Day 16 - Highlander

Our driver and guide arrives sharply at 8am to escort us into the Highlands, wearing jacket and kilt, his knees evidently immune to the cold. He has a thick Scottish accent that is perhaps more prevalent among regional areas, where every phrase ends with the downward inflection of resignation. The accents of a couple of younger blokes I talked to in a bar last night didn't have quite the same strength. Maybe you become more Scottish with age.

We're told to answer all of Joe's questions with an unequivocal "Aye".
"Everyone ready to go?"
"Aye!!"

As we depart Scotland's capital we're informed it possessed some of the world's first skyscrapers - the height of these buildings, some seven stories, is certainly impressive, although I wouldn't want to return to my dwelling, on the seventh floor, after 7 drams of whiskey before the age of elevators. Because of their age and structure, many yet can't accomodate elevators.

Not much time passes before we're into the burbs with their gingerbread houses and frosted footpaths - neighbourhoods frozen in time. We leave these too behind and are soon at the foot of the highlands for a stop at the William Wallace Monument, which has great views overlooking Stirling.

Higher we go. Snow regularly appears upon mountain peaks.  What better place to lunch than at a ski resort. We are given a lift pass (no skis unfortunately) and one hour to gorge on a lunch pack consisting of sandwiches and a can of the very Scottish drink, Dr Pepper.

The ski lift scoops us up as if we were debris for a tractor shovel. The journey to the top, about 200m further up the mountain, is a pleasant 15 minutes of swaying in the wind and adoring the Scottish alps, glimpsing mountain streams, getting cold noses.

My companion on the ski lift has reverted to being an ten year old. "This is awesome! The best thing to do on my birthday! Wow! Whoa."

As I'm undertakng a three day journey with Haggis Adventures I shall call my fellow participants Haggisers. After lunch some of us Haggisers explore beyond the ski hut, slipping on ice, breaking ice into shards, sliding down hills on phantom snowboards.

I take my descent alone to meditate upon the whiteness, letting my eyes freeze upon pine forests and listen to the murmurings of the mountain stream.

Although we did't stop at the first castle we drove past, which just happened to be the site where Monty Python and the Holy Grail was filmed, in the afternoon we spend half an hour stepping through crumbling Castle Inverlochy. Some Haggisers dare to climb atop the battlements where a slip on the loose stone would mean bakedbean soup. These medieval ruins would make a fine arena for paintball. 

Early evening we are treated to a reenactment of 12th century Scottish life. Cold wooden hut, thatched roof, 10 to a room, wash twice a year - standards have certainly changed. A couple of intrepid Haggisers volunteer as models for traditional highland attire. At first sight they look like they're being dressed in rugs or fancy flannel rags, but there is more to these garmets than meets the eye. They can be up to 10 metres in length and the varied methods of folding means they can be worn in winter or summer, with or without dagger, and, of course, au naturel, and still protect a highlander's most precious parts from unanticipated mountain zephyrs.