Lethargy

The last few nights in Aberdeen have been quiet. It's a very grey city, both in terms of colour and mood. I'm about to head over to the bus that will take me to Inverness and then over to Skye where I'll stay for a week or so. As mentioned earlier I'm just ready to start the damn residency already and I think I'm just tired of living such a transient existence. Of course I have no objections to travelling, but I've been on the move for so long and living out of a backpack that I think I'm just nearing the end of my tether.

I know how ridiculous this is, and it really is the epitome of a first world problem that I feel ashamed to even put it into words, but I am just feeling tired. It didn't help that the mattress at the hostel wasn't so much a mattress as it was a loose bag of springs. I've slept so so badly for two nights and I'm definitely one of those people that can only function properly with a decent amount of quality bedrest. Anyway, enough complaining. Onwards and upwards. 

Greenery

I haven't been keeping on top of this as much as I'd like to, but it feels reasonable to neglect this in favour of the trip in question. 

I'm now in Aberdeen after one last long weekend in Edinburgh with Jake. He left this morning for a flight to Berlin, and the rest of his trip. It feels strange to be back doing a solo trip, especially as the last fortnight has been so epic and eventful. I honestly just want to get to the lighthouse now. I'm more than ready to start working again, but there's still 3 weeks to kill before I head on up.

Edinburgh felt like a different city after Fringe. The busloads of tourists were still around, but that crazy frenetic buzz of Fringe had died down so the air didn't feel so heavy/claustrophobic. 

Edinburgh Castle is hard to miss, sitting up on it's huge rocky hill in the middle of the city. It's also another overpriced and overhyped tourist trap. After the lavish excess of Dunrobin, Edinburgh Castle just felt like a weird medieval theme park - complete with bad actors in costume and poorly painted facades.

So I'll skip right past that and have a gush about the Botanic Gardens. Jake's probably more of a plant obsessive than me, but we were both super keen to go see the ten enormous greenhouses - stuffed full of ancient palms, huge lily pads, monstrous climbers and aroids, huge terrariums of carnivorous plants and other incredible specimens that were growing at such an unthinkably oversized scale. It was a magical place (and I couldn't keep my camera down).

Scenic Return

Inverness was really just a pit stop between Dornoch and Edinburgh so I didn't have to do a massive drive in one day. There's not much to say about Inverness either. It was small, quiet and a bit decrepit - if the people and infrastructure are anything to go by. Perhaps my mind could be changed if someone had shown me around, but by that stage we were short on time and patience.

The next day we opted for a more scenic route back to Edinburgh via Glen Coe. It's a deep mountainous valley which postcard peaks and spectacular hiking trails throughout. I had seen photos from Ellis' Instagram account and knew that it would probably blow my mind. Unfortunately the weather gods were not on our side and things stayed at a consistent deluge throughout the day. 

We saw plenty of hikers trudging through the mud, but after some of the wetter experiences of the last week we weren't exactly feeling up for another swim through the mud. The sky briefly cleared as we drove through the narrowest and probably most stunning view points so I stopped the car as often as I could to take some requisite roadside snaps. The valley opened up after that to a wide bleak landscape - perfect for hiking (minus midges and rain).

At the coffee stop later I squealed and screeched over some more highland cow sightings. I let my camera get pretty wet as I snapped away at those stupid adorable creatures chewing on their lunch.

Dank Ness

The drive back to Inverness was a longer drive compared to the last few days, and we decided to take the longer route via Loch Ness, just to tick it off our list. There isn't much to say about the place. The lake is huge but fairly nondescript, and the Loch Ness centre and nearby Nessieland was pretty terrible. Every country has their cringeworthy tourist traps and this is Scotland's. We didn't stay for long but continued the drive around the lake and to a few other falls and castle ruins that I'm already forgetting. Pro tip for future travels: skip Nessie you won't find it.

Royals

We hit the road again the following day, back to the safe reliability of a land-based vehicle. We checked out the sea stacks at Duncansby Head - pyramidal formations rising out like cousins of the Twelve Apostles which looked great in the morning light. 

Further south we stopped to check out the ruins of Castle Sinclair Girnigoe. Much like temples are a dime a dozen in Japan, so too are castle ruins in Scotland. Sinclair Girnigoe did feel a bit special as it's built precariously on the sea cliffs, as if ready to crumble right into the ocean. From my untrained eyes, I couldn't quite see the separation between rock and castle foundation so it looked as if the ruins were carved from the rock itself - a bit like how I imagined Pyke to look in Game of Thrones. 

