We saw a lot in just three days—too much to document it all here. We'll post a link to all of the pictures in a few days, when we have faster internet. Some of the highpoints, though:
Tracing my roots to the ancient village of Dunkeld: Kenneth McAlpin, the first king of the Scots, took his people to Dunkeld for safety from enemy clans and Viking raiders in the late 800s. The bus stopped down in the village, and we had a chance to get out and explore a ruined church (below) containing artifacts from around the time of my ancestors. I didn’t think I’d feel anything, but I did.
Our tour bus driver and guide, Ewan MacLeod. A slight guy with long, tangly blond hair and the thickest Scottish accent you can imagine, he never ran out of stories to tell us about the things whizzing by our windows. He was unabashedly anti-imperialist, highly opinionated, and shockingly frank—nay, amusingly crude—and we’d count him among the best storytellers we’ve ever come across. He knew the lore of the highlands inside and out, and seeing the Isle of Skye through the stories that have been passed down over the last thousand years or more allowed us to look at things in a way that made the culture make sense in a way ‘official’ history never could. These stories are powerful things, and I hope our children and grandchildren have some to tell too. In any case, you never knew what was going to fly out of Ewan’s mouth the whole time, and we wrote down a few of the gems to share with you. Remember—all of this should be read in a thick, Dundee-educated Scottish accent (think groundskeeper Willie for a rough guide):
- Following a burp: "Excuse me! That was a bit of Scotch Pie there..."
- "Start learnin' to drive, ye old pouf!"
- Describing some historical Scottish figure's daughter: "...long blond hair, piercing blue eyes, fiiiirrrrm breasts, supple thighs... [trailing off, dreamily] a peach of a bum on her..."
- On K.T. Tunstall (a contemporary Scottish singer/musician): "She's lovely... bit of a squinty eye. Just the kind of girl I like: pretty... but not too pretty..."
- "OK, off ye pop! Take a few photos."
- "Och, did you see those bikers earlier? I've never seen so many corned beefed asses in my life. One old guy up at the castle had the tightest spandex on... all of his bits pokin' out... it was terrible."
- Explaining how a highlander would hang his tools on his kilt: "Some would hang it here, but it'd be knocking about your plums... wouldn't make any sense at all."
- "Get yourselves some sweeties and juice."
- "One young man who went to that school was Tony Blair... LIIIAAARRRRRRRR!"
Despite being total curmudgeons, we managed to meet a few nice people from all over the world. We let them get drunk without us, though. The idea of nursing a whiskey hangover on a 9-hour bus ride with Ewan’s “wee tunes” blaring at us just a wee bit too loudly from the speakers overhead, lurching over winding, hilly highland roads, with the smells of other people’s lunch choices and backpacker body odour hanging in the stagnant bus air—well, it didn’t sound worth it.
Having a kilt explained to us: it sounds kind of odd, but I’d bet money that many of you don’t really know what kilts are all about—we didn’t before this tour. You might think underwear is optional; you might be slightly uncomfortable about a man in a “skirt” (which Ewan says is “just stupid”). Ewan took a huge piece of tartan (about 6’ by 6’) and showed us how a highlander would have made it into a kilt, and more importantly, why he would opt for this particular piece of clothing. Briefly, the pleats keep you warm in the winter and cool in the summer, the length (shorter than pants) allows you to walk over the watery peat of the highlands without soaking your clothes, and the top layer of material (eliminated from the tailor-made kilts we see today) could be folded over and tucked into your belt to make as many pockets as you needed to carry your tools (and yer oats), and one big sling in the back to carry big game home for dinner. Then, when you “get home to your wife”, the whole get-up can be whipped off by pulling your belt, and you’re ready to rumble, so to speak. So a skirt, ‘tis not.
The sights—oh, the sights. We saw castles, ancient battle fields, ruined churches and villages, a faerie glen, prehistoric burial grounds, cliffs and snow-topped mountains, glens and beaches, and the castle from Monty Python… among other things.
Hamish, the Hairy Coo.
- Following a burp: "Excuse me! That was a bit of Scotch Pie there..."
- "Start learnin' to drive, ye old pouf!"
- Describing some historical Scottish figure's daughter: "...long blond hair, piercing blue eyes, fiiiirrrrm breasts, supple thighs... [trailing off, dreamily] a peach of a bum on her..."
- On K.T. Tunstall (a contemporary Scottish singer/musician): "She's lovely... bit of a squinty eye. Just the kind of girl I like: pretty... but not too pretty..."
- "OK, off ye pop! Take a few photos."
- "Och, did you see those bikers earlier? I've never seen so many corned beefed asses in my life. One old guy up at the castle had the tightest spandex on... all of his bits pokin' out... it was terrible."
- Explaining how a highlander would hang his tools on his kilt: "Some would hang it here, but it'd be knocking about your plums... wouldn't make any sense at all."
- "Get yourselves some sweeties and juice."
- "One young man who went to that school was Tony Blair... LIIIAAARRRRRRRR!"
Despite being total curmudgeons, we managed to meet a few nice people from all over the world. We let them get drunk without us, though. The idea of nursing a whiskey hangover on a 9-hour bus ride with Ewan’s “wee tunes” blaring at us just a wee bit too loudly from the speakers overhead, lurching over winding, hilly highland roads, with the smells of other people’s lunch choices and backpacker body odour hanging in the stagnant bus air—well, it didn’t sound worth it.
Having a kilt explained to us: it sounds kind of odd, but I’d bet money that many of you don’t really know what kilts are all about—we didn’t before this tour. You might think underwear is optional; you might be slightly uncomfortable about a man in a “skirt” (which Ewan says is “just stupid”). Ewan took a huge piece of tartan (about 6’ by 6’) and showed us how a highlander would have made it into a kilt, and more importantly, why he would opt for this particular piece of clothing. Briefly, the pleats keep you warm in the winter and cool in the summer, the length (shorter than pants) allows you to walk over the watery peat of the highlands without soaking your clothes, and the top layer of material (eliminated from the tailor-made kilts we see today) could be folded over and tucked into your belt to make as many pockets as you needed to carry your tools (and yer oats), and one big sling in the back to carry big game home for dinner. Then, when you “get home to your wife”, the whole get-up can be whipped off by pulling your belt, and you’re ready to rumble, so to speak. So a skirt, ‘tis not.
The sights—oh, the sights. We saw castles, ancient battle fields, ruined churches and villages, a faerie glen, prehistoric burial grounds, cliffs and snow-topped mountains, glens and beaches, and the castle from Monty Python… among other things.
Hamish, the Hairy Coo.
We were happy to get back, though. The hostel in Skye was a little crappy, even by hostel standards, and we were looking forward to exploring Edinburgh on our own terms.
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