We watched Rory McIlroy take the most impres­sive lead in US Open his­tory to win the 2011 title, and when you see these golf super­stars mak­ing sat­is­fy­ingly effort­less shots, you long for the same kind of feel­ing that can only come from some­thing as pri­mal as hit­ting a ball. It’s been years since I held a club in my hand, but I was itch­ing to play and we headed to a dri­ving range, tak­ing it easy on my last day in Scotland.

I’m going home a dif­fer­ent per­son. Not a dras­tic change, but a refine­ment of the growth I’ve had in the last year, and a gal­va­niza­tion of the spirit. This trip has taught me that life is full of hap­pi­ness, and my mem­o­ries of Europe will be filled with the peo­ple and places that have made the last three weeks a rich and won­der­ful experience.

Barney likes to roll around in the grass, and some­times he comes back in with pieces of foliage in his fur. He even has a shed with a duvet in it that allows him to sleep com­fort­ably out­side, even when it’s dark and the tem­per­a­ture drops. The back­yard pro­vides a tremen­dous amount of pri­vacy, thanks to all the lush greenery.

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We took a jour­ney by car through the mid­dle of Scotland along Loch Ness to the city of Inverness¹, and stayed at a local bed and break­fast for the night. Inverness is con­sid­ered the Gateway to the Highlands because it’s the most north­ern indus­tri­al­ized city. It has nei­ther the urban con­ve­niences of a mod­ern city or the his­tor­i­cal char­ac­ter of an old one, so remains some­thing of a ho-hum sub­ject in itself, but our short stay was just to break up the drive, and along the way was some of the most breath­tak­ing scenery I’ve ever encountered.

Scotland has long been on the top of my list of places to visit for exactly these types land­scapes, but my favourite things to take pic­tures of are these farm houses under the moun­tains. At the same time, they’re a chal­lenge to pho­to­graph because lit­tle details like sheep and streams of water run­ning through the cracks of moun­tains dis­ap­pear when try­ing to cap­ture the sheer scale of the ranges.

The sun hasn’t been around much. When it rains it’s a fine spray, almost mist-like, but it can be just so dense that you’d get just as wet as if it was com­ing down in “stair rods” as they like to say here. The clouds hang low and shroud the tops of trees and moun­tains, mak­ing you feel like you’re right at the door of heaven.

These houses are so remote and serene, fre­quently with sheep graz­ing all around, and I won­der what life must be like to live among such splendor.

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1. Meaning “Mouth of the River Ness” in Gaelic. [↑]

Edinburgh reminds me of Ottawa in many ways. It’s not the largest city in the coun­try (pop­u­la­tion less than half a mil­lion), but it’s the cap­i­tal, and serves as the finan­cial hub of Scotland. The accents here are very sub­tle and quite posh. Save for the old archi­tec­ture and some­what angu­lar roads, it looks like many Western cities.

Arthur’s Seat is a group of hills that pop up from the hori­zon, high above the city, an is vis­i­ble from my bed­room win­dow. It serves as a visual cue for Edinburgh, and when trav­el­ing out­side, one can always look to Arthur’s Seat to see how far (or close) one is to home.

Atop Arthur’s Seat, over­look­ing part of Edinburgh.

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Dennis tells me it’s the cold­est Scottish sum­mer in recent mem­ory, hov­er­ing around 14°C with the skies filled with rain. Luckily, I didn’t come here for the weather, came for the views. It’s won­der­fully chilly in the house, just the way I like it cause I can swad­dle myself in warm blan­kets (and mine is also an electric).

We took a short trip in the after­noon and headed east along the coast, mak­ing stops at small towns. It seems like there’s always another in almost every direc­tion, most with pop­u­la­tions barely sur­pass­ing 1000. It’s nice to see a healthy amount of trees and foliage, not to men­tion such beau­ti­ful bod­ies of water. Paris is so urban that I never even wor­ried about bugs.

Aberlady from a distance.

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My vaca­tion has finally begun, marked by a chance to do some laun­dry after sweat­ing in the same five sets of clothes for the last 10 days. I tend to travel to put myself out of my com­fort zone, but that’s impos­si­ble here with Dennis tak­ing care of me. I offer to lend a hand in any way I can, but he refuses my help cause he takes plea­sure in tak­ing care of his guests. I’d feel guilty or beholden to him if I wasn’t the same way, but I under­stand, so I hap­pily sur­ren­der myself to his hospitality.

I’m here on a clean break, on my own terms, a detox of the mind and heart and lungs, with absolutely no plans at all. I know that as long as I have Dennis for com­pany, I’ll have a great time.

 

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On the plane, I won­dered whether I should con­tinue my jour­ney to Scotland after work­ing so hard in France. After all, it’s been too long with­out my kitty, my famil­iar bed, and my gui­tar. I knew I’d made the right deci­sion as soon as I saw Dennis greet­ing me with his arms open at the bag­gage claim. There’s no bet­ter feel­ing than some­one pick­ing you up at the airport.

Layover in Heathrow. Terminal 5 is the newest addi­tion and very mod­ern, even with loung­ing couches where many peo­ple take their shoes off and sleep.

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