A Scottish Farewell: Glen Coe and Glen Etive

(1/9/17)- I apologize for the gross delay in a blog post. I have so many stories and such a backlog of photos! I will work on them as I can, but also try to keep moving forward in perspective.

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It was just by chance, a passing comment, that Raini mentioned that since she was no longer employed, she could do a roadtrip up to Glen Coe. Even now, I am not sure whether she knew at the time how serious I was about wanting to go.

It was fitting that a week before I left Scotland to return to the U.S. that I would come back to the place where I fell in love with the country back in 2003. Goodness, I was a just a 13-year-old then; but the Three Sisters are impressive enough to instill awe in even the most stoic.

The Three Sisters of Glen Coe

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I kept on Raini about when she might be able to go on this trip, and we eventually set a date for an overnight trip. Adventure awaits!

She picked me up from the flat in the afternoon in an effort to hopefully catch the sunset in the Highlands. We wound up the winding roads of the Highlands and did catch the last shadows of the sun on the impressive hills.

Hill between Tyndrum and Bridge of Orchy

We ended up staying overnight at the youth hostel in Glencoe (after the GPS getting us lost three times). The darkness of a clear night and mountain valleys enveloped us as we walked down the road to the local pub for food and libations.

The next morning was a tough start with us trying to get up early for the sunrise, with no food or cafes open. It was definitely a lesson in proper planning.

But the day offered beautiful views. The clouds came back, but remained high so we could see the mountains and glens. It was as if Nature herself was revealing her majesty to us. I was able to blow the Beltane callhorn to the Three Sisters and hear the reply of the glen, and Raini was able to start her photography project with Glen Coe as her backdrop.

Modest Beinn a'Chrulaiste overlooking the road to Glen Etive

Rhododendrons in the Middle of Nowhere: Helping Hannah work on her thesis research

The scene was like something out of a movie:

Scottish Sunset at Corrour Train Platform.

I'm the only who gets off of the train at the Corrour platform as the sun is setting in the Scottish Highlands. The train attendant gives me a coy smile and then shuts the door behind me. The silence of the expanse of glens and mountains around me floods my senses. The openness of where I found myself almost makes me gasp. The trains pulls away into the sunset and I am left alone with the mountains. The only semblance of humans is the empty platform and closed lodge.

Whoa. I was alone in the truest sense of the world.

The Lonely Mountain?

Not for long, anyway. I knew Hannah would come pick me up, but man, as I walked along the road towards Loch Ossian, , as the sunset behind the mountains, I felt an immense silence and alone-ness like I'd never experienced.

Hannah did come get me and what ensued can only be described as amazing. We stayed at incredible accommodation, ate tasty food, and wandered in a private Rhododendron garden set amongst hundred-plus-year-old conifers. We did get some work done, pressing plants and taking data for Hannah's project, but we also took time to enjoy being where we were. The mountain views over the loch and the soft mats of sphagnum moss were like something out of a faerie tale. Even for being eaten alive by midges, it was a once-in-a-lifetime trip.

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Isle of Iona: An overnight stay

The last stop on my May vacation was an overnight stay on the Isle of Iona. I'd been to Iona twice, but had never had time to stay overnight (there is no Sunday ferry or bus service in the off-season!). Finally!

Unfortunately, only my Instagram photos survived the return from Iona. They became corrupted somehow, This is a view from the edge of a cliff looking out into the beautiful Atlantic Ocean. The pink-flowered plant is called thrift, Armeria maritime. It was probably the bravest thing on the island, clinging to the very edges of sheer cliffs, hanging half in the wind.

It was an early start for me from the Craignure Bunkhouse, but the sun was well ahead of me. It was an easy-going bus ride through the beautiful Ross of Mull and the familiar pink marble hills of Fionnphort welcomed me back. The ferry ride was as brief as I'd remembered, but......the warmth of the sun wasn't. As I walked to the Iona Hostel, I broke a sweat.....huh? This is Scotland....right?

