England Stop-over En Route to Sevilla, Spain (Friday, June 15, 2007)

The weekend before last I took Friday and Monday off work in order to spend an extended weekend with my cousin Kelly and her husband, Sebastian, at their home in Sevilla, Spain. Since my travel plans required a transfer of planes at Stansted Airport north of London on Friday evening en route to Sevilla, I decided to leave Glasgow Friday morning and schedule an 8-hour layover at Stansted in order to explore the area. I decided to take a train into the nearby town of Cambridge instead of London since I figured I'd spend less time commuting and have an easier time getting back to Stansted in time for my flight to Spain.

As I finalized trip details on Thursday evening, I checked the internet and noted three possible return train connections from Cambridge to Stansted Airport. I wrote these times down on a sheet of paper. I circled the first option since it obviously included the most "insurance" time that I might need in case of unexpected delays. I also wrote down my destination contact numbers and addresses on this paper.

The early morning drive from my flat in Glasgow to Prestwick Airport Friday morning went smoothly, and I found an ideal (and free) parking spot just off the carriageway next door to the airport entrance. I only had to pull my wee rolling suitcase a few hundred metres to the check-in desk - with plenty of time to spare before my departure.

Things started to slowly unravel when Ryanair's flight to London was delayed 45 minutes. It didn't seriously impact my schedule, but it forced me to take a later train to Cambridge and lose out on some exploration time.

After I arrived in Cambridge, I decided to rent a bike for the day, leaving my suitcase at the shop. I rode around a bit until I found a park bench to sit and get my bearings. I pulled out my iPod to check the time (it functions as my watch), but was disappointed to see that the batteries were completely dead. Apparently I bumped it on sometime the night before after I had fully charged it. Around the same time, I noticed that the sheet of paper with my return train times and contact numbers was missing. I wasn't overly concerned because I remembered the time for the first return option, and knew that I had back-up options.

I spent the rest of the day riding around taking pictures. After lunch, I paid a visit to the Fitzwilliam Museum, a fantastic place with many rooms full of treasures. While studying the medieval weaponry and oil painting masterpieces, I lost track of time, and after awhile asked the docent at the counter what time it was. I kicked it into high gear when I realized I only had 15 minutes to return my bike and get to the train station before my first return train option to Stansted departed.

Of course it took 20 minutes to return the bike and get to the station. As I looked up at the departure board, I was disturbed to see that my back-up options were non-existent. Earlier in the day I had heard announcements about train delays and cancellations due to both flooding and problems with electrical systems, but at that time I wasn't impacted by the effected routes.

The next direct train to Stansted would deliver me at the airport a half hour after my flight to Sevilla. I asked about taxis, but was told that I would never make it to the airport in time with the normal Friday evening rush hour congestion. Besides, the line for the taxis doubled back about four times, and there was only a trickle of cars servicing the queue to take passengers.
After some frantic deliberations with station staff, I discovered an indirect rail route back to Stansted that would get me there 30 minutes before my flight. I knew that would be cutting it close, but I had to give it a shot.

Fortunately the weather in Cambridge was great for exploring the city on a bike. When I took this picture, I laughed at the "90% chance of rain" weather forecast, but the showers eventually hit when I was trying to rush back to the train station at the end of the day.

The tower of St. John's College Chapel commands a prominent position in the city skyline.

I didn't catch the name or function of this building, but I figured it was constructed to honor some legendary Monopoly champion - shown here clutching one of his prized hotels.

Punting on the River Cam.

Classic tourist cuisine. A short baguette with some burnt ham and 13.5 black olives. Some corn kernels, too!

I wasn't going to let a stupid basket mounted on the front of my rented mountain bike keep me from pushing it to the limit.

The entrance to the Fitzwilliam Museum. If you have a chance to visit this great place, be sure to give yourself more than 15 minutes to enjoy the exhibits and galleries.

