Trench Foot

The previous day started late and ended early, and with a bigger drive and more to see along the way we decided not to sleep in for a change. 

Our first stop was the Falls of Kirkaig near Inverkirkaig. We trekked a 2 mile path beside the river and through the hills to get to the thundering falls. It was a dry day but being Scotland I don’t think much time passes between downpours. The path had numerous muddy patches to navigate and I set the tone for the day after accidentally submerging an entire foot into a mud puddle.

We dried off on the way back and lunched in Lochinver before driving to Stoer Head - a 6km long peninsula jutting out towards the Outer Hebrides. The lighthouse is beautiful, and by some miracle FOR SALE. I definitely had a few fantasies swirling in my head on the approach…

By now the clouds had parted and the sun was out in full force. But the 2 1/2 mile hike to the end of the peninsula was even muddier than the hike to the falls. The ground was slippery, swampy and impassable at times with no continuous path to decipher. Poor Jake took a complete tumble when he tried to jump over a muddy patch and failed to stick the landing. We trudged on to the end of the point for the beautiful views, and to see the Old Man of Stoer - a 60m high sea stack off the coast. 

Heading back was no easier, but eventually we made it back to the car to strip away our saturated shoes and socks to dry off a bit. We stopped by yet more picturesque ruins and mountains on the way to our next stop of Durness. 

Backtracking

Apologies for the lack of updates. One thing I didn’t anticipate up here was how terrible the general phone connectivity and wifi signals would be. I suppose Norway is a well connected country - I really took it for granted after a while there that every airport would offer up guaranteed free-flowing wifi at every terminal. Here things have been a bit slower. Despite buying mine and Jake’s Vodafone SIM cards in Edinburgh, there’s been next to zero reception between most towns and typically not much more in small towns either. It’s a mystery to me how locals up here get around it.

I’m writing this now from the confines of a ‘glamping' (I HATE that word) pod in the tiny town of John O’Groats in the furthest northeast corner of the mainland. The labels around town suggest that it’s the end of the 500, which doesn’t make sense to me as the route is circular. Anyway, Jake and I are bunking in a cute timber pod tonight that apart from the lack of pillows and bed linen looks like any other cheap/novel sort of accommodation. 

I’ll get into the specifics of today in a later post, because right now I’m just trying to play catch up. On Friday we drove the winding seaside route from Shieldaig to Ullapool that constantly weaved in and out of the many jagged peninsulas that make up the western side of the north end. 

We stopped at a cheerful roadside cafe in Kinlochewe to tuck into some giant scones and coffee. Continuing on we stopped at a roadside waterfall at Achnasheen, and a few more photo ops in Gairloch and Loch Tollaidh. All the while I kept up my terrible habit for constantly pulling over to take photos of the stunning scenery. I really don’t think I’m doing this place justice in my photos. Sometimes I just don’t bother; to me the landscape overall is breathtaking without there being specific landmarks worth gushing over, and that’s a bit more difficult to convey in photos as opposed to just being here and driving through it. 

We arrived in Ullapool early enough for a late lunch at a delicatessen. It was a happy accident that I stumbled on a gallery currently exhibiting a group show involving Ellis O’Connor. We met in Iceland where our residencies overlapped by three months and we got on like a house on fire. I really admire her work and her motives behind it, so it was lovely to randomly bump into it. Later this month I’ll be seeing her in Skye so stay tuned for that. 

After a bit of wandering we did a round of grocery shopping and settled in for an early night at our BnB with dinner consisting of charcuterie in bed - going out every night can be tiring too. 

Wester Ross Wanderings

Yesterday and today (most likely tomorrow as well) was spent driving across Wester Ross, or in rough terms the western side of the mainland, with Skye and the Inner + Outer Hebrides lying further out to sea. The region is mountainous, and I lost count of the number of times I pulled over in a vain attempt to photograph some of the jaw-dropping landscape surrounding us (and in no way do I think my photos do the region any justice). 

