The Midges of Kildonan

This morning I caught the train to the inland valley of the Helmsdale River where Kildonan Burn (creek) joins the river. It is the setting for my book that I have imagined now for a couple of years and seen on postcards since I arrived. It’s taken me awhile to get there since I’ve been busy every day. I was the only person to get off the train and there really isn’t a station, just a covered area to wait in the rain. I was so happy to be there FINALLY and so cheerfully walked along a completely desserted road watching for old stone relics of a place where people lived 200 years ago. An old stone bridge curved over the river just above some large red sandstone outcropping that created short falls and while water. Or I should say brown water. At first I thought some farmer was pouring manure right in the river it was so brown. Then I realized the water all flows through peat channels along the creek beds and the color is from the peat. Felt better about that but I can’t say I would want to drink it. Still, it was a beautiful scene. I went further down the road, thinking there was no one about at all when I came to a wooded area and around the corner a fancy metal padlocked gate. To my astonishment there was a formal garden with old stone planters full of annual flowers. Above the planters were terrances of more flowers and shrubs and at the top of the hill a really fancy house. A large house looking like the late 1880’s style with more gardens on the side. As I was gawking through a gate around front a chap with a wheelbarrow arrived. I say haloo, he returned the greeting and I opened the gate for him. He was headed across the road and over the river on a pedestrian/wheelbarrow bridge to a greenhouse on the other side. Turned out to be the full time gardener for the Clay family who owns the house. He pointed out places I could easily get to and mentioned there was a charity garden tour on Sunday afternoon that was open to the public. He went on his way across the bridge and I found a moss covered comfy spot on an old wall along the hillside with a view of the river.

IT WAS MY MOMENT! I was right where I wanted to be so I whipped out my notebook and wrote for half an hour describing the scene in front of me and some fiction for my story. I couldn’t have been happier. I’d brought some lunch so ate some fruit and drank some juice and broke out the roasted nuts. And then I felt a few raindrops. Well, that’s OK I thought, I brought plenty of warm clothes and my raincoat. So I put everything on, it was cooling off quite a bit also, and then got up to walk about in rain. After about 30 minutes of that I was getting wet so decided to take shelter in the wee covered area by the railroad tracks. It was still an hour til the train was due to take me back so I figured I could get out my colored pencils, etc. and have a good time.

Midges are teensy tiny little flying bugs that bite. Just ask Mark about them. They are famous in Scotland and because of the dry weather I’d only seen a few of them. They found me in the shelter and sent out signals to every other midge in the Highlands and soon I had to abandon the shelter. They are so tiny and don’t whine like mosquitos so you don’t even know you are being bitten until its too late. I walked back to the bridge, they followed me, or was it new ones just arrived to taste the tasty American? I fanned myself with my train schedule which helped a bit. I was completely covered at this point as it was still raining so they just dived for my face. Agggghh! At this point I’m wondering why people live in Scotland at all. And hoping my train will be on time, and will stop for me. I’d heard on the way to Kildonan that if the train is very late they just don’t stop. Well, eventually the train arrived and I staggered on-really. There was a seat alone and I collapsed into it and took off most of my layers just as the food cart came around so I celebrated being away from the midges with an orange juice and a shortbread.

I suspect I am writing more blogs than most of you have time to read. But don’t feel guilty if you need to skip over to the exciting parts! I am mostly writing when I am not going somewhere as I lost my paperback in Orkney and have vowed not to buy another since I carelessly put in down somewhere. I left my best jacket from Mes Amie in the library yesterday. I didn’t realize I was without it for hours and then couldn’t imagine where it was. I happened to be in the shop where I am today using Lorna’s computer. I told her I lost my jacket and when I said I’d been at the library, which was closed, she called a friend to ask the librarians last name, then called her at home and asked if I’d left my jacket. She said I had and was nice enough to meet me at the library 10 minutes later so I could have it before I went to Kildonan this morning. So, you librarians who are reading this, that’s the standard in Helmsdale, Scotland for customer service. She also let me check out a book for a week without a card. That was today when I went back to check my email. I’ll try to keep track of it. Not a thriller or romance but a record of the life of the people in this area in the early 1800’s.