Ben Nevis - Summit Climb (Sunday, June 10, 2007)

A couple Sundays ago I had trouble going back to sleep after the 4:00 AM sunshine woke me, so I packed a backpack with snacks and water and drove a couple hours north to Fort William and the base of Ben Nevis, the tallest mountain in the United Kingdom at 4,406 feet. Time to bag another munro.



Without much gear or a climbing partner, I decided to take the well-defined Pony Track to the top.

East end of Glen Nevis, as seen from the trail that first winds up the flank of Meall an t-suidhe


Southwesterly view toward Loch Linnhe


The path becomes less defined in the rocky moonscape approaching the summit. The connection of Loch Eil and Loch Linnhe at the town of Fort William can be seen in this westward view.


One peculiar aspect I found about the climb was that the summit was never in view during the ascent, even when the weather was clear. Somewhere near the top, a dense fog rolled in - and combined with snow covering the faint trail - it was apparent how quickly one could get disoriented and lost. Here the ghostly images of the summit cairn and shelter marked my arrival to the top.

Summit shelter with the ruins of the former observatory from the late 1800's visible on the right.

The view from the summit was obscured by clouds, but I was able to enjoy intermittent views of the surrounding lochs and mountains. Considering that the peak is usually completely socked in by cloud cover, I think I was lucky to escape the rain and see some of the countryside.

Drive in the Highlands (Monday, May 28, 2007)

Glenfinnan Monument at the head of Loch Shiel

The monument was constructed in 1815, near the location where Bonnie Prince Charlie arrived from France in 1745 in an attempt to restore the Stuart claim to the Scottish throne.

Glenfinnan Viaduct might be familiar to some as the scene of the flying car scene from the Harry Potter - Chamber of Secrets movie.

Ben Nevis - Britain's tallest mountain - visible from the A830 road

Nate providing some perspective to the size of the boulders strewn about the base of one of Glen Coe's mountains.

Rainbow at Glen Coe

Haggis, Neeps and Tatties! I chose the Clachaig Inn at Glen Coe as the place to try Scotland's national dish, along with the usual accompaniments of mashed turnips and potatoes. There was no particularly unpleasant taste to the haggis - I think Nate would agree. I could relate it to a spicy meatloaf with a crumbly consistency. I just tried not to think of the ingredients as I cleaned the plate.

Hitting the Links in Edinburgh (Saturday, May 26, 2007)

Last Saturday, Nate and I took the opportunity to drive to Edinburgh and play a round of golf. We bought cheap golf balls at a grocery store beforehand, and "hired" clubs at the course to share.

Golf in Scotland is similar to that in the American Northwest - lots of trees, water hazards and sand traps. I was amused to learn from my co-workers that some municipal courses in the metropolitan areas of Scotland also have another type of obstacle: Local neds (non-educated delinquents) who loiter on retaining walls behind the greens smoking dope, drinking Buckfast-Buckie, playing guitars and dancing on the greens. I understand most of the time golfers go about their business and the neds go about theirs without interaction, but several people mentioned watching individuals steal their golf balls from play and disappear into the woods. Unfortunately, Nate and I missed out on that unique localized aspect of the game - but we had a good time anyway.

Nate setting up for his tee shot on the first hole.

One might notice that I'm hitting from the fairway - a sign of a good approach shot. A keener observer might notice that I'm hitting with a 3-wood from the fairway, which might suggest I duffed the tee shot. I'm sure the truth was that this hole was just a really long par-5.

Nate really seemed to like the beach. I'd like to point out the location of my ball - sitting just a few feet from the pin.

The course was busy on this balmy Saturday, so there was ample time to relax in the sun at the tee box and wait for the groups ahead of us to move out of range.

Nate in the bunker...again. (Yes, that is my ball already on the green).

The truth comes out: I think Nate probably beat me by about 20 strokes. I lost about eight of those when I got stuck in a bottomless sand trap around Hole 12. Carrick Knowe Municipal Golf Course - Edinburgh 2007.