Month: July 2017

I must acknowledge and apologize to all my friends I never said farewells to. Instead of spending the last of my Cardiff time climbing with CUMC or cycling with CUCT, I was sweating my time away in the paddock. I wish I could have spent more time playing, adventuring, and drinking with ya’ll, but alas duty called.

Formula Student is a global group wherein University students design, build, and race a single seater race car. Ours was named Gwyneth, an aluminum honeycomb chassis holding a 675 Triumph  triple engine, all packaged in a glorious aero package.  While Max and I worked a bit on all parts of the car (fitting, sanding, etc.) we were both primarily focused on creating Luca’s incredible aero package. Since Winter Break, we were pulling long shifts in the composites lab cutting and laying up carbon until the dark hours of the night. We’d spend our days, even through revision season, trimming, drilling, tapping, and fitting. And it all payed off, because below you will see our beautiful carbon baby, full of ALL the down forces.

   

Photo credit to this, and most every picture here to James Lansdowne

Wednesday: It’s was a sad morning, because I had really come to love Cardiff. It’s surrounded by beautiful lanes that (once you are finally out of the city) are great to cycle. Bute park shelters many soft Earth single-track running trails, as well as bountiful hammocking spots. There’s two pump tracks for when I felt like working on skills, and a stunning bay to cycle around! But today was my last morning here, thus the house was packed away in a chaos of dust and spider webs. By midday we were leaving for the Silverstone circuit, Max’s Panda 100 fully loaded. It’s a nice drive through country roads, excitement for the weekend ahead building with each mile. We arrive, get our Formula Student passes, and head in to set up the paddock! After the paddock is prepares, Goffy, Cason and I pop over to Tesco’s for a food run, preparing to feed our 20+ person crew.

First night of camp relaxation

Thursday: Thursday was statics! This was a day for testing all the non-dynamic portions of the car. The team members of specific expertise were question intensively on design and costing of all components of the car, Max and I standing by for any questions on aero package costing. It all went well, albeit stressful! Once that was over, Goffy and Willis headed off to give their business presentations whilse the car was moved to scrutineering. Scrutineering is an annoying but neccessary part of the competition where they check the car for overall safety, bolt tightness, firewall, etc. It’s a painstaking process requiring on-sight fixing, and generally trying to not talk back to their selective pickiness. This process took the majority of our day, but it was unprecedented speediness thanks to the new Triumph engine instead of the Aprilia! The car finished the day having passed Tech and Chassis, and weighed in at 210kg.

The pro team preparing for answering design and cost stuff

Friday: Up early, as per usual, and off to finish scrutineering! Today was more interesting- we could finally turn the car on! By 10AM we had passed all parts of scrutineering bar driver egress, even passing noise and brake on the first try! This happiness was balanced with a rather large annoyance- our large camp pavilion had buckled and fallen down. Fear not, for this is a camp of engineers after all! Once some civil engineers had been consulted, the tent was erected once more, half the size but stronger than ever! Next to its body the daily sandwich haul was made again- 40+ sandwiches off to feed the hungry engineers of the paddock.

By early afternoon we were on the test circuit, with Max, Dewi, and Luca all having a chance to work on their launches, slaloms, and overall car handling on the world’s tiniest race circuit. Confident with the car’s performace (but not confident with teammates ability to put wheel’s on), we did a quick bolt check and retired to the camp for the evening.

All of scrutineering passed!

