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The Edinburgh Tattoo

This week's adventure was a visit to Scotland and the Edinburgh Tattoo. It was one of those escapades that prove that with the right attitude, and up to a point, the more problems and troubles the funnier and more memorable the journey becomes.

Starting Sunday morning, August 6th, we got up at the crack of dawn - well at least early for us - and were dressed, packed, breakfasted, and walked to the center of town, with our luggage to catch the tour bus at 8:30. The tour bus then whisked us off to Gordano - in the wrong direction - where we sat for at least an hour while the tour company shuffled the passengers from as far away as Plymouth into buses of their convenience. We finally got underway by around 10:00 with a driver and his sidekick courier and headed north. After two hours the driver got off the bus and the courier took over the wheel. By UK law the driver's can only drive for so long on any given day. Having the driver (courier) deadhead for the first two hours meant that the tour-bus expected that we were in for a long day. We were also to come to understand that this particular tour was so popular that it filled three coaches.

The courier turned driver, Mike, then announced that the regular driver had become ill and he had only received this assignment late Saturday afternoon and although he had some idea where Scotland was, he had never been to Edinburgh or Glasgow. Glasgow became important because that's where our hotel was located. The other two buses had their a different hotels as a base.

Everything was fine as far as Birmingham and then the motorway (freeway) came to a complete stop for about an hour. A large lorry, full of something that looked like gravel - but was much lighter, had fallen over and was blocking all three southbound lanes. We were northbound but people gotta look. As it was, we were very lucky, the southbound was blocked for hours and as they tried to lift the truck with a crane and air-filled balloons it broke open and spilled it's load really blocking the northbound lanes. Fortunately the northbound closure happened after we passed. We heard about it from one of the three buses that didn't get past.

England north of the Midlands and Scotland is beautiful (the Midlands are beautiful too, but different). We passed through the Lake District (gorgeous!!!) and countryside became hilly and moor-like but very green and pastoral - this is was what we expected of Scotland - we had seen "Braveheart." But, north of the Lake District, the trees changed from deciduous (broadleaf) to conifers (evergreens), the soil became deeper and richer. There were large swatches of planted forests and evidence of a re-emerging lumber industry and then we got into Scotland wheat farming.

After we made one of our numerous rest stops, Mike, our driver, made a wrong turn on the way back to the motorway and we had a little side tour, on a country road, before he could find a place to turn the forty-two foot coach around. We thought it was funny at the time.

Glasgow was a surprise. I can't tell you what I was expecting, but what we found wasn't it. Our first view of Glasgow was a scattering of high-rise apartments at a variety of almost rural settings. As we got closer to the city we found mostly single-family homes, many with off-street parking and some with single car garages. Into the city, my first adjectives would be clean, modern, well designed with good freeway access throughout the city. Rick Stevens claims that Glasgow is a pilgrimage site for architecture fans.

That being said, Mike's lack of familiarity and preparedness soon became obvious. We wandered around the downtown section for some time and after a while the sights became very familiar. We later found that Mike had researched the wrong hotel entirely with the bottom line being that we were completely lost. So, Mike called a cab and we followed the cab to the hotel.

It was late evening and we were tired and hungry. Our itinerary included dinner at the hotel; so we dumped our luggage in the rooms - the hotel staff was on the ball and handed us our room keys as we walked through the front door - and headed straight for the dining room. I not sure I even remember what dinner was but it was good and filled the need.

With dinner under our belts, we were ready to look at the world a little more objectively. The hotel was a very reasonable, three-star accommodation with a swimming pool, a gym, a nice dining room and a pleasant bar. The hotel had, within the last couple of weeks, been sold and was operating under a new name and the rumor was that within the next month it was to be closed and completely refurbished. Next to the hotel was a small lake. The lake had swans and the swans had cygnets. We see lots of swans on the Floating Harbor but no babies.

The itinerary had been a little vague. Mike passed around our tickets to the Tattoo and we then had one hard point for the adventure (the only one). Tattoo tickets are like gold. First of all they cost Ł33 (~$60) apiece and although the Tattoo lasts the whole month of August - they are sold out for 2006. We had in our hot little hands tickets for Tuesday night at 9:00. At dinner the first night, we were told the next day, Monday, we would get to sleep in, have a little breakfast, drive out to Loch Lomond and have the option of a cruise on the lake. The sea monster, "Nessy" is on Loch Ness.

Breakfast was everything you could want of an English (Scottish) breakfast: orange juice, prunes, fresh fruit, canned grapefruit and orange slices, cold cereal (several choices), sausages, English bacon (thin sliced ham), whole fried mushrooms in butter, baked beans, eggs (sunny side-up or scrambled), toast, and coffee or tea. The only bad news was that the bacon was a little tainted and those who ate it got a touch of the food poisoning (including Nancy). We met up with the other two buses - they stayed at a different hotel - and headed for Loch Lomond.

Loch Lomond was a truly beautiful place, with ideal places for a summer cabin or weekend resort. The lake was surrounded with pine forests and the shore had not been over developed. We drove the entire length, about 22 miles. Near the top we were offered an opportunity to cruise on the lake; we did, wasn't worth our money.

It was on the trip to Loch Lomond that we learned that Mike, our driver, was a comedian, a frustrated stand-up comedian, with a captive audience and a microphone. His jokes were not very humorous but they set up the banter between him and the passengers for the rest of the trip. He did welcome and encourage a running dialog and exchange with the people with a lot of it based on a shaggy dog story stating that "I really don't like fish."

From the top of Loch Lomond we crossed over a small ridge to Loch Long and followed it back south. The road south was quite rustic and narrower that what I would have expected for a bus that size. Fortunately there was little traffic. It took a while, but eventually we figured out that this Loch was salt water and near it's south end we came out of the woods to the site of the Scotland Nuclear Submarine Base, a spot made infamous several years ago by anti-war protesters. The barbed wire barricades around this place were impressive. Across the road and back in the woods we spotted an impressive array of 1970's campers, tents and VW minibuses all decked out in hippy colors. You've got to admire their tenacity as some are still there protesting.

Lunch was at a small costal town called Helensburgh. From Helensburgh we traveled south and were quite surprised. The highway runs along the coastline and was jammed with high-end houses, some massive and quite impressive. I really didn't expect the wealth that was obvious in Glasgow and surroundings.

One of the major industries in this area is whiskey distilling. After lunch we headed to a small retail outlet located in a distillery near Alexandria. Whiskey is to Scotland as wine is to California. They have lots of different brands, tasting rooms and a whole bunch of ways to promote their stuff. We were offered a taste on the Loch cruise and at the distillery - about a thimble full.

After Alexandria, we headed back to the hotel. Mike got lost again, but it was obvious that he had been doing his homework because he knew enough of the street names that he was able to work it out and get us home. Actually, it would have worked out OK except the street he wanted was one way - the other way. By the time we got back to the hotel we weren't late for dinner, but we didn't get much quiet time before.

Tuesday was Tattoo day and Jerry's birthday. Mike knew about it ( a little bird told him) and a card was passed around on Monday (Jerry didn't notice) and presented with a cake and song for breakfast.

The itinerary for Tuesday was the Edinburgh Tattoo. Since the Tattoo wasn't scheduled until 9:00 in the evening we were dropped off in downtown Edinburgh around 11:00 in the morning and told to entertain ourselves until 6:30. At 6:30 we were to meet back at the bus for a ride to the Tattoo, as Mike was to deliver us to the Tattoo drop-off point by 7:00. This really didn't make any sense because we were just about as close to the castle as the bus could get - but we had to know were the bus was to be parked so we could get back to the hotel. As it turned out that with the bus and the queue (waiting line) at the castle it took us until after 8:30 to get into our seats at the Tattoo. Let's go back and put the events in sequence.

Edinburgh is a very nice town, older than Glasgow, but clean and tidy. Both Glasgow and Edinburgh are almost free of graffiti and the smoke damage from the "old days" of coal still shows on some of the older buildings and churches adding to the feeling of age. The old town is built on a hill with the castle at the top. The bus let us off at the bottom of the hill where we walked the main tourist street, the "Royal Mile", leading up to the castle.

I had planned a little side trip while in Edinburgh to the National Archives to do a little research on the Scotch branches of the family tree (mainly Nancy's), but in packing for this trip the address was left behind. The Glasgow phone book was no help. Monday night I found the hotel's rent-a-computer and for a pound sterling (~$1.80) I found the address. I had little hope of finding the address, but as it turned out the bus let us out practically at the door of the Archive. We then got the bad news: to walk in cost Ł17 (~$30) for each of us for a day's research. And then the really bad news: their records only went back to 1850. Our family in question had already immigrated before that. We didn't go.

We started up the Royal Mile and found that the street was blocked with a special event, "The Fringe", in progress. The Fringe is an annual month-long event and famous all over Europe and is a showcase to any and all performers. The street was full of "street performers:" people juggling, doing magic, singing, little dramas and everyone was handing us a leaflet of some kind. Many of the performances would be held at various places around the city at night and we could see signs on pubs and buildings that it was a designated Fringe venue.

It was lunchtime and out of the mist appeared (like a vision) an American hamburger stand - not fast food, but real milkshakes, made with real ice cream and hamburgers where the chef formed the meat. Nancy had an A&W root beer float and I had a chocolate shake (so thick the straw wouldn't work) and we split a hamburger so thick you had to open your mouth twice just to get a bite. Heaven! The Europeans ate their burgers with knife and fork (how uncouth).