Dunrobin Castle was next, and it was definitively NOT a ruin. I wasn't allowed to photograph any of the interiors, but the place had a definite fairytale/Disney feel to it. We walked through a steady stream of grand decadent rooms covered in lavish tapestries, masonry, panelling, taxidermied heads and other over the top detailing that you'd expect in a well-to-do castle. We also got to see a falconry demonstration in the gardens where a jolly scotsman showed us his confident handling of several beautiful hawks and falcons. 

That night our accommodation was something else. Partially because he wanted to tick it off some bucket list, and partially because he was really keen to overdo it for my birthday, Jake booked us into a legitimate castle in Dornoch. I knew it was coming, but the suite was huge, lavish and quite over the top; think four poster bed, champagne on arrival and really fluffy bathrobes. I didn't take any photos because I was too busy trying to enjoy it all, but it was amazing and wonderful and so much more than what I deserve </3

To Orkney and Back

With only a short drive to the aforementioned 'glamping' pods in John O'Groats from Thurso, we decided to take a day off from driving and booked ourselves into a day long coach tour to the nearby Orkney islands north of John O'Groats. This seemed like a good idea in theory, but hilariously so much worse in practice. 

We woke up early to wet and windy weather, and things stayed that way for most of the day. Orkney is an archipelago of islands of a similar size to Shetland and the Faroes. Interestingly it also has a history of Norwegian rule, so there's another bit of overlap between Scotland and Scandinavia. The archipelago is separated from the mainland only by the narrow 10km Pentland Firth. Though the trip there only took about 45 minutes, it was one of the wildest and most sickening boat trips I've ever taken. The sea raged, churned and pounded relentlessly on our cork-like ferry which seemed to be moving at an inefficiently glacial pace. I only just managed to keep my breakfast down, but the entire time I was clutching on for dear life and praying for the sweet release of death. It bums me out that something I love so much can be such a merciless take-no-prisoners bastard when it wants to be. 

Arriving at port I still felt sick but relieved to at least be back on dry land. We quickly jumped on our coach and hopped a few islands to get to the capital and largest town of Kirkwall. The main islands are connected via the Churchill Barriers - huge concrete causeways built in the 40s by Italian POWs to protect the huge naval base stationed in the bay of Scapa Flow during WW2.

Orkney is mostly flat (trees are a rarity), and the wind supposedly never dies down, so we were blown about and rained on whenever we got off the bus. We explored the town, and sadly probably spent more time hiding in souvenir shops as the rain kept up its relentless bucketing. Lunch was next in the town of Stromness, which was a postcard-ready fishing village with a surprisingly decent art gallery by the harbour. I love that Scotland appears to have such a decent funding system for the arts - it definitely makes a difference and there looks to be lots of opportunities for Scottish artists popping up in unexpected places.

Following Stromness our tour took us to the site of Skara Brae - the excavated remains of a prehistoric settlement. We were a bit miffed to have to pay yet another entry fee, but the ruins were intriguing in just how OLD they were. There are so many gaps in the understanding of these people, such as their language and why they abruptly fled the site. Not knowing the answers seems to make the span of time between us and them that much more apparent.

More ancient inexplicable archaeology followed at the Ring of Brodgar and the Standing Stones of Stenness. Both formations are similar to the more well known Stonehenge, with the Ring of Brodgar being larger than Stonehenge (though more sparse with only 27 stones left from an initial ring of 60). Coming from a culture without any written language, there's no definitive answer to what the function of these monuments were, but the bus driver seemed to be keen on the idea that Brodgar at least was a site for rituals of sacrifice and other sorcerous shenanigans.

Our last stop before the dreaded return trip was the Italian Chapel. Though a fairly benign name, the chapel was built by the Italian POWs who were already building the barriers. Although technically prisoners, the Italians had good relations with the Orkadians and after a while requested a place for worship. They got the green light to build a church out of two leftover Nissen huts. Those Italians must have been either bored or incredibly devoted because they turned the place into a ridiculously ornate and beautiful little church using only the limited supplies that they could scrounge. The statues were carved from leftover concrete; ironwork came from melted down nails and wire; the candle holders were old corned beef tins; and the plaster-boarded walls were completely painted in a trompe l'oeil style to appear like ornate masonry. Something bizarre and surprising compared to all the other churches I've come across.