Pushing Max around the track- there are certain zones you cannot run the engine

Trackside snuggling with Max post-practice

The devastation of our camp…. thanks wind

Saturday: The first day of dynamic competitions! After a quick but thorough bolt check of the car, Cason was out on the track for the acceleration event. Acceleration is a 75m straight, where teams compete for the quickest 75m time. The team was on point, highly alert and  ready to run to fetch items, check leaks, and do anything that was needed.  After acceleration we rushed over to skid pad while it was dry. Skid pad is a figure-eight course just wide enough for a car, the drivers do two loops of each ‘circle’ before moving to the next. Each driver has two tries to get their best time in the ‘8’. Cason went first on the drier course, then Max on the wetter one. Apart from a minor cone-sliced-in-two-by-our-wings incident, both drivers did amazingly and placed us easily in the top five. With the car warm and hearts high, we rushed back across Silverstone to catch the warm tarmac for our second run of Accel. Much to our annoyance, however, a team’s rad core had exploded, leaving a wet patch along the track. Unphased, Max hopped in and slayed at the accel event. We did so well that we qualified for the Shootout- the top six teams competing against each other! We did well, coming in 5/6 for the first time ever, with the most complex and specced aero package. Already elated at our shootout performance, we headed off to do Sprint, where a driver does two laps of a 1KM course, with the best time being taken. Luca went out first, ducking and diving through every tight turn. We watched the fast event from a small hillside, seeing 75% of the track. Soon after Luca, Dewi was out on the track, setting the fastest clean lap time of the event! We went back to camp for a quick dinner, then headed off to the award ceremony at 7:45PM. Already happy with our success, the team was taken aback to win both an Exxon Mobile Innovation award for Luca’s aero exhaust silencer system, but also a Jaguar Land Rover award as well! We were absolutely elated, and floated back to camp on a cloud of happiness. Once back, it was time for the annual Cardiff Racing awards! Lee had set up the chairs in a circle, everyone attentive to Goffy and Lee as they presented awards. All of them were well deserved, and I was truly honored to receive an appreciation award from Lee alongside the fourth years. I know I was only in Cardiff Racing for a year, but I am truly honored to have made an impact. I’ll charish the Aprilia piston trophy forever, especially since it was engraved by everyone there!

Final bolt checks before acceleration (see, small people come in handy!)

Moving Max to Accel- check ‘dem Hot Zone passes for the Hot people

On the lineup for the Shootout

Accepting the Jaguar Land-Rover award

Team celebration picture with Exxon Mobile representatives!

Camp shenanigans- and Robbie being a cutie

Lee’s Aprilia trophies with the kool kats

Sunday: Today was the big one: Endurance. Each driver does 11 1km laps around a circuit, goes through a 3min max driver change, then the next driver is off! We prepped the drivers as best we could, set them up with the 4th year pit crew, and then the rest of us wandered over to the grassy hill. Sitting there relaxing in the sun was one of my favorite memories. I bantered with the guys, snuggled on Angie’s lap, and cheered on the banister with Max. We saw true sportsmanlike behavior from Birmingham as we each cheered the other team, neck-and-neck for first place. We lost count of laps, only planning on cheering each of our cars with each turn. We laughed about how both of our cars were overheating and discussed our drivers’ abilities, all to the song of screaming engines. at the end of it all… Birmingham had us beat by one second, but we didn’t care, we FINISHED the endurance! And second! Happy, hungry, and overjoyed at our success a few of us wandered back to camp to start on dinner (and get celebratory booze). Sipping gin and tonics I cleaned up camp and played dinner-plate frisbee, and Max lit Willis’s BBQ on fire (and took a bit too long to think about taking it outside), and as smart engineery people Alex Cason decided to put it out with a beer (DOH!) and general tipsy shenanigans occurred. Once we realized how late it was, we hightailed it to the final awards ceremony!

Walking there we all thought we got second place, and were incredibly happy with that accomplishment. It was a wonderful ceremony, with drinking games and general restlessness as the results: it was a toss-up, anyone’s game! We got a random Bosch brake award that surprised us all, an award for being first in sprint, and then the big, big tension started as they announced the top three. All teams were on edge as the second place team was called… Birmingham or Cardiff….Birmingham or Cardiff…. BIRMINGHAM! Tears and screams and cheers rang the hall as Cardiff gave them a standing ovation to the stands. And then…. us. Our name, being announced as first. For the first time ever for Cardiff Racing, for the first time EVER for a UK team, Cardiff Racing had won FS UK! We screamed. We cried. We hugged and hair ruffled and lost ourselves in torrential waves of joy and surprise and release of all trepidation. In a bouncing and chaotic mass we moved to the back of the hall, posed for a picture, then the congratulations began. In a blurr of emotion hugs, tears and long embraces were passed between Cardiff and Birmingham. I shared a long, much wanted kiss with Max as “CAARRDDIIFF” was cheered by all, echoing thought the vast canvas hall. We stumbled out, cheecks painful from smiling, voices already hoarse from cheering and laughing. It was a magical evening, worth every carbon splinter. Worth every late night and early morning. Worth everything.