The day held so much potential since I didn't have to catch a 3 p.m. ferry. It was already past 10 a.m., but I didn't have to worry. I changed my shirt to something with short sleeves and headed to the beach. The day was clear and the water was aquamarine blue. I picked up rocks and denied the urge to go swimming (because no amount of summer weather would make the northern Atlantic Ocean water any warmer).

Intrepid sheep paths through the heaths to all the far reaches of the island.

I just continued along the edge until the beach ran out and a faint path passed out into the northeastern rocky crags of Calva (map of Iona). I followed it, climbing up and down and around the many hills of the coast. Sheer cliffs dropped into the ocean, into the arms of twelve-foot seaweeds, and heaths twisted in the timeless winds that beat against the rocky hills. The sun beat down and the wind blew around me, but still I followed the endlessly clever paths of the herds of sheep that had come before me. Who knew how old these paths were?

Wind-sculpted heaths of all shapes, sizes and ages.

Once I came out onto a strange hanging field with towering cliffs on either side of it. A perfect grass edge ended in a sea of perfectly smooth stones. In the middle of the sea was a low ruin of a stone wall. The herd of sheep beyond were as surprised to see me as I was to see this wall. I was in the middle of no where, having no idea how long I'd been walking, but here was this ruin. Later, I would find out it is the rumored secret hermitage of St. Columba himself, now known at the Hermit's Cell.

After about three hours of random, extreme hillwalking, I made my way southwest, by way of the sheep paths, as I knew there was a farm that way. I passed the carcass of a sheep that had fallen from a cliff; a stark reminder that what I was doing was still dangerous and that not all sheep are graceful. I came out to a rolling field of perfect green grass, good enough to make any golf course manager jealous, that was being grazed by a formidable herd of even more sheep. I made my way across the field, careful to keep my path straight and away from the sheep with their new lambs, toward the Bay of Angels.

The tide was lower than I'd ever seen it and it made the familiar bay look completely new. I walked through bands of abandoned seaweed stipes and down to look for more stones. I played in the sand and forgot for a moment that I was in Scotland: it felt like a day at the beach back home. I took a brief nap on the beach, listening the tide slip away further and the seabirds cry to each other. I felt my exposed skin start to burn, surprisingly.

My final adventure of the day was to find out where the path I'd seen people coming down on the far end of the bay went. I'd been to the island twice and had never noticed it before. It was a steep climb, well-pounded by foot and hoof. I came to a hanging lake, Loch Staonaig, fenced off from the roaming herds of sheep and cattle, which might have been the source of drinking water for the island. The path itself was in good shape; obviously well-tended. Piles of cairns, rocks of offering, pilgrimage, and homage, dotted the path. I realized I was on the path to St. Columba's Bay.

I came over a hill to see the bay below me. It was a half-moon bay with another sea of perfectly-smooth stones between the cattle and grass, and the waters of the ocean. I carefully passed through the herd of cattle and came to the edge of the sea of stone. There were piles of cairns everywhere, of all shapes and sizes. The logistics of the whole scene made no sense. How had this place come to be this way?

Again, I had the whole place to myself, and enjoyed the sound of the waves and the changing tide as I looked for more stones. What an enchanted end to a solid day of adventures.....

Hiking up Dun da Ghaoithe, "the fork of the two winds"

Don't let the Gaelic spelling (click here for the pronunciation) of this gorgeous Corbett intimidate you; instead try out the view!

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No, although the photos do not do it justice, this mountain is more of a gentle giant. The scale is hard to understand from all the photos, but trust me when I say it's spectacular.

Approaching the beginning....

My climb began mid-morning to cool winds and an overcast sky. I was hoping for better weather, but I wasn't going to be deterred: I was finally getting to climb the mountain I've been looking at for months!

Spring had come to the mountain and little woodland ephemerals of all kinds poked out of the grass. The bracken fronds were unfurling, the bog pink was blooming, and the Primulas were everywhere. I began the ascent easily enough, stopping often to peek at the bits of color of all the tiny flowers.