From Conon Bridge we drove west to the Applecross Peninsula via Bealach na Bà (Scottish Gaelic for Pass of the Cattle), which is one of Scotland's highest roads passing through the mountains. There were numerous hairpin bends and steep inclines - hence plenty of incredible views and countless photo ops. We passed a few brave and stupid cyclists along the way, as well as numerous hulking camper vans that probably would have been smarter to skip the pass. Many of the smaller roads here are single lane except for passing points. This allows cars enough side space to bypass oncoming traffic, but if two vehicles are stuck facing each other in between pass points then someone eventually has to relent and reverse. 

We eventually arrived in the 'town' of Applecross. I use inverted commas because the town was no more than a lone pub, cafe and a few gift shops surrounded by a lose scattering of crofts and houses on the peninsula. We lunched at the beautifully honest/unpretentious restaurant at the Applecross Walled Garden that proudly displayed a 'recommended by Michelin 2016' sticker on the front window. I don't know if that means a star or not, but the food was delicious nonetheless. I found myself staring down a mountain of Skye mussels cooked in garlic and white wine while Jake had to tackle what he thought were prawns, but in actual fact was a mound of local langoustine drenched in garlic butter - all for the low low price of £18. In hindsight we're pretty certain the waitress screwed up, but we conveniently kept our mouths shut.

To walk off the seafood we hiked along the coast from Applecross Bay over the hills to the other side - an 11km round trip. The hike was good enough, but we were constantly in amongst a cloud of midges, and I definitely would have preferred a circular route - so I don't have to be looking at the same scenery twice. 

The sun was setting by the time we got back to the car, and despite more jaw-dropping vistas we only stopped once more for me to scream, stutter and squawk over a few highland cows (coos) found casually grazing along the roadside. I can't get over how perfectly photogenic they are, and to make my voice raise even higher there were a couple of calves as well. One of them was chill enough to let me give it a scratch behind the ears as my insides melted a bit. 

We arrived late to our evening pitstop in Shieldaig - another pleasant fishing village that looks like it exists purely to house tourists 3 months out of the year. After dumping our stuff we found the pub which mercifully did up some fish and chips despite the lateness of the hour. This area is all about the seafood, and of course I don’t mind eating vast quantities of the stuff, but I just wish the one cooking method wasn’t so typically fried with chips. You start feeling a bit heavier after repeatedly eating the stuff against your will.  

Birthday Boy

The past few days have been magical, to say the least. It was my birthday on Wednesday (a middling 27) and things got off to a great start with the early morning arrival of Jake (the missus). I had only arrived back into Edinburgh from Belfast by way of Dublin late the night before so I was up again after a quick pitstop at the same Edinburgh hostel I had stayed at during Fringe. 

After a wet gooey reunion at the terminal we picked up our rental car and hit the road for a 9 day road trip north into the Highlands. On Wendy's (fellow La Wayaka artist) recommendation, we set out for the North Coast 500, a tourist route that does a big lap mostly hugging the Scottish coastline on the mainland. 

We stopped at a well-manicured garden with an incongruous entry fee, and had a quick snoop in the town of Perth as I slowly got my head around how to drive our Citroën Picasso.

Now, just a quick rant about our rental... It's a decent enough drive, but I've never come across a car that feels so much like a super computer. Everything is digitised including the dashboard and speedometer, and there's also keyless entry, rearview cameras and buttons for hand brakes and engine start. Call me old-fashioned but I just feel more secure when I get to physically release a tangible hand brake and can only start the car once I insert a key into the ignition. We also spent a good long while trying to get the fuel gauge to show up on the upper dash, because apparently that's not something that needs to be seen at all times(?)

After Perth we entered the Highlands and drove around the perimeter of Cairngorms National Park on the way up. More stops were made at Loch an Eilein (photos above), the ruins of Ruthven Barracks and the Potting Shed Tearooms. Getting to the tearooms felt like a long drive through the Dandenongs, as we went down endless single lane winding roads through thick and picturesque woods until out of nowhere appeared a beautiful working garden with several aged cottages scattered throughout. I had my proxy birthday cake there in the old greenhouse. 

