Saturday, August 14, 2010

Cawdor Castle, Pitmedden Gardens and new sense of Scottishness





















We took the slow route back from Ben Nevis, swinging to the north from Fort William and then up along the entire length of Loch Ness. A portion of this route has been a standard day trip for almost all visitors, but I think this was a first for both Roger and Cathy. The weather co-operated, giving the trip a true Scottish feel by adding a touch of cloud and little bit of rain. We thought we might stop at Urquhart Castle, but the lines of tourists turned us away. We opted to head for a pretty good second choice, however, and ended up heading toward Cawdor Castle. Avid readers of the blog will recognize it from previous postings, avid readers of Shakespeare (not necessarily the same readers, but we hope for the best from our audience) will recognize it as the stomping grounds of the notorious Mr. and Mrs. Macbeth.

After a quick stop for a hearty lunch at the local Lebanese-Scottish (!) diner, we stormed the castle. Right at the entrance was a large grove of trees which sounded like a South African football stadium. That same background buzzing that we had put up with for a month during the World Cup was now coming from a very large tree in the middle of the grove. I suspect the cause was more likely to be a mass infestation of bees rather than a group of vuvuzela-blowing fans in the tree-tops, but as I saw no bees I can't be sure.

The castle gardens were in fabulous shape. We were maybe a week or so late to catch it at its peak, but they were impressive nonetheless. We wandered around both sets of walled gardens before heading into the castle where pictures are forbidden. I always liked Cawdor Castle because it is still lived in by its current owner. That means that beside the 14th century tapestry sits a silver framed picture of Aunt Judy. It's a pretty cool juxtaposition.

The rest of the trip to Aberdeen was pretty uneventful. The next few days were marked by an incredible difficulty to get up and down the stairs, a lot of moaning and groaning whenever someone stood up or sat down and reduced number of walks for the dog.

Roger, Cathy and Fiona had enough mobility restored by mid-week to take a trip up to Pitmedden Gardens, about 45 minutes outside of Aberdeen. They returned with remarkable stories of fantastically level hedges and Fiona's National Geographic worthy photos.

Later that week we all tidied ourselves up and went to the Marcliffe Hotel for a fancy-pants dinner. We had a drink in the lounge before dinner and indulged in the lobster and crab heavy menu. Good conversation, good company and good food, all the hallmarks of having Roger and Cathy visiting. It had been a while since we had a meal (and an evening) so enjoyable. I was glad because it was my treat to Roger for completely rebuilding the dilapidated greenhouse/potting shed in our backyard. He did an amazing job undoing all the water damage and making it both usable and esthetically pleasing. I can't wait to be growing chili peppers during the long, cold winter.

The next day we were on the golf course. We got there early, just before 9am, and managed to play the first 6 holes on our own private course as the light rain and early hour kept everyone else away. Fiona played absolutely lights-out, hitting greens with deadly accuracy and generally making the rest of us look a little foolish. But I think the most memorable thing I took away from this particular trip round the links was a new sense and acceptance of my growing Scottishness. We played through a light, misty drizzle for most of the round, and, looking back, I can see why others stayed away. But I remember talking to Roger and Fiona at the third tee-box and stating, with no sense of irony, that: "it wasn't really raining". And when it started to rain a little harder on the next hole, I stated with ultimate conviction that: "at least the wind was down". And when the wind picked up a few holes later, I calmly opined that: "this won't last - I see the sun behind the next cloud". I may have put my next tee-shot in the pond, but my remark was deadly accurate: we finished the last two holes bathed in glorious sunshine.

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