In case some of you wonder about my trip to the Ring of Brodgar, it didn’t happen. I was waiting at the city bus station, a sketchy spot in town as it was, when all the folks waiting, a motley crew, got on a bus and it pulled away. My number 98a haddn’t shown up even though it was time, well past time. I found an office and asked the young woman behind the counter who pointed out on the schedule that the 98a times were in italic print which meant you took the first bus out to the next town and then caught the 98a there. By then it was 3pm and there would be no bus back if I managed to get out there. Since I swore to several people that I would not hitchhike in Scotland I gave up and went to a museum and had a coffee instead.

Well the shop is about to close. I have been doing well with my gear etc. and have sent home two packages with books and warm clothes that I won’t need, we hope. I’m moving to a new B&B, took my big pack up there this morning and will head there now to collapse and take a shower. There’s a concert tonight at the Timespan museum if I can manage to go out again. Sorry if I am repeating anything. I don’t have time to see what I’ve already written. Love to you all, Ellie

The Ends of the Earth

The islands of Orkney are almost in a circle with a huge waterway, the Scapa Flow, in the center. Flow around here means moving water so areas of the north coast of the Scottish mainland are called Flow Country. Kirkwall, the largest city on Orkney and  the largest island is where Clan Gunn folks stayed. Each day we would meet at one of the hotels and divide into two groups on coachs with a guide who would point out things of interest along the way. Although a first glance it might appear to be the same everywhere, gently rolling hills covered with heather and other plants until a farm appeared where sheep or cattle were grazing in pastures defined by very old stone walls. Some folks have a small veggie garden with leeks, tatties, and strawberries. The planted fields are all barley or turnips to feed the cattle. Not sure if people eat turnips except in times of famine.

The areas of interest are varied from a whiskey distillary, Highland Park, where we had a wee dram at 11am and watched a DVD about the history of whiskey production and then had a tour of the distillary in groups of 12. It was actually more interesting than I thought it would be as after the barley is harvested it is spread on a large wooden floor, which is heated below from a peat fire that burns at a constant temperature for 3 days, while men with wooden shovels (no women so far) turn the barely methodically 24 hours a day. The peat is the bottom level of decomposed heather so the smoke flavor is part of the taste of the whiskey. During the fermentation process the barley is mixed with yeast and sugar in barrles made of douglas fir from the States. So that’s where it all goes!

After the distillary we visited Skara Brae which I mentioned before. It’s believe that the people who lived there were refugees from mainland Scotland and arrived around 2,500 BC. They lived a reasonably peaceful life as the village is on the nw side of the island in a sheltered bay, quite inacessible for large warships from Norway. Since the people lived underground their dwellings did not call attention to a passing ship nor seem to be weathly residents. They built a large burial mound nearby where the dead were entombed with only a crawl space for an entrance. On the winter solstice the sun shines directly into the passage. That is if the sun shines, as the weather is often misty, raining or stormying. The people at Skara Brae lived there for at least 100 years and then moved on. Eventually the whole settlement was covered with sand until a storm washed the sand off the top in 1850. In 1920 an excavation of the site began and now it is fully dug up and the living areas are exposed to view. Just three months ago visitors were allowed to walk amoung the dwellings but now we must stay on a path and walk above. They have reconstruced a dwelling though, complete with roof and I had a peek in there although it was packed with people and a bit claustrophobic.

The next day we went to another island, Hoy and spent the day driving around and then getting out for an hour at various places. Sometimes the simplest place is the most charming and I think most of us loved a place called “Dwafie’s Stane”. It’s a solid chunk of rock resting on a steep hillside just opposite a glaciated valley. We walked up the hillside on a narrow rocky path, only for the fit our guide warned. When we got there the rock had been carved, no one knows how long it took but was definately BC, there was a hole big enough for a person to crawl into and then a side “room” on each side where a person could sleep curled up and put their gear just across. There were quite a few backpackers nearby with trekking poles and sleeping bags and I think people stop there to consider spending the night. I would guess it the home of a recluse, a person hiding or maybe a vision quest lonely spot. Of course several Gunn’s myself included crawled in to check it out.

