Isle of Harris, Day 2 - September 29

A storm front move in last night, nothing nearly as tempestuous as the night before, and we fell asleep to the sound of rain on the widows.  We both woke around 6:30 this morning to overcast conditions and we laid in bed watching the clouds crawl over the large landform in front of us (not a mountain, not a hill, maybe a hilltain?) called Coir Bhleabhal and enjoyed the quiet, broken only by occasional birdsong and the wind.  What to do today?  Golf?  Check out the Isle of Lewis to the north?  Visit the Isle of North Uist to the south?  Visit the local shops looking for some famous Harris tweed?  Take a hike around some lochs?

Had some coffee (breakfast joints don't open until 10 at the earliest and, being out of season, many are closed) and then set off to Traigh (beach) Mor, a pretty sandy beach nearby.  Prior to entering the beach, I came upon the glorious Scottish Highland cow.  Adorable, shaggy, horned creatures that come in colors of brown, red, and black.  And what a treat, they had some some young calves with them.  I'll say that I snapped these photos for my dear friend Aleta, who has liking for cows, all cows, but, frankly, through her influence, I've come to appreciate them as well.

We then hiked down to the beach.  Interesting note about Scottish land rights.  Excluding homes and yards, people have the right to access the land anywhere, provided they don't antagonize the "wee beasties" and are conscientious about closing gates behind them.   It is as though the whole country is a National Forest.  Pretty sweet.  No need to ask for permission though we enjoy meeting the "owners" who are non-plussed about us tramping among their livestock. 

High tide was coming in as we walked along the beach and snapped some photos.  One rogue wave caught Rick unawares while snapping a photo.  Some of the beaches, in the right light, are so white, though up close the sand is a pale yellow/orange.  Combined with the aquamarine waters makes it almost feels like Caribbean, though the climate is nothing like it.

After getting Rick a pair of dry socks, we headed over to Tarbert, where we checked out the Harris tweed shop for some souvenir shopping, and then had a yummy lunch of roasted chicken in mustard sauce and steak and ale pie at the Hebrides Hotel. 

We then headed northeast onto the Isle of Lewis in search of the mysterious standing stone circles, built during the neolithic ages.  Not only did we find them but discovered that the landscape is littered with them; about 20 known stone circles.  We went to the most accessible one called Callainish I.

A druid amongst stones

The good thing about coming so late in the season is we had the stone circle to ourselves for 15-20 minutes.  No one knows why these were built.  The one we saw aligned perfectly with the cardinal directions and it has been observed that the design seems to correspond with major celestial events.  Other, less romantic perspectives, speculate that someone built the first circle as "garden art" and the others came along in an attempt to keep up with "the Joneses". Whatever the case may be, the circle we saw was impressive, especially given the size of the stones.

From there we drove to Calloway where there is a historic "black" or "thatch" house village.  These houses were used until mid 20th century, and they had both humans and livestock living under one thatched roof, divided only by a partition.  We might wrinkle our noses in comteplation of the smell and our western notion of sterile cleanliness, but the animals helped heat the home . . . and it certainly beats having to go out in sideways rain to tend to the livestock.

From Calloway, we turned around, heading south and then west over to Lewis' west coast, and took the pavement to the end, the farthest to the south we could go.  Lewis has an even greater diversity of landscapes tha Harris:  huge landforms like those found on the Isle of Skye, high plains, rocky coasts, and large boggy areas dotted with lakes and large- smoothed domed Lewissian granitic hills, which I call "drumlins".  Lewis has white sandy beaches as well but not as many as Harris.

Almost sunset on west Lewis, at the end of the road

At the end of the pavement we found a stunning landscape of rocky beaches and smooth-domed  mountains.  Some curious sea otters emerged from the ocean to check us out, but scampered back into the ocean, after I yelped with surprise, when I saw them.  Me and my big mouth.  Sunset was looking good, but then clouds moved in and killed it :(.  Nonetheless I got a few shots, and frankly, it is just downright ungrateful to complain about "inadequate light" when all around you there is such great beauty.  With regards to the light, Rick noted tha,t with the sun so far to the south, you get "good" (warm, not flat) light throughout the day, not just at sunrise and sunset.

