who they are through contact with these places.
After the castle we wandered down twisting stairs and streets to Grassmarket, an area of Edinburgh frequented by
students due to the uni being so close. There was a very cool second hand store called Armstrong’s where I got a very lovely tartan skirt as my Scottish souvenir. We had very questionable Scampi and chips for lunch sitting in the sun near the point of a mass grave, commemorating one of the many dark moments of Scottish history. After this we walked back down to Princes Street and bought chorizo and olives for dinner from the French market. We wandered up and down Princes st and eventually settled on a pair of shoes for Stu, not a fun experience shoe shopping with my darling, not one I wish to repeat. We wandered back up the Royal Mile, through seedy side streets and pubs to a very classy and expensive chocolate shop where we got some very rich hot chocolates. Dinner that night was lovely, a pasta we made from the food at the market and supplies from home and eaten in the little kitchen of the hostel, cheap and cheerful.
The next morning we checked out early and went to move the Punce to leave Edinburgh. Leaving the city took a while but once out were surrounded
by fields and the low hills of the Lothian’s. The first stop was at Stirling Castle in Stirling. We parked the car a long way down the hill and walked up the streets, through the old church yard of the Church of the Holy Rude and the extensive cemetery which offered a great view across the city and to the highlands. The castle itself offered even better views of the surrounding area, a main reason why its position on a high rocky outcrop was chosen for its defensive position. From standing on the terrace one could see the snow topped mountains of the highlands as well as the low flat land of the Lothian’s towards Edinburgh, a geographical position which caused Stirling to bear the brunt of much of the conflict between English and Scottish fighters. The day was beautifully warm and the sun was at its full Scottish glory, gently warming the earth and stone of the ancient castle. We joined a tour group of the castle and were escorted through the various buildings and oddities of the construction by a peculiar man who had a perverse enjoyment in repeating “This way please” in a subservient manner and conversing
loudly with the foreign tourists whilst the rest of the group caught up. We snuck off early because we couldn’t take it anymore. We left the castle with the same general feeling and proceeded along to an old manner house, full of ‘genuine’ replications of traditional Scottish life in the Tudor period. Was a great experience. We got into the car and headed off to Inchmahome castle situated out on an island but missed the turn off and so instead went to Doune castle, famous for being used during the filming of Monty Pythons Holy Grail. This was a beautiful old castle, hardly touched by alterations and attempts to make it more authentic and thus allowed us to explore the rambling rooms, narrow staircases and pokey hidden areas. The view from the battlements on top was beautiful, down towards the cold river and across the small local town upwards to the snow topped Bens in the highlands. This castle happily restored our faith in historical monuments and after going down to the river in an attempt to see the rare red squirrel and some otters we headed off to our hostel.
On our drive we passed through Callander where
we unfortunately went a little crazy at the servo getting every piece of junk food conceivable for the drive to Fort William. I was amazed a the speed with which Stu could eat Pringles, lucky I had been rationing mine and kept them safely out of his clutches. We stopped on the pebbly foreshore of Loch Lubnaig and admired the reflections of the pine covered hills surrounding the water. Back in the car, we drove through the increasingly beautiful highlands, a sparse landscape of stunning and imposing Ben’s half covered in snow. The lower glens were covered in brown heather and the streams gathered in pools, creating a surreal landscape untouched by humans aside from the road through the middle and an occasional house. Towards Glen Coe, the site of the infamous massacre where the Campbell’s slaughtered an entire family group, we stopped by the side of the road to stretch out and to sit in awe beneath the huge mountains towering above us. It was one of the most beautiful roadside rest stops I have ever seen, the view extending between the valley, the scale of the mountain unfathomable, the dry heather and the twisted rocks.
We moved
on from here to Fort William, a small town on the edge of a loch with an opening to the sea and thus a protected and heavily patronaged harbour. The town itself was functional and seemed now to be set up for tourists and locals alike. We stopped in at the incredible supermarket that is Morrisons to get supplies for the next few days and headed out to Roy Bridge, about twenty miles away where we arrived at around 5:30pm. The, Aite Crunnichidh, was a large log cabin type construction with rooms and a kitchen, situated next to a gorge and railway line and nestled in the valley of beautiful mountains. From the bedroom skylight window was a direct view up towards Ben Nevis, covered in snow. Because of the beautiful warmth of the day, we decided to go exploring and walked up to an old cemetery on the top of a hill, the chapel and headstones nestled amongst the noble mountains. The sun was setting a golden orange and brown colour and drew long heavy shadows from the tombstones. The cemetery must have serviced the local remote region of Roy Bridge and the surrounding farms and small villages. The
view was so stunning to allow one to have a certainty in the existence of a god, the colours were saturated and rich, the crazy rugged highlander sheep wandered all over the roads and the contrast between the bright blue sky and the rich earth were unfamiliar and comforting at the same time. The ground itself was covered in uneven gravesites stretching up the steep hill and marked by large, cold, stone Celtic crosses, weathered by the harsh Scottish winters and covered in moss and scars. That night we cooked dinner and went to sleep early after a long day driving half the length of Scotland.
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Dad
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This adventure is coming to an end soon,eh?
Nice blog Em. Looking forward to seeing you in two weeks.