Scotland (III): East to West

We drove through Inverness, and continued up to The Black Isle. Sounds menacing, doesn't it? According to Wikipedia "it derived its customary name from the fact that, since snow does not lie in winter, the promontory looks black while the surrounding country is white".

We stayed in a town called Fortrose. The locals pointed out to us that there is a Fortrose in New Zealand too, and that they have a New Zealander who works in the pub. I didn't have the heart to point out to them that every pub in Britain has a New Zealander who works there.

Fortrose has a ruined 13th century cathedral. It was trashed by Cromwell, which is a nice change from the usual Henry VIII.





The key reason to visit Fortrose is to see the dolphins. We wandered along the beach, wondering where to go. In the end, it was easy enough to tell the location.

Dolphin Spotters

I took a lot of shots, and this was the best I got. The little buggers are tough to snap.









The next day, we drove across to the west coast via Loch Ness. Unfortunately, my camera wasn't focusing correctly, but I think you can just make out...



We also paused at Urquhart Castle, but didn't go in. I've got to hand it to them: They've made it bloody difficult to get a good picture without paying them copious amounts of money.

Scotland (II): Banffshire

Our great, great, great, great grandfather was a farmer from near Marnoch in Banffshire. The family had a farm at Knock Hill. There are a lot of Knock Hills in Scotland, because "knock" means hill. It's similar to the way that nearly every river in England is named "River river", just in different languages (for example, Avon is the Brythonic word for river.)

Knock Hill (Field of Horses!)

We climbed up to the cairn at the top of Knock Hill, because it was there. It was steep, and free of vegetation except bracken. There was a commanding view in all directions.

This Land is my Land...

We also visited Aberchirder, the village where he owned buildings. Interestingly, one of the houses behind me when I took this photo had a name plate saying "Te Anau".



The family left the farm following the Battle of Culloden, when the English army marched through and burnt everything to the ground. I wonder if the English politicians at the time gave speeches from Westminster about winning hearts and minds?

Culloden, in 1746, was the last battle to be fought in Britain. The Scots, under Bonnie Prince Charlie, made it quite a long way down into England, and things could have been so different. The French were considering invading from the south to aid the Scottish, but the Scots turned back which caused the French to lose faith in them. By the time the English and Scottish armies met at Culloden Moor, Charlie was out of money and his men had been walking overnight without food. The Scots charged the English line, but the ground was boggy and Charlie generally cocked things up. It was an absolute massacre.

In the photo below, the bricks on the left represent the English losses. The bricks all the way to the end represent the Scottish losses.

A Set of Bagpipes Thought to be at the Battle

After the battle, the Scottish landowner put down stones marking the areas where the clans fell.



I thought it was well presented, and had quite a strong sense of gravitas. On the moor, blue flags mark the Scottish line and red ones (not shown) mark the English line.



Even if I didn't have a vested interest, it would be hard not to support the anarchic underdog status of the Scots at Culloden. I read the following from an old history, and just have to share it:

"To return to the battle-field. The right wing, or rather the portion of the army which directed its course in a body to the south-west, as it comprehended most of the other Clans, in its retreat presented so formidable an appearance, that a large party of dragoons, who had been sent to intercept them on their way to cross the Nairn, opened their ranks and allowed them to pass unmolested, with the exception of a solitary officer, who, attempting to seize a Highlander, was cut down with a single blow of the claymore, and coolly despoiled of his gold watch in presence of his astounded comrades."

Scotland (I): Perth, Scone and Huntly

At the start of June I did a road trip around Scotland with my brother and his partner. Conveniently, she is Scottish but also knows some English words, so she was able to interpret for us.

To meet them I travelled up to Perth, which is above Edinburgh. On the train from Cambridge to Peterborough, there was a 20 minute delay because there were swans on the track. Unless the train's wheels are made of something softer than swan down, I fail to see the problem.

Based on the street signs, the biggest tourist attraction in Perth is the crematorium. As the rain teemed down, I began to suspect that's because it's the only warm spot in town.

Perth

They picked me up and we drove to Scone Castle (pronunciation: "Scoon"). Really? The "Stone of Scone" is pronounced "Stone of Scoon"? Two of those three words are nearly identical. But if you point out to Scots that they've made an error, they aren't even grateful. And even less so if you point it out each time you go past a Vodafoon shop.

Scone ("Scoon") Palace

We roamed around the castle grounds for a while, which are very nice.



Scone was the home of the Stone of Destiny - the corronation stone of Scottish kings. It was taken to Westminster Abby by Edward I in 1296, and used in the corronation of later monarchs. It was returned to Scotland in 1996, but only a replica now stands in its spot in front of the chapel.

The phony Sconey stoney

That evening, we drove up to a village called Huntly, in Aberdeenshire. There is a very pretty castle ruin not far from the town centre. You can view it for free if you climb over the fence after closing time. That's the authentic Scottish way.

Sex! (Specifically, Middle vs Es)

Sorry about the lack of updates. I've got some new material now.