The views were a bit dreary, but I was lucky enough that the clouds were high. It sprinkled on my only a little bit the first half, and soon spots of sunshine were able to break through. I paused at the radio tower, but was eager to see the peaks of Dun da Ghaoithe once more peek out around the bend.

Two people passed me the whole day. It was just the mountain and me.

Skywalker?

It was amazing as I made it to the second radio tower that the roads behind me, if I turned to look at them, seemed to end at the sky, as if you'd walk off the edge of them.

View down from the lunch spot.

Then, the real hillwalking began. I mistakenly followed dear trails more often than I'd like to admit. They knew how to get up the quickest though. At one point I was almost ascending a rock face, but when I came (well, really rolled on to) the top, I almost slipped down the other side of a very steep hill into the next valley. After a moment to catch my breath in the soft moss, the sky opened up around me and I could see 360 degrees around me. I realized I'd perched where a bird of prey usually did by some interesting droppings, but I couldn't blame it for the view.

I finished the climb to the first cairn steadily, calculating my climb amongst the interesting and misleading boulders. The path between the tall cairn and the sudden drop into the valley was a bit unnerving, and I was very keen to put just one foot in front of the other without looking around.

The path between the cairn and the sheer drop into the valley.

The wind suddenly kicked up as I descended the dip between the two points of the mountain. I began to understand why they called it "the fork of the two winds." I had to put my jacket on and put my bandana around my ears, and then finally put my hood up enough to keep from getting a major headache.

The final hill to ascend to the top. Notice the scree.

The wind made the approaching scree climb ahead of me look very precarious. There was another sudden drop if I were to slip or be tripped up by a sudden gust. *Gulp!* But the jagged pieces of rock were surprisingly sturdy and ages of rain had formed gentle stairs up the face. Slowly, and with sure step, I climbed the last major hill between me and the very top (still making sure to give plenty of girth between me and the edge).

Scree steps...?

And then finally, I was there! The wind came rushing from the Atlantic and Ben More to welcome me with such force, that after a look around the summit, I took shelter on the leeward side of the cairn for some rest. The views were spectacular, stretching over to the mainland and almost to Skye and Iona. It was everything I'd hoped and more.

The path finally taken.

Look at the plants!....Oh, and there's puffins too: A daytrip to Lunga and Staffa

Puffins! They were quite calm and fine with us getting quite close to them. I was within four feet of this group and there were clouds of them just off to the left of the picture. They nest in little rabbit holes along the cliffs. The pink-flowered plant  in the foreground is a species of thrift, Armeria maritima.

My first order of business after finishing exams was to get out of Edinburgh! My friend Camilla told me about the puffins on the islands off the coast of the Isle of Mull, so I thought that would be an interesting vacation. I was on the train out of Edinburgh the Friday evening after the exam.

Wild Primula vulgaris with a hint of morning rain

growing out of the grass on Lunga.

Saturday morning was an early start, getting my tickets at the office at 7 a.m. and then running to get some snacks before the ferry left for Mull because we'd be out all day. The weather was grey, but the clouds were high, so the visibility was okay. The tour left from Tobermory, so it was a bus ride before we actually got to the tour boat, but the bus trip along the east coast of Mull was really beautiful and I got to see a flock of ADORABLE black and white baby lambs (*melt*).

The hour and fifteen minute trip out was a bit uneventful because of the weather, but we did see a white-tailed eagle and a group of harbor and common seals.

Our first stop was to Lunga, one of the Treshnish Islands off the west coast of Mull. It is home to one of the largest puffin colonies, as well as a host of other seabirds, such as the guillemot, razorbill, and shag. The tour let us off there for two hours and I was able to hike along the cliffs, see the heart rock (pictured below), and hike over the tallest part of the island and across the entire length. It was pretty precarious getting back on to the boat though. The tide was the lowest of the year and we were scrambling over some slippery, algae-covered boulders. Adventures!

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Hundreds, if not thousands, of guillemots gathered on the Heart Rock on Lunga. The noise was astounding. Never had I seen so many birds in one place in my life! The puffins are nesting on the cliffs just out of the left of the picture.

