First things first: WE BOUGHT A NEW HOUSE!

We closed at the end of September, cleaned and repainted the interior by ourselves, and then moved in the middle of October. I haven’t even opened my laptop since my last travel post, so… that is my excuse for not posting in so long.

For now, let’s time travel to 15 June 2015. That day, we woke early and drove north on the M6 toward Glasgow, then took a very enlightening detour to Hadrian’s Wall.

I don’t know why this, of all the things we’d seen so far, finally struck me. It’s old. And that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever typed about a historical monument, especially since I majored in history, but this the moment where it all sank in. The stress of traveling and making decisions melted away long enough for me to stand there and think about the Romans who built this, and all the people who have lived around it since then. The views aren’t bad, either.

So of course, Kathleen and I couldn’t resist our running gags. I’m pretty sure she started it on the trip up, when we were still finding our way there, and she would point at random farm walls and call them “Hadrian’s.” Then she did it with rocks and trees. And then when we finally did find the wall, well, everything around it must’ve been Hadrian’s, too.

Hadrian’s Turret.

Hadrian’s sheep.

Hadrian’s Gardener.

Yes, I really did post that one to Instagram, and I had a good laugh about it for a few days.

The Lanercost Priory is located near Brampton. The church itself is free to tour, but the priory has an entrance fee. There’s also a tea room (which was bustling!) and a gift shop that sold, among other things, some locally-made mead! If I weren’t so worried about transporting alcohol internationally, I would’ve bought some for Justin.

We drove along as much of Hadrian’s Wall as we could, stopping to let cars pass and read plaques. Mum was sort of an audio guidebook on this part — she would read relevant facts about landmarks as we passed them.

After we had our fill of Hadrian and his kingdom, we continued north to Glasgow. I played Passenger for a lot of that leg (“Feather on the Clyde” was only too fitting) and we got caught in rush hour traffic as we entered the city. We were staying in a fourth-floor flat in East Kilbride and we had a lot of trouble finding it initially, but it was worth it for the views.

Our hostess told us that on clear days, you can see the highlands. The weather didn’t clear up enough for that, but it didn’t matter to us. For me, personally, it felt good to be back in a city for a couple of days.

We dropped our stuff and headed out to explore. (The picture above was from later this same night.) We had no map or guidebook, we basically just pointed the Audi at the cheapest parking lot in the city center, then got out and walked around.

This was our first view of Glasgow Cross, the main intersection of the city. The clock tower is called Tolbooth Steeple and it’s all that remains of the original city center buildings.

St. Andrews in the Square, from afar.

We walked up to it, then continued south along Turnbull Street until we hit Glasgow Green. It’s so great that such a big section of the river bank and city center is green space, and they went all out. We spent a good couple of hours in this park, covering as much ground as we could.

Nelson’s Monument (commemorating Admiral Horatio Nelson)

Kathleen tried to run this entire thing like a maze, but it ended up confusing her.

The Albert Bridge crossing the River Clyde.

This was Mum’s favorite part of the park, the Doulton Fountain, which is in front of the People’s Palace. It depicts all of England’s realms under Queen Victoria (Canada, India, South Africa, and Australasia) in four quadrants. It’s clearly more of an homage to the Queen than the people it depicts, but it was still gorgeous.

We walked through the shopping district in Glasgow and argued over where we should eat. We would’ve liked to try one of the trendy pubs or restaurants in the area, but ultimately we wanted to save some money and find some free wifi, so we got back in the car and returned to East Kilbride.

We ate at the Kittoch-Hungry Horse that night and I had the traditional Scottish dish known as… chicken wings. And they were delicious and totally worth it. It was a pleasant evening (it was one of those where Mum and Kathleen did shots, and Mum was convinced the bartender was into both of her daughters) and turned in relatively early, because the next day was going to be a long one in the car.

This might be the one time I admit that my pictures won’t do it justice. It rained or misted all day, but it added to the quiet beauty of the highlands. There were dozens of pull-offs that were crowded with tourists, and I stopped at three of these on the way to Glencoe.

That’s my exhausted face! As much as I loved Scotland, I was actually fatigued for the first few days, and it’s only now looking back that I realize some of the finer details are blurred in my memory. Plus, you know, I didn’t get opportunities to nap like SOME PEOPLE —

Hehehe.