Afterwards, it was finally time to board that godforsaken ferry again. Thankfully the wind had died down a bit and the sun managed to make an appearance so the ride back wasn't as bad as it could have been, though still nauseating all the same. My dinner + beer that evening never tasted so welcoming and deserved.

(PS. damn sorry for the essay)

Bad Tongue

After finding breakfast in the morning we drove down to nearby Smoo Cave to have a look around. The cave system is unique in that the initial chamber was hollowed out by the sea, whereas the rear chambers were made by rainwater seeping through the sandstone. The rest of the cave system is inaccessible but the excavators know that neolithic man used to inhabit the inner caves from sampling hazelnut ash that has seeped out through cracks. Interestingly hazelnuts haven’t grown in Scotland for thousands of years, so they can trace it back to a former time and place which I think is super neat. 

We paid 5 quid to be taken on a short tour down into the furthest safely accessible chamber in an inflatable raft and wearing hard hats for good measure. 

When we got out the day was still clear and fine from the previous day, and (surprisingly) there are plenty of beautiful white sand beaches around Durness to explore. We took a stroll along the shore and clambered over some rock formations while the sun stayed out. 

From there we drove into the oddly named town of Tongue to find lunch, but being Sunday and also quite late in the afternoon everything had already closed for a Sunday siesta. Driving along further we eventually found a sleepy hotel with some cheerful ladies running the tavern. We both stuffed ourselves with a proper Sunday roast - Scottish beef, Yorkshire puddings, crispy potatoes, peas and a generous moat of gravy (plus a pint of ale on the side of course). It felt correct.

The next stop was the Forsinard Flows, a huge inland expanse of bog and spongy moss. Although a bit disgusting to imagine squelching through, this sort of environment is supposedly hard to come by these days and supports a large number of native insect and bird species. Being so important it's been designated a national nature reserve and some decent funding obviously went into building the neat winding boardwalk over to the lonely watchtower sitting amidst the vast field. 

On the way to our next stop in Thurso I noticed a random cloud that looked like the shape of Iceland. Not sure if coincidence or omen? Anyway, we stayed that night in a shabby but comfortable hostel facing a chippy. Nothing to gush over but enough to crash safely for a night.

Trench Foot

The previous day started late and ended early, and with a bigger drive and more to see along the way we decided not to sleep in for a change. 

Our first stop was the Falls of Kirkaig near Inverkirkaig. We trekked a 2 mile path beside the river and through the hills to get to the thundering falls. It was a dry day but being Scotland I don’t think much time passes between downpours. The path had numerous muddy patches to navigate and I set the tone for the day after accidentally submerging an entire foot into a mud puddle.

We dried off on the way back and lunched in Lochinver before driving to Stoer Head - a 6km long peninsula jutting out towards the Outer Hebrides. The lighthouse is beautiful, and by some miracle FOR SALE. I definitely had a few fantasies swirling in my head on the approach…

By now the clouds had parted and the sun was out in full force. But the 2 1/2 mile hike to the end of the peninsula was even muddier than the hike to the falls. The ground was slippery, swampy and impassable at times with no continuous path to decipher. Poor Jake took a complete tumble when he tried to jump over a muddy patch and failed to stick the landing. We trudged on to the end of the point for the beautiful views, and to see the Old Man of Stoer - a 60m high sea stack off the coast. 

Heading back was no easier, but eventually we made it back to the car to strip away our saturated shoes and socks to dry off a bit. We stopped by yet more picturesque ruins and mountains on the way to our next stop of Durness. 

Backtracking

Apologies for the lack of updates. One thing I didn’t anticipate up here was how terrible the general phone connectivity and wifi signals would be. I suppose Norway is a well connected country - I really took it for granted after a while there that every airport would offer up guaranteed free-flowing wifi at every terminal. Here things have been a bit slower. Despite buying mine and Jake’s Vodafone SIM cards in Edinburgh, there’s been next to zero reception between most towns and typically not much more in small towns either. It’s a mystery to me how locals up here get around it.

I’m writing this now from the confines of a ‘glamping' (I HATE that word) pod in the tiny town of John O’Groats in the furthest northeast corner of the mainland. The labels around town suggest that it’s the end of the 500, which doesn’t make sense to me as the route is circular. Anyway, Jake and I are bunking in a cute timber pod tonight that apart from the lack of pillows and bed linen looks like any other cheap/novel sort of accommodation. 