Our last stop on the trip was to the famous Staffa, home to Fingal's Cave (pictured below). It was incredible to see the unique geological feature featuring tetragonal, pentagonal, and hexagonal rock columns formed by the quick cooling of lava about 56-66 mya (well, except for the Giant's Causeway in Northern Ireland), as well as the really neat natural rock gardens at the top, starring several species from the extreme Caryophyllales and lichens of all kinds and colors.

It was time to head back after an hour there, though. The boat trip back was full of spitting rain and chilly winds, so I hung out inside.

The mouth of Fingal's Cave as we came around the south of Staffa.

You can see the people on the bottom right for scale.

I finally got a place at the comfortable Craignure Bunkhouse (which I highly recommend!) in Craignure for the night so I'd be ready for my hike up Dun da Ghaoithe the next day. Whew! What a day!

Classes are over!! A year in review of the Biodiversity and Taxonomy of Plants

My first dissection of a fall-blooming Anemone hybrid, family Ranunculaceae, order Ranunculales, showing a cross-section of the bracts, receptacle, the fruits and the stamens. 

So....it's been more than a week since classes were over and now I'm coming down from, literally and figuratively, a vacation and extra Beltane performance at the Museum Late Celts Evening at the National Museum of Scotland. Whoa!

Needless to say, this year has been insanely busy, challenging, hectic, crazy, insane, borderline manic, amazing, insightful, and full of good people, great plants, and incredible experiences.

Monday I start my thesis work (in not so many words: evaluating how existing ecosystem services evaluation systems are able to assess botanical garden collections), but I thought it would be appropriate to reflect back on the year of classes on angiosperms (what most folks know as flowering plants), gymnosperms ('naked seed plants', or what most folks know as conifers, Gnetophytes, and Ephedras), and evolution of all the plants and all the things associated with plants, like algae, fungi, and fossils (which Scotland is rich in!!).

The common themes you'll probably notice from the photos are flower dissections and plant walks with Louis and Jenny. I will work on trying to annotate the photos so you know what I was trying to look at!

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Nathan being a human yard stick to show how big these Vireya Rhododendron trusses are.

Daytrippin': On the hunt for the Holy Grail at the Rosslyn Chapel

Rosslyn Chapel in the noon day sun. Click for more photos.

It was a beautiful day to go daytrippin' and use the last day of my bus pass. The weather dutifully led me to Roslin, Scotland, to the Rosslyn Chapel, of the Knights Templar fame.

No, I did not see Tom Hanks, nor do I have any insights for the folks digging at Oak Island (which I'd just like to add is also an island in N.C.).

But, yes, I can attest to the words David Roberts spoke in 1842:

"There is a combination of light and shade I have never met with any subject, colour and richness of detail peculiar to itself."

He, of course, was talking as a painter, and today I can only talk in words.

I actually appreciated that the Rosslyn Chapel Trust has a strict no-photos policy for the inside of the chapel, so you can enjoy the ornate, yet compact, space without tens of people's flashes going off the whole time. Although I do not take photos inside of churches as a personal taboo, I even would have taken some today.

There is so much to see on the inside that you could spend days in there and still see some new detail (this was probably the best book I saw in the gift shop about the symbology, if you're curious). There is a curious mix of meaning in the stone carvings and I wonder, as those who've come before me, what the St. Clair clan was thinking. More than 100 green men peek out of the corners and from next to angels.

But, these photos will have to suffice as a glimpse of the picturesque countryside chapel (and a stately churchyard yew, Taxus baccata).

Winter Hillwalking in Scotland: Hiking around Aviemore

What the Scottish call hillwalking, most everyone else would call hiking; however, I do believe there is a subtle, but critical, difference between the two. Hillwalking is very much a Scottish pastime and modern tradition for those who desire for "wild and lonely places." Scotland is rich in these places, with plenty of space in the Highlands to lose yourself, find no one, and be with a raw landscape.

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I have to admit I was a bit worried about hillwalking in the winter for some reason. Although, I found it's really not that much different than hiking in a cooler, weather-wise, version of North Carolina, which I've done many a-time.

