Notes and Impressions

I arrived home on June 3rd about 8:30 in the evening, The next morning when I awoke I thought for a few seconds I was in a hotel bed, But I was Home! It is always a luxurious feeling to wake up in one’s own bed after a long trip.

I forgot to tell you that one morning in the Mondrian Hotel in London, after we were seated at a window table, Jon told me to look over his shoulder. A couple tables back I would see a woman’s curly hair showing beside a short divider wall; there was a small bald man with glasses sitting opposite her and facing me. When I located the place he was talking about, he said the woman was Bernadette Peters, the actress. From where I sat, I could see she was wearing print canvas sneakers. Not wanting to stare, I did glance at her on our way out. She was my only celebrity sighting on the trip.

That same morning, sitting at the window, I watched the wait staff of the hotel restaurant setting up tables on the terrace outside. I said they don’t actually expect people to sit out there, do they? The plants on the tables were bent well over in the wind. It became obvious, as we watched, that they did. A man was meticulously setting up the tables and his supervisor came along behind him, straightening a fork or a dish, weighting down a napkin, carefully instructing him to do it just right. Once the table was set, he brought folded knit blankets and draped them over every chair. Londoners seem to be tolerant of the wind. I don’t like it much myself but if I lived there I might not notice so much, I suppose.

The other thing about wait staff that was apparent, wherever we went, is that those jobs were most often held by persons of other nationalities. We were served by people from several different countries; one young woman from Romania I remember in particular. When a young man delivered my tea to my table once at the Mondrian, another staff person came along with him and instructed him, in a language unfamiliar to me, just how to serve the tea properly. I assume that waiting on table could be one of the first jobs that immigrants might be able to obtain, as the need for staff in tourist season must be great and turnover may be heavy. Most Europeans speak several languages which is an asset most of us in the U.S. do not have.

In Dublin and Edinburgh, the homeless sat against a building or a lamppost, even in the drizzle, their sleeping bag wrapped around them, with a cup setting in front of them, no signs, no outstretched hand. Evidently an unvoiced, silent plea was allowed. I did not see this in Inverness or London. 

Bed and Breakfast places abound, particularly in Ireland, though we saw them in Scotland too. They are a  nice choice over a hotel if you can find one near where you want to be. We certainly enjoyed our stay with Patrick and his wife in Killarney. There we had a “hot-pot”, always available for a hot cup of tea, without bothering our host. I appreciated this nicety.

In Inverness it became apparent that the River Ness was the source of the rapidly moving water, not the sea in the Firth. The River emptied into the Firth and would drain a whole series of highlands, of course. We did not go to see Loch Ness, as we had other agenda. It was a great trip and i can’t thank Jon enough for all of his “left-lane” driving. I don’t think I could have managed that. Certainly not while holding a phone map in one hand!

Mom’a home for a while. Until the next time I’m on the road again, bye-bye..

London Bridges

We walked bridges several times, crossing the Thames River. I liked the way the bridge structures were painted to show off their decorative designs. Speaking of structures, there was a large one going up, a short distance behind our hotel which was right on the river. I complained that one could not get a good picture of the skyline without getting a construction crane poking up in your viewfinder. Jon got several good pictures though.

June 1 - The next day it was not as rainy but still windy. We did the Hop On- Hop Off Bus tour. Traffic was really congested and slow. We got off at St. Paul’s Cathedral. About this time I decided that there was no doubt my kidneys were working fine. Seems like we were looking for a rest room every time we were out walking around. And we did a lot of walking. After St Paul’s we walked to Harrods, which was pretty amazing. Then we stopped at  Burberry’s so Jon would look for a top coat he had been wanting and he found a nice one there. While the clerk was helping Jon try on coats, I sat on a sofa and was served a nice hot cup of cranberry tea. Jon also bought me a lovely scarf there. A sales clerk gave me lessons on how to tie it (at my request). We walked by Buckingham Palace and took pictures on the way back to the hotel.

There was a Wagamama restaurant not too far from the hotel. We ate there twice, sitting outside each time as it was too noisy inside. They did have a few heaters outside under roof and blankets to wrap yourself in or sit on.  I wore my new scarf, which was nice and warm, when we ate there that evening. I wore my raincoat most of the time when we were outside, not so much because of rain but to cut the wind.