Hoy is surrounded by the water of the Scapa Flow on one side and the Atlantic on the other. Scotland is visible on the far shore. Times up at the library. Love to you all. Ellie

Orkney with the Clan Gunn

About 70 Clan members ferried together over to Orkney mainland on Saturday. I had arrived earlier than anyone as I took the coach/bus from Thurso. A lot of the folks have known each other for years and always attend the gathering every three years. There are several extended families, two brothers from France and their wives and teenage children livened things up a bit. Their last name is Jamison, Jame’s son, descended from all the people that went south to Kildonan with James back when the clan split up in 1678. The other two brothers, William and John went somewhere else and to the best of my sleuthing I think John was the brother that ended up in the Latheron area where my grandfather was born.

A lot of the folks are over 60 and act a bit more subdued than I, although I have tried to be on my best behavior. Things only went downhill the last afternoon when my coach seatpartner, Archie, probably 65 or so, responded to our guides complaint about nuclear waste being buried in the Scapa Flow, a beautiful waterway like Puget Sound. He commented to me that Britain will have to start building nuclear plants again to deal with the energy crisis. Oh dear. Trying to be as diplomatic as possible, I mentioned the waste issue for starters, that didn’t faze him, or the potential for meltdowns as technology has improved since the first ones went on-line. After about 10 minutes of this sort of conversation we were both happy to see we had arrived at a destination, a beautiful beach with tall cliffs, about 5 miles from the famous Old Man of Hoy. He opted to nap in the bus so much to both our relief I got out and had a great walk down to the beach. Not enough time to get to the Old Man but a spectacular scene and a good break from the bus. After we left there Archie and I stuck to the weather and scenery but the young man from Carolina in front of me was blaming his 12 year old daughter for making the bus leave late, in a teasing way but then said, yeah, its all your fault we’re late, plus your fault we have global warming. I muttered “better to blame George Bush”, but no one heard me. Not that anyone here is fond of Bush, but since he and Blair are practically a couple, I doubt it would have been a pleasant conversation.

So thats the politics from here where I have a day to myself while the rest of the group went back to mainland Scotland this morning. I had thought ahead and only chosen to join the gathering for the things I really wanted to do. So they’ll be back in Thurso for a formal dinner which I’ll be glad to skip. Instead I’m taking a local coach this afternoon about 15 miles out of Kirkwall to the Ring of Brodgar, a neolithic stone circle about 300 yards across. We passed it the first day but didn’t stop so I plan to spend a couple of hours there and then get the last bus back. The things we have seen are quite incredible, the neolithic underground dwellings, Skara Brae, where probably 100 people lived in dugout mounds with a tipi like roofing structure made of whale bones and only a smoke hole at the top for light and air. They had stone shelves where objects to display and use were found when the site was excavated in 1920. The people lived there from 3,000-2,500 BC and then gradually moved to other digs, so to speak.

Times up for free interenet at another great library. I’ll be heading back to the Helmsdale hostel tomorrow night and then stay there the rest of the week. Love from Airknay to yu all. Ellie

Helmsdale

After an interesting train ride talking with some local folks, I arrived in Helmsdale about 8pm. There is no station, just a waiting room to keep out of the rain so I ducked in there to reassemble my walking pack and then went up the stairs, over the tracks and down the other side. I’d seen the hostel location on the internet map so knew about where it was. The hostel owner, Irene , moved north in January and bought this hostel in a desperate state of disrepair. Her story is a bit like Andrea’s one thing after another, but finally she has felt like it is finished enought to accept travelers. So I am her first official guest. Since she hasn’t advertised I have the whole womens side to myself. It could sleep seven so I have a bed to sleep in against the wall and the one next to me to sort and resort my stuff. Irene’s sister was just in Seattle and the Oregon coast and has been telling Irene she HAS to go see it for herself. So of course I’ve invited her to visit us. Who knows if she ever will but it would be a lot of fun to introduce her to everyone. She loves my west coast American accent and I love her Scottish one. The first day I asked her to repeat words quite often but I’m getting the hang of it. Just round the vowels and drop half the consanants.