Anyway, that day is what I’ve come to call Harry Potter day, because as I just mentioned above, our first stop was a little village called Glencoe, which happened to be the filming location of Hagrid’s hut in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, aka either the best or worst movie in the franchise depending on who you ask. (If you ask me, it was the best.)

Are you sighing dreamily? I hope you are.

We talked at length about how easy it was to picture Hogwarts here. Scotland is the perfect setting for such a story: wild, rural, mysterious, cold, and ruggedly beautiful.

We ate lunch at the Glencoe Inn (because honestly, there was nowhere else to eat and we hadn’t had the foresight to pack lunches) and it has an interesting history of its own.

I looked that up later when we were back on the wifi, and it’s a reference to the Massacre of Glencoe, and more specifically the blood feud between the MacDonald and Campbell clans. Presumably this is just a fun placard to prompt tourists to do exactly what I did — go home and research it — since harboring resentment for over 400 years seems unlikely.

I was sitting on a hill when I decided I wanted a picture of our trusty Audi. We never named him, but we should have.

After spending a couple of hours around Glencoe, we headed to our next destination: Loch Shiel and the Glenfinnian Viaduct.

Man, I take awesome pictures, right? And JUST as the steam train was crossing!

Ha, just kidding, I had to pull that one from Google because otherwise no one would know what I’m referring to in this next picture:

You can kiiiiind of see it, but not really. This was the heaviest rain we encountered in Scotland, and we got soaked, but I gotta say, it was totally worth it.

We had climbed a designated hill for this view, and in the other direction is a beautiful look at Loch Shiel.

I convinced Kathleen (and myself) that this is the lake Harry rode Buckbeak over in Prisoner. Mostly because of that distinctive island to the left. But after six more days trekking across Scotland, I gotta say, all of those lochs are picturesque enough to be in a Harry Potter film.

After this, we got really lost on a one-laned road and it resulted in a shouting match and then stony silence for a few hours. Gotta keep it real. And at least they were awake for this part!

But oooh, I really liked our Glasgow flat! I cooked dinner that night, some chicken fried rice, and snapped this picture to show Justin that yes, Kathleen and I really were sharing bunk beds.

She was already asleep on the top bunk. Fun fact: we never shared a room growing up, but we made pretty good roommates. (Whenever there was a separate bed or room, Mum got first preference because seniority rules!)

I took this picture the next morning as the other two were getting packed and ready to leave. We only stayed two nights in this flat, and while Mum and Kathleen really preferred the cottages and farmhouses, I tended to favor the flats in the cities.

That day, we were headed for whisky country, or the land of no cell service. First stop: Inverness!

I had a different picture in my head as we were planning. Mostly, I thought it was going to be smaller, more rural, and unfriendly, so I didn’t allot more than a half day for exploration. I regret this, in hindsight. I’m not sure how I could’ve restructured the trip to accommodate more time in Inverness, but I wish we’d been able to.

St. Mary’s Catholic Church across the River Ness. Speaking of:

I like to think this sign has directed more than a few cars into the river.

I just loved this street. The brick path, the stone buildings, the clock tower, and the mountains in the background? Swoon!

Lunch at Hootenannys, which had live music and delicious food! (Kathleen was still very much in that mode of making a face for photos rather than being candid or genuine. She’s always generally having a good time, she just doesn’t like to show it in pictures. It’s a phase she’s been going through… since she was three…)

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Traffic was awful, though. We struggled to find parking, had pay through the nose in a parking garage, then after lunch, we were stuck in traffic for over an hour. I distinctly remember listening to Greg James’ show on BBC Radio One, though, because that was the first time we heard his Nerd Alerts segment. I’ve been downloading that weekly podcast ever since, so truly, thank you, Inverness, for your traffic problems, because I heart Greg James’ show.

Our BnB that night was a cottage in the bottom of a valley just outside Aberlour. It was the heart of whisky country and it was gorgeous. Our hostess was wonderful, the beds were comfortable, it was one of the most well-stocked kitchens we encountered, and it was actually easy to find!

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I explained Cornetto to them, namely that they’re Very British and that there was something known as the “Cornetto Trilogy.” I think Kathleen still hasn’t heeded my advice and watched Shaun of the Dead, but she did like these ice cream cones.

The next day was spent in Dufftown (“That’s not far from here!”) touring the Glenfiddich distillery, which became something of a turning point in my life.

