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.

Brother in Toon (Memorial Weekend - May 2007)

I met Nate at Glasgow Central Rail Station on Wednesday evening after work as he arrived via train from Prestwick Airport (via London-Chicago-Seattle-Portland) for a week-long vacation.

I think he was able to experience a good sampling of Scotland during his brief visit. On Thursday while I was at work, he strolled over to Kelvingrove Park, where he was invited to join a lawn bowling game with a couple middle-aged Glaswegians. After beating them soundly in every match, they playfully accused him of being a lawn bowling "shark." Later in the week he showed me how to play the game (and proceeded to crush me as well). After Nate turns 85 years old (and meets the minimum age requirement), he might want to consider joining the Professional Lawn Bowling Tour.

Nate prowling the Kelvingrove lawn bowling turf, searching for his next victim.

The objective of lawn bowling is somewhat similar to shuffleboard - the object is to roll your bowls closer to a particular target than your opponent. In this case, the target is a white ball called the "jack," which sits stationary on the other side of the lawn. The bowls are unevenly weighted (or slightly asymmetric) so the bowler has to compensate for an arcing trajectory in his or her toss.

Lawn bowling can be an excruciatingly strenuous activity...after a series of matches, champions often collapse in exhaustion.

Climbing The Cobbler (Sunday, May 13, 2007)

Sunday morning I decided to drive up past Loch Lomond to the "Arrochar Alps" to climb The Cobbler. I'd been anxious to visit this well-known Corbett since I saw it from the summit of Ben Lomond last March.

The weather looked ominous as I headed up the initial path. Fortunately it didn't start pouring until I was crossing nearly the same point on my descent.

Southward view over Loch Long early in the hike.

I've heard different variations of the origin of "The Cobbler," but the most common is that the jagged peaks visible in the distance resemble the profile of a crooked shoemaker.

Just clearing one of many obstacles from my path...

Above the treeline, the hike follows a burn (stream) and extends over a relatively barren plateau.

The final 200-300 feet of the ascent provided some rigorous but fun rock scrambling.

The south peak as viewed from the summit ridge, with Loch Long in the distance.

The most unique part of The Cobbler climb might be the famous "eye," seen here as the tiny white opening on the right side of the highest point in the shot. To access the pinnacle of the center peak, one has to wiggle through the small hole in the rock ("thread the needle"), shimmy across a narrow ledge, and carefully pull themselves up onto the top rock. Many people are turned off by the 150-ft sheer drop beyond the ledge, so they don't actually make it to the very top. I knew that would be the best place to sit and eat my sandwich, though, so I didn't pass up the opportunity.

Southward view from the outside edge of the "eye," just before I crawled through it. For some perspective on elevation and scale, I circled a Cessna airplane flying through the valley separating The Cobbler from a nearby Corbett.

The view from the top of the center peak, with the Firth of Clyde, the Isle of Arran, and the Atlantic Ocean off in the distance.

The Grand Duchy of Luxembourg (May 7, 2007)

The coach from Hahn Airport arrived in front of the main train station in Luxembourg City on Monday morning, so I had most of the day to walk around and explore. Factoid: Luxembourg is a tiny country with a land area about 82% the size of Rhode Island, the smallest US state.

I walked across the city to see the building attached to this tower, thinking it might be the Grand Ducal Palace. I looked up the not-so-exotic name later: the National Savings Bank Building.

I thought this would be a unique photo of the Place de la Constitution with the Pont Adolphe (the city's 105-year old "new bridge") in the background. When I looked up Luxembourg on-line after I got home though, I quickly found three or four versions of the same shot.

A fairy-tale image looking across the Pétrusse Valley toward the...National Savings Bank Building.

Base of the Passarelle viaduct (the city's "old bridge" - circa 1860) from the park which runs alongside the River Pétrusse (which was a trickle the day I visited).

One of the many one-way streets criss-crossing the city.

I couldn't readily find the name of this church, but it might be St. Michaels, dating back to 1688.

This looks like it would be a really fun public park for the neighborhood kids: No pets, no bikes, no eating and no playing games. Probably NO TALKING OR SMILING either. The steel bar fencing adds to the prison yard ambiance as well.

Since I'm not overly familiar with any of Luxembourg's three official languages (Luxembourgish, French & German), I was eternally grateful that the city installed a schematic for the non-readers explaining how to activate the walk signal for this (one-lane) crossing. The big green button by itself would have been very confusing.

Schwerbach to Hahn Airport (Monday morning)

I set my iPod alarm to wake me at the hostel so that I'd ultimately have 1.75 hours to make the ~7.5-mile walk between Schwerbach and the Hahn Airport bus terminal for my scheduled 9:15 AM coach to my day's destination.