The snow greeted me off the train in Aviemore, in the north of Cairngorms National Park, and I had enough light left in the day to clamber and slide to the top of Craigellachie Nature Preserve. The next day, after a bit of a hike change, I made my way down the Ryvoan Pass, which passes through Abernethy Nature Preserve.

My photos don't do the golden (and warm!) weather and breathtaking landscape any justice, but I hope they honor the experience.

Gardening at a16th Century House in Scotland

I really couldn't believe it when I saw this was where we were going to be gardening. #horticulture #dreamstatus

When Hannah asked me if I'd be interested in gardening at a house east of Edinburgh, of course I was interested. She was excited about the amount of space and freedom we'd have, and the south-facing wall the space had, which would help give the plants a boost in this high latitude!

We made plans to go with Jenny today to get out from under studying for a little while and out of Edinburgh! It was a beautiful day today, albeit colder, than the last few days of wind and rain. The drive through the Scottish countryside was picturesque and the golden light, seemingly already fading at 10:30 in the morning, was making the humidity in the air glow.

When Jenny pulled into the narrow wall surrounding the house (pictured above) I could hardly let myself believe where we were. I immediately recognized the period of the house, but I hadn't ever been in a real, functioning 16th century house and it was crazy to think it was a real thing to live in them. But, it was real! (Click the house to see more photos.)

We were there to garden though, so here's the 'before':

And here's the 'after'. Success, for the first day and an hour's work.

Orchid Days in November

It has been such a dreamy day in Edinburgh, thinking about orchid, snow and history.

Well, it all started last night with the snow. I was hanging out with Tom after class and as we walked to the Old Town the snow started. It was beautiful against the trees outlined in with Christmas lights.

Today I took a moment to visit the farmers' market and take a walk through the city. It was a bit unnerving that 1 p.m. looked like 4 p.m., but the golden light on the old buildings was worth it. The streets were full of tourists visiting for the Christmas celebrations and the farmers' market was full of tasty meats and produce from local farmers and artisans. Lots of great spoils from the day, thanks to the wonderful ladies and gentlemen there who helped me get some great deals (including a pack of local striped bacon and three pounds of local Aberdeen Angus for 12 pounds). I was even fortunate to catch a glimpse of snow on the hills north of here as I walked home. Stunning.

The view from the kitchen window this afternoon, about 2:30 p.m.

Anyway, the night was complete with a surprise Christmas fireworks show right outside of Patrick Geddes Hall and homemade hot chocolate I made to celebrate the chilly occasion. A busy, productive day.

It's a bit of a stretch, but this is a fitting way to end a great week!

Dracula bella, an orchid that is pollinated by fungus gnats, which you can understand if you give the mushroom-like lip a sniff.

Click here for more photos from orchid classes.

We've turned toward conservation issues and focused on orchids this Thursday and Friday. Of course I was beside myself most of the time, because orchids are my favorite plants (among many)! We had a lecture about orchids Thursday morning, followed by a practical in the afternoon, where we drew flowers, talked about morphology, and scents. Friday morning we were in another practical on basic pollination biology. It was nice to get back to the plants again.

In honor of this occasion I'd like to finally share my photos from my afternoon in the orchid greenhouse at the Royal Botanic Garden Edinburgh. While what you'll see at the link below might just seem like a stream of photos, it can also contribute to a body of work on the phenology of orchids, or the studying of timing of natural cycles in plants (and animals). Even so, they're just so cool!!

I would like to leave you with the final thought Kerry left us with after his orchid lecture:

'Man's mastery of the Earth pays him greatest tribute when he achieves the humility to leave some of it alone.' -Unknown

Click here for photos of the Royal Botanic Garden Edinburgh's Orchid Collection.

Rhynchostylis? of some kind.

A glimpse of Edinburgh

 

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Sorry it's been a while since I last posted. There are so many posts in the works, so many photos of beautiful things, but I have to be realistic: I'm still in graduate school and I can't forget that!

It was a beautiful weekend though, and this afternoon, despite it getting almost completely dark by 4 p.m., was stunning. Time to share some photos while I can. You can read more about each photo at the link above.

Class is going well and we only have a couple of weeks left of actual class. We'll have some time to breathe, but it will still be filled with studying and preparing for our 12-day trip to Belize in January. In the mean time there will be an American Thanksgiving dinner and a British Christmas dinner.

The New Digs: Patrick Geddes Hall in Mylne's Court

I had to wait more than two weeks, but I finally was able to move into Patrick Geddes Hall of Mylne's Court. It was such a relief to unpack my suitcases after more than a month of traveling. What I didn't anticipate was the incredible location of my flat and the beautiful views I would get. I honestly have the best room in the flat because my window looks out to a quiet courtyard and I don't get sound or light glare from the street. I can visit the street view in the kitchen and then retreat. Pleasant.

Patrick Geddes Hall is the block over from the top of the Royal Mile, so I am literally around the corner from Edinburgh Castle. I go to the top of the street and there it is. I haven't been yet, but I plan on going very soon!

It's quite a bit a ways from the grocery stores and seas of tourists flood the streets when you try to walk up the road with your shopping; the thing that make it all okay, despite the annoyance of someone walking in front of you stopping suddenly to take a picture, is that you can walk by that thing they can only see that once every day. Then it's all okay.

Click the photo of the skyline for the rest of the details (sorry for those of you who were trying to follow the absurdly-paced slideshow)!

September Pilgrimage to the Isle of Mull

Yikes.....this is way overdue!! So, back in September....

I really wanted to do some adventuring outside of Edinburgh before I started at university, and a pilgrimage to the Isle of Mull seemed most appropriate. I hadn't been since 2003 and I'd always remembered it fondly. I'd vowed to return and go hiking, and now was the time.

A quick four-hour train trip through the beautiful Scottish Highlands brought me to Oban, a popular European resort town, and where the CalMac ferry to Islands sets out from.

Duart Castle, the seat of the Clan McLean, as you approach Craignure on the Isle of Mull.

 Click HERE for more photos

From the train straight to the ferry for a beautiful, albeit windy, day scoping out the island and visiting Duart Castle, the seat of the Clan McLean, and my heritage. I took the bus from the ferry to the castle, but walked the three miles back so I could admire the scenery and see if I could find a hidden path up the mountain.

The next day I was on the morning ferry, but after missing the only bus and a miscalculation about a bike, I ended up just walking up the road out of Craignure to see how far I could get to Salen. Well, fate was looking out for me because I discovered a hiking trail at Scallastle, a Scottish Forestry Commission property. The weather wasn't great, with the clouds shrouding the mountain tops and shifting rain eventually drenching me through, but the views when the clouds would clear and the enchanting plants were well worth another trek in the rain.

It was an incredible, but sadly brief trip. But I'll be back soon!

Royal Botanic Gardens, Edinburgh- the first glimpse

The first book I opened in the library at the Royal Botanic Gardens Edinburgh was:

“It is a piece of weakness and folly merely to value things because their distance from the place where we are born: thus men have traveled far enough in the search of foreign plants and animals, and yet continue strangers to those produced in their own natural climate.” – Martin Martin, 1698, A Late Voyage to the St. Kilda

The old, but poignantly relevant, quote struck a painful cord in my homesick heart. Second thoughts were rife in my mind as I tried to struggle with why I’d decided to travel so far from home.

And then I saw the familiar form of a Metasequoia glyptostroboides, dawn redwood, marking the entrance to the garden and my heart skipped. This was why I was there.

The menagerie of plants I saw in the Scottish Heath Garden, Rock Garden and the other areas I could reach in my brief breaks showed me I still had tons of plants to learn and that was why I was there. I had a purpose and I had time to devote myself to it.

Arthur’s Seat, the royal backdrop of Holyrood Park

One of the remedies for homesickness is hiking and Arthur’s Seat was calling. Holyrood Park is visible from most places in the city, even from the coast of Granton. I’d already resolved to hike it more than ten years ago when I first saw it. Finally, I had a chance to!

After running errands though the bustling streets of the Edinburgh Sunday, I was released to the base of the ancient volcanic hills. Some of them look like old slices of earth that were pushed up millions of years ago. They don’t seem that high, until you see the tiny people climbing all over them.

I assessed how and where I wanted to explore. People had made paths all up the sides of the hills, for better or for worse, besides the main path that lead around the sides of the hills. There was a steep path that quickly ascended the top that was perfect to get to walk along the rim of the rocks and see the city sooner.

It was rigorous, but every brief break was full of breathtaking views of the city. The higher I went the more I could see in the horizon. When I reached the top, I realized I hadn’t reached the top I thought I had. There was a larger mountain, the actual Arthur’s Seat, beyond. A golden valley stretched down below me, so vast the people were even smaller. I saw more hills beyond and more to explore. Yes!

The plants were mostly grasses and flowering herbs on the first hill. Only when I got to the base of Arthur’s Seat did I see trees, and even then they weren’t very tall. Gorse and other shrubs dominated, really. When I rounded the northeastern side of the Seat there were patches of heather all over. Ahh!

I chose another steep path to the top of Arthur’s Sear through a patch of heather. The air smelled like honey and the fuzzy white-bottomed bumblebees were hard at work. Both the climb and the views were dramatic and a couple times I had to remind myself to stop to look at the plants because the way down was straight to the bottom. I took a few breaks to take in the views of the valley below and the land beyond. I was taken aback each time I tried to understand how wide the valley was below. It was like nothing I’d ever seen; so beautiful.

I clambered over the last few rocks and found a path to the top of the mount. The rocks were smooth and slippery from the thousands of people who’d walked over them. I found a seat on the edge looking to the north so I could see over the city to the Highlands. The cold wind ripped over the top, but I was still happy to be on top of the world. I was really here.

I am really here.

Left, left, left….but look right: settling into Edinburgh

“Left, left, left….” My cousin and I chanted, as my grandfather pulled out of the rental car place in Glasgow in 2003. That was my first time in Scotland and it was an unforgettable trip.

As I rode the bus from Granton, my nerves were on end as the double decker drove through the narrow streets. On the wrong side of the road. Of which I was reminded of after getting on the bus going the wrong way because I was standing on the wrong side of the road. Again.

And then there was crossing the street. We’ve been told since we were little to look both ways to cross the street. Okay, I’ve got that. But, what I didn’t realize is that in the United States we look left then right, because the traffic is coming from the left. Well, here it isn’t.

There are thousands of people from all over Europe and Asia here for the festivals, so it’s been hard to gauge the normal Edinburgh society. Throngs of tourists have flooded the streets and tourist shops are everywhere in the Old and New Towns. I’m not a native, but even I am tired after a few days. And these poor folks have had to deal with the festivals for the past month. Yuck.

There is a lot of Mediterranean, Turkish and American food and the traditional Scottish food is faded in the background (although there is plenty of fish and chips to be had). And then there’s plenty of whisky to be had too. It’s its own food group anyway. Thinking now though, this is a major metropolitan area, and just like in the U.S., the “traditional” foods of the region aren’t really front and center and readily available to visitors (or are only known by the locals, of which I’m working on). The backbone of the society is dictated by “The Council” and social programs are pretty well-organized, you just have to figure them out! Things are certainly more expensive here and it will be nice to be able to cook for myself.

So, in a way, it’s very much like being in Charlotte: the weather’s similar, the people look similar, there’s a smattering of immigrants, and there is are a lot of options shopping/food-wise; except…..the accents are definitely not the same and it’s in Scotland.

But, traffic and people aside, Edinburgh has been amazing. It is set in a beautiful place, full of beautiful, ancient buildings. Thankfully they thought to save many of them in the 60s and 70s. The view from Holyrood Park is incredible and you can see north to the Highlands and far into the Firth of Forth. I’ve been able to learn the city by walking around and looking around from the tops of the buses.