Yesterday, (June 2) we slept in and decided not to tax ourselves and try to see everything on our last day. We selected the Tower of London and the Tate Museum as priorities. However, by the time we returned to the hotel from the Tower, the Tate was closing, so we opted for a movie, took a taxi to the movie house. It was a really tiny movie house in a pub. We saw Money Monster, which was pretty good. We took the subway part way back and walked the rest of the way. It was still light out at 9:15. We packed suitcases the rest of the evening, throwing out anything not absolutely necessary to make room for our purchases.

                                         

We got an early start this morning (June 3) to navigate the monorail, changing lines once and getting to the airport in plenty of time. After checking our bags, visiting customs, going through security, finding our departure gate, we went to the Delta Lounge and got breakfast there. That’s where I am sitting to write this. Soon we will be headed back to JFK.

This is a very quick synopsis of all we did in London. Jon took lots of pictures on his phone. His pictures are a much better chronicle of London than this blog. One thing we did learn at Wagamama is that this whole week is a school holiday which probably accounts for the traffic congestion being so bad. Jon says it was nowhere near this bad the last time he was here. The crowds of people made it harder to get around, sometimes even to walk. We took lesser streets sometimes because of this.

It's Not An Adventure Unless....

“It’s not an adventure unless things don’t go right” - Jon Ingalls

Jon had planned on us flying to London May 31 on an 11 am  flight which would get us into London with a afternoon and evening to look around. When he tried to do a flight check-in on his computer, the British Airways flight had been cancelled!! After a few moments of high anxiety, he managed to get us two seats on a 7 am flight which meant getting up at 4:30 am in order to dress, pack up, drive to the airport, turn in the rental car, and go through security at Inverness airport. By the time he had done a dry-run to the airport, just to be sure we would not get lost on the way in the morning, and got to bed, I don’t think he got more than 4 hours sleep, if that much. But we got to the airport in good time the next morning and without coffee, imagine that! The store at the small airport did not open for another 15 minutes. Coffee was his first priority. I munched on a half banana I had in my pack.

He called the hotel in London to explain what happened and to ask them to hold us an earlier room if one became available. At the London airport, it was raining; we deplaned in the rain and hurried to a shuttle bus that took us to the air terminal. When we collected our luggage, mine was pretty wet on one side. We had a croissant and more coffee there and then took a train to Briars Wood station. Using the app on his phone, Jon had figured it was a nine minute walk from the train to the hotel. I had an umbrella; Jon insisted on towing both suitcases. In one place we could not avoid water pooling in a sidewalk depression. I was glad that I had water proofed my shoes before I left home. Even though water wet the bottom of my slacks, hardly any water at all got into my shoes. My umbrella kept my backpack dry. 

We were in luck, the hotel clerk told us. They had just one room ready that was like the one Jon had reserved. I checked on my luggage right away but evidently not enough water had leaked through, at least not through the lining. We had lunch at the hotel; it was too late for breakfast by the time we got there. We looked at our options, decided to conserve our energy and take a taxi to Madame Toussants Wax Museum. The taxi would only take cash and Jon asked how much it would cost. It depended on the traffic: 17-18 ₤. Traffic was very bad; when the meter read 19 ₤,  we got out as Jon only had 20 ₤ cash on him. We walked the rest of the way, maybe a half hour walk and as we approached the place, Jon said oh, no. There was a lo-o-ong line. Maybe a hundred people including a lot of kids. I said it must be a holiday, there were so many school age childlren here. Neither of us could tolerate waiting in that line, on little sleep and after lots of walking. We found a Pret a Manger (natural food chain store), got a bite to eat, rested a little, walked outside and caught a taxi back to the hotel. Jon was exhausted and sacked out immediately for a couple hours. I didn’t sleep then, but slept about 10 hours that night.

I contacted Tom Mayberry, a fifth cousin from the Douglass Family, to see if he might be coming to London while we were there and we could meet for coffee. He is an archivist who is Chief Executive of the SW Heritage Trust in Somerset. If it hadn't been a 3 hour trip to Somerset, southwest of London, we might have visited, but that didn't make sense in the little time we had. It was a long shot. But Tom did reply the next day to say he was in France right then and sorry to miss us. He hoped we might meet each other on one side of the Atlantic or the other in the future. If you want to read about Tom and the Southwest Heritage Trust, you can find them with a search of the internet.

Little Old Church In The Wildwood

We had one more day while in Inverness to try and find Ardclach Parish and Lynmor where the children of Alexander and Christian Douglass were christened prior to their sailing to America.