Today I walked for hours along the Helmsdale River and then crossed over the steps into a sheep pasture and did some sketching and writing. There were no sheep nearby but plenty of sign of them, which I did my best to avoid. I’ve been to the local museum twice now and yesterday met Jackie, the very enthusiastic archivist. We chatted for a bit and then she had people waiting for her so she said to come back and she’d let me poke about in their private documents. Yeah! She is keen on my writing project and feels that there should be archeological diggings going on up the river in Kildonan while the artifacts are fresh, only 200 years old. But most money goes for 2,000 year old stuff. When I come back to Helmsdale next week I plan to take a workshop she is offering on a Highland myth that is well known here that I will be able to include easily in my story.

The musuem is also hosting a drumming workshop and then drum and sax concert. Darn, I forgot to pack my drum. So far things have been going well with what I did take and I have no regrets. It is quite easy to wash out clothes and after all I’m not working in the garden and gettin’ dirty.

I’m in a wee shop right now, the only internet access in Helmsdale. Its a £ for one hour, about 2 dollars so that is a good price. I’m surrounded by knick-knacks and the owners husband just carried in a small wooden dresser, nagging the whoe time about there not being room to move, much less add another piece of furniture. I joined in the teasing and laughing which is very natural to do here.

I’m very happy to be here and feeling good about everything. People like to guess my accent and I’m trying to sound more Scottish so today someone asked if I’m from Canada. That’s closer, aye? (eye). Maybe next post I will try to write as folks speak but my time is aboot uop. Tomorow Irene will give me a ride to Latheron where my cousin Lorna lives. Nancy is with her too so I will see them both. Much love to you all, thanks for the comments…they please me immensley. Love, Ellie

The City

Before I leave for the north tomorrow I should say a bit about what Edinburgh, pronounced Edinburra, is like. Let’s start at the bottom since that’s where I often have my eyes. Most of the streets I’ve been walking along are fireplace size grey brick filled in with concrete. It’s a bit bumpy here and there and noisy when the cars zoom by. There are a lot of cars, all small, and they go really fast, zipping around the curved streets and round-abouts. And of course I look right, left, right before I cross. Actually I hardly attempt to cross the street unless I have pressed the button for pedestian walk, which in about 30 seconds stops all the cars. I wish we had that in McMinnville!

All of the houses I’ve walked past are common wall, full block 3or 4 story row houses. Some were built in the 1700’s, others since. A few neighborhoods have small gardens out front and then the houses are set back about 10 feet. Those are the exclusive neighborhoods. They also have gated squares, city blocks full of trees and grass and a statue or two that can only be entered by unlocking a huge padlock on a chain. The fences have posts so those of us on the outside can watch those inside sitting on a bench or stretched out with the children on the grass. The houses are all exterior brick, some grey, some brown and a lot of the houses on the busy streets have retail stores on the street floor. The place where I am staying has a row of 4 houses set back about 10 feet but all around them stores are built at the sidewalk.

There aren’t many trees along the streets as they are barely wide enough for 2 cars and parking in places and the sidewalks are narrow also. The trees are in the squares or behind the houses in a small courtyard. There are two huge parks about a mile from here. One is mostly open playing fields and one morning I saw informal groups of people playing frisbee, softball and soccer. The other is the Royal Botanical Garden where I spent the day today. The park is 70 acres on a hillside, sort of like Portlands west hills. There are lots of trees, rhododendron, and other big shrubs with ponds, waterfalls, a huge greenhouse and displays of all sorts. There were lots of people there, especially people pushing strollers so I got to see some babies and children.