We then dashed 63 miles back to Tarbert (hard to do on mostly one lane road roads, occupied by lots of sheep, in the fading light, with a car that has NO power - yes even I recognized this) for a late dinner.  We got in a little before 9:00 pm just before the restaurant, the Pierhouse, closed and had a delicious dinner of, spicey tomato soup, fresh scallops and langostinos, and a bottle of delicious white wine (Sancerre- Rick's new go to for white wine).  And by fresh, I mean the langostinos were caught within the last 24 hours off the southeast coast of Harris, and the scallops were collected from Tarbert Bay that day.  Both were so sweet and complemented well by the bacon on the scallops and the garlic butter sauce for the Langostinos.

We made the final 14-mile drive "home" to the broch, and collapsed into bed, under very story skies and rain.  What will tomorrow bring?

First Day on Isle of Harris - September 28

View of the Atlantic from the Broch

The Broch

Not a lot of narrative for today.  Just a few observations and a bunch of pictures. Woke up after a stormy night to relatively clear skies and a nice sunrise.

Bedroom

Kitchen and Dining Room

Living Room

Spent a little time exploring the Broch.  The structure is a modern version of a 13th century dwelling where the stone is stacked like a beehive. Doubt they had window panes, towel warmers, and rain shower heads (let alone plumbing and electricity).  It is three stories with the kitchen, laundry, and dining on the first floor, the living and bathroom on the second floor, and the bedroom occupying the third floor.

Morning at Bagh Steinigidh

View of Ceapabhal from Harris Golf Course

 After having a light breakfast and making a light lunch (everything shuts down on Sunday here on Harris) we stepped out to the west coast of Harris in search of pretty places.  We were not disappointed. 

After stopping at the Harris Golf Club (20 pounds for a round of golf!) and Rick deciding to play before we leave.  We continued on south, passing small remote villages and ending at the very tip of Harris occupied by a small town named Roghadal.

Lunch Stop

Southern Tip of Harris

After taking in the view of North Uist, another Outer Hebrides Island, we headed north through a landscape of Lewis granite.

As we headed northeast, in some places closely skirting the east coast, we began to see more and more marshlands and locks, covered with colorful heather.

The light wasn't the best but the landscape still afforded us some beautiful views.

We cut back over to the west coast near the town Tuath and spent a bit of time photographing the salt marshes in the shadow of Ceopabhal.

Traigh (Beach) Lar

Then stopped to have a coffee at a hobbit like cafe called "Temple Cafe" and then headed out to see the famous Harris white sand beaches.

We then headed back to where we began to capture a sunset.  There we smelled them burning the peat (for warmth) that we had seen them harvesting earlier in the day.  Smells better than it tastes in whiskey, though given how good it smells, I can understand how people would come to like it flavoring their whiskey.  Afterwards, we headed and then back to the Broch for a meal of tortellini, salad and bread.  I am content.

Travel to Harris - September 27

Today we made the almost 8-hour journey from Glasgow to the very upper northwest of Scotland on the Isle of Harris in the Outer Hebrides.  It was fairly uneventful for the most part . . . once one got use to the lanes that are narrower than oncoming trucks (lorries), the lack of any advance notice of roadway construction (thank god for good brakes), and the occasional squeal coming from his companion riding shotgun and gripping the seat whenever she thought he was in danger of going off the roadway edge and blowing a tire as was done during the previous Scotland trips (see 2012 blog for play-by-play on that event).

We made it to Uig, Isle of Sky for the ferry to take us over to Tarbert, Isle of Harris when we learned that the electricity was out for most of Skye and the Outer Hebrides, including the Isle of Harris.  Betcha it is the queen getting back at all those separatists in the highlands who voted for Independence.

Coming into Tarbert, Harris - A little stormy

Ferry arrived late so we didn't get to Tarbert, on the eastern side of Harris, until after dark and we still had a 20-minute drive ahead of us to get to the Borve Lodge on the west side of the island.  It got a bit dicey when we began to experience rain and gale force winds.  It definitely got dicey when the road narrowed to one-lane with turnouts and we started playing chicken with oncoming traffic.  When we started having to dodge sheep lying in the middle of the road we realized we hit a whole new dimension of absurd.

As we approached the lodge we began to look for a sign.  Ha!  That would have been too easy, nothing doing.  We finally, by the graces of the gods, saw a sign next to a house saying Borve Lodge Estate.  We screeched to a halt, parked, and trotted up to the house at around 9:00 pm and knocked on the door just as, who we thought were the proprietors, were turning out the lights.  Darling Heather and Tony, an elderly couple, answered the door and informed us that while they were once the caretakers, they were no long and that they'd phone Steve and Karen to come fetch us as we were clearly lost.  Just then, in the midst of sideways rain, up drives a pick-up and out jumps Steve and his lovely young daughter (about 6-yrs old), Lucy, both resplendent in Harris tweed vests, caps, and jodphurs.  They graciously escorted us to our "Broch" after bidding farewell to Heather and Tony.

