Let me tell you about one of my favourite days in Scotland.

We were in the middle of nowhere. Me, Emma, Hannah and Laura. Between two lochs. Up where the air was heavy with midges and no one took a speck of sunshine for granted.

The little castle we stayed in was decorated with bagpipes on the wall and floor-to-ceiling tartan wallpaper. The mugs featured special Scottish colloquialisms. There was a cupboard pretending to be a shop that was stocked near-exclusively with Tunnocks and Irn Bru. That’s how Scottish this Scotland was.

The sun had come out and it was our first full day of nice weather since leaving Edinburgh to travel northwest.

Behind the castle, a big Ben overlooked the grounds. It was our own mini mountain, ready to be climbed, and we were fresh off our Arthur’s Seat triumph, the world suddenly our oyster. We made up a backpack of cheese and ham sandwiches, apples and Tunnocks caramel wafers – then we set off.

It was a long old way up and I remember the girls getting caught up in the Lord of the Rings of it all, the greenery stretched out in front of us and lots of “Share the load, Mr Frodo”. We walked along singing Hamilton numbers like coach songs on a school trip. It got steeper and steeper as we climbed higher and higher; we had to use our hands at certain moments to scramble our way up, the path disappearing almost entirely at certain points on our little pilgrimage.

(more…)