I had been asking questions about the Cawdor Heritage Group of people wherever I had opportunity but got very confusing answers. I thought this group of people local to the area could give us the best current information. The Archives in Edinburgh had been disappointing. The information they had, I already had, names and dates, and places.

In Inverness, the Highlands Archives, gave us our first really good information: maps of the Ardclach area. While they would not copy the survey maps for us, they did allow Jon to take pictures with his phone camera, which he could then enlarge, so we could plan a route. When we walked into that Archive and said we were looking for information about our family that had lived in Ardclach Parish, in the village of Lynmore, a man spoke up immediately and said “it was not a village; Lynmore means large enclosure. They were farmers.” Finally! we had met someone who actually knew the area well! It was an Eureka moment for me. Inverness Archives further referred us to the Nairn Museum. This was only a few miles from Inverness, so it was no problem to stop in on our way through Nairn, headed for the only thing on the road map that, up to this time, had given us any hope: the Ardclach Bell Tower. 

We stopped for lunch in Nairn at the only restaurant listed in the guidebook, The Classroom. We had a lovely lunch and then we visited the Nairn Museum. Again we were most pleased. When we told the small group in Reception where we wanted to go and what we might find out about Ardclach Parish, the ladies all looked at each other and said to us, “you need to talk to John; he’ll be down directly for his tea”: What a pleasure it was again to talk to John who knew about the old church that was built in 1626, but he said, “ it’s all boarded up now”. We said we’re going anyway; we want to stand on the land our ancestors stood on; we want to look in the grave yard. We want to see where they christened their children. We learned that the Cawdor Heritage Group had actually had some of their archives in this museum on loan recently. We saw a few things upstairs before we were on our way again, like hounds on the scent, we had a strong feeling, this time we were going to find it. 

Using the pictures Jon had taken of the maps on his phone, he navigated us down many, many narrow, surprisingly well-paved country roads. Jon said they reminded him of the Zoar Road where I grew up. Then we saw the sign that said Ardclach Bell Tower and turned that way, found a place to park the car off the road a little, and followed the signs on foot. We climbed the arduous stairs up to the tiny belfry tower, (even I had to stoop to enter the door) Jon gave a tug on the bell pull, and then we drove down a steep zigzag road to the valley floor many hundred feet below where the old church still stands. John, at the Nairn Museum, told us the bell in the bell tower was from the old church, installed there when the little church closed. 

There was a van parked in a parking space at the church. We thought perhaps others were looking for their ancestors. Then we saw two men fly-fishing in the river behind the church. We wandered around the cemetery. A man was doing some work nearer to the church. Eventually our paths crossed. It turns out this man, John Hamilton, and a couple partners have purchased the building and grounds and John’s dream is to restore the church and make it available for occasional services or weddings or funerals. (There are graves still available in the church yard and evidence that a few families have recently updated their family monuments.) His father once preached in this little church, and he knows all the history. He even told us that when our Douglass family would have been going there, the windows in the church had been square. A few years after the Douglass family left, in 1779, a modest addition was made to the one room church and later arched stained glass windows had been installed. Of course many of those windows are broken now. John is retired and lives in his camper van, when he is working on the church. He says “what else am I going to do?” He is a man with a mission. 

We found no legible grave stones in the church cemetery that we could connect to our Douglass family, but there were familiar surnames there and Mr. Hamilton says the location of all the graves has been logged on some Ardclach website. The next challenge for me will be to find it.

We did it! I told Jon I don’t know exactly what I expected, but I didn’t expect this, meaning the rugged, hilly, forested land, the steep hills towering above the river bottom where the little church stands. Mr. Hamilton told us that once there was a bridge across the river a short distance below the church and families would come down the opposite hillside, which must have been a feat (they either walked or rode horses) and crossed the bridge to go to church services. When the bridge fell in, it was not replaced and the church closed. We figure the Douglass family would have come that route to church as Lynmor, or “large enclosure”, was across the Findhorn River, according to the survey map.

An Eminently Satisfying Day

It was a glorious morning, warm enough to go out without a coat or sweater, really. The sun was bright, only a few big puffy clouds in the sky, and after breakfast, (where the hotel allowed one to order porridge, I was happy to note) we set out from Inverness for Culloden Battlefield, only 6 miles away.

We arrived, fortuitously, just 5 minutes before a guided tour of the Battlefield was about to begin. The guide did a good job of giving the history leading up to the battle, explaining the positions of the two armies and their situations, their front lines, the sweep of the cannon, and the horrific loss of the Jacobites. We looked but found no record that any Douglasses were among the Jacobites, most of whom were slaughtered. Likely, if Alexander Douglass, who would have been in his early 20s in 1746, did fight in this determining battle, he was fighting on the side of the English troops. There was a listing of Scottish surnames of the Jacobites who lost their lives. Not all Jacobites were Scots; some were English or French.