From there we continued driving past Inverness until we arrived at Balavil Farm in Conon Bridge. Part of Jake's extensive birthday present was a night at the B&B in the beautiful farmhouse. Dinner that night was a bit hit and miss, but I can honestly say that Balavil was one of the best Airbnb experiences I've ever had. 

Westeros?

It seems fitting that I'm in Belfast now having just watched the season finale for Game of Thrones, in the place where it all happened. I had no luck finding reasonably priced accommodation here for two nights so I turned to couch surfing instead. All in all I can say it's been pretty great! It works in a similar way to Airbnb but there's just no exchange of money. Hosts either do it to meet new people, out of sheer generosity, or in the hopes that the favour will be returned in future. Being free, there's also the unspoken expectation that you hang out with the person a bit more than traditional accommodation, so John and I spent the last 2 nights falling into Youtube wormholes and last night he threw together some epic burgers for us both. It's not for everyone I'm sure, but it's a nice change of scenery in a sea of endless stinky dorms and bathrooms where thongs must be worn at all times.

I'm trying to quickly write this up before I set out again. My bus bound for Dublin airport leaves at 5 so I'll have a few hours to explore the city. Onto the stream of photos above, and I acquiesced to a second coach tour yesterday to the other Big Attraction in Ireland - the Giant's Causeway. It was a longer trip than the cliffs, but overall the people on this bus seemed a lot better behaved, although the driver was a bit too eager to tell us ALL of his lame dad jokes. 

We started and ended at castles - Carrickfergus and Dunluce. Both were impressive but my photos didn't really reflect that so just google them... On the way up we also stopped at the Carrick-a-Rede rope bridge, which back in the day was a precarious 20m rope bridge linking the mainland to a small rocky island off the north coast where local fishermen fished the salmon population to complete and utter ruin. It's just a tourist spot now but I the walk across was still exhilarating. As you can see the weather didn't quite clear out for us but the rain was never too heavy and it would have been that much worse had there been any wind as well. The coastline surrounding the bridge had a definite Westerosi feel to it, which stayed in my head all day. It was helped by the weather of course, and we also briefly zipped past the set for Castle Black partially hidden in an old quarry. 

Giant's Causeway was a sight to behold. Perhaps compared to the cliffs I wasn't completely floored at the sight of them because the scale wasn't so insane, but it was still felt so crazy that nature had come up with this. Predictably so, the formations were swarming with visitors so there was no way to get the perfect serene money shot of most of the 40,000+ columns rising out of the waves. After clambering around for an hour I took the scenic route back to the bus via the sea cliffs up above. This gave a good view down below as well as out to sea, where the next land mass is America. 

Ireland has been a real eye-opener, and I'm really glad I came. It never registered as somewhere notable for me to focus my attention on but how wrong I was. Maybe in the future I can find myself a nice residency near the coast here and rent a car for a cross country road trip... There was definitely so much that I missed on the way up and back.

Wild Atlantic Way

Today I had a great day of pure unadulterated sightseeing from the comforts of a coach but in the company of some real idiots. 

I woke up at the crack of dawn in order to make it to the first bus bound for Galway at 6.45. Two and a bit hours later I got off at the bus terminal in the city centre and promptly jumped on another bus bound for the nearby Cliffs of Moher. Being such a tight and hastily thrown together side trip, I had spent a night googling and cherry picking all the most notable things to do in each city and in this instance, I surrendered to just booking myself in for a lazy bus tour to see some popular quintessential Irish sights. 

The Cliffs of Moher are reportedly the most visited natural attraction in Ireland, and it's not hard to see why. Spectacular sea cliffs of a scale that I had never imagined before - and absolutely seething with tourists. We were lucky enough to get some great weather today so with little to no wind it made the cliffs that much more crowded.

Along the way we stopped at Dunguaire Castle, where the clouds miraculously parted completely to make for some great photos (see above). We also drove through the Burren (a beautifully barren landscape of worn away limestone) and stopped at another crumbling church ruin and the Poulnabrone portal tomb which dates back to Neolithic times.