I left the hostel on schedule, and was glad right away that I decided to walk. The air was clean, and the countryside beautiful with the fields streaked with different shades of green and yellow. I snapped off a few pictures as I casually made my way down the narrow road. The first 1/8 of a mile or so was downhill, but then the road changed into a climb and I thought, I hope it's not uphill the rest of the way.

It was. To add to the fun, about 20 minutes into the walk the rain arrived, along with a brutal headwind. In many places the road had no shoulder, so I had to walk in the high grass next to the pavement. Nothing like a long walk in the cold rain with wet shoes and socks. But hey, I was in Germany!

After about an hour, I checked the time against my progress according to the (wet) map in my pocket. I wasn't going to catch my bus at the rate I was going. So I started to jog, which is real fun with a backpack. At least this time I didn't have a ham hock in my stomach.

Somewhere between the villages of Laufersweiler and Büchenbeuren - about halfway between Schwerbach and the airport - a friendly local in her car stopped and asked if I would like a ride. I must have looked really pathetic. Being so focused on the road ahead, I pulled a great "Dumb and Dumber" move when I said, "No thanks, I'm doing great." As she drove off, I realized how stupid it was to pass up the free ride.

Eventually I finished my sprint to the bus terminal at 9:10 AM. The bus hadn't arrived yet, so I took the opportunity to sit on a bench and catch my breath. It was a painful walk/run, but I was glad I made it according to schedule. It wasn't until I opened my pack to discover that my bus ticket indicated an 8:15 AM departure. Not exactly sure how I messed that up, but I think I got confused by the time difference, and whether or not daylight savings was in effect locally. Frankfurt is one hour ahead of Glasgow.

Fortunately before I could get too upset, a coach pulled into the bay a few minutes later and the driver let me board with my existing ticket. Again I had most of the bus to myself, so I was able to change out of my soaking wet clothes. I wouldn't have to put my wet shoes back on for at least another 1.75 hours, when we'd pull into our final destination, a little place called Aspen. I mean Luxembourg.

Some of the scenery early on my walk to the airport from the village of Schwerbach.


Part of the country road led me through dense forest, which reminded me of the Northwest.

More countryside. I saw the stormy weather up ahead and hoped it would bypass me. I stopped taking pictures once I started getting slammed by the wind and rain.

Hahn Airport to Schwerbach Hostel (Sunday night)

The coach returning from Frankfurt pulled into the loading bay at Hahn Airport at 9:50 PM, ten minutes before the scheduled 10 PM shuttle to the Schwerbach Farm hostel. At this point I still hadn't made contact with the hostel, though, since I didn't want to waste any of the limited time I had in Frankfurt sitting in an internet cafe trying to reach them (for clarification, the several hours I spent reading and napping on the park bench that day wasn't wasted time).

I got off the bus and walked the full length of the Arrivals area, keeping an eye out for the hostel shuttle. From my pacing around the airport and loading areas the night before, I now had a familiarity with the layout of the terminal and knew where to stand so that the shuttle wouldn't be able to sneak past me this time.

After 40-50 minutes of waiting in the cold this time without spotting the shuttle, I went inside to try to call again. By this time I still hadn't discovered the secret extra digit required to dial a local number, so my repeated attempts at the payphone were still unsuccessful. Fortunately there were still a few people working in some of the ticket booths, so I went around asking for assistance. The first few people I approached were useless, including those at the Ryanair ticket booth. Finally I found a no-nonsense gal with lots of tattoos and piercings sitting in some office that would turn out to be the real problem solver. I explained my situation, and without saying anything to me, she grabbed the phone and got right on the line with somebody at the hostel and rattled off something in German, which had the tone of, "Come pick this guy up, for cryin' out loud, I'm tired of him loitering around the terminal!" She hung up and said, "they'll be out front to pick you up in 15 minutes in a blue Volkswagen bus." If only this person would have been around the night before...

After that, the pick-up and drive to the hostel went fine. The lady in the VW bus apologized for the miscommunication and explained that they always wait for a call confirming an arrival in order to avoid making unnecessary trips to the airport. My mistake was assuming that there would be others from my flight/bus making the same trip who would have made that call. I ended up being one of the only people staying in the hostel that weekend. The nice part was that I had an 8-bed room to myself, and would be able to get some sleep before tackling the next day.

The next day, Monday, was a company holiday, so I scheduled my flight back to Glasgow for around 8 PM in the evening. That gave me a full day to explore somewhere new from the hub of Hahn Airport. The catch was that the hostel shuttle wouldn't be making a trip to the airport until later than I wanted to go. When I told the Volkswagen bus lady that I'd just walk to the airport from Schwerbach, she gave me a strange look and said, "Are you sure?!" She recommended they call a taxi for me. Thing was, since I abandoned my initial walk that first night from the airport to Schwerbach, there was still an unfulfilled challenge I wanted to complete. Besides, this time I'd be walking in daylight, and would have a good opportunity to see some of the German countryside.