March 2016 Ayrshire, Dumfries and Galloway, Glasgow

Day 1

After an early (up at 3:30 -- aouch), but eventless train journey, we arrive in Glasgow at 10:40. A quick walk down the road, and we seem to be way too early to pick up the rental car. They are relaxed about it: the car is ready and we can have it immediately... on the condition that we bring it back early too. Fine. The manager tries to sell me things I do not want or need, even going as far as giving me the choice between two models -- "You can have this one, which is the model you booked online, or you can have that one, which is slightly bigger... It is only £8 more per day." If I did not know exactly what I wanted, I would not have booked online! The insistence to sell me an inflated insurance policy is particularly exasperating. I dodge all the tricks all the same, making it the cheapest rental car ever seen. Yay.
A quick stop at a local auction house to collect a couple of things won in the past months, then it is over the river Clyde and southbound towards Kilmarnock.

The road is very busy and unpleasant. Further onward to Ayr, it is slightly less busy, yet it does not becomes much more picturesque.

Yes: a fireplace in the bathroom!

We arrive in Maybole. Even though we have an event scheduled in Kirkoswald, I simply do not want to go there with a car full of baggage. We show up at the B&B... five hours ahead of schedule. Fortunately, the hosts do not mind. The room is ready and we are welcome to use it.

By the time the car is unloaded, JS is feeling dreadful: the pressurisation on the train, coupled with the long drive gave her a headache that I am starting to feel myself. I phone up our hosts in Kirkoswald to postpone our rendez-vous and let JS take a nap. I try to do the same.
Two hours behind, we set off for Kirkoswald, where we have a good time.

We come back later for an early night.

Day 2

The best croissant this side of the Channel

Excellent breakfast, full of local products (the honey! ZOMG!), spent watching the birds in the garden -- including the most spoilt hens in Ayrshire, according to the host.

The weather looks wonderful, which is just as well, as we are spending a big portion of the day outside. Culzean Castle and gardens, to be precise.

Oddly, the tickets can only be bought at the entrance to the park, a fifteen-minute drive away from the castle itself. It is also cash only and, once you reach that point, it is too late to change your mind (e.g. based on the admission price), because the line of cars behind prevent one from backtracking. Looks like a trap, really! Worth noting that nothing tells you the price before you arrive at the pay booth.

We park the car and enter. The castle itself will not open for twenty minutes or so. When it does, we discover it is the first open day since October. Phew.

Do not be surprised to see this picture in next year's calendar

Zoom in: it is pistols!

The weather is gorgeous, offering amazing views over the sea. We do, however, want to see inside, and do so as early as possible, so we can enjoy the afternoon outside.


The visit starts with the largest flintlock-pistol collection in the world and is brilliant throughout, with well-trained guides (the guided tour is included, so we take it). I learn lots of things -- the origin of the expression "losing face" is my favourite: women wore a lot of make up (layers of wax, arsenic, mercury and lead, great for the skin); sitting close to the fire would melt the wax and see all the layers come off, resulting in the ladies literally losing face. To prevent that, a fire screen was common: a piece of fabric on a frame to protect the ladies' makeup from the aggressive fireplace.

The views from the castle windows are magnificent, with the round room taking the motherflipping biscuit. It is undoubtedly where the best tastings are to be had in this whole castle!

The guide explains the Kennedy family, Lairds of this place, made their money in a not-so-classy way: smugglers were using the caves underneath the property; the Kennedy agreed to turn a blind eye for a percentage of the profit. I find it distressing that they were given titles and land as a thank you for robbing the taxman.

The Old Man and the sea

The Swan Pond

After the visit, we venture through the huge garden. There are children everywhere for a giant Easter-egg hunt, so the wild life is rather sparse. A couple of swans building a nest, a couple of mallards, and red deer being fed by tourists (and an aggressive face-off between a deer and a small dog). The vinery has great plants and trees. The children are too much to handle though. We call it a day to escape them.

From there, we drive to Girvan, take pictures of the distillery from a distance, then carry on to Newton Stewart on the busy road. The size of the lorries is ludicrous. Narrow, but very tall, probably commuting between Glasgow and Ireland.

Once in Newton Stewart, we drop off our bags at the B&B, then visit the local pharmacy for cough syrup: JS is feeling ill. The B&B, tenanted by a couple of exiled Rhodesians, feels slightly damp, which doesn't help.

