Scotland Over Break
Originally I had intended to spend my break in Ireland (you know, the going back to your roots kind of thing). The main problem, however, was that I wanted to get out of the cities and into the country a little more. Why a problem? Renting a car unless you're 23 is impossible. I wasn't at all familiar with how coach services ran in Ireland, so I changed my mind to Scotland, which is served pretty well by the Citylink system and gives access to more out-of-the-way places providing you're willing to sit a while. Then I started searching for destinations. It took a good two evenings of browsing websites but eventually I figured out what I wanted and made the bookings.
Saturday I took an overnight express coach from London to Glasgow. Express is a relative term, because even making no stops it's an eight-hour drive. I managed to get about five or six hours of restless sleep and arrived in Glasgow at 8AM. Much to my dismay, I discovered that the Underground there doesn't open until 11AM on Sundays. Not feeling like paying for a cab, I waited around for the requisite time and finally made my way to the hotel.
I have to say, the hotel was a very nice place for the price. The people were very friendly and I had a good chat with them upon arrival. I then napped for a few hours and made my way out to explore. That didn't get very far. First I ran into some kind of Islamic fundamentalist protest that ran for about a block, the kind with everyone wearing black, the women in burkhas, and the men beating their chests in rhythm. Normally I'd say whatever, to each his own, but then I saw the looks some of the local, caucasian, residents were giving them. Suddenly I remembered the stories of race riots and all of the anti-racism advertising I'd seen since arrival. Feeling more than a little uncomfortable I made my way to the next Underground stop to discover the system would close in about two hours. So much for exploring the city on a Sunday. I walked a little further, found myself going into a rather dodgy area full of grafitti, and quickly beat a retreat to a much nicer park overlooking part of the city before heading back to the hotel. Overall impression of Glasgow: very mixed. I think I'd classify it as Scotland's most urban location, for better or worse.
Next day was the coach to Kyleakin. This basically involved a six-hour journey out of Glasgow, through the Trossachs (the beginnings of the Highlands), through Fort William, and northwest towards the Isle of Skye. It was absolutely gorgeous, the scenery keeping me occupied the entire time. I lucked out because normally the weather in Scotland is cloudy and wet, though the northwest coast is a little drier. I got sunshine almost my entire stay there.
Now, to give you an idea of the area- Kyleakin is a small fishing town opposite Kyle of Lossach. Connecting them is the graceful arch of the Skye Bridge, built very recently in 1995. Until then the only way to reach the Isle of Skye (which is actually a very large landmass by the way) was by ferry. Kyleakin has a great if quiet history, having been home to one "Saucy Mary," a Norse-descended noble who lived in the Castle Moil and used to raise a chain across the channel to demand tribute from passing ships. Two walls of the small keep are still standing, and I had a good time exploring that. Otherwise my time was spent relaxing in the hostel, which had a very cosy atmosphere, or walking along the local roadways.
The final leg of the trip was an afternoon and day in Glen Sligachan. What is in Sligachan? The Sligachan Hotel and the Red and Black Cuillin Hills, nothing else. Basically, the closest thing Scotland has to a mountain range, and are they gorgeous. I spent my first day trekking up a 700m hill, Beinn Dearg Mhor, to overlook the valley, meeting some local sheep along the way. I didn't get to the next, higher, summit though as the day was getting on a bit and I didn't want to take any chances (though in retrospect I could've done it easily). That night I wandered outside and saw the hills lit by a full moon in an almost clear sky, with the stream running under the old bridge and Orion hanging over the highest peaks. Made me think of several people I wanted to share it with. I'm really hoping the long-exposure pictures I took of that come out.
The next day I was a bit foolish. Here's the thing: distances in Scotland are deceiving. At first you believe the hills are really mountains, because they're built like them with very steep slopes. But then you realise that they're smaller, and you underestimate them. There are so few trees in some areas that scale isn't evident and everything looks a stone throw away. So I decided to go toward Sgurr na Gillean, one of the highest peaks, and see how far I could get without climbing equipment.
Physically the walk wasn't that strenuous; I've done much harder hikes in the States. But the path took me up toward Am Basteir, a notched ridge between Gillean and Sgurr na Basteir. Turns out this was not such a smart idea, as it's one of the hardest approaches to the summit ridgeline and definitely not to be done without proper equipment. After about a hundred feet of scrambling up loose rock and snow without cleats (wait until you see the angle of the slope in the pictures), I gave up. And somehow managed to get myself back down without injury. Kind of fun in retrospect, but I doubt I'll be attempting that kind of thing again anytime soon. At the very least I'll get a proper map showing the routes to take up (I didn't exactly need one to get back since the hotel was viewable from pretty much anywhere- there are no trees remember). The views were still great, of course. But the adrenaline combined with supporting a lot of my weight with my upper body left me a bit sore.