Now, I say idiots because as lovely as the lively chatty bus driver Gary was - he spent a good long while discussing different varieties of Irish boats and the finer details of roof thatching - the majority of the passengers either paid no attention to him or talked right over his efforts. A lot of them were Brazilian or Italian, and they had obviously not signed up for the thickly-accented history lesson, but it still felt wildly distracting and more than a bit rude. They also routinely ignored time constraints at each stop - mostly due to the multitude of selfies they were taking with those unnerving selfie sticks and their need to buy cheap nasty things at all the tourist trap gift shops. Let's just say it's been a loooooong time since I've been so eager to shop for key chains.

But irritation aside, seeing the cliffs and wandering around in County Clare on a beautiful warm day made up for however frustrating my company was. I'm now staying in a hilariously kitsch and OTT bed and breakfast found off of Airbnb. It feels like Professor Umbridge exploded in here, and the beautiful host Phil has festooned every surface and porcelain vase with doilies, tassels and fake flowers (her terrible hayfever prevents her from enjoying the real stuff). I've been assured a packed lunch and a full Irish breakfast tomorrow so all in all I think I've done alright.

Dublin Double

Dublin's been amazing. I didn't know what to expect when I landed, but in hindsight I wish I had given it more time. I stayed in yet another dank hostel in a creepy old building, but at least they threw in a meagre breakfast and the location was decent enough. 

The first night was a bit of a write off, as I got to the hostel as most things were starting to close. I did manage to initiate myself properly by having a liquid dinner (read: a few pints of Guinness) at an Irish pub with some fresh acquaintances. I even walked past a brawl, although I docked points off because it was still so early and it was clearly not a fight between two drunk Irishmen. 

I had the following day to smash through as many quintessential Dublin things as possible in the space of 12 hours. It started with a trip to the nearby city gallery where they recreated Francis Bacon's dusty decrepit studio down to the smallest detail. In a past life I might have wanted the same sort of chaotic trash pile studio set up, but I think I prefer a little more order nowadays.

I then walked to the beautiful Trinity College where I had a short tour of the grounds and bought a ticket to see the Book of Kells. I guess you could say it's Ireland's answer to the Mona Lisa as it's so popular and renowned that people make a pilgrimage just to see it. The book is an illuminated manuscript containing the four gospels of the New Testament - written/illustrated painstakingly on vellum and covered in these extravagant, insane, almost microscopic illuminations in vividly well-preserved colour. The line to get in was huge so I killed some time with lunch sitting in the central park St. Stephen's Green and a quick visit to see some blackened but well-preserved bog bodies at the Archaeology Museum (side note: I think it's nifty that 'archaeology' contains three vowels in a row). 

Like the Mona Lisa, the Book is pretty small; yet unlike the Mona Lisa I was genuinely floored by the sheer insanity of the book, as well how well preserved it is. (photos aren't allowed) It's just a shame that you can't flip through the thing to marvel at every glorious page for a good few days. The book is housed in a section of the old Trinity College Library, which is an impressive building in its own right. The Long Room especially has that quintessential grandiose old world library feel to it, complete with floor to ceiling shelves of dusty yellowing books, wood panelling on every surface and marble busts of famous writers through the ages. I'm not sure if the Jedi Archives were modelled from it but it definitely sprang to mind, as well as Hogwarts of course. 

I had planned to go see Dublin Castle afterwards but by then I was sick of paying admission to get inside yet another historical building so I went to go look for a caffeine fix instead. The day's festivities ended with a tour of the Guinness Storehouse. There I learnt the secrets of Ireland's drink of choice and all-round Favourite Thing and enjoyed a complimentary pint at the observatory deck on the top floor. 

My night would've been free had I not been randomly contacted by Sinead who I used to work with at Stables way back when. We went out for drinks and had a good time catching up. It's always so nice and unexpected when you see a familiar face overseas and being with that person in an unfamiliar environment overrides any potential awkwardness or distance between you.

Side Trip Quickie

Edinburgh's been heaps of fun. Of course it was a bit of a smack to the face after the peaceful simplicity of Norway and La Wayaka but I'm glad I can now tick the Fringe off my to do list.