Especially for our Dutch-speaking readers

Venison casserole

Hawaii-style Galloway burger

After an early shower, we walk down to the Galloway's Arms, a haunted pub, for supper (venison casserole for me, Hawaii-style Galloway burger for JS). The bar has an extensive whisky selection and more interesting bottles are displayed in cabinets around the room. I have a funny talk with the publican about his unlikely stock and his fleet of yellow Vauxhall/Opel Calibras. The landlord is convinced that Black Bowmore is not for drinking, but will sell the bottle to me for six grand. As well as any bottle in the cabinet, some of which I know sell for less than two hundred. Good luck, mate. See you later.
We go back to get some sleep.

Day 3

Yum.

No joke, eh?

Whaaaaat?

It is pissing down, today. We have plans for hikes in the nearby forests and RSPB reserves, yet with this weather, the chances of spotting anything and enjoying ourselves are pretty much non-existing. No hike, then. What to do? Bladnoch distillery is close enough, but it is not open to visitors today. Hmmm. Ah! Annandale!

Whaaaaat?

The drive there is quite long, with a road in passable conditions in places, and also very busy. A great combination, when driving under the rain! Anyway, we make it there safely and enjoy a very good visit.

From one surprise to the next

On the way back, with a beautifully pink and purple sky ahead of us, we stop at the Laird's Inn, tucked away, almost inaccessible. After an unplanned detour by Whisky Broker's premises I am ready to u-turn once we pass the caravan site, thinking the place must be shut since 1746. The first opportunity to maneuver is the Inn's car park, which is just as well. We are hungry.

Gothika!

The Inn is a part of a manor that was probably magnificent at some point, until it got destroyed by fire. The laird is slowly refurbishing it, and started with the Inn. Still a lot of work left to do the rest. The ghostly walls at dusk exude a certain charm of olden days -- I love it.

The whisky selection is very limited (three or four supermarket bottles). JS settles on an undislosed malt called Shieldaig, which turns out to be decent enough.

Fish & chips

Steak and ale pie

I have the steak and ale pie, while she goes for fish and chips. The chips are of good standard.

We cannot resist this choc fondant (actually a moëlleux, innit)

The place is a bit draughty. and the coal fire is useless. All the same, it is a good meal and a nice place. The drive back to Newton Stewart under the starry sky is easy.

Day 4

Busy day ahead of us and -- oh! joy -- it seems the weather is more cooperative, today. Well, at least until later in the afternoon, according to the forecast. Our initial plan is to get up early, do a quick scouting of Wigtown, then come back and load the car in time for breakfast. The clocks changed to summer time overnight, though. We are ready for breakfast nonetheless, and even have time to load the car. In fact, we could execute our plan, as our hosts forgot the time change and are not ready to serve breakfast for another hour. Ah, well.

tOMoH: 1 -- breakfast: 0

Once the hearty meal is down, we proceed to Wigtown. The tank hits the reserve, so it is with relief that we reach a petrol station... where we get turned away: they are out of petrol! We drive by Bladnoch, in the town centre's roundabout, then carry on south to the Crook of Baldoon. Seconds before the point of no return (that point where you have just enough petrol to come back), we reach our destination at last: a tiny parking lot, starting point of the short hike through the marshland. Birds, here we come!

Barnacle geese

We spot pink-footed geese, barnacle geese, chaffinches, blue tits, what might be a curlew, and more importantly, reed buntings (first time, I think), one mute swan in the distance... and fourteen shell ducks. Excited we are.

Three kilometres later, we are back at the car. Will we make it to a petrol station? Just! We manage to carefully drag it to Newton Stewart as it starts flashing a red light and reading LoFUEL. Phewl.

The next leg of our journey today takes us through breathtaking scenery and empty roads that require all my attention. Our average speed is very low, but the enjoyment is very high. We stop in the middle of nowhere to eat some cake. I can see JS is now poorly and struggling to stay awake, though.

We get a little lost between Thornhill and Beattock and have to ask a kind soul to point us in the right direction (let us be clear: I know exactly where we are and where we need to go; the minor roads are not on our map, so I do not know exactly which one to take is all). Beattock signals the end of the remote bit and the start of the motorway, which we take to Moffat.

We want to stop in Moffat to buy cough drops. On Easter Sunday, that is not easy. Fortunately, a news agent's has some. It starts raining. We go to the Mill, after reading there is a whisky shop there, hidden in a corner of the huge outlet. Half a second in, I know we will not find anything. Out of courtesy, I still browse the selection... and find something after all: a 30yo Speysider at a sweet price and a Tomatin bottled exclusively for this shop -- yay!