Firstly, today I really wanted to get out of the flat, so I went to watch Middlesex take on Essex in a T20 match. I've been backing Middlesex this year because Iain O'Brien (from NZ) is playing for them now. Middlesex play at Lords, which is, of course, the home of cricket. I don't think I've been there before. When you've played as much cricket as I have, all the grounds begin to blur together. I think that when I scored my 14 against Tai Tapu, we had to shoo the sheep off the wicket block before the game, so that probably wasn't at Lords.

Adam Gilchrist from Australia smashed a century for Middlesex on Thursday, so things were looking promising. But it turned out Iain O'Brien wasn't playing for the Panthers, and Scott Styris was opening the bowling for Essex. So then my loyalty flipped.

But the guys sitting behind me were from Essex, and they were just animals. No 50-year old, fat oick should be insulting the looks of the pretty cheerleaders. Look at yourself, you moron! Anyway, as they got drunker and more obnoxious and added some racism, I switched back to supporting Middlesex, and sat there with a big smile when Essex lost off the last ball.

I think I'll do that again. It was a fun day out, although it was FREEZING cold. Mental note: In England, always take a jacket. It doesn't matter if it's nominally summer. Always take a jacket.

Cheerleaders? That's not Very Lordsy!

The Famous "Clock Radio" Media Centre

Thorpe Park

Thorpe Park is probably the second most famous amusement park in England, after Alton Towers. My work's social team did a trip there today. I've never been on a rollercoaster, so I was quite excited about this.



I started with a ride called Tidal Wave, where you sit in a boat and it climbs several stories high and then zooms down a ramp into a pool, spraying out a huge plume of water. It was perishingly cold today, and I wore light clothing. I hoped that the water would spray out from the boat, leaving the occupant relatively dry, but I put on my pink poncho just in case. I was promptly mocked by the ride attendant.



You can't really see it here, but the boat has just come down on the left of the shot. The wave is going over the roof of the shed on the right. It turns out that you get absolutely soaked on the boat. There was water sloshing around in my shoes and my jeans were drenched too. That was a genius move, first thing on a cold day.

I then went to a ride called Stealth. It's a rollercoaster, and it's quite short so I thought it wouldn't be too bad. Then I got to the start, and there was a woman doubled over, doing a series of power chunders. That's a clue about the ride, for the observant. The observant should also look where they're stepping.

Stealth starts flat and rockets from 0 to 80 mph in 2.3 seconds.



It then climbs straight up and drops straight down, all very fast. It occurred to me, just after take-off, that I wanted to get off that ride more than I've ever wanted anything in my life.



Next, I headed to Colossus, which is probably the most famous ride at the park. It is allegedly the first 10-twist rollercoaster in the world.





Colossus was more fun than Stealth, which was just terrifying.

The queue was about 1.5 hours. I had a special ticket that skips me to the front of the queue, but after Stealth, the idea of spending 90 minutes not riding seemed like a good option.

While queueing, one of the nearby kids mocked me for wearing a pink poncho. Damn kids.



I then did a ride called Zodiac. It starts with a bunch of cages in a circle that spin until the cetripetal force is pulling the cages straight out, and then the whole things rises on a hydraulic arm so you end up spinning vertically instead of horizontally.

Horizontal

Vertical

If you look closely, you can see all the vomit gathering in a pulsating sphere at the centre of rotation, like the birth of a carroty star. You do NOT want to be in the bottom cage when this ride stops.

I also did a few of the minor rides: Flying Fish, Loggers Leap, Depth Charge, and the surprisingly violent teacup ride. How is it that I got more tonged around in the teacup ride than in something called Depth Charge?

I skipped a couple of the major rides because my weak neck was getting pretty sore at this point.

Saw: Based on the Saw Snuff Movies

Detonator

Inferno Nemesis

(which are two slightly ominous but completely non-sequiter words)

So that was a pretty good day out, and all things considered I look forward to never going back.

(Apologies for the photos. The lighting was dull, and everything was moving really fast.)

...and Frisco at Night

San Francisco by Day...

(These photos are a mix from my trips in January and March.)



This is Lombard Street. It is debatably the crookedest street in the world. It has 8 sharp turns in a one block stretch.









There is a wharf where a lot of people fish (I don't mean the famous S.F. Fisherman's Wharf). Many of the fishermen also lower crab pots. You're allowed to take normal crabs, but not the famous Dungeness crabs, which use the area for breeding.

I spoke to one of the fishers. A couple of the sea lions have worked out that if they hang around, people will lower down crab cages filled with bait. The sea lions dive down, tear open the crab cages, and eat the bait.

The fisherman began shouting "Go away, you stupid idiot!" at one of the sea lions. I mentioned that I wasn't sure the sea lion was the idiot in the equation; I'm not sure I made a friend there.





I rented a mountain bike and rode across the GG Bridge, and around the bay to a town called Sausalito. From there I caught the ferry back to the city, past Alcatraz Island.









There are tons of good buskers along the street by Pier 39. But this guy is the most famous. He's a homeless guy known as "the Bushman". His gimmick is that he has a couple of branches that he's torn off a tree, and he sits on the footpath, hiding behind them. When unsuspecting tourists wander past, he jumps out at them. It's pretty damn funny.





Here's a YouTube clip someone made of him doing what he does: