Dad's input

We are finally home and unpacked for the final time. Tanya worked for hours each day to document all our various activities on her blog (for which this is to be an entry). She has done a wonderful job keeping a diary of our trip, but has asked for my contribution; so, I will add a few ancillary comments of my own though they will likely be, based on what has already been written, superfluous ramblings.

The travel plans unrolled with seeming simplicity, but I know the women of this family spent MANY hours on the phone and the internet arranging this seamless effort including airfare, rental cars, hotel rooms, and cottages as well as mapping the routes, calling for reservations, making shopping lists and menus, etc. It was a
seemingly endless litany of tasks and they handled the job masterfully!

And JA made all the arrangements for the fishing excursion on the Tweed river which was a true once-in-a-lifetime experience. I say once-in-a-lifetime not only because it was a marvelous experience but because if we had come a month earlier, in season, it would have cost a bit more: a minimum of six rods (fishermen) per party, a minimum of five days on the water per person at the astounding rate of ₤1,450
per day - that's 1,450 pounds sterling - not dollars - or around $2,200.00 per person, per day for a minimum of five consecutive days. For JA and I it would have totaled, let's see... $22,000,00, thank you very much; tip excluded! Our adventure was a lot cheaper and just as much fun on one of the swiftest runs of water on one of the brightest days we spent in Scotland; just beautiful.

My sole contribution was bringing my two 5-mile, hand-held radios which were quite advantageous as we caravaned in two cars nearly the entire trip. It isn't much, but I'm proud of my accomplishment, small as it was.

One thing I have to mention: the climate. It was so like the Pacific Northwest - ferns, moss, warm weather plants and flowers, and a persistent, green, hearty ground cover everywhere, and in the distance, snow-covered mountains mirrored on the surface of crystal clear lakes. It was, for me, totally unexpected. I had always thought of Scotland as brown scrub, heather, rocks, and sheep; it was a complete and wonderful surprise. The sheep were there though, and in abundance. As we flew into Edinburgh airport (pronounced Edinbudah) it looked as though the green hills had handfuls of sheep cast about higeldy-pigeldy by the heavenly hand of some tourism-minded landscaper - truly pastoral.

Another large part of my daily memory consists of navigating the roads. The roadway classifications seemed to be:

1. Carriageways (M8, M9) - two to three lane highways with a median barrier; much like US highways - 70 MPH limit.
2. 'A' labeled roads (A72, A698) - two-lane roads with lane markers and curbs - 70 MPH limit.
3. 'B' labeled roads (B6089, B3024) - 1⅔ to two lane roads without markings and no curbs - 70 MPH limit!
4. Unlabeled 'better' roads (No markings) - one lane roads with 'passing places' carved out of the shoulder. See 'Passing Places' explained below.
5. Unlabeled 'Where are we?' roads (No markings) - one lane (I use the term loosely) roads with no passing places.
6. Unlabeled 'You must be joking!' roads (No markings, no shoulder, some pavement) - one lane goat cart paths. These roads (I use THIS term loosely) may terminate, and I mean come to an abrupt, unheralded end without options - pray this never happens to you.

Passing Places are arcs of shoulder carved in along the roadside to allow one car to pull off the surface into the passing place while the oncoming car uses the road exclusively. You do NOT pass anyone driving in the same direction on these roads; at any rate, I never saw it done.

It's also odd that our (right-side drivers) tendency is to avoid the oncoming Scottish traffic to our right and so, draw too close to theleft - where all the idle cars are parked (on these very narrow roads). No matter who was driving this seemed to be our greatest miscalculation. We never hit anything, but I would swear we once or twice occupied the same space and time as parts of other vehicles and yet escaped unharmed... ah well, who can explain such miracles?

We all tried 'haggis' - the lungs, liver, and sweetbreads of the sheep spiced and bound with steel-cut oats; then encased in the stomach lining and boiled 'til done. Not bad actually - a little gamy and highly spiced, but not bad. We ate a lot of Steak and Ale pie with chips, fish and chips with boiled peas, and Scottish breakfast - a lot like a typical American breakfast - save the sausage tastes different than ours, the bacon is never crisp, and the meal is served with baked beans - again, SURPRISE! The beer, tea, and coffee however were matchless.

One final item: I think the Scottish Tourism Board should take note: I once went confidently into a women's room because the door sign read 'Ladies' which I took to be the plural of Lad. I heard female voices and turned on my heel. I was not discovered. Odd how the mind works sometimes.

That's all that occurs to me except for the words sor'd (sorry), luvly (lovely) and brilliant (brilliant) which I heard every day; so, I'll end this contribution here. If I think of enough other fodder to comprise an entry I may add more later. Cheers!