(We pronounced it “Glenfidd-ITCH” until we were gently but quickly corrected by our tour guide: “Glenfidd-ICK.” No pun intended.)

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All of the distillery tours seem to work much the same (even mirrored our brewery tour of Samuel Adams in Boston) but Glenfiddich does it a bit differently. They have a ten minute film at the start of their tour, explaining about how William Grant and his nine kids built the first distillery with their own hands, stone by stone. Their big thing is that their first drop of whisky ran from the stills on Christmas Day in 1887, and that the distillery has stayed in the family line.

Their other big distinction is that they have their own cooperage, where their barrels are made. The other distillers use a big cooperage in Speyside to source their barrels. It’s no surprise that Glenfiddich has such a distinctive brand and taste. And speaking of taste…

Yes, there was a tasting, and no, none of us were actually interested in sipping on scotch. Kathleen ended up getting bad heartburn from them, so she stopped about halfway through this one. I, however, sipped each one… and loved them.

That’s right, folks. One trip to Scotland and I’m a certified scotch lover now. I actually have a bottle of Glenfiddich 12 year on my shelf right now, it’s almost empty and Justin hasn’t had more than a sip.

After our first tour, we went hiking outside of Dufftown.

Dufftown from above, with bonus shot of the Balvenie Castle ruins on the right. (Balvenie is also a brand of scotch!)

After our hike, we drove to the Glen Moray distillery for another tour. Their system isn’t as polished as the one at Glenfiddich, and they emphasize their on-site bottling process (which was pretty impressive!) and then we sampled three of their scotches.

That was my favorite barrel, though.

The next day was a castle tour. Somewhere around this time, Mum and Kathleen had purchased English Heritage passes to get free access to most of the English and Scottish castles, abbeys, ruins, and other heritage sites. They offered to buy me one, but I hadn’t been getting as much out of the castles and such as they were (and I didn’t love the idea of going into church crypts, etc) so I opted out. I don’t regret it one bit — most of the time I was able to be close enough to see the battlements and outsides of the ruins, I was able to catch naps in the car while they were touring, and I spent a good amount of time in tea rooms people-watching and absorbing the atmosphere.

I say all of that because they both carried a huge amount of guilt for abandoning me, but that’s not how I felt at all. Those moments of alone time were invaluable to me.

So the next day was the “abbey trail” that Mum had learned about from the brochures she loved to collect in gift shops, and it included abbeys and castles between Inverness and Edinburgh. I honestly can’t remember how many we hit that day — maybe six? Seven? It was a lot.

One of my favorites was Drum Castle, for one big reason:

The cows watched US. It was like they were the tourists and we were the attraction! They were lined along the fence watching all the people walking into the castle grounds like we were the most interesting thing they’d ever seen.

But my favorite castle, by far, was Dunnotar Castle.

I can’t even find words to describe it. It was breathtaking.

We also drove through Aberdeen but didn’t stop, then went to St. Andrews where Mum and Kathleen toured the big church while I sipped two cappuccinos at a cafe down the street. Best afternoon ever!

We were staying in a tiny flat in Edinburgh that night, and when I say tiny, I mean tiiiiny.

That was the whole thing. I was standing at the back wall and the window behind me was overlooking the street out front. It was about 10 feet across at its widest point. Kathleen loved it and swore if she ever got a flat, it would be this small. It was perfect for us.

The next day was spent in Stirling, mostly, and that’s a castle I paid to tour. It’s worth it!

And then we went back into Edinburgh to tour that castle. It wasn’t as much fun as other places, because it was packed with tourists who were rude (including one American girl who jumped up on the wall to pose for a picture… right beside a sign telling people not to get on the walls…) and it overall felt more like a tourist trap than a gem from the past, with the exception of a few exhibits.

This was a cool exhibit. And not just because we’re descended from this guy.

Edinburgh from above, which is beautiful and seems wonderful, but we ran out of time to tour that fine city.

I preferred the Royal Mile, even though it was packed with tourists, too.

The next day, we were sad to bid adieu to Scotland, but I plan to go back. Taking Justin on the whisky trail (and into more distilleries) is one of my dreams, and I’d love to spend more time in Inverness and Edinburgh. Before we left, we stopped at the border for one last chance to take photos.

I’ll be back soon, Scotland.

Next post: York, Cambridge, and the end of our UK leg!