After the tour, we looked at exhibits inside the museum. Of particular interest was a map, at least 12 ft. x 20 ft., on the floor, lit from beneath, that portrayed the battle showing the lines drawn up and an animated rendition of the battle as it progressed, following the movement of the soldiers of both sides. That was really fascinating, especially after having walked the battlefield. The battlefield has mass graves and is treated as sacred ground. We stepped into a amphitheater that reminded me of one we were in at DisneyLand. Films of reenactment of the battle were projected on all four walls and seeing the action “up close and personal” was too much for me. I needed to leave and so we did.

Next, on to Cawdor, only a few miles away, to eat at the Cawdor Tavern. We had a wonderful mushroom soup plus a tomato-cheese tart for me and a sandwich for Jon. We topped it off by sharing a lemon cheesecake dessert with vanilla ice cream on the side. Uhm-hum. The lemon fairly exploded in one’s mouth.

A short distance down the road was Cawdor Castle. I kept looking for the turrets of the keep above the trees and did not see any. But the signs guided us to the car park and we walked a short distance. There was a castle, small compared to those in Ireland we had visited, but complete with drawbridge and completely “dressed” as Jon would say, with period furniture, wonderful tapestries on the walls, complete bedchambers, art and portraits. All areas we walked on were carpeted with a tartan rug. Surely someone had actually lived here not too long ago. We saw references to the Earl of Cawdor in 1911. There was even a dungeon, where uninvited visitors could be dropped from the entry door into this pit that had some large stones in it. It would not be a nice place to be, even if one was lucky enough to survive the fall. 

Outside we walked through lovely castle gardens. I remarked to Jon that they had more than one gardener, for sure. Everything was manicured and kept up so nicely; lots of plantings, trimmed shrubbery, even a maze of holly bushes (maze not accessible because the holly bushes would not tolerate the traffic). We found the “hidden” garden which was truly lovely, and would be a great place to spend time in meditation. There were quantities of Bluebells of Scotland. Jon took many pictures.

As we were leaving, I asked who was responsible for the upkeep of the place and I was surprised to learn that Lady Cawdor is primarily responsible and takes great interest in the maintenance. The Earl has died, but Lady Cawdor is in residence at the Castle from November to April, during which time the Castle is closed to the public. She has a summer place where she spends the other months. The revenue from the tourists during the summer helps pay for the maintenance of the Castle and the grounds and gardens. No wonder it seemed like someone lived there; someone does. 

The sky got increasingly cloudy while we were in the Gardens, and rained on the drive  back to Inverness, but by the time we got there it had cleared again and the sun was out. We saw many sheep, even some black sheep in one pasture, and large red cattle with long hair falling over their faces. Watching the sheep in the pastures, I noted that they were always spaced out, never grazing near each other and wondered if sheep are like humans who have a feeling of personal space around their bodies. In this case, the space may mean “this is my patch of grass; buzz off.”

Inverness!

Inverness! From whence Alexander Douglass and his family boarded a sailing ship for America. I feel an attachment to this city. It is a beautiful city, lying along both sides of the firth which reaches inland from the sea. The water in the river runs swiftly, likely from the tides. 

We have been blessed with a beautiful day today, partly sunny, with the sky changing with each mile we drove from Edinburgh. We took Beth to the airport and were sorry to see her leave but she has a tour in two days and needs to be home. She took the extra luggage that was packed with their new purchases with her. Jon then got a rental car at Edinburgh airport. We had to ask for a different car as the first one did not fit us well and we had a long trip. The second car they offered was much better and we were glad we took the time to make the change.

Outside of Edinburgh, heading north we were traveling through the highlands, the mountains. It is largely forested, except for the places in the valleys that have farms. Looking across the valleys, the cleared fields look park-like, surrounded by trees. The numerous sheep contribute to that park feeling by keeping the grass neatly “mowed”. Many, many sheep in pastures along the road, with farmhouses and barns in the distance, very picturesque. At times the scenery called up the Adirondacks in summer with the little stores and tourist shops. The trees were much taller than those we saw in Ireland and the great variety of trees, both evergreen and deciduous, really gave meaning to the “40 shades of green” associated with Ireland, but much more apparent here in the Scottish highlands. We saw many really beautiful views in the mountains.