Living Room in the Broch

Steve, explained that he was watching the ferry traffic go by (as there wasn't much else to do on Harris at 8:30 pm) and saw a car pull into Heather and Tony's and figured it was us.  Steve and darling Lucy showed us around our three-story broch (the complete antithesis of the micro-room of the Citizen M Hotel) and Rick and I quickly settled in and had a dinner of meats, cheese, fruit and wine.  More pictures to come in the next post.  Needless to say, it is magnificent.  Can't wait to see it in the daylight.

Isle of Arran - Scotland in Miniature - September 26

Wiped from jetlag and lack of sleep, actually slept until 8:00 this morning, which was unfortunate given that we needed to be on the road by 8:15 to make the ferry to the Isle of Arran.   

Isle of Arran

We scrambled and got out on the road (drive on the left, drive on the left, drive on the left) by 8:20.  Prepaid check-in time was 9:15 (ferry was to leave at 9:45)and the Scots are serious about arriving ON TIME.  We got there at 9:25 and, despite having booked and paid in advance we were directed to the non-pre-paid line, which ran us the risk of not getting on the ferry.  Lesson learned.  Fortunately there was adequate space and we got on with a "wee " bit o' room to spare . . . but just a wee bit.

Colorful Coast of Arran

An hour ride, ending with a delicate rainbow over the island portending good things to come, and we arrived to the Isle of Arran, know as "Scotland in miniature" because it has all the topographical features of Scotland (mountains, coast, glens (valleys), agricultural land) rolled into one neat package of a little island  We thought this would be a perfect way to reintorduce us to the beauty of Scotland and help us find our photogpraher's eye, though admittedly, Rick spent more time focusing on the narrow road than the surveying the surrounding landscape.

Happy Sheep - Kintyre Isle in the Back

Arran (pronounced more like "Ireland" without the "L" and "D") did not disappoint.  The initial part of the drive took us along the colorful coast past sheep contentedly grazing on green pastures next to the see.  We were fortunate enough to see some seals basking on the rocks in the sun.  Yes there is sun here.  Learned that in the past five weeks there has been only one day of rain; the rest have been sunny. 

 

And the Angels Rejoiced

Billy Making the Mash

We weren't driving just for landscapes.  We had a goal in mind, the Arran distillery, the most recent distillery to open in Scotland (in 1995) and the only one on the island though historically there were up to 30 distilleries.  Arran hasn't had its own distillery since 1836.  The distillery touts the purity of Arran water as contributing to such fine whiskey.  They also are very proud of the fact that during the construction they had to close down for a few weeks until some young golden eagles, nesting in the cliffs above the distillery, had fledged.  One of the eagles actually graced us with a view during our tour.  Billy our tour guide complete with kilt and rich Scottish brogue, gave us a great tour including historical tidbits including techniques the islanders used to prevent the gougers (taxman) from coming over from the mainland and confiscating the whiskey.

For being so young, they have many different whiskies, some cask strength (oi - pretty strong) and others finished in amarone, sauternes, and port barrels.  Rick and I found that we liked the quarter cask (where the whiskey is matured in smaller barrels so that it has more contact with wood) and purchased a bottle.

 

Afterwards we had a little time before we needed to catch the ferry back to the mainland so we headed inland to the mountains for some good views of the island.  Got to the top of pass and yes, oh yes, here is the Scotland that I was looking forward to seeing again.  Heather, huge land forms, and beautiful streams (called burns).  Wished we could have stayed longer but we'll just add it to the list of things to do next time.

Remainder of the day was uneventful  . . . except for us attempting to enter a round-about the wrong way on a busy street.  Yikes!  Drive on the left, drive on the left, drive on the left.  We had an unremarkable dinner (need to just stick to fish-n-chips and whiskey in Glasgow) and the returned to the pub we visited the previous night "Pot and Still" for a bit of people watching , some good whiskey, and being called "luv" by the bartenders.

Pot and Still - Where no one knows your name.  They just call you "Luv".  Photo by R. Dunn

Glasgow's Citizen M Hotel

This hotel deserves a post all of its own.  When you walk in it is like walking into an Apple store.  To check in you march up to a computer screen and answer coy questions like "Are you sure you don't want to be added to our mailing list?  Think twice about this"  Yes dammit, yes.  I've been travelling for 20 hours and I just want a shower and a nap.  Young staff, like apple geniuses, flit about trying to help those of us not so adept with computers (or if we don't have the "chip" in our credit card - and they are flabbergasted by this).