Nine shows in four days might be nothing for some die hard fringers, but I think it was a fair effort from someone that usually wouldn't bother unless pushed and shoved by a certain sibling... On the first night I saw a free standup show and a dreadful absurdist one man show that left me super uncomfortable and wanting to run out ASAP. I planned out the following few days better and saw Courtney Act, a Game of Thrones parody musical, Korean drumming, two circus/acrobatic shows, improv murder mystery and (on Mish's recommendation) the absolute highlight that was Reuben Kaye. 

Reuben is a cabaret act from Melbourne, and for 90 minutes he had the entire audience in fits of laughter and tears. The songs were great, the humour was brutal and the jokes kept flying out before you could catch your breath. Charisma, uniqueness, nerve and talent in SPADES. 11/10 would recommend.

Onto my next leg of the trip now, and I'm writing this entry from Dublin. I had a few days to kill before Jake arrives on my birthday for a road trip into the highlands so I quickly threw together a side trip to the Emerald Isle on a whim.

Leaving Edinburgh this afternoon, I took a shoddy Ryanair flight to Dublin where I'll be staying for 2 nights. After that I'll head to Galway for another night, followed by 2 more in Belfast (couldn't think of a more ideal place to see the season finale of Thrones!). Should be a nice exciting few days. 

And on a side note, today was the last day to enrol for the mind-numbingly stupid SSM plebiscite. There's not much else to say really, but I thought I needed to throw in my 2 cents on the whole mess as it feels important to me. I'm lucky to be born in this century and not the last, and for the longest time I was fortunate to be in a position of enough privilege to be able to turn a blind eye to the hatred/bigotry faced by homosexuals in other parts of the world. It was easy to imagine that my sexuality didn't matter a whole lot, as I personally see it as just one minute facet of myself as a whole. However with this plebisicite rearing its ugly head, it makes everything painfully clear that for being who I am, I am denied a basic human right. Playing the religion card is cheap and cowardly, and at the end of the day it's only just a technicality in wording that will really change. I hope this all comes to a good and happy outcome soon. (PS. I took the idea from certain recent letters of resignation and threw in a tiny message in the text above. Look at the paragraphs. Honestly for fun more than anything). 

Transit South

Getting to Scotland took a few more days. I spent Friday mostly in a daze waiting for boats to carry me from A - B - C. Flying south on the same day didn't quite line up with the boat rides I needed to take so I decided to stay a little further south in Alta for the night. The harbour and airport are conveniently located next to each other, but unbeknownst to me my Airbnb was about 6km away from both. Not wanting to bother figuring out local buses or pay for a taxi I decided to walk. With my full array of packs that turned out to be more difficult than anticipated, and I arrived at the house completely and utterly drenched in sweat. 

And to show that I am really as stubborn as I look, I did it again the next day, only this time I had a quicker trip to the Alta Rock Art Museum. I spent a few hours walking along trails of neat board walks around the harbour to admire the rocks that had been delicately carved with figures, animals and scenes of hunting and fishing - the oldest of which date back to about 4200 BC. After fueling up on my last filter coffee + waffle + brunost combo I caught a bus to my final couple of planes to take me back to the capital and onwards to Scotland early the next day.

Yet fortunately the planes all ran on time, and I made it sweaty and tired once more to my next stop. - the stupidly named Kick Ass Hostels in the heart of the Edinburgh Old Town.

To The Top

I originally started writing this last week, but other things obviously came up. This was my last big hike in Norway and it did feel like I was going out with a bang. Not only was it by far the longest journey (the round trip was at least 20km) but the views hugging the coast were some of the best/scariest that I've come across so far.

The hike in question took me all the way to the northernmost point of Sørøya. It is by no means the most northern point of Norway, but I think I have a thing with reaching the ends of things. The journey started along the same route as I had taken getting to Sandfjellet the other week. After tumbling once more down the dunes I veered north and continued the long hike upwards over vast rolling hills and past several lakes. The weather was magnificently calm and clear for the most part; a polar opposite to the continuous gales that had battered us day and night prior to the day of the hike (and starting up again the very next day after said hike). 

The hills gradually tapered off towards the pointy end until finally I was left with the fun part - a pathway made up of narrow trails carved into the steep and almost sheer sea cliffs. The fact that whoever made it had actually bothered to add in a hand rail made it pretty legit, as so many other hikes I've tried in Norway seem to disregard human safety so easily. I would definitely not recommend it to anyone bothered by heights. Had there been any wind or rain I would have been more hesitant to attempt this part of the walk, but things stayed calm so I kept going. 

Almost at the end is a small hut hiding in a break in the cliffs. It stays unlocked for bypassing hikers wanting to stay the night, like the other DNT huts around the country. I considered staying but knew that ran the real risk of having to walk home the next day in another storm, so I left after an hour or so of nursing my limp aching feet.

In hindsight I should have delayed the start of the hike by a few hours, as the hut would have been the perfect spot to watch a late sunset. I had the sunset behind me as I trudged back home, with the best part of it clearly obscured by the hills. I arrived back at the house almost 10 hours after I started and my legs began cramping immediately after I kicked off the first boot. Job well done.

Back To The Big Smoke

The last few days have been a blur. Losing Charlie came so suddenly and took everyone by surprise. My mind was definitely elsewhere as I packed up my things from that beautiful house by the beach and hugged everyone goodbye. Looking back it was truly a special and unique experience, and worth the expense and pain involved in getting there - even if my output for the time being doesn't quite reflect it.

I'm now in Edinburgh, and despite less than two hours flying here it just feels like such an outrageous contrast to the slow, pastoral life that I enjoyed for three weeks. I forgot what it was like to be stuck in a crowd, and how much I hated it. I'm here to catch some of the Fringe Festival, and I had prepared myself for something of an onslaught. Still it feels like a shock to be bombarded with so many posters, queues, venues and people shoving flyers in your face at every given opportunity.

I might've missed certain things about city living (other things I know i can't live without), but nothing really compares to the ease and simplicity of a place like Nes or La Wayaka. 

Eulogy

It's been a rough few days. On Thursday Charlie passed away gently and without any pain in his sleep. It was sudden and unexpected. I don't want to be writing this, but the grief and numbness feels so consuming.

I never thought I would be seeing him for the last time when I scratched his head and gave him a thorough rub down before my flight out. Nothing in his eyes suggested anything other than pure joy, happiness and love. Now I don't think I'll be able to forgive myself for not being there to hold him as he went away. There won't be any closure, and everything now feels so absolute and final. 

It was so easy to love Charlie, as he so easily fell in love with everyone he met. He loved to eat more than anything, as is often the case with most labs. This immense brown mass of fur and fat just constantly wanting and needing to be near you; to hold your hand while you watched TV; to nuzzle into your lap as you tried to do some work. He was never like the other dogs, and that made it easier to think of him as someone special who by some miracle came into my life for a decade. 

I remember way back when we first had him as a puppy, and Mum brought him along for the after school pickup. I can't imagine a more perfect little unaware pile of fluff rolling around the school grounds followed by two very concerned parents. He was always in his own world - wandering off to smell the flowers instead of playing with other dogs, and casually allowing himself to get dry humped by every other dog at the beach.

I'll miss the soft smell of cinnamon after he came back from the groomers each and every time. I'll miss his complete and utter terror of jumping out of the car. I'll miss his blissed out face as we lathered him up at the dog wash (just a long extended wet hug really). That one time he smashed Dim in the balls will stay with me forever, as well as the time he pooed on the carpet out of sheer excitement that Reb had shown up at the door. He always maintained those twinkling puppy dog eyes that made you weak at the knees, even as the fur around his muzzle started to grey and the cataracts began to turn opaque. 

He was always there, ready and willing to just be your friend. I can't help but feel that I took it for granted while he was still around, and that I didn't put more care into my last farewell to him - but I guess that's the harsh reality of hindsight. 

I miss him so much, and I'm not ready to describe him in the past tense. Life is just so much easier having a dog by your side. I can't believe he's gone. 

Thank you for everything.