There are places in Scotland that have defied the ravages of time. The wild winds and weather of the north Atlantic work to mummify these sites, embalming them in thick layers of silt and sand and dirt covered over with coastal grasses. They remain hidden from the eye and outside the reckoning of men until that capricious weather once more works its magic to reveal something ancient to the modern world.
In 1897, such a storm tore through Shetland’s southern mainland, riling up the sea and eroding earth along the coast to reveal a curiously ancient wall. Formal excavations began nearly 30 years later on the site known as Jarlshof and the rest is literally history. Lots of it. Read more...
Even the schools in Edinburgh are something to gape and wonder at. That was the thought flitting through my mind as I stood in the courtyard of George Heriot’s School on the southern edge of Edinburgh’s Old Town. It’s a rare view, being inside the school. Much like other castles of education in Edinburgh, George Heriot’s School isn’t open to visitors, which I think is a pretty smart policy (minors and all). So how did I sneak past the guards and clamber over the Flodden Wall without being noticed?
No, it wasn’t my years training as a ninja in Iga province. I was the guest of Willie Wallace, a George Heriot’s alum which granted him the powers of re-entry to the school. With guests. Read more...
The Black Isle is a large peninsula immediately north of Inverness that spears into a watery trio of firths: The Cromarty Firth, the Beauly Firth, and the Moray Firth. It’s known as a pastoral place perfect for visitors seeking a quiet holiday and maybe some sightings of dolphins and whales off the coast. On previous trips to Scotland I had either sped across the Black Isle en route to more northerly destinations or had visited places like the Glen Ord Distillery or Bunchrew House on its periphery. But when Ian Rankin recommends the Black Isle you go to the Black Isle.
I like Inverness well enough, but I always find myself looking around the edges for a different place to stay. While planning my trip for last May, the Black Isle presented itself as the perfect alternative. Read more...
It came together quickly, on the spur of the moment. In hindsight, most nights centered on the act of binge drinking usually do. You wake up the next morning smelling like flat Irn-Brü and kebab sauce, trying to piece together the previous night but generally just thankful that you did, in fact, wake up.
Such were my reluctant expectations as I sped from Scotland’s Isle of Mull south to Glasgow where I would meet fellow travel blogger and man of mishap, Mike Sowden, for a night on the town. His blog’s subtitle is “The Art of Unfortunate Travel,” and it’ll all make sense when you read posts like the time he challenged himself to hike the North York Moors and nearly died. Read more...
Even though I’ve visited Glasgow on four separate occasions, I hesitate to write this post. Edinburgh gets all the love, even from me. I spent three weeks in the city to the east last year. Glasgow got just three days. I flew into and out of Glasgow on my trip last April/May, but effectively spent no time in the city (apart from a night at an airport hotel Sarah and I spent on our way home). I capped my last trip to Scotland with a three-day stint in town and used it as a good excuse to get together with Yorkie and travel jester Mike Sowden of Fevered Mutterings.
Three days and an airport hotel night? It’s not fair. It’s not right. It’s downright ignorant.
I agree on all accounts… Read more...
A hunter, oft-stubbled and bleary-eyed, driven by an insatiable hunger for exploration and experience - and perhaps a chance to thin the herd of caffeinated and alcoholic beverages. From the highlands and islands to Edinburgh, Glasgow, and the Borders, I explore Scotland with a pen in hand and a fire in the belly (which could be partly from the whisky). 
