Category: Scotland

I did try to make my first day on the Isle of Skye easy-going and relaxed. I really did.

That said, I knew from my research that I would be hard pressed to see much of the “Best of the Highlands in Miniature” without a tour. By all accounts, the public transport was, at best, “frustrating” and, at worst, “just shite.”

Thus far on my journey, I had avoided such forced-friends-for-a-day situations as a prolonged tour would demand. On Skye, I braced myself to spend at least part of my day rushing from photo op to photo op with unknown travelers expecting total group cheeriness. I had hoped for a nice half-day viewing of some Skye highlights, but the shortest tour available began at 9:30 a.m. and ended “around” 6:30 p.m. Could I forgo seeing all things fairy? Or hiking to an area lovingly described by Lonely Planet as a “spectacular end-of-the world headland with high sea cliffs and wonderful views to the Western Isles”? 

Alas, I could not.

Continue reading Skye on Steroids

Day 12 posed the greatest logistical challenge of my trip. Back on the sofa in springtime Holland, I knew I would depart from Inverness in the morning and end the day on the Isle of Skye. The options of how to do that were varied, each with its own merits and often diabolical deficits.

Continue reading Loch Logistics

Like most mornings on this journey, I awoke in the early hours, but not before the Scottish dawn. Though the clock registered a “5” as it’s first digit, a dim glow emanated from the curtained windows. After a delicious stretch, I rose to pull back the drapes to reveal – white. A mist completely enveloped the vast stone-partitioned hills that, on previous window visits, composed the lovely view from my Stromness sanctuary. Continue reading Bye Bye Brinkies, Hello Inverness my Old Friend

The next day dawned slightly overcast but not windy. This was great news as Kevin the Bikespokes man from Nairn had said that the hardest thing about cycling on Orkney was riding against the wind. Continue reading Back on the Bike, Bridget

For me, the allure of Orkney was its remoteness. The wind battered islands off the northern tip of the Highlands possessed a culture created not by Celts, but by ancient people who built stone circles and then later Picts and ruling Viking earls. Orkney seemed like a way to insert a little bit of my Norwegian and Scandinavian ancestors into my journey. Continue reading Stories from Skara Brae

Onward to Orkney! I awoke the next morning energized to get on with my Scottish journey. Having recharged my Abby adventure stores with my bike ride the day prior, I decided that I would get an earlier start to Inverness for my connection to Orkney and check out the town a bit. I had a non-changeable advance train ticket for later that day, but thought I would gamble to see just what those polite ticket checkers on board would do if I happened to be on the right train at the wrong time. Continue reading Onward to Orkney

It appears I have been negligent in sharing tales of my Scottish endeavors.

This is not due to lack of desire. Simply put, when faced with writing or chatting with new friends on trains, taking on an extra course at a tasty restaurant, or simply looking out of a coach window as I winded through the Scottish countryside, I chose the latter options. That and I wanted to take the time to put the experiences in my head down in a way that allow you and I to relive them together. Oh, and sleep became more and more important.

Fear not, I will regale you with stories of the Highlands in due course.

In the interim, please enjoy these signs of Scotland. I find that they are both more descriptive and amusing than those of my usual acquaintance. Continue reading Signs of Scotland

If my day hiking in Pitlochry started out as a wonderful adventure and then turned into something akin to a scene out of the book Wild (you know the one, where she hurls her Chaco off the side of the cliff?), then my day biking to Culloden started out with trepidation and then turned into the best day depicted in Tales of a Female Nomad. Continue reading Bouncing Back

Woke up with legs in proper working order and am off to Culloden on my trusty bike delivered by Kevin at Bikespokes. He was sure the ride would not be a problem.

“Well, you’ve got all day, haven’t you?”

This  morning, my achy legs did carry me to see the super interesting Blair Castle. Just  across the street from the Atholl Arms hotel is the ancient seat of the Dukes of Atholl. The family maintains their own private army, the only one in Europe, called the Atholl Highlanders. If you watch the Victoria PBS mini series on Netflix, episode 7 was filmed on site. The castle was a favorite place to visit of Queen Victoria.

For another cinematic credit, a Harry Potter movie is rumored to feature the mass of family portraits hung on the walls of the Picture Staircase. My daughter and I are midway through reading The Order of the Phoenix. When we finish and watch the movie, I suspect the painting of the cross-eyed duke (if you have all of the money and power to be a duke and get your portrait made, shouldn’t you slip the artist a 5-er to fix your eyes?) will be featured somewhere in Sirius Black’s ancestral home. I’ll keep an “eye” out. Continue reading Blessed Views from Still Functioning Legs

I don’t like to miss out on anything. I really don’t like to miss anything. Ok, I HATE to miss anything. This trait has led to sometime exhaustion for myself and for others on the current edition of an Abby adventure.

Sometimes one, of course, cannot do everything. For me, however, this rational thought often gets trumped by an overwhelming desire to do much more than is physically viable. I’ve been like this all of my life. Back in Girl Scout camp, when I was about 10, we actually had to choose between horseback riding and a carnival activity. Given my daughter Julia’s obsession with horses, I think you can guess which one I chose. The horseback riding girls returned back to the campsite before the carnival was over. I was so excited that I started to run towards the party only to be restrained by my counselor.

“You had to chose,” she told me.

“Why?” was my response. Continue reading Learning my Limits

I cannot go to bed leaving you thinking I am miserable in Scotland.

While I am pretty hard on myself for making mistakes, and did arrive to the Edinburgh airport with butterflies the size of a Highland midge cloud attacking my stomach from the inside, here is how the day progressed: Continue reading When Getting Lost is a Good Thing

If there was an unobtrusive southern fly on the wall watching me the last few months, it is likely she would say, “Well, bless your heart.”

I spent six years as a Yankee expat putting in time in both South Carolina and Alabama. When I first heard this phrase, I thought it wonderful that someone I barely knew was giving me a Godly blessing. It was the South after all, where random people approached me out of nowhere to ask if I had a church.

After living down in Dixie for awhile, however, it dawned on me that these words were not necessarily the kindly blessing I had interpreted. “Bless your heart” is the southern equivalent to speaking slowly while smiling at someone of uncertain mental acumen. Well, “Bless my heart” because I screwed up in the most stupid sort of way. Continue reading Bless My Heart

Perfection. That was my vision for my house and my first class (yes!) experience traveling with Julia to Germany. Well . . . Continue reading Perfection

3 1/2 weeks. One teeny tiny suitcase and an overstuffed backpack. Let’s Go!