We embark on the final leg of our trip of the day. Destination: Lanark.

Coming out of the motorway, we reminisce over the cool birds we saw and bemoan the lack of lapwings -- JS chose Baldoon because the chances were high to see them there. Entering the roundabout at the end of the motorway exit, I notice a shape landing on the grassy dome in the roundabout centre. Quick glance: A LAPWING! Thank traffic planners for building roundabouts everywhere: it gave us a chance to do a lap for free and observe the wonderful specimen on top of the mound.

We stop at the B&B, drop off our baggage, take a shower and look at brochures for things we will not have time to do.

An interesting place, Lanark. The history buffs will know that it is the place where William Wallace's uprising started (this is where he kills the sheriff in Braveheart). Few know that this town is the punk capital of the world, on the other hand. During their grand tour of the Scottish Lowland in 1975, this is where Johnny Rotten and Sid Vicious of the Sex Pistols wrote Lanarky in the UK. :-)

We need food. Between the Wetherspoon, the local pub and the Indian, we go for the Indian, tonight.

Jholpai it is and very good it is too. Wonderful curry, friendly chap. Early night, since we need to leave early tomorrow.

Day 5

Two Swedes checked in late last night and are having breakfast when we join the table (the hash browns are superb, by the way). They have driven from north of Stockholm through seven countries with a trailer... to buy a horse. The father-and-son road trip is really just a tantrum of the wife/mother who decided she wanted that horse and no other, leaving it to the men to collect it.

The drive into Glasgow is smooth. We get off the motorway for the final stretch and obviously get lost. Just as well JS has maps on her phone: Glasgow is a maze of one-way streets.
We are early, though. Early enough to drop off the bags at the hotel before returning the car. Bye Yago!

Relieved to get rid of the car, really. Travelling on foot is much more my thing!

Whisky and wax, killer combination

Again, JS selected a couple of places. We visit The Good Spirits, try multiple drams and spend a while chatting. We then go to the Whisky Shop and find nothing at all. That store is more depressing with each visit!

Off to John Lewis for a quick shopping stop, then back to the hotel for a nap. JS is feeling poorly again.

Quite chirpy myself, actually

I watch Autumn in New York on the telly, but miss the ending, as we have an appointment on the other side of town with FMcN, at the Bon Accord.

FMcN drives us back to the hotel. He needs to leave and cannot stay for a meal. We skip dinner altogether: JS is feeling unwell. I catch Bad Teacher on the tube, which is quite funny.

Day 6

The continental breakfast at the hotel is horrible (cooked breakfast is not included any longer). It will have to do all the same. We check out early, make it to the station well ahead of schedule, I buy postcards we will end up not writing, then we board the train for the long but easy journey home.
Phew.

Rescue Rangers' haul

December 2015 Hogmanay in Dornoch

Day 0

Coming back from the Christmas break, I am told to repack very swiftly, as the next adventure starts the following day. Hm.

It turns out JS and I are taking the Caledonian Sleeper to Inverness. Okay...

The train goes from comfortably warm to rather chilly overnight, which wakes me up a few times. Also, a girl in the seat next to us is constantly sniffing and checking her phone. I am concerned for our health and annoyed by her behaviour. Get a life, wench.
Another annoyance: there is but one electrical socket for the whole carriage -- next to us. Tons of passengers cannot face one train journey without a phone and compete to charge it there, disrupting everyone else.

I notice we seem to stop a lot for stretches of up to two hours at a time. Comes a point in the middle of the night where, after two hours of no movement, we manage to advance 500 metres, then stop again for another hour. No explanation, no update. Nothing. Instead of worrying, I decide to try and get some kip. JS is sleeping tight.

Day 1

Later on, around the time we were supposed to be in Inverness, we arrive in Perth. There, we are finally told we will stay put for a while, because of the weather. Floods between there and Inverness have cut the track. No-one is certain when we will resume the journey, if at all.
Ultimately, we only spend fifteen minutes in Perth before moving ahead. The journey is slow and the spectacle is all but reassuring, though. Oftentimes, it looks as though the train were gliding on a loch. We are not talking about ten centimetres of water here and there, but several metres that have completely modified the landscape. I am reminded of the scenes of the Blue Lotus, where Tintin wants to go to Hou Kou and the train line is flooded. Only, it seems worse here.

