by Keith Savage on September 28, 2011 · 2 comments
I walked into the stout, red stone building overlooking Brodick Bay and set down my bags with a thankful sigh. It had been a long day of travel involving countless drives, flights, and ferries, and I’d finally made it to my first stop: Brodick on the Isle of Arran. More specifically, I’d arrived at The Douglas Hotel, which would be my home for three nights thanks to arrangements from Visit Arran. Sorry, I meant the next two nights; delays on U.S. Airways shaved off a full day from my trip and I lost a night from my stay in Brodick.
I looked around the small, cozy lobby with its dark wood floor and thought about how The Douglas Hotel had just re-opened this season. Later I’d hear that the building had been an eyesore for a long time before this re-opening. Not so, now. Read more...
by Keith Savage on September 26, 2011 · 3 comments
Of all Scotland’s islands, the Isle of Arran must be one of the easiest to visit. From Glasgow airport it’s just a 45-minute drive west to the ferry terminal at Ardrossan and then less than an hour by ferry before you can be in the heart of Brodick, Arran’s primary town. Trust me, that’s about as easy as it gets from Scotland’s main cities.
It’s a worthwhile trip. Sarah and I briefly visited Arran in 2006, and based on our favorable impressions I decided to spend three nights there on my most recent trip to Scotland. U.S. Airways obviously thought this was a bad idea as their inability to fly on time wound up shaving an entire day off my trip. Nevertheless I persevered through the incompetence and enjoyed two solid nights on Arran in early September. Read more...
The waves beneath the side of the ferry part in frothy, white retort. Sun from the west strafes the Firth of Clyde and sets the water along the horizon gleaming like a polished broadsword. The town of Brodick clusters insignificantly to the north of Holy Isle, and the veiled Ailsa Craig peaks in the distance. Off the port side, a fishing boat plies the suddenly placid waters, heralded by the mournful cries of half a hundred seagulls swarming. Hot tea from earlier sours on my palate just as a bell clangs. And I stand in the heavy air clutching a box of raisins, shivering into the wind.
The passage across the Firth of Clyde to Arran lasts only a short time. It’s a transition period, from haven to haven, uncomfortably mirroring my mental landscape. Read more...
Isle of Arran, Scotland | May 3, 2006
Like travelers to a fire in the dark of winter, the village and towns of Arran huddle around the narrow coastal road encircling the island. We tracked north from the port in Brodick to the village of Lochranza where an old church, converted to a bed and breakfast, awaited. Above us, like sea frigates turned to airships, broad-bellied clouds plied the skies around the Goat Fell and its sister corbetts, their faces hidden in veils of mist and running with the sometimes audible sound of rivers. Centuries had passed since The Clearances had drained the small of isle of many of its people; hard voyages to Canada, conceived in deceit by the island’s earl, were damned from the first frigid waves that crashed over the Caledonia’s bow. Read more...
If Scotland could be compared to its famous breakfasts, then the Isle of Arran would be the bran muffin: filling, good for you, and delightfully digestible. Arran, however, is far from bland… 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). 