The rest of the night was a bit more of a blurr. I know it involved gin, whisky, cider, and dangerous cocktails and tequila provided by Birmingham racing. After leaning the ways of Flunkiball (sp?) I wandered over to the Birmingham camp to partake in their celebrations, and was welcomed as friend and ally. Initially the first Cardiff Racing member there, by the wee hours of the morning I stood aside Alex Goff, us both  adorned with glowsticks marshalling a Cardiff vs. Birmingham game of Flunkiball. I swapped shirts with a Birmingham member, enjoyed a spliff in a field with new friends, and generally socialized my way across camp. Even until late in the night the far cries of “CAARRDDIIFF” acted to lift all our spirits and make us even more merry.

Finally, physically exhausted and happily tipsy I gave into the cold winds and rain, and retired to the tent. Max had wonderfully laid out pajamas (probably so he didn’t end up with a damp Meghan in his bag), so warm and happy, I drifted off as gracefully as a dumptruck crashing through arctic ice.

Driver change on Sunday’s endurance (Photo credit Robin Gwilliam)

Posing with one of the other Triumph teams!

Max’s BBQ incident…

A solid haul for a usually underdog group, no?

I loved by time in Formula Student. I’ve made friends who show me the wonder engineering can achieve. Luca, Alex Goff, Alex Cason, Roberto, Angie, Arwyn, Dewi, James L., James Willis, and everyone else who made the dream car a reality, thank you. I hope we meet again in the future and swap tales of our engineering glory. I hope you all stay mischievous, partake in shenanigans, and never forget the success you all worked so hard for over the years. Live long and prosper, friends.

Until next time.

 

There are many places on this green Earth that capture the heart, that inspire adventure and entice travelers…..

Day One: It was a regular morning. Wake up in the Murder House, make some delicious breakfast, and head out. Today, however, I had a new travel companion by my side and a heavier than usual pack. Max dropped Jenny and I off at Bristol Airport where we caught our flight to Glasgow at midday. Being a decrepit and grey city, we were eager to escape into the hills as quickly as possible and so we caught the city bus out of town. Quickly the roads turned from two-way chaos into winding narrow lanes, lined by bushes and cottages. The tall buildings on the horizon shifted to rolling hills, telling hints of the Highlands to come.

We entered into Balloch, a small town at the base of Loch Lomond. Our spirits were high and our feet were fresh, so at the advice of a local we began our trek around the westward side of the Loch. Immediately past town we were greeted with deep mossy forests lining a small lane, waterfalls and springs adding to the chorus of birdsong as we walked, stealing passing glimpses of the beautiful blue Loch Lomond. We exited the lane and walked to A82, where it took less than three minutes for us to hitch a ride!  Mark, a firefighter at Glasgow airport, pulled over in in VW camper van and told us to hop on in!  He was a wonderful man who was driving to Fort Williams for the West Highland Way Race, a 95 mile foot-race!!! Looking at the results, he finished in the top ten in less than 17 hours! Anyway, that cool cat dropped us off at a campground in Fort Williams after letting us stop and oggle at the Highlands, since I wanted to ease Jenny into the whole ‘camping’ thing, being a city-born Portlander. We set up camp on that drizzling evening under the looming gaze of Ben Nevis, and once the midges descended, settled in to our first cramped night in the wee green tent.

The drive into the Highlands

Day Two: Due to a series of annoyances our morning was less-than-grand, leading to a long two-mile walk into Fort Williams to restock supplies. After a quick pop into good ‘ole Morrisons, we had several days worth of food and set off to the North! We were first picked up by two Indians in a rented Jaguar off to live their Harry Potter dreams, but since they could only  take us two miles, we were quickly back onto the road. We walked a ways up a simple separate cycling path, admiring the wild flowers and the highland views. After a few minutes more of thumbing, we were picked up by Kirsten, a native Scots-woman off to climb in the Cairngorms for the weekend. She was an absolutely lovely woman who pointed us towards some cool bothies in Skye, as well as a cool two mile scenic hike nearby. After she dropped us in Stealy, we set off on the beautiful little hiking trail and got our first taste of the land. The trail followed an icy brook, through old trees and marshland’s lit by blooming wildflowers. The road noise died quickly behind a hill and we were only left with birdsong and the bleating of lambs. The hike finished off on a random road, where after receiving incorrect directions from some cyclists, we reconnected with the main A-road and started hitching again! It wasn’t long until a tan Jag came to a screeching halt just passed us, driven by an incredible guy named Ross. Ross had just been released from the hospital after two weeks of confinement for his liver and pancreas failure. As any good ex-head of the Jaguar’s Drivers Club, he was celebrating his freedom by taking a driving holiday through Northern Scotland! Anyway, he picks us up and any initial doubts we have about him are instantly knocked away as he started playing soul reggae music and questioning us Oregonians about our pot knowledge. We enjoyed his company so much that we didn’t notice when he missed his turn, and instead kept going onward to Skye. Ross took us over 30 miles out of his way to drop us on the Isle of Skye. He’s an especially cool cat.

Once we were on Skye a day before planned, and since it was early afternoon, we decided to head into Kyleakin and check out our first Skye village! It was a cute place, Jenny and I stopped for a coffee and wifi before heading over to a badass castle on the bay. The castle was an old lookout, only accessible at low tide by ducking and weaving through a single-track lane past tide pools, abandoned ships, and nettles. From it the whole bay could be seen, the Skye bridge, and back onto the mainland. After a brief lunch were were off, walking past Kyleakin to our next hitching destination. Unexpectedly, our ride was from “Simon” (he’s dutch and no one can say his name…we both tried but resigned ourselves to ‘Simon’ as well…) in his red work van. He was a very nice guy who had a vow to always pick up hitchikers if he could, being a hitchhiker himself. He took us up into Portree, where we walked north along A885 until a German couple stopped and picked us up in their RV! They had the same idea as us; find somewhere to sleep around Old Man of Storr. They dropped us off in the parking lot, and I could already tell it was going to be a wild trip trying to camp here. Below the lot spanned a planted pine forests, 1/3 knocked over from the intense winds that rampage up from the bay below. Above us was the mighty craggy hills of Storr. Every hill got steeper, and was topped by ancient columns of reddish rock spearing the heavens. We hiked for a half hour, before finding a flat patch of Earth moderately sheltered by a ledge to make camp. The tent is thankfully long and aerodynamic, but still we weighted the pegs with rocks and used logs to reduce under-draft of the tent. As the winds were picking up from 20mph to 45mph, the rains started. A brief dinner was had, and we resigned to the tent for a night of 60mph gusts ripping at the tent and slapping us in the face.

Just into Skye, walking around a tidal bay into a castle

Under Old Man of Storr

Day Three: That brief night was worth it, since we woke to the most beautiful sunrise. Opening the tent facing East, we were greeted by a mighty orange sunrise shining over the bay, sending golden rays above us to Old Mann of Storr. The ominous clouds in the distance grumbled in a dark gray, as the morning light softened the hills and made them appear welcoming. We quickly packed the tent while it was still dry, and set up to Old Man of Storr. It was a wonderfully fun hike, up ancient twisting rock staircases into the clouds. That did end up having some consequences… as once we were finally at the base of the stone pillars, gawking in awe…. the heavens opened up on us. And for those of you that know what a Scottish downpour is like…. it was very much like that. The wonderful stairs that were a joy to walk up were now mighty rivers, the wind trying to tear us down the mountainside. As happily as we craned our heads up on the ascent, we were now huddling downward like raingear-clad turtles, off the mountain to the road. We walked for a ways in the miserable rain, and were out for several hours before early-morning traffic picked up enough for a kind soul to stop and pick up two soggy gals. Alex the Australian was in a rented Audi which he hated, thus didn’t mind it getting damp. He took us up a ways, with a quick stop at Kilt rock to marvel the dinosaur footprints in the tidepools, the mighty cliffs, and the coastal waterfalls. He took us up the road a ways, still pouring, and came to a screeching turn as we went by a hostel, and wouldn’t leave us until we had a space (last two beds!). So we said goodbye and got checked in, shedding off our wet layers and settling into a warm cup of coffee. We used the time off to make plans for the following few days, to bask in scalding showers, and to socialise with all the wonderful international travelers there. After a relaxing day with some Big Lez Show and hot cocoa, we settled into nice warms bunks for a great night’s sleep.

Where we had camped that night

 

Day Four: Up, eat, out! We walked out to a bus stop 10 mins away from the hostel to catch a bus to Uig, since traffic would be low on an early weekend morning. The bus ride was enjoyable, allowing us to catch a glimpse of the northern peninsula we would be exploring the next day. We cruised over rolling green hills, past decrepit stone buildings, bleeting lambs, all while driving on the narrow windy roads of Skye, passing cars with near centimeters to spare. Arriving in Uig, we said farewell to three new friends from Germany and head off up the road. The road looped rightward and sharply up around the blue bay, busy with fishing boats and ferries. We turned inland, walking up the lovely winding farm roads which opened to a panoramic view of rolling highlands, waterfalls, and thatched roof cottages. After finally rounding off the top of the hill, we changed scenery and descended into emerald green hills. These hills were small, no more than 40 ft. tall, but each conical with spiral sheep tracks encompassing them to give a unique look. Dark green ferns and ancient twisted trees surrounded the hill base, lined a small loch, and lined an incising path through an old decrepit stone building. Walking over the rubble we ascended over one final hill and were faced with the full beauty of the Fairy Glen. Stones were placed in spirals, rock towers stacked in plenty, all lined by steep grass slopes, rocky crags, and a sense of calm. It was a beautiful place, truly worthy of being called the Fairy Glen.

After lunching on the side of a small hill and playing around on the rocks, we set off back down the road, catching a bus to the Northern-most tip of Skye, by the Duntulm castle, a suffering skeleton of a castle perched precariously over the blue Tulm Bay. We walked past the castle over mucky peat and stone, working our way North on windy sheep paths to the Overlook Bothy, a spectacular place to relax and lose yourself in the water. The bothy was situated on the tallest sea cliff, a 10 second walk from the edge. From outside it gave 360 views of absolute beauty- the highlands behind forming a wall, ending in the castle overhanging the bay, the blue ocean showed hints of the West hills in the distance, and the bright green seacliffs ended abruptly in the sea. Past entries in the logbook showed the wonder of this spot, telling tales of Narwhals, penguins, deer, and more!

Fairy glen

Views from the lookout

Day Five: Hitchhiking started easy, with Jenny and I being picked up within five minutes. We were collected by an American couple in a rented Jaguar, travelling around Scotland on vacation. They dropped us off at the dinosaur museum, a quirky place with old dinosaur footprints taken from the nearby tidepools. From there we walked over to Kilt Rock, a 60m waterfall to the ocean below, walled on both sides by endless sheer cliffs falling predominantly into the Ocean, walling off that portion of Skye from the rest of the world. From there we were picked up by a wonderful English woman, now living in Skye.  We talked happily about Danny Macaskill, and his charitable work for the youth community. After being dropped in Porttree, we grabbed a cup of coffee and utilized their wifi to plan our next few days, ultimately making our decision in a tourist information center later. We were headed South to Culamean bay, where a trail connected us to the peninsula Rubha an Dùnain. Conveniently, a couple was going exactly where we needed to go! We hopped in as they took windy road after windy road, quickly turning what little civilization Skye had into sheep’s territory once more. We hopped off at the campsite and started walking, a slow, upward journey annoyingly delayed by angry cows with calves (who I legit thought would charge us if we got too close…). The slow walk was fine however, because on the left side it took us past crystal clear waterfalls and impressive views of the rocky Cuillin mountains, and on the right side the bay spanned ever wider, taking us farther from the neighboring peninsula. Soon our trail turned to muck, and we sloshed our way through a maze of small, prominent mounds and stone walls (walls that are probably older than the USA). After rounding another corner- there it was! Our first glimpse of the ancient wonders here was a 17th century tackman’s house, still impressive and strong in it’s foundation. It and the surrounding walls provided shelter from the elements, so we set up in a small green courtyard and got to exploring!

The local area is rich in history and adventure. We clambered around a 2nd/3rd millennium BC chambered cairn and passage grave, admired an Iron Age dun, walked the perimeter of a Viking-made canal loch, where many medieval historical artifacts have been found. Having the chance to see all this first-hand was truly incredible, and gave me a sense of awe and respect for these past cultures. We may ‘play’ SCA vikings, but I sat in a burial chamber next to one, next to probably dozens of remains of people who had families, passions, and experiences I could never comprehend. It was a stilling moment.

The most memorable part of the whole peninsula experience, however, was the play. Pack free, armed with nothing but joy, youth, and ankle-supporting Merrels, I was free to run, jump, climb, leap and belly laugh my way across the grounds! It was unlike anything I had experienced in a long time, a total reminder that the bountiful playground of the Earth cannot be replaced by plastic structures or technology. It reminded me that the only sounds I need are the beating of my feet on soft earth, the only sights I need are the natural beauty of the wilds, and how wonderful the smells of an ocean breeze, fresh rain or the peaty ground can be. As I get older and snider, more beaten down by society, education, and the world, I need to make sure I hold onto this feeling of joy, and remember how to find it.

Courtyard (pre-pitching of tent)

Sheer cliffs dropping into the water

Viking built canal into Loch, with Scotland’s best archaeological boat digs

Day Six: After another lovely morning to the song of birds and crying of lambs, we walked out of the peninsula at a slow and crippled pace- Jennifer’s ankles had given out on her. We limped up the road to the nearest hostel, a popular place for hill-walkers with us as the only young people there! Jennifer rested her tendons as I set off into the mountains again, following a winding waterfall-prone river up into the Cuillin’s, following a rocky valley. Trail turned to mud, mud to rock, and rock to scree as I ascended upwards to Sgùrr na Banachdaich. As the sun changed to a thick wall of cloud I was quickly soaked through, happily climbing my way up the boulder field, and soon after the ridge scramble.

Day Seven: With Jennifer rested we set off up the roads, taken aback by the number of stupid tourists cramming their vehicles into non-existent spaces to see the Fairy Pools (waterfalls that are exactly like most other Cuillin waterfalls except these are always photoshopped to seem nicer than they are…). Two Japanese girls picked us up and took us to the Oyster shed, where I ended my Oyster virginity (uck) and we enjoyed some gluten free cookies, chips (fries), and incredible fennel smoked Scottish salmon. From there we decided that we’d split ways for a bit- Jennifer going to another hostel, me heading back into the hills for some long-distance backpacking. We were picked up by a Scottish man just “out for a drive”, who kindly took each of us to our own destinations while giving us incredible facts of the landscape and communities along the way. After being dropped in Sligachen, I was off up the trail!

It wound through, up, and over a valley encompassed by the stony mountains. It followed a winding river fed from numerous waterfalls cascading from the surrounding cliffs and emptied into Loch Coruisk, an impressive blue loch sheltered from the wind. Here, I sat and relaxed for a while, completely ‘switching off’ as I leaned against my pack. I watched the birds, the small blips of feeding fish, and a red deer all enjoy the same calm as me. But, since the trek was long and the daylight dying, I had to move on to the bothy at the end of the trail. Waling around a giant boulder I was faced with a sudden opening of the landscape. Ahead of me stretched a vast grassy field lowering itself gently into the Atlantic ocean broken only by a small river, to the left and right the sea cliffs rose again to block the way. The stone bothy sat to the left side of the bay, barely visible amidst the backdrop of cliffs and tide pools. It was a large bothy- its wooden interior easily sleeping 12, its windows giving an unbeatable view of the bay, and the artwork on the white walls telling tales of many international adventurers. My night there was incredible, exploring sea caves, seeing crystal-white tide pools under clear blue waves, napping in the evening sun on warm rocks a stones-throw from the waves, all concluded with a bonfire that spanned from sunset to watching the crescent moon set behind the hills. There was peace.

View from the Bothy window, and moonset over the highlands

Kevin’s picture of me in front of the Bothy

Day Eight: No rush. I woke up, I ate, I was generously gifted coffee from the angry Scot Kevin (who has a backstory all of his own!), and I stared out the window, hesitant to leave this valley and go back to civilization. After a wonderful nature poo amidst tall ferns overlooking the bay, I set off up the mountain again. It was only a couple hour hike, and I soon found myself sadly standing on the side of the road longing to be in my bothy again. However, as a single female backpacker I was soon picked up and on my way to Broadford where I would rendezvous  with Jennifer to make plans. He dropped me at a cafe where Jennifer and I discussed future plans. We decided to leave Skye, sadly, and go North to see Loch Ness and Inverness. After cooking lunch on a park bench overlooking the sea, and after peeing in a tree, we set off up the road. We were picked up by a couple in a camper van, who took us off Skye and into Invergarry. Unfortunately for us, it was absolutely pissing rain, and no one wanted wet hitchhikers in their car, so after more than an hour of waiting, we caught a bus up to Inverness. After a veeeery sketchy hostel encounter, we found a lovely (and cheeeaaap!!) hostel right next to Inverness Castle. There we laughed with other occupants, made incredible mac’n’cheese, and generally relaxed by their fire under fuzzy blankets.

Day Nine: A bit of sleeping in for my backpacking-worn body, then up and out! We walked a ways out of town, this time heading to Edinburgh to get Jennifer to a minor injuries unit to look at her painful ankles. Conveniently, we were picked up from just outside Inverness by a man going all the way to Edinburgh! He was an odd guy, very quiet and reluctant to talk for the journey, but he dropped Jenny right at minor injuries! She was fine, just over-use of her ankles, since she did not train properly for long-duration backpacking, but she was such a trooper about her hurting feet! We found a hostel in the prime of downtown Edinburgh, for less than 15 a night! It was a lovely place on the top floor of an old apartment building, with incredible psychedelic wall artwork and homely public areas. We checked in, and set off to the town!

Edinburgh is a lovely town, a mix of ancient stone carved buildings and new swazzy cafes, split in two by a lovely long park. We wandered around a while, taking in the bustling crowds and working or way around the cobbled streets. We found ourselves at my happy place – a whisky shop! We headed in, oggling at the £16,000 bottles and admiring the stuff I knew was good, then we went to the downstairs bar. Jennifer… well… we learned she wasn’t a whisky gal. Bless her heart, she tried, sipping a whisky liqueur sweetly hinting of honey and lavender and fighting away grimaces. Meanwhile, I was gladly tasting the peaty expanses of Scotland, and trying several from places like Talisker and Lagavulin. After leaving there we wandered across the downtown area while being serenaded by bagpipes, we strolled through an incredible old cathedral similar to Notre Dame, and generally enjoyed all of downtown Edinburgh. Tired, happy, and hungry we retired at sunset, watching Austin Powers and the Labyrinth while playing Call of Duty before falling once more into a deep sleep.

Left: Cathedral, Right: Whiiiiiiisky~

Day Ten: Wake, eat a huuuuuge breakfast of all the leftover oats, and go out to see the castle and a few more points. Walked through a cemetery with graves from the 1700’s, listened to an incredible Scottish guitar/drum/bagpipe band, ate our fill of gluten free goods from an incredible bakery, and then munched happily on £1 chicken thighs from the reduced section of Tesco. Then, with much sadness, Jennifer and I said our farewells, and she was off to Ireland.

Gluten free goodies from Sugar Daddies

View of city from lookout 

View of Edinburgh castle

There really is nothing quite like Scotland. Pictures make it look like Oregon, and the unpredictable weather backs up such a claim. However, the ‘feel’ of the land is very different… and hard to explain. Oregon is inviting, it calls you to adventure (responsibly), to go out and see what she has to offer. Scotland stands proud, wanting to challenge you, make you work for every inch of progress, but rewards you gladly when you work for it. Scotland balances midges (which I left out our battles for the sake of time),torrential rainstorms and mud pits with amazing people, history, and scenery. I loved having Jennifer by my side, teaching her the ways of the wild and of being a traveler. She was always cheerful and ready to face the adventure ahead, no matter how miserable the weather!