This is a field

Pastures, full of cowfish

Against all odds and four hours behind schedule, we make it to Inverness. There, we discover with horror and relief that all other trains have been cancelled. Ours is the only train of the day to have made it through. That is what one calls a narrow escape!

JS has a mini-programme in Inverness before we continue to our destination -- which, at this point, is still unknown to me, must I repeat it? The programme includes: 1) finding the bus station and 2) grab a bite. 1) is executed swiftly, while we find where to do 2) during 1).
We enter a café/snack that employs socially-challenged, local youths to give them a chance. A great initiative.
The place is busy and it takes a while for our order to be taken, then even longer to be served. I worry we will miss our bus.

Welcome fuel

Sarnies

The fuel is very welcome, though. We both take the soup of the day and a sarnie. The staff is in no hurry to see us pay, which forces us to run for the bus. I am convinced we have missed it (next one is an hour later), but fortunately, the driver is not even there yet. A bit too tight for me all the same.
The driver advises us to take a day pass, as it is cheaper than a return ticket. Thanks, mate. We are not coming back today, though. It takes a while for the penny to drop and he is then perplexed as to what the best price is.
Anyway, we drive past Alness, Invergordon and Tain, which brings back lots of memories.

After ninety minutes, we reach our destination: Dornoch. The bus stops on The Square, almost directly in front of the Dornoch Castle Hotel. Ah! Now, the pieces of the puzzle come together.
We were recently told how good Dornoch Castle Hotel is when it comes to its whisky selection. It seems we are about to find out. \o/

Our base camp for a few days

Scouting the bar

We will be alright

We check in and settle in. JS takes a nap, while I go for a quick walk through town and scout the bar, before coming back for a shower and a shave. You have to admire a man who thinks of packing a razor and foam... but no after-shave lotion! I suppose I could buy some at the local pharmacy, yet I refuse to shell out for a commodity I have simply forgotten to bring along. Yet another bottle of lotion will take up space in my baggage, then in my cupboard, as well as cost more than it does at home. Fortunately, I have my hip flask. I will then smell of Ardmore 1978/1998 (46%, Cadenhead's Original Collection). I am disappointed that no-one spots it, once we get out of the room for the first session of the stay.

Day 2

A well-deserved breakfast awaits and it is traditional: grapefruit slices, prunes, then full Scottish. This should prepare us for the day ahead. JS has planned everything, you see.
We set on a hike alongside the (world famous) golf course to the nature reserve of Loch Fleet. The exact destination is Littleferry, to which there is no bus. And no ferry either -- it is one of those many places that probably used to have one, got rid of it decades ago, yet never bothered to change the name of the hamlet. In any case, Littleferry is around 15 km away and I have doubts we can get there and back during the course of the day -- which lasts for four or five hours, at this latitude and in this season. We shall see.

En route, our first spotting is a yellow hammer, rather nice, as I have never seen one before. Further on, we see a wren (or kinglet -- JS misses it), various breeds of ponies, a roe deer, curlews (they leave us wondering, since we are not carrying a book to identify them), mergansers (yay!), mallards, pochards, shellducks (those get JS all excited), a couple of herons, European geese, a kestrel, chaffinches, tits, oystercatchers, something that looks like a gull with a small, grey bill that makes me think of puffins in winter clothes and something with a small, red bill we cannot identify.

We spend a few moments on a parking space on the side of the road to speak with a couple of people, when we all spot common seals in the distance, very calm and clearly visible. The beautiful weather helps; the shy sun is warming us up a bit and gives good visibility. Lovely.

Here be ducks, believe me

Further on, we pass by the ruins of Skelbo farm, which looks like a castle. The sun is quickly setting, though and I start thinking about the return journey. I want to hitch a hike back to Dornoch, as another three-hour walk will not do: the temperature is dropping, as is the light.

14:12

I want to reach the main road (A9), thinking we will have more chances to be picked up. The A9 is as busy as in my memories (I cycled it to Wick in 2000), but is has no sidewalk, making it very unpleasant... and dangerous to walk along. I am starting to regret not going back the same way.
Suddenly, fifteen minutes into the walk, a van stops and picks us up: the driver wondered what those two idiots thought they were doing and took pity of us.