The Old Town, where the castel, palace and parliment are located, is jammed with people speaking lots of different languages and since it’s been hot here, 80F, all looking for the ice cream shop. I’ll be spending a lot of time there when I return so will save the description for later. I’ll be leaving in the morning and feel ready to be in a quieter more simple place. I read the news today and am horrified about the mid-East situation. How many deaths will it take til we know that too many people have died? I hope the answer is not blowin’ in the wind.  Peace, Ellie

Lost and Found

One of my main concerns, besides finding a bathroom (just called toilets here), is keeping track of all my stuff, mainly of course my passport, credit cards and cash. Yesterday I tried to get cash at a bank with my Portland Teachers debit card and was denied. I had to use my credit card which cost a lot more and comes with a huge daily interest charge. I knew I had to tell Mark right away so he could pay it off online before leaving for LiAnna’s to help her move. So I anxiously waited until 2pm here, 6am there to call him. The phone I took with me had not been charged yet so I got out my handy Jottings notebook to find  my phone card number which doesn’t work outside the U.S. So I called collect from a red phone booth on the Royal Mile, surrounded by throngs of tourists and 2 decker buses roaring by. Luckily Mark answered and assured me he would take care of it before he left for Tacoma. I sighed in relief and left in a hurry for a shaded spot away from the congestion to recover from the trauma of dealing with money. Nearby is the Brass Rubbings Center in an old church where you can rub Celtic or Pictish designs on paper and then color them. It was a beautiful calm setting with plenty of tables and chairs so I sat down to write in my journal and do some drawing on my own when I realized my Jottings notebook was not in my pack. I checked to make sure I still had my passport, etc. and then packed up quick to retrace my steps. It was not on the steps in the shade where I first rested or in the ice cream shop where I got a cone. The only place left was the red phone booth. I tried not to panic as surely other people had used the booth after me. When I got there and opened the door there was my notebook, moved from where I left it to a safer place on a shelf above. So I still have all my phone numbers, well actually some of them are yours, my camera and phone instructions, schedule of places I am staying, flight numbers, and my Scottish foods to avoid list.

It was probably a good lesson to almost lose something as I have been more vigilant since. For example today at the train station when I put my passport away and it slid down my leg instead of staying in my hidden waist pack where I thought I put it I noticed it right away.

I’ve been carrying quite a bit of cash with me due to the credit card incident (which now has been resolved they tell me) so I decided to spend some of it today so as not to worry so much. I’ll be going to quite a few National Trust castles, museums and monuments so I joined the Trust and for the senior price of £27 I will get in all of them free. Today I visited the Georgian House in New Town which was the first attempt to get the rich folks out of the Edinburgh tenaments in Old Town. Everyone was hemmed in by the castle wall and a moat of sorts where they threw all their garbage, so no one could be in the thick of things without living above or below the teeming masses. In 1786 the city built a bridge across the water and the Georgian House was the first one built. I spent two hours looking at everything and chatting up the guides. At the end they were all in the parlour where I was finishing up when one woman mentioned I should get lunch at the Outdoor Garden before all the tourists got there. Then she blushed and said “Oh, sorry, I forgot you’re a tourist.” How’s that for a compliment, LiAnna? I’m supposed to try to not look like an American even though that’s impossible, we thought, but LiAnna will be happy to hear that a Japanese woman thought I was Russian.

When I come back at the end of my trip Edinburgh will be in the throes of its festivals. At least four happen at the same time and all the main events are ticketed so I decided what I want to see and bought tickets today. My friend Joanie’s friends from LA will be here with their play, Devils Advocate, so I’ll start out with that at noon on August 17. Then in the next five days I’ll see Rosencrantz and Guilderson Are Dead, one of my favorites by Tom Stoppard. Then a comedy called Whiskey Galore about a dry Scottish Island where a ship transporting whiskey is grounded. In between will be music, the Festival Ceildh, a group called Blazing Fiddles, and a tribute to Eva Cassiday. PLUS at the Book Festival I’ll attend a First Fiction Writers Retreat. In case you are thinking I am having too much fun I signed up for a lecture on terrorism and politics and one on the scarcity of oil and water. The last two are from well known international journalist/activists. Since I will be coming home to face reality I might as well be more educated.

