Hiking through the Highlands and other Scottish Adventures...

I spent the weekend of October 17-20th on a trip to Scotland for work. The weekend was framed with Edinburgh and filled in with a bus tour through the Highlands of Scotland. Tourist site after tourist site, the ride could have been a tedious journey... but it wasn't. With the misty wet sky gleaming through the windows of the bus and the icy rain on our faces as we trekked through the landmarkes of Scotland's history, I couldn't help but feel like I was in a magical place.

In Pitlochry we saw a salmon ladder and some beautiful autumn colours!

And as we trekked through the icy Battlefied of Culloden, we saw heather flowers swaying in the wind and a full rainbow overhead (not pictured).

And in Inverness, one of my favorite Scottish towns, we saw that Autumn was in full swing.

I even saw the Loch Ness monster, Nessie, at Loch Ness.

But by far my most favorite part of my journey through the Highlands of Scotland was my hike through Glencoe. The rain poured down on my fellow hikers and I as we climbed for an hour or two through the Glencoe wilderness. No words can describe and so I'll just have to show you some photos I took along the way:

I think that it is rather clear why I liked Glencoe so much!

The weekend was great, all in all, and it ended with Monday, the first day of my week off.

I wrote the following in my journal as I looked out the window below:

"I am writing this from the corner table at The Elephant House cafe in Edinburgh, Scotland. To my right there is a window out of which I can see Edinburgh Castle. On a wall near me there is the following poem:

a woman: by Mike Stocks

was I the only one who saw her cry?

she crossed me on the Mile, eyes raw and low,

went slowly grieving past the Netherbow,

a self-contained but sesperate passerby.

Everybody's father has to die,

though whether hers has died I wouldn't know;

and lovers love us deeply, till they go,

but whose to say if hers has gone, or why?

More likely, as you say, her tears were

for smaller causes than the ones I state--

though I'm the one who saw the then of her,

and paused before I walked to where I went,

not knowing who she was nor what it meant--

and watched her disappear down Canongate.

As I read the poem I realized that this really was a great way to begin my week off: Sitting in the cafe where J.K. Rowling wrote Harry Potter, looking out the window at a castle, reading poetry off of a wall, drinking a freshly brewed cup of tea, eating a scone, and not worrying about the train that comes at 12:30."

Location: All over Scotland