Entering the van is akin to walking into a volcano, so hot is the temperature. It is a company van for an upholstery company (and the boss is driving): Saggy Bottoms. The drive is a good laugh. We learn about the joys of glamping (glamorous camping, innit) and other trivia. He kindly drops us off in front of our hotel after a short drive... and it was not even his way.
In any case, we now have time for a dram or two before getting ready for tonight. It is a killer session indeed.

Day 3

We sleep in, today. The bar closed after 4 AM and some of the staff carried on partying much later; one even got locked outside and had to wake up the manager to get back in. Aouch. We were much more reasonable, yet going to bed at 2, after too big a meal, too many drams and lots of outdoor activities kind of crushed us. Not to mention we still have not fully recovered from the long journey up North.

We still plan to enjoy the breakfast (before supper is even digested), yet almost miss serving time. Slices of grapefruit, prunes, full Scottish without bacon. One has to be reasonable.

The Old Manse B&B

Today's programme is less ambitious and less set-in-stone. We want to hike South, to the woods. On the way, we spot more curlews, jackdaws, siskins, crows, blackbirds, sparrows, common tits and chaffinches. Nothing too special, I suppose, though it is always nice all the same. Soon, we come across coal tits, a red kite on a pole, a buzzard being chased away by a crow, then something I finally identify as a red-crested woodpecker. Excited we are.






The woods are home to a playground for children, prehistoric hut locations and other curiosities. What makes our day, however, is a firecrest, close enough to leave no doubt as to its identity, yet too shy to allow us to take its picture. Just around the corner, we see blue tits too. Needless to say we spend a lot of time watching the branches. We can hear goldcrests, yet never see them, unfortunately.
We come across a few locals and exchange wishes and words. I am so excited about the firecrest I want to tell everyone. They tell us about local foxes and how they stink up the whole forest. There is a vague fox smell indeed.

There is a firecrest here, somewhere

Some interesting street art

We slowly walk back to town and reach the hotel around 15:00. We have not touched our packed lunch today either. We force it down once in the room, in preparation for our third day dramming in a row.

Remember that an might be punished by a strong

Day 4

Kippers

A hearty breakfast sorts us out. We are not hungry, make no mistake -- it does set the cogs in motion, though, which is good to wake us up. Grapefruit, prunes, full Scottish for me (without bacon), while JS has kippers, today.

JS is not feeling well, so no real hike, today. We take a stroll around town and up the hill, see the lovely cathedral from the 13th century (rebuilt in the 19th), the old station (closed since 1960), visit the shops, miss the post office's opening times, then proceed back to hotel for more w.

Funky cushions in the cathedral

An interesting collection of stain-glass windows
with styles from different periods

Sutherland crest

Day 5

After breakfast (the usual), we have neither time nor desire to do anything, today. We check out, then spend the last few hours at the bar, waiting for the bus and generally feeling as miserable.as the weather: it is grey and wet, today.
I move away from the fire quickly, as I start to feel nauseous. I have clearly had too much to eat and drink for four days.
At the same time, it is not as if we could come here every day. That whisky is not going to drink itself. I give it my best shot and we have more drams.

The time has come to board the bus to Inverness. It is the express, this time, and an hour later, we are there. I ask JS to take care of my suitcase and quickly cross the street for air and solace. I feel very nauseous.
Once I manage to compose myself (I must look a bit awful, yet at least, I will not have bile breath for the whole journey back), we proceed to the waiting room. With our baggage, the dreary weather and our worse condition (JS has a cold, I am still not too fresh), there is no exploring Inverness.

We almost immediately regret taking the express bus, as it means we have four hours to kill before the train leaves. The local youth uses the station's waiting room as a place to hang out and the local addiction to mobile phones is as staggering as it is annoying (videos out loud and all). I am in no state to make a fuss, though. A bit of music and a book help us make the best out of the situation.

Due to flooding, the train is rerouted through Aberdeen. It is only supposed to take an additional two hours. We are glad to be able to go home at all, never mind the delay.

The train is very hot and it carries noisy children. We discover that the thermostat has two positions: 'on' and 'off'. 'Off' means ze chill, while 'on' means we roast to death. The journey is a repetitive game of asking the conductor to switch it back off.
Although the train calls only twice on the way, the journey takes forever. We reach London with the announced two-hour delay, yet it takes another hour to go from Camden to Euston. All the same, we are relieved to have made it, especially when we learn that the Aberdeen route has subsequently been cancelled too. Phew!