Although I have started out the past two days to see the Castle I’ve been content to wander about, there are so many free places of historical interest without all the crowds that I’ve been totally happy. No problems with my shoulder so far. Much love, Ellie

Edinburgh

Connecting with people is one of my favorite activities as you all know. On the flight from Newark to Edinburgh the window seat was occupied when I made my way down the row. I had the aisle and the middle seat was empty. I said hello to the man by the window and remarked that maybe we’d be lucky and have a vacant seat between us. He agreed which started off a conversation about the cramped conditions. By the time we took off no one had taken the spot so we continued to other subjects. He is from West Orange, New Jersey, where I worked at a famous pancake house when I was 20 years old. We continued on for most of the flight with topics ranging from country music (very popular in Glasgow where he was heading, hoping to see Nanci Griffith), to Oregon wine (he loves pinot from Oregon), to the 9/11 attack (he watched the towers burn from his house on a hillside facing the city) to social justice issues like immigration and education. At one point he told me what his job is but the cabin was noisy and I couldn’t quite hear. Then he told me during the G8 world conference north of Edinburgh he’d signed up to do the security in downtown Edinburgh where all the protesters were gathered. Uh-oh, I thought, maybe I’ve just made friends with a CIA agent. So I said what do you do again, I didn’t quite hear you. Turns out he was with DEA (busting drug smugglers in Florida) for 17 years but after 9/11 he joined Homeland Security as an Air Marshall. Yikes!! Usually he sits up front with his gun ready for any threat to the pilots but now he’s on vacation meeting his wife who is visiting her parents in Glasgow. We ended up getting on the bus to downtown together as he was late to catch a train so I watched his luggage while he figured out how to get a ticket and find the train. We exchanged e-mail addresses and he plans to ask his sister to take a photo of the house where my mother grew up, a few blocks from where she lives in Glen Ridge. And I was worried about making friends!

This morning I woke up at 4:30 when the sun rose. I’m adjusting to the time change and slept well last night despite a long afternoon nap. Today I’m walking downtown and then on to the castle, about 2 miles from here to do some sightseeing before the weekend. I’ll be calling my cousin Nancy soon and hope to see her tomorrow. I’m very glad to be here and feeling confident about everything. Thanks for all your very sweet comments and emails. I have free internet at the B&B so will try to respond to some of your notes when no one else is using it. Most of the folks staying here are older than me so there’s not  much competition to use the computer. Much love to you all from Scotland. Ellie

I’m packed!

 Ok, I still have a few things to decide about but my pack is loaded and I’ve worn it and walked for long enough to know it will be possible for me to carry it. I feel good! Thanks to those who left a comment from the first posting, it was really fun to hear from you.

Several folks have asked how to leave a comment. If you scroll down to the very bottom of this page there should be a small note with “comment” underlined. Click on it. The next page has “Leave a comment” at the top and at the bottom of the comments already written. Just type in your name, send me a note and click on “submit”. If your screen isn’t set up like that it’s your browsers fault and I give up.

 I’m working on a small notebook with what I hope is the relevant information I will need, jottings, the Scots call it. I have a page on how to use the digital camera, the mobile phone, the travel phone numbers, where I am staying and the closest vegetarian restaurants. I’ve written down the location of all my valuables in my backpack, daypack and purse.  Maybe by the second week I will be able to find my hairbrush without unloading the whole pack.

In case you are surprised I have a mobil phone, my friend Doris loaned me hers. She’s headed for England in September and likes people to use it in Britain to keep her account active. If you want my number let me know. Don’t forget I’ll be 8 hours later than Oregon time. LiAnna will be in Australia while I am in Scotland. Our birthdays are just a day apart so she has a plan to call me the morning of her birthday, August 6, while it is still my birthday, August 5, in Scotland. It will be the only time in our lives we really share a birthday.

Another page in my Jottings is Scottish words for nasty food that most of you wouldn’t eat either, like elvers-baby eels, black pudding-blood, and kippers-smoked herring. On the other side of the page are the words I should watch for on the menu, like lemon squash-lemonade, sultanas-raisins, and swedes-rutabaga. Anytime I stay at a hostel there will be kitchen facilities so I’ll make a trip to the grocery store and cook for myself.

If you have any questions so far you can leave a comment or send me an email. I’ll send one more entry before I leave. Love, Ellie