So, at last I had to say my farewell to the Cuillins. I had a good breakfast and even tried black pudding (I kept an open mind but it was still odd) and then came back to London. Which involved an hour to Kyleakin, an hour waiting, a six-hour journey to Glasgow (plus a half-hour stop a Fort William), five hours waiting at Glasgow, and finally eight hours of bus travel overnight into London. Somehow I managed to get enough sleep that I don't feel exhausted.
Saturday I took an overnight express coach from London to Glasgow. Express is a relative term, because even making no stops it's an eight-hour drive. I managed to get about five or six hours of restless sleep and arrived in Glasgow at 8AM. Much to my dismay, I discovered that the Underground there doesn't open until 11AM on Sundays. Not feeling like paying for a cab, I waited around for the requisite time and finally made my way to the hotel.
I have to say, the hotel was a very nice place for the price. The people were very friendly and I had a good chat with them upon arrival. I then napped for a few hours and made my way out to explore. That didn't get very far. First I ran into some kind of Islamic fundamentalist protest that ran for about a block, the kind with everyone wearing black, the women in burkhas, and the men beating their chests in rhythm. Normally I'd say whatever, to each his own, but then I saw the looks some of the local, caucasian, residents were giving them. Suddenly I remembered the stories of race riots and all of the anti-racism advertising I'd seen since arrival. Feeling more than a little uncomfortable I made my way to the next Underground stop to discover the system would close in about two hours. So much for exploring the city on a Sunday. I walked a little further, found myself going into a rather dodgy area full of grafitti, and quickly beat a retreat to a much nicer park overlooking part of the city before heading back to the hotel. Overall impression of Glasgow: very mixed. I think I'd classify it as Scotland's most urban location, for better or worse.
Next day was the coach to Kyleakin. This basically involved a six-hour journey out of Glasgow, through the Trossachs (the beginnings of the Highlands), through Fort William, and northwest towards the Isle of Skye. It was absolutely gorgeous, the scenery keeping me occupied the entire time. I lucked out because normally the weather in Scotland is cloudy and wet, though the northwest coast is a little drier. I got sunshine almost my entire stay there.
Now, to give you an idea of the area- Kyleakin is a small fishing town opposite Kyle of Lossach. Connecting them is the graceful arch of the Skye Bridge, built very recently in 1995. Until then the only way to reach the Isle of Skye (which is actually a very large landmass by the way) was by ferry. Kyleakin has a great if quiet history, having been home to one "Saucy Mary," a Norse-descended noble who lived in the Castle Moil and used to raise a chain across the channel to demand tribute from passing ships. Two walls of the small keep are still standing, and I had a good time exploring that. Otherwise my time was spent relaxing in the hostel, which had a very cosy atmosphere, or walking along the local roadways.
The final leg of the trip was an afternoon and day in Glen Sligachan. What is in Sligachan? The Sligachan Hotel and the Red and Black Cuillin Hills, nothing else. Basically, the closest thing Scotland has to a mountain range, and are they gorgeous. I spent my first day trekking up a 700m hill, Beinn Dearg Mhor, to overlook the valley, meeting some local sheep along the way. I didn't get to the next, higher, summit though as the day was getting on a bit and I didn't want to take any chances (though in retrospect I could've done it easily). That night I wandered outside and saw the hills lit by a full moon in an almost clear sky, with the stream running under the old bridge and Orion hanging over the highest peaks. Made me think of several people I wanted to share it with. I'm really hoping the long-exposure pictures I took of that come out.
The next day I was a bit foolish. Here's the thing: distances in Scotland are deceiving. At first you believe the hills are really mountains, because they're built like them with very steep slopes. But then you realise that they're smaller, and you underestimate them. There are so few trees in some areas that scale isn't evident and everything looks a stone throw away. So I decided to go toward Sgurr na Gillean, one of the highest peaks, and see how far I could get without climbing equipment.
Physically the walk wasn't that strenuous; I've done much harder hikes in the States. But the path took me up toward Am Basteir, a notched ridge between Gillean and Sgurr na Basteir. Turns out this was not such a smart idea, as it's one of the hardest approaches to the summit ridgeline and definitely not to be done without proper equipment. After about a hundred feet of scrambling up loose rock and snow without cleats (wait until you see the angle of the slope in the pictures), I gave up. And somehow managed to get myself back down without injury. Kind of fun in retrospect, but I doubt I'll be attempting that kind of thing again anytime soon. At the very least I'll get a proper map showing the routes to take up (I didn't exactly need one to get back since the hotel was viewable from pretty much anywhere- there are no trees remember). The views were still great, of course. But the adrenaline combined with supporting a lot of my weight with my upper body left me a bit sore.
So, at last I had to say my farewell to the Cuillins. I had a good breakfast and even tried black pudding (I kept an open mind but it was still odd) and then came back to London. Which involved an hour to Kyleakin, an hour waiting, a six-hour journey to Glasgow (plus a half-hour stop a Fort William), five hours waiting at Glasgow, and finally eight hours of bus travel overnight into London. Somehow I managed to get enough sleep that I don't feel exhausted.