The next sign that this is a unique hotel is, as you walk down the hallway, you notice how close together the doorways are.  Are these rooms very long and narrow?  Uh, no.  They are narrow and short a total of 120 square feet, maximum.  The king bed (hey at least there's a king bed) takes up 2/5 of the room . . . and we have to arrange our linens.  There is one chair and a stool.  If you should desire the sense of richness associated with multiple rooms, there is a curtain hung midway in the room which you can pull across and "voila"  you have two rooms.
The sink is in the "living" area and reminds me of a public drinking water fountain only not that big.  The bathroom, oh the bathroom, is encased entirely within frosted glass on one side of the room; the toilet being on one side and the shower on the other.  The door doesn't quite seal so Rick and I are getting to know each other in ways that we never actually ever desired. 

Also, everything, I mean everything, is controlled by an ipad like computer.  The temperature, the fan, the TV, the lights.  Rick is still trying to figure out which means I'll never figure it out. 

However I must note that, the lack of space is more than adequately compensated for by choice of shampoos/shower gels (AM vs PM) and the ability to change the lighting in the bathroom.  Not feeling in a fuchsia mood?  Presto!  You have aqua.  Rick had great fun playing with the color controls the entire time I took a shower.

Not sure this is an experience that I'll repeat, but it certainly is an experience, I'll remember.

Travel, Travel, Travel - September 25

Almost a 10 hour flight from San Francisco to Frankfurt.  Landed at midnight Pacific time.  Despite the comforts of first class (thanks, again to Rick's frequent flyer miles) didn't sleep a wink.  Watched the "Secret Life of Walter Mitty" (Iceland is next on the bucket list) and then the "Fault in Our Stars" which, in my sleep deprived state, had me weeping so uncontrollably that the flight attendant came by to check on me (Rick was, of course, asleep).  Currently waiting for our flight to Edinburgh.  From there we drive to Glasgow as there was no hotel to be had in Edinburgh because of the Ryder Cup.  Freakin' golf.  Who invented that sport anyway?  Oh, that's right, the Scots . . . Looking forward to a yummy Indian dinner and then crashing into bed.

On Our Way - September 24

After a delayed start to San Francisco, an hour sit on the runway (due to weather in San Fran) and an hour holding pattern in the air (due to weather in San Fran) we landed 2 and 1/2 hours late in San Francisco at around 10:30 in the evening.  Glad we weren't flying to Frankfurt, and then Edinburgh, until the following afternoon.  Our taxi driver who took us to the hotel is from Japan, the bellboy at the hotel is Malaysian, the two bartenders at Amelie, the wine bar we visited, are from Turkey and the Canary Islands, and our cab driver taking us back to the airport this morning is from Algiers.  Love the cosmopolitan nature of the city though the weather can be a sure pain in the butt for travel and at $1200/sq foot, the real estate is WAY out of reach.

Stayed in Hotel Scarlet on Nob Hill where everyone was almost alarmingly energetic and cheerful at 11:00 pm.  Art Decco decor; Alison, you would have loved it.  Despite being tired we walked a few blocks to Amelie, the wine bar (NOT named for one of my favorite movies, "Amelie", but for the proprietor's daughter) and we each had a glass of white and red and nibbled on some yummy cheese and honey, and pear and apricot marmalades and a bottomless burlap sack (can't call it anything else) of bread.  Amelie is clearly a local hangout with its multicultural regulars.  Just about everyone was greeted with hugs and kisses upon entering the bar.  Love the warm and friendly feeling.  Bartenders took good care of us giving us generous tastes and even more generous pours.  Found a new yummy meritage, referred to in shorthand as GSM for grenache/syrah/mouvedre made mostly in California.  Delicious!  A great way to start the trip.

How Much Does a Bottle of Whiskey Weigh?

Thanks to Rick's frequent flyer perks, we each can check up to 75 pounds of luggage with no charge.  My bag weighs 35 pounds, Rick's weighs 45.  That leaves us 70 free pounds for whiskey . . . and other trinkets, of course.  A bottle of whiskey weighs around 3 pounds (yes I weighed a bottle) so that means we could, theoretically, bring home 23 bottles of whiskey, in our luggage, at no additional charge.  I doubt that they'd all (or our clothes) survive the trip but it's good to know we have the space.  Getting ready to go . . .