After 297 spiraling steps, I reach the top of Edinburgh’s Sir Walter Scott monument. Dizziness from the climb and a sudden sense of vertigo assault me, and for a split second I lament that I hadn’t purchased any insurance for travel for this trip. Erratic winds rip at my jacket, blur my vision with tears, and roar in my ears. It’s a trial by wind to reach Edinburgh’s upper levels.
But the reward is immense.
In all directions the city seems to bow before me. Only Arthur’s Seat, in the distance, looks at me with a level gaze. Then, curling around the monument’s uppermost and tiny viewing deck, I spot it: Edinburgh Castle.
It glows in the morning light, fencing with the clouds above it, like some computer-generated fantasy. The castle, too perfectly situated, crowns a dark mass of igneous rock that used to be a volcanic plug. Does this majestic construct now assume the duty of holding back a churning, burning cauldron of liquid rock?
From this view, I believe it capable of everything.
As with most pictures on Traveling Savage, simply click the photo for an enlarged view (Note: there appears to be an issue with this if you’re using Firefox 4).