A solo rental-car sojourn in Scotland
Driving lush countryside and sleeping in the car make for a ruggedly enjoyable getaway
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Ah, Scotland! Definitely one of the best trips I’ve taken while living in Europe.
I traveled solo since it was a last-minute, up-in-the-air vacation due to an assignment I had the same month. It was Labor Day weekend and the weather was great — a bit cold at night, but clear skies and warm throughout the day. I used Ryanair (www.ryanair.com/site/EN), flying from Frankfurt-Hahn into Glasgow- Prestwick, whereI picked up a rental car. Not too expensive in itself, but $2 per liter of gas! As I put more than 800 miles on the car within three days, it added up.
I arrived late in the evening and, after getting used to driving on the opposite side of the road, I watched some snooker at a pub and toured the night scene on main street Prestwick. With all the restaurants closed, I had to dine on the MRE I brought along with me. Hooah!
Anyway, I found out quickly that the Scots are affable people. At a small pub I visited, I talked with several patrons and the owner, received half a pint on the house and was invited to take a turn at the karaoke machine. I also saw the largest woman I have ever seen. Not strictly obese, but Vikingesque, at my estimated measurements of 6’9” tall, 3 feet wide and 2 feet front to back. She spent the night drinking, singing and shaking her fist at the drunken Scot who kept grabbing her bum. He offered me a turn, but I politely refused. From there I drove south and spent the night in my car, parked by a farm in Kirkoswald.
The next day I headed to Culzean Castle, situated on a cliff-top near Maybole in Ayrshire (www.culzean experience.org): gorgeous architecture and a rich history, including the Eisenhower Room, a gift to “Ike” after World War II, complemented by acres of gardens, fields, shoreline and woods.
I spent the morning touring the castle and grounds and even watched an archery contest. Then it was back on the road en route to Edinburgh! I missed the interior of the city’s castle since I arrived after 5 p.m., so I contented myself with touring the local shops and statuary.
Scotland’s capital looked fun from what I saw, but didn’t seem to offer anything I couldn’t find in any other major city. I continued heading north. To save a few pounds, I spent the night in the car once more. And as the bed-and-breakfasts in the countryside close their doors early, there wasn’t any feasible alternative anyway! No matter; I awoke beside a fog-coated loch (lake) framed by rolling hills — beautiful!
My goal was to make it to the Highlands by nightfall, so after a hearty Scottish breakfast of eggs and sausages, off I went. Along the way I made sure to hesitate for anything that caught my eye. First stop — a parade in the small town of Killin complete with bagpipes, traditional Scottish tartans and Celtic dancing.
A few scenic lochs next gave me pause, as did The Edradour in Pit- lochry, Pethshire, Scotland’s smallest whisky distillery (www.edradour.co. uk/main.html). Founded in 1825 and barely changed since, it produces yearly what other distilleries put out monthly. I picked up a bottle of their rare malt for 40 pounds (about $80) and off I went, through the port town of Inverness, finally making it into the Scottish Highlands by dusk.
Since the weather turned colder (and I wanted a shower), I shelled out 50 pounds and finally spent the night indoors at The Arch Inn in Ullapool (www.thearchinn.co.uk). The next morning was amazing. The inn sat lakeside on an inlet bordered by emerald hills. The sea air was cool and refreshing and the town was lazily waking up as I set out for the mountains.
With Celtic music serenading me in the car, I drove along well-paved roads through the Northwest Highlands. Deep blue lochs rested on the left; rising hills became mountains on the right; lush, green grass surrounding beds of gray stone lay with wild mountain flowers everywhere. Simplistically, it was like scenes out of “Braveheart.”
Philosophically, it was like a religious experience in that such beauty can quell doubts of a divine power’s existence. And realistically — it was a twisting road fraught with crossing sheep. I passed a natural waterfall and Ben More Assynt before finally turning south and beginning the long drive back to Prestwick.
Then it hit me. I had spent two days driving north and now, on the upper edge of Scotland, I had only six hours to get back to the airport far to the south. If the 150 miles were a straight shot, that wouldn’t be an issue. But it would be close, having to travel on two-lane roads, following curves that nearly doubled the distance and rarely allowed safe opportunities to pass.
I drove with my foot to the floor for much of the way and still hope to go back to the areas I passed through without the time to stop: the drive between Loch Ness and Loch Lomond, especially through Glencoe, is breathtaking. But finally, I made it to the airport with no time left to spare — except for the hour my flight was delayed. Och!
One last note on Scotland: I broke in my kilt while there, as it only seemed fitting, and from my interactions with the locals, I have learned a few things regarding this e’er-comfy garment. One: A tartan is a kilt with clan or county colors (the latter is more common with the Irish). What I wore is simply a kilt (and an American version to boot, from www.utilikilts.com). Two: While this attire is far more comfortable than the bifurcated alternative (i.e. pants), Scots generally wear tartans only at formal and/or familial events these days. However, point three: Kilts are still cool as casual wear if ya got the legs to pull it off.
Kevin L. Eick is a platoon sergeant with the 105th Military Intelligence Battalion in Darmstadt, Germany. E-mail him at k.eick@us.army.mil.