We stopped in Pitlachry (roll the r) to eat lunch at the Fern Cottage restaurant and ate outside, with a view of the village park where families were enjoying the sun and children were playing. We walked up the street a ways to see the shops. Took some pictures of the houses on the hillside above main street. In this village the tulips were in full bloom as well as the pansies and lilacs. There blooming was a strong reminder that it is generally colder here and especially in the highlands, so the flowers bloom later.

There were many places on the main route where signs warned Average Speed Zone. These are areas where cameras keep track of traffic. Our taxi driver, from the hotel to the airport, told us to beware the camera areas. They were very strict and the fine was 1000 British pounds! Jon was very careful. The roads were generally good; we opted out of the scenic route which would have taken us much longer. As it was, the trip took us longer than expected, because of the slow speed zones, but we got into Inverness about 6 pm, checked into the Premier Inn, situated on the west bank of the Firth. Then we discovered there was no place to park in the Inn’s car park and we would have to drive a few blocks to a long-term car park. No problem; we could easily walk back to find a restaurant. But when we got to the car park, the machines that issued the parking permit accepted only coins, and we had none. 

Because we were concerned that the long term car-park might be filled before we got back from eating supper, we drove across the river where Jon could find a place to make a small purchase and gain the ₤4.50 in coin necessary to leave the car overnight. Once the car was settled for the evening, we walked back to the restaurant that had vegetarian dishes on its menu. No, we had no reservation, and they were full; they did not suggest that we wait. Same result at our second choice restaurant. We tried a couple other places, same results. So we walked across the bridge and, as we walked, we could see people eating in a second story restaurant. It was an Indian restaurant. They had a very large menu and we had a nice meal there, seated at a window table, overlooking the river.

After supper we walked along the river to the pedestrian bridge and walked back to our hotel. Our rooms have no phones, but are complete with all other amenities, including wi-fi, and we will have breakfast here in the morning. Jon is checking on the availability of a fitness center, More tomorrow.

Advocacy Is No Ctrime

The Scots are used to the cool weather, it would appear, walking around in shirt sleeves and light jackets. When it gets drizzly, they don hats or hoods and sometimes carry umbrellas, but usually it’s the tourists with the umbrellas. Many Scots wear tights and the young people sometimes have the kneecap area cut out, or worn out, of their tights, perhaps a take-off on the ragged jeans fad that we saw in the US some years ago. They wear sturdy boots and shoes much more often here than in Dublin. Scarves, and capes and shawls are worn by both sexes. Lots of young men here have the same frame and stature that Jon does. Once both Beth and I thought we saw him coming in the crowd but it wasn’t him.

One morning I looked out the kitchen window of our apartment and across the way, a couple men had set up a table and were passing out leaflets. Their signs said “Advocacy is not a Crime” and “Justice for the Whistle Blower”. They were engaged in animated conversations with those pedestrians who accepted the leaflets. I saw other signs that indicated disrespect for the status quo was acceptable. There is an impression that the Scots feel their country's independence requires their constant regard and attention. They fought longer than we did for ours and their protagonist was much closer to their shores. We could use some of their vigilance.

Today the Edinburgh Castle was so shrouded in the mist that its outline was barely discernible. We went to the National Museum for an hour, each going to the area of one’s choice. I enjoyed the exhibits related to Scotland’s efforts to free itself from British domination and the exhibits about their scientific advances in medicine, mathematics and astrology. After that we headed to Wagamama again for lunch. We wandered through various shops and stopped to watch a street entertainer get himself out of a straight jacket. We saw a woman in one mini market who had so many piercings in her face, she looked like she had on a mask. Beth stopped to speak to her and later looked her up in the Guinness Book of Records. She has nearly 10,000 piercings, external and internal, in her body. 

At the Dr. Marten shoe store Jon and Beth each bought shoes; then looked for an extra duffle bag to get their purchases home. I was pretty tired when we got back to the apartment; the drizzly, misty weather may have added to the discomfort in my joints, but after some rest and a hot cup of tea I was soon feeling much better.

We are packing up again. We have enjoyed the apartment, We've made oatmeal for breakfast and fixed our supper from food we purchased in the food store just down the block. Beth flies back to Seattle tomorrow. Jon and I will drop Beth at the airport in the morning and then we will drive north to Inverness for a few days. Everyone who mentioned the weather today, meteorologist or salesperson, says we will have better weather tomorrow. That would be nice.