I’ll get into the specifics of today in a later post, because right now I’m just trying to play catch up. On Friday we drove the winding seaside route from Shieldaig to Ullapool that constantly weaved in and out of the many jagged peninsulas that make up the western side of the north end. 

We stopped at a cheerful roadside cafe in Kinlochewe to tuck into some giant scones and coffee. Continuing on we stopped at a roadside waterfall at Achnasheen, and a few more photo ops in Gairloch and Loch Tollaidh. All the while I kept up my terrible habit for constantly pulling over to take photos of the stunning scenery. I really don’t think I’m doing this place justice in my photos. Sometimes I just don’t bother; to me the landscape overall is breathtaking without there being specific landmarks worth gushing over, and that’s a bit more difficult to convey in photos as opposed to just being here and driving through it. 

We arrived in Ullapool early enough for a late lunch at a delicatessen. It was a happy accident that I stumbled on a gallery currently exhibiting a group show involving Ellis O’Connor. We met in Iceland where our residencies overlapped by three months and we got on like a house on fire. I really admire her work and her motives behind it, so it was lovely to randomly bump into it. Later this month I’ll be seeing her in Skye so stay tuned for that. 

After a bit of wandering we did a round of grocery shopping and settled in for an early night at our BnB with dinner consisting of charcuterie in bed - going out every night can be tiring too. 

Wester Ross Wanderings

Yesterday and today (most likely tomorrow as well) was spent driving across Wester Ross, or in rough terms the western side of the mainland, with Skye and the Inner + Outer Hebrides lying further out to sea. The region is mountainous, and I lost count of the number of times I pulled over in a vain attempt to photograph some of the jaw-dropping landscape surrounding us (and in no way do I think my photos do the region any justice). 

From Conon Bridge we drove west to the Applecross Peninsula via Bealach na Bà (Scottish Gaelic for Pass of the Cattle), which is one of Scotland's highest roads passing through the mountains. There were numerous hairpin bends and steep inclines - hence plenty of incredible views and countless photo ops. We passed a few brave and stupid cyclists along the way, as well as numerous hulking camper vans that probably would have been smarter to skip the pass. Many of the smaller roads here are single lane except for passing points. This allows cars enough side space to bypass oncoming traffic, but if two vehicles are stuck facing each other in between pass points then someone eventually has to relent and reverse. 

We eventually arrived in the 'town' of Applecross. I use inverted commas because the town was no more than a lone pub, cafe and a few gift shops surrounded by a lose scattering of crofts and houses on the peninsula. We lunched at the beautifully honest/unpretentious restaurant at the Applecross Walled Garden that proudly displayed a 'recommended by Michelin 2016' sticker on the front window. I don't know if that means a star or not, but the food was delicious nonetheless. I found myself staring down a mountain of Skye mussels cooked in garlic and white wine while Jake had to tackle what he thought were prawns, but in actual fact was a mound of local langoustine drenched in garlic butter - all for the low low price of £18. In hindsight we're pretty certain the waitress screwed up, but we conveniently kept our mouths shut.

To walk off the seafood we hiked along the coast from Applecross Bay over the hills to the other side - an 11km round trip. The hike was good enough, but we were constantly in amongst a cloud of midges, and I definitely would have preferred a circular route - so I don't have to be looking at the same scenery twice. 

The sun was setting by the time we got back to the car, and despite more jaw-dropping vistas we only stopped once more for me to scream, stutter and squawk over a few highland cows (coos) found casually grazing along the roadside. I can't get over how perfectly photogenic they are, and to make my voice raise even higher there were a couple of calves as well. One of them was chill enough to let me give it a scratch behind the ears as my insides melted a bit. 

We arrived late to our evening pitstop in Shieldaig - another pleasant fishing village that looks like it exists purely to house tourists 3 months out of the year. After dumping our stuff we found the pub which mercifully did up some fish and chips despite the lateness of the hour. This area is all about the seafood, and of course I don’t mind eating vast quantities of the stuff, but I just wish the one cooking method wasn’t so typically fried with chips. You start feeling a bit heavier after repeatedly eating the stuff against your will.  

Birthday Boy

The past few days have been magical, to say the least. It was my birthday on Wednesday (a middling 27) and things got off to a great start with the early morning arrival of Jake (the missus). I had only arrived back into Edinburgh from Belfast by way of Dublin late the night before so I was up again after a quick pitstop at the same Edinburgh hostel I had stayed at during Fringe. 

After a wet gooey reunion at the terminal we picked up our rental car and hit the road for a 9 day road trip north into the Highlands. On Wendy's (fellow La Wayaka artist) recommendation, we set out for the North Coast 500, a tourist route that does a big lap mostly hugging the Scottish coastline on the mainland. 

We stopped at a well-manicured garden with an incongruous entry fee, and had a quick snoop in the town of Perth as I slowly got my head around how to drive our Citroën Picasso.

Now, just a quick rant about our rental... It's a decent enough drive, but I've never come across a car that feels so much like a super computer. Everything is digitised including the dashboard and speedometer, and there's also keyless entry, rearview cameras and buttons for hand brakes and engine start. Call me old-fashioned but I just feel more secure when I get to physically release a tangible hand brake and can only start the car once I insert a key into the ignition. We also spent a good long while trying to get the fuel gauge to show up on the upper dash, because apparently that's not something that needs to be seen at all times(?)

After Perth we entered the Highlands and drove around the perimeter of Cairngorms National Park on the way up. More stops were made at Loch an Eilein (photos above), the ruins of Ruthven Barracks and the Potting Shed Tearooms. Getting to the tearooms felt like a long drive through the Dandenongs, as we went down endless single lane winding roads through thick and picturesque woods until out of nowhere appeared a beautiful working garden with several aged cottages scattered throughout. I had my proxy birthday cake there in the old greenhouse. 

From there we continued driving past Inverness until we arrived at Balavil Farm in Conon Bridge. Part of Jake's extensive birthday present was a night at the B&B in the beautiful farmhouse. Dinner that night was a bit hit and miss, but I can honestly say that Balavil was one of the best Airbnb experiences I've ever had. 

Westeros?

It seems fitting that I'm in Belfast now having just watched the season finale for Game of Thrones, in the place where it all happened. I had no luck finding reasonably priced accommodation here for two nights so I turned to couch surfing instead. All in all I can say it's been pretty great! It works in a similar way to Airbnb but there's just no exchange of money. Hosts either do it to meet new people, out of sheer generosity, or in the hopes that the favour will be returned in future. Being free, there's also the unspoken expectation that you hang out with the person a bit more than traditional accommodation, so John and I spent the last 2 nights falling into Youtube wormholes and last night he threw together some epic burgers for us both. It's not for everyone I'm sure, but it's a nice change of scenery in a sea of endless stinky dorms and bathrooms where thongs must be worn at all times.

I'm trying to quickly write this up before I set out again. My bus bound for Dublin airport leaves at 5 so I'll have a few hours to explore the city. Onto the stream of photos above, and I acquiesced to a second coach tour yesterday to the other Big Attraction in Ireland - the Giant's Causeway. It was a longer trip than the cliffs, but overall the people on this bus seemed a lot better behaved, although the driver was a bit too eager to tell us ALL of his lame dad jokes. 

We started and ended at castles - Carrickfergus and Dunluce. Both were impressive but my photos didn't really reflect that so just google them... On the way up we also stopped at the Carrick-a-Rede rope bridge, which back in the day was a precarious 20m rope bridge linking the mainland to a small rocky island off the north coast where local fishermen fished the salmon population to complete and utter ruin. It's just a tourist spot now but I the walk across was still exhilarating. As you can see the weather didn't quite clear out for us but the rain was never too heavy and it would have been that much worse had there been any wind as well. The coastline surrounding the bridge had a definite Westerosi feel to it, which stayed in my head all day. It was helped by the weather of course, and we also briefly zipped past the set for Castle Black partially hidden in an old quarry. 

Giant's Causeway was a sight to behold. Perhaps compared to the cliffs I wasn't completely floored at the sight of them because the scale wasn't so insane, but it was still felt so crazy that nature had come up with this. Predictably so, the formations were swarming with visitors so there was no way to get the perfect serene money shot of most of the 40,000+ columns rising out of the waves. After clambering around for an hour I took the scenic route back to the bus via the sea cliffs up above. This gave a good view down below as well as out to sea, where the next land mass is America. 

Ireland has been a real eye-opener, and I'm really glad I came. It never registered as somewhere notable for me to focus my attention on but how wrong I was. Maybe in the future I can find myself a nice residency near the coast here and rent a car for a cross country road trip... There was definitely so much that I missed on the way up and back.