As an American, I think I can appreciate the architecture more than most of the native folks. Just the other day I went to an art show that was part of the Fringe Festival and it was held in the courtyard of an old, stone abbey and Edinburgh Castle filled the skyline behind it. The Londoner, Irishman and lady from Spain couldn’t understand why I was so excited. Everywhere you look there is history. Even as the bustle of modern society fills in most of the available space around me, and the skillfully crammed buildings of the streets of Edinburgh, I can still appreciate that I am in one of the most beautiful places in the Western world.

The Night No American Could Make Up

So, Saturday night an American, a Londoner, an Irishman and a lady from Spain walk into a bar…

Sounds like the lead up to a bad bar joke. But it was essentially my night.

The Fringe Festival has been the dominant festival for the time I’ve been in Edinburgh. Performers and artists are everywhere, and where they aren’t there are folks handing out bills for shows elsewhere. Most of the Royal Mile has been closed, if not for the Fringe, then for the Military Tattoo at Edinburgh Castle. What a time.

The “best mate” of the gentleman I am renting my room roped me and John into going to Animotion. I had no idea what it was about, but it was supposed to be so good the guy was going to see it again. Heck, why not experience part of the Fringe on my meager student budget? I was in.

John and I met his friends, an Irishman and his girlfriend, who was a lady from the north of Spain, at Sandy Bells, one of the finest folk bars in Edinburgh for pre-show Guinness. I couldn’t believe my ears as we all conversed, holding Guinnesses on the street corner in the center of Old Town Edinburgh. Amazing.

We made our way around the corner to the show after we finished our beers. The wrought iron gates stopped at a large, ancient stone portico where they were taking tickets. As my American eyes took in the gate, the old stone abbey beyond took the cake. The lights suddenly went off and the super moon’s bright light lit the front. Crazy. Until we came around the side of the old church and the Edinburgh Castle filled the skyline. I couldn’t make this up if I’d tried.

After the show, we made it back to Sandy Bell’s and after getting another round of drinks, I pushed our way back to small group of tables closest to the motley crew of musicians having a jam session. Folks from all over Edinburgh and the world played fiddles, there was a handful of fifes, a traditional drum, a standing base, a banjo and guitar. A gentleman from the U.S. had brought a cello-like instrument to play. A small Scottish man had brought a mandolin. By 1 a.m., after much convincing by me for the Scotsman to play the mandolin, there was a homely set of traditional songs being played. If it weren’t for the accents I’d’ve sworn I was in North Carolina.

All was suddenly well.

Animotion, a snapshot of the Fringe of Edinburgh

What I learned as I watched the light of a painter smear oil paints masterfully over the façade of the courtyard of an old stone abbey:

“Art is something that was that will never be again. But then becomes the journey to find it again.”

She brought her paintings to life in vibrant colors and great strokes but then could quickly wipe them away, change them as the musicians created music that was and never would be again. I was able to understand art for the first time in my life.

I'M GOING TO EDINBURGH

Well, I have been very slow about my recent updates; I've still got three more posts from my trip back in December (and they are still coming!). It's been a pretty busy time being back in North Carolina and moving down to Mobile, Alabama.

Center circle of the Millie McConnell Rhododendron Garden in the morning light.

But, I have some very exciting news!

I've been accepted into the University of Edinburgh's Master's of Science in the Biodiversity and Taxonomy of Plants!

That's right: Edinburgh, Scotland. The year-long program is done in conjunction with the researchers at the Royal Botanic Garden Edinburgh and looks to provide an incredible opportunity to gain more training and experience in field botany and applied taxonomy (also to explore the beautiful country of Scotland and be involved with RBG Edinburgh). Wow.

I have some more good news.

I will be staying on at the Mobile Botanical Garden in Mobile, AL over the summer working on the grounds and staying plugged in with their other programs. I can't wait to really dig in and get more involved in the collections.

Finally, I would like to send out a general thank you for everyone who has kept up with me and my travels. It has meant a lot to me that I have friends and family that care about me and what I'm doing. I would appreciate if you would take some time to view my GoFundMe page and think about if there is anything you would care to donate.

Just like this little Pinus palustris seedling, I am just getting started, but I am well on my way.