Edinburgh Scenes

We were five days and four nights in Edinburgh. It's a favorite place, pretty, historic, literary, and in August, since the late 1940s, site of the world's largest cultural festival, the Edinburgh International Festival, which is now something in name only, that is, a collection of a score or more independent festivals covering just about everything creative or cultural or intellectual. Still indubitably the world's largest. I'll do a separate post on the mostly Fringe things we saw this time. Also a separate post on the Military Tattoo, another Edinburgh institution as old as the Festival, which we adore. And the Scottish National Gallery. But first just a few almost random Edinburgh scenes. For more, see the 2009 posts tagged Edinburgh. Oh yes, we stayed at the Caravan Club Silverknowes campground, very nice, easy transit into the city.

It was a gray day, something this city seems perfectly suited
for

The Walter Scott monument; I have lots of bad
pix of it; finally a decent one; Edinburgh styles
itself the City of Literature, which may be over-
reaching, but it certainly values its literature,
and not merely in the book festival(s)

A bit of the Castle from New Town

Dr. Jekyll, Mr. Hyde

Cowgate

St. Giles

Royal Mile Armories--don't bother shopping anywhere else
for Scottish goods; Vicki bought enough Clan Mackay
Ancient for a kilt for Penelope; I was captivated by all the
machines doing it the semi-old-fashioned way; it's up by
the Castle, across from Malt Disney, which, BTW, is not so
bad a place for sampling and buying samples...

I made my obligatory trek down the Mile to Cadenhead's, and,
explaining my preferences, wants, and purse, took their advice
and bought a bottle of Cambelltown, which has been a
revelation...

Just another random Edinburgh shot

Familiar pose of George IV, reconciling a bit
with Scotland, near our bus stop coming and
going

On To Pitlochry

We got back to Oban early enough to decamp and drive on, now east, toward Edinburgh, with a stop in Pitlochry. But first we stopped for the night at a lay by--really a pier and boat launch--out in the middle of Loch Fyne. One of our more unusual campsites...

Thus

We were not alone

At all

It was, I surmised, a tidal loch

Next day, driving on, a clan burial ground

Water feature

And another giant loch

In touristy Pitlochry, where we stayed in the coach park; Vicki
reckons that she is of Clan McKay

Out on a long hike we took

Up to see the Edradour Distillery, smallest of the single malt
distilleries in Scotland; a nice malt, I thought, but nothing
particularly distinguished nor memorable

Castle, now hotel, along the way

And a house lived in by another of Vicki's putative ancestors, Robert
Louis Stevenson, in 1881

Isle of Staffa; Fingal's Cave

Our visit to the Inner Hebrides would have ended at Iona, except that the bus driver's description of Staffa goaded us on. Staffa is mythological...it is the Scottish terminus of the Giant's Causeway. See http://roadeveron.blogspot.co.uk/2009/05/day-in-nlorthgiants-causeway-carrick.html. It is the place of Fingal's Cave, both mythological and scenic. Fingal is a rendering of Finn MacCool, builder of the Causeway.  It's all out of Jamie McPherson's Ossian, perhaps the greatest of all literary hoaxes. Staffa is of geological significance...those hexagonal basalt columns. It is of musical importance...the inspiration for Mendelssohn's The Hebrides. Etc.

Obviously he was an unusually erudite bus driver. Maybe they all are, but most just drive. Anyhow, mid-stream, so to speak, we decided to extend our trip and take the six-mile open-sea boat-ride to Staffa. We had to go. We are glad we did.

In a little boat like this , 30-40 passengers

Still in the channel, the White Beach on Iona, site of one of the Vikings' greatest
victories: Vikings 68, Monks 0

Out in the open sea now, feeling that Atlantic swell (the Irish Sea is way south);
fascinating islands on the way  

The Isle of Staffa, Fingal's Cave the big one on the right

The boat now docks on the leeward side and you set foot on the island, gawking at
the great pile of basalt

Thus

Walk a couple hundred feet down a cabled ledge, round a corner, and there you
are at the mouth of Fingal's Cave

Me, there

Vicki, too; the sound of the waves crashing against the back wall, 200 feet inside
the cave, and the echo, were unforgettable

The Giants' Causeway disappears beneath the waves in the
general direction of Ireland

In the distance, Iona, the abbey clearly visible on the left

Basalt columns and cabled walkway on Staffa

View from the top of Staffa

And a parting shot, beginning the long rides back to Oban

Isle of Iona

Iona and its abbey are among the more famous names in Christianity. It was here in 563 that St. Columba came from Ireland to found an abbey and spread the gospel. And from here much of Scotland was Christianized. At the abbey on Iona is where the very famous Book of Kells was written and long kept until the monks moved it elsewhere during the age of Viking raids. And it was from Iona that monks dispersed after those raids, established monasteries in Belgium, France, and Switzerland, and did their part to keep learning alive in those darker times.

The abbey from the channel

Ruins of the nunnery down the road

The abbey; still in use by a variety of "spiritual" groups

Oldest of the giant Celtic crosses still
standing...St. Martin's, 8th century

Chapel under which St. Columba's bones are
said to lie

Interior of abbey church

Interesting face on one of the church arches

Cloister

In the abbey museum, the Stone of Echodi,
said to be the oldest of the carved stones,
approximately a generation after Columba

Other stones in the museum, warriors, and note the Viking
ship at the bottom of the tall stone

Cemetery and oldest building still standing; next to it is a
plot thought to be the burial ground of Scotland's ancient
kings, presumably including Macbeth

Isle of Mull

Although Mull seems a nice enough place itself--a large island, just a few miles off the mainland, home of the Tobermory Distillery (intense smokiness...), Clan Maclean, numerous mussel farms, forests, farms, sheep, two menhirs, some hotels and B&Bs, not very many people, one-lane roads, and much rugged Scottish landscape both coastal and mountainous--for most, including us, it is simply the intermediary to getting to Iona, home of the famous Abbey of St. Columba, the Book of Kells, and so on. You take the bus across and down Mull and then hop on another ferry, which takes you the mile or two across the channel to Iona.

Castle Duart, ancient stronghold of Clan Maclean

Disgorging ferry

And now we are on the turbuss

Right behind the driver, Vicki in her accustomed "suicide
seat," probably wishing the driver would slow down;
she has not let me forget Penelope's "Grandpa, slow down!"

Enjoying the driver's amusing 90 minute narration of Mull's
history, geography, geology, climate, culture, commerce,
scenic wonders, colorful characters, etc. Above, one of the
several mussel farms we saw 

Mountains, waterfalls

Typical

One of the menhirs

At last we are on the southwest coast, ready to board the
next, smaller ferry, which will take us to Iona

Iona in the distance, the abbey smack in the center