We worked the myriad shops (lots of kilts and tartans) up the Royal Mile until we reached the Castle. It was the consensus of those on the bus that the castle wouldn't be open because of it being used as a staging area for the Tattoo - wrong. There was a 20-minute queue to get in. Nancy had looked forward to visiting a "real" castle and so we bought (rented) the little audio tour headsets. Nancy was at first upset with the tour and then disgusted. All they wanted to do was talk about "boy stuff," you know, battles and wars and cannons and beheadings, all that icky stuff. Not about real life at the castle. The castle was impressive, though,with the mandatory outer wall, but two inner walls.

It took some looking but we finally did find the display of the Scottish Crown Jewels. They were awesome and well protected in their own safe room. There were paintings and stories on the walls of how Cromwell stormed the castle and tried to destroy the Scottish Royal crown, scepter and sword as he had with the English jewels. And how the royal treasurers were secreted away and hidden for over 100 years - you know - the really good castle stuff. Nancy walked away happy.

We left the Castle. Nancy will talk about the weaving machine display and shops on her "Nancy's Corner" page. Suffice it to say here that we walked back down the Royal Mile to catch the bus. Once we got the bus situated we climbed up the same hill and got into line. The gates to the Tattoo didn't open until 8:30, so we stood on the Royal Mile and waited with all of the other people - street was jammed!

Eventually they opened the gates and we filed in. These were the smallest, tightest packed public seating we have ever sat in. We had to twist our bodies to make room for our shoulders. It was worth it, though

For those who love military marching music the bands and bagpipe bands were Mecca. For the others they also included highland dancing, a children's choral group, a dance troop from South America and the hit of the show - a drum corps for Switzerland. Just a note -- the performers look like they are standing on a flat field. One of the Swiss drummers dropped his drumstick and it rolled all the way, towards us, down the field.

The trip back to the hotel in Glasgow was uneventful for us. One of the other buses we were following had to stop and buy gas. Mike drove straight to the hotel - Huzzah! The only downside was that it was after 1:00 in the morning and UK law requires that the drivers rest for at least eight hours. So, the earliest we could start on Wednesday would be 10:00.

Wednesday's destination was Stirling Castle and Scotland's ancient capital City. On the way to Stirling the bus started to act up. Mike had to pull off the road several times and wait for the problem to clear. We made it to Sterling where Mike had us off-load at the edge of the town with instructions to meet him at the Castle in two hours. Meanwhile, he was going to try to get the bus fixed. He thought the problem was in the second back-up to the braking system.

We had several problems with this plan: we had no idea how far we had to walk, be didn't know what to expect at the Castle, we didn't know what we would find in the city of Stirling, it had started to rain again and we had to have lunch within the time allowed.

Nancy had been on the lookout for some yarn shops, a few questions with the local shopkeepers revealed two shops at the base of the hill. Had to check those out and buy some Scottish yarn.

We started to look for some place for lunch - several nice restaurants were available, but a full sit down lunch would use up all our time and time was starting to become limited. So, the compromise was to eat in the café at the castle where we could get something quick and be in the venue.

Stirling Castle is being extensively renovated. Part of the renovation was the remaking of the tapestries. A special building had been built within the walls to weave the replacement tapestries. Nancy made a bee-line for this facility - there has to be a certain irony in having a Japanese woman restoring ancient Scottish tapestries.

From the tapestry shop we just had enough time to find the three finished tapestries in the castle and then we had to go - there just wasn't enough time. When we came out of the castle, Mike had the coach fixed and ready. Nancy thought that the Stirling Castle was the best we've seen in all of the UK because it felt like it was a real home, or was a real home at one time.

I'm not sure why Mike had the habit of not telling us where we were going or what we were going to do. On this whole trip we might have been able to figure out where we'd been and what we should have focused on, but I suspect that if we were told what the plans were, we might be disappointed if it didn't happen that way.

Anyway, from Stirling we headed west to the Trossachs National Park, entering through the town of Callander and traveling along Loch Venachar. The roads were very narrow (many one lane) and treacherous (many corners and steep little hills). The countryside was very picturesque but the only thing of note was the start of the bloom of the heather - little patches here and there.

Once clear of the National Park, we headed back to the hotel. As we entered Glasgow Mike got lost again, really lost this time. He finally stopped at a used car lot (all very nice classic cars) and asked for directions. When we finally got to the hotel, it was from a new direction, everyone on the bus gave a round of applause - whether for Mike or just for being back to the hotel is hard to say.

For as much trouble and problems that happened on this whole trip, the morale was quite high. Mike had was quick to accept blame where due and his humor was infectious. To have bitched and complained would have fixed nothing.

The trip back on Thursday was long, breakfast at 6:30 and we didn't get home until about 6:00PM.

Oh, did I tell you that it rained, off and on, the whole trip. The one time it was critical, the Tattoo, the rain held off.

All in all, another good trip.