Present Joys

Part of a series.

We had a relaxed morning in Oban, with a rough idea of the day’s plans and a nice “continental” breakfast at our B&B. (Does “continental breakfast” here mean bagels and yogurt and tomatoes and meat? I was pleasantly surprised by the spread.) On the advice of the couple we met at dinner last night, we took a 10 am ferry to Craignure on the isle of Mull, a 45-minute trip.

I’d never been on a passenger ferry before. This one reminded me of a 1980s movie theater: kinda old and dirty, everything covered in multiple layers of paint. There were concession stands selling overpriced candy and snacks and lounge areas with vinyl-upholstered couches and even posters advertising ferry-related attractions. Since it was our first time in such a situation, Karen and I opted to sit on the open-air deck and look at the water along with all the other people for whom ferry travel was still interesting.

Mull was not what I expected. It was beautiful but pretty sleepy. It turns out the island is so big that you really need a car to get anywhere outside of Craignure, the town where our ferry landed. This is the kind of stuff you can figure out ahead of time if you have a way to look things up online! Ah well. We really wouldn’t have had time to drive across the island anyway. Next time we’ll plan better. We walked down the main road and into a thrift store, where I bought an old Anglican hymnal for £1. The lady in the store recommended a mountain hike just up the road, so we walked the other direction up the main road until we found a sign for Scallastle park. In contrast to yesterday’s popular nature destination, this park must have been one of Scotland’s least-visited. The path felt untouched. At one point we saw a sign explaining that a nature reclamation program was going on; invasive species of trees had been leveled to make way for indigenous conifers. It gave the park a spooky sort of graveyard feel. We took the “strenuous uphill option” which offered a wonderful view of the Sound of Mull.

We took the return ferry back in time for a 2 pm distillery tour at Oban Distillery. I wanted to do a distillery tour just to say I’d done it, and this one was very convenient—it’s right in the center of the town, just a few minutes walk from our B&B. The experience was about what I expected, but it was fun to see and smell all the steps of the whisky-making process. I helped Karen finish her free sample.

Then, back in the car for a few hours to Glasgow—our home base for the next day and a half—just in the nick of time to return our rental car before they closed at 6 pm. (We technically had the rental until noon the next day, but really did not want to be responsible for it a moment longer than we had to.) It felt so good to park that thing and walk away from it forever. We figured out the correct bus to take us near our new place, and went the rest of the way on foot. While we’re winding our way through Glasgow, I’m thinking wow, this place is nothing like Edinburgh. In fact, the glitz and drama of Glasgow at night makes Edinburgh feel like a legit medieval city. I can see why Glasgow supports a cool music scene, and it makes sense that there is an art school here. It almost doesn’t feel like the Scotland I’ve become used to. We have just one day to explore this place before our time in Scotland comes to an end. And there’s a lot to see!

Part of a series.

We awoke in our Glencoe B&B feeling much more optimistic. At 8:30 we had a fabulous breakfast of bacon, sausage, fried egg, tomato, and toast with home-made orange marmalade and a tiny glass of sparkling elderflower juice. Ann, our hostess, bustled in and out of the dining room. “It’s a beautiful morning!” she exclaimed at one point, and I realized she’d opened the windows. It couldn’t have been above 60° F. “Quaint” doesn’t begin to describe how cute this couple was—probably in their upper 70s, living in this adorable, cluttered little house on the misty edge of big mountains, with their windows open to enjoy the morning air, and their kitchen radio blaring a Glasgow radio program which feels like it’s coming from a planet a million lightyears away.

We left the car at our B&B and took a walk to Glencoe Lochan (apparently lochan means “a small loch”), a beautiful place for a morning excursion. Sadly, the Glencoe Folk Museum had just closed for the season, so after our walk we said goodbye to the village and hit the road to head north toward Fort William. The West Highland Museum there had some cool Jacobite artifacts and some examples of highland dress. I was parked illegally the whole time, though, so I had a hard time fully enjoying myself. (Have I mentioned I really hate driving here?) Oh—but the museum also had one particularly neat display about St Kilda, a remote Hebridean archipelago whose 36 inhabitants were evacuated to the Scottish mainland in 1930. It’s an interesting story.

From Fort William we headed east to Steall Waterfall in Glen Nevis, a park which Karen had wanted to visit. As I write this I see Ben Nevis, a mountain at the base of the park, is the British Isles’ tallest mountain, and Steall Waterfall its second-longest waterfall. No wonder it was so busy with visitors. It truly was a jaw-droppingly majestic place. We spent most of the afternoon there, just enjoying the massive scenery and the bleak Scottish weather. This sort of thing is Karen’s version of going to art galleries—she could hardly tear herself away.

We have only one night and one day left to explore the highlands before heading to Glasgow—in hindsight, I wish we’d left ourselves a few more days. Daylight is scarcer than I’d anticipated, and we hate to waste four or five hours daylight hours in the car. So instead of going north, we decided to head south toward Oban, to see some new parts of the country and to maximize our time out of the car. We’d called B&Bs this morning in Glencoe, so there was no drama there. Oban is a port city on the west coast, with a shipping and fishing heritage that make it feel different from any of the other places we’ve visited yet. The waterfront and harbor area, with shops, restaurants, and lots of boats, felt carnival-like with colored string lights reflecting in the dark water and McCaig’s Tower looking festive perched on the hill above the water.

This B&B was totally different from our last one. In Glencoe we’d been in somebody’s guest room, sharing a bathroom, and enjoying a made-for-us breakfast the next morning served in our hosts’ dining room. This place was a lot more like a hotel: six private rooms, each with en-suite bathrooms, and a breakfast buffet served in a dedicated space filled with 2-top restaurant-style tables.

After dropping off our bags, we walked around the harbor and enjoyed the new sights. For dinner, we ended up in a fish and chip shop on the waterfront. I finally broke down asked the lady at the next table what “Irn-Bru” was, after seeing it on restaurant menus for the past few days. She eagerly bragged that it was a Scottish soft drink—a phenomenon whose taste “could not be described”—turns out, it tastes like someone dissolved baby aspirin into cream soda. That’s not to say it was unpleasant. I liked it a lot! According to the internet, Irn-Bru outsells Coke in Scotland, which is an impressive feat. It’s imported into the US (I’ve never noticed it) but with a slightly different formula due to FDA restrictions. So I’m glad to have enjoyed the real thing in its home country.

Our next-table friend nodded approvingly as I consumed my Irn-Bru and mushy peas. “You’re an honorary Scot!” She also asked us what we planned to do in Oban, and when we told her we weren’t totally sure, she suggested taking the pedestrian ferry to the isle of Mull for the day. It sounded like a good plan to us, so tomorrow that’s what we’ll do.