Norway: Surpriiiiiise!

One random Friday in August 2014, Paul came home from work expecting a nice weekend of grocery shopping, sleeping in, and streaming old episodes of The Amazing Race.

EXCEPT!

When he turned from the hallway to the living room, he saw me standing there with our travel backpacks and the most insane grin on my face that could possibly be created with my face muscles.  And I said,
    "Paul!  Pack your bag because we're goin' to NORWAY!"

And he just stood there...

And said, "....what?"

"Norway!  Right now!  We are going to Norway in literally ten minutes!"

Let me make this shorter than it could be and just sum up by saying that it didn't really seem to fully sink in for him until after we had actually landed in Bergen.   Which, you know, was pretty funny.  And also confusing.  Because I was like NORWAY NORWAY NORWAY! and he was like ::wide eye confusion silence shock::

The thing was that Paul had always told me about how he'd always wanted to see Norwegian fjords and that, since I was pretty pregnant by then, that we most likely would never get up there before we had to move away.

Well.  Challenge Accepted!

We went to Bergen for the weekend and pulled one long, all-day fjord tour on Saturday through Norway-In-A-Day (highly recommended).  And it was just a blast.  Even moreso for me because I love orchestrating surprises and I'd rank an international vacation pretty high for coolest possible surprise.

Our trip, because it was so short and dependent on a tour company was a bit more touristy than we were used to on our trips - Bergen, being a cruise port, meant there were a lot of older North Americans roaming the streets in camera'd packs but it had a lot going for it.  I especially loved staying so close to the harbor and walking around the old, wooden 19th century neighborhood, Bryggen.

The next day on the trains, ferries, and busses through the fjords was super great and exhausting and amazing and everything.  By that point, Paul was finally understanding that, yes, we were actually in real Norway and was really excited.  I feel like I'm writing too many words like "amazing" and "excited" and it doesn't say what I meant to say but I'm trying to write this really fast while Hadrian is asleep and I have a cold so my vocabulary isn't, shall we say, at its finest.  BUT I just wanted to say that it was all worth it.  It was so worth it.  It's always worth it to travel.

So, I guess, if you're a person who thinks all the time about how they wish they could go somewhere but "I can't right now" then...well, maybe that's true.  But first make sure about that.  Is it absolutely true?  Could you do it?  Are you just saying you can't because it seems like it would take too much preparation or time or you don't know if spending your money is the right choice?  Well...I can't really say what your experience would be, but we're pretty conservative people - financially, time-wise, prep-wise.  And we have never regretted any of our adventures for a second.  Money is just money, but what's most important are memories.

That's why we went to Norway for a weekend.  Because we could.  (And for the SURPRISE!)

 

Leaving Skye and Scotland

The next two days we saw a bunch of amazing things on Skye.  The Quirang (above), the cliffs at Kilt Rock, the Fairy Pools, the harbor at Portree, and the McCleod clan castle.  On one drive we stopped into a rebuilt Hebridean village at the north of the island, looking out across to the Isle of Harris.

It was all too much.  Too much to try and talk about everything.  Just to say that it was beautiful and we finally found a McArthur scarf on our very last day on the island and practically in Scotland in a tiny shop in Portree.  Woohoo!

The day we left Skye, we took the long road back toward the east and center of Scotland where we had not been before, making a loop past Loch Ness (you just have to) and down to Pitlochry where we stayed for one last night before driving back to Edinburgh in the morning to catch our plane.

It wasn't until our last night in Pitlochry that we actually. and finally, tried haggis.  And I have to say, I was impressed.

As I was with pretty much all of Scotland.  We'll be back.

Hiking Skye

Do you see me?  I'm tiny and juuuuust to the left of center in my purple coat.

Perhaps the best memory I have of our trip to Scotland would be the morning we spent hiking The Storr on the Isle of Sky(p)e.

We almost didn't even try as we pulled into the muddy parking lot and looked at the thick fog rolling in.  We could see the Old Man of Storr volcanic formations appear suddenly every now and then as the clouds moved by.  We couldn't even see the mountain range behind it.

But, being the young bucks we were, we decided to give it a go.  At least get up to the Old Man of Storr and check it out, figuring we'd gauge the weather after that point.  It probably took a good 40 minutes just to get to the formation at the base of the mountain since a lot of the area had been clear-cut in the early stages of an invasive tree species eradication program - I guess the area around the parking lot used to be a man-made forest, but when we were there it was just gnarly mud and rocks.  It was rough goin'.

BUT!  BUT!!  When we got to the Storr, everything changed.  Sure the clouds were still moving in and out, but suddenly everything became beautiful and mysterious and adventurous (and not as muddy).  So we decided to just keep going up.

The further we went, the fewer hikers we saw and the more beautiful and quiet things got.  At one point it was just Paul and I hiking around the edge of what was clearly a glacial cirque and the fog was so thick around us we could only see maybe fifty feet up and down the slope around us.

We had no idea what was above or below or ahead, when suddenly a picture-window hole just appeared in the fog (it was so, so strange) and gave us a crystal clear, fog-framed view of the channel islands and sea, all bright green and gray and shimmering.  I really can't do the moment justice.  Both of our jaws just dropped and we stood there staring in silence until, just as quickly, the window closed and we were all in gray again.  It felt like magic, like the gray fog had become a crystal ball, showing us some mystical world for a second.  That's exactly what it was like - it wasn't a view from where we were, because we had been so disoriented in the fog for so long, we had no concept of our altitude or surroundings - it was just a floating vision.  I'll never forget it.

I don't know, I'm sure everyone will just skip right over that long paragraph there.  I just had to try and write down the memory at least.  For us, if anything.

We kept hiking up and up.  At one point the trail completely disappeared and we came across some Canadians who had turned around at that point, disappointed.  Well...we weren't going to turn around.  So we just off-roaded it straight up the mountainside until we reached a wide open flat.  It was us, some sheep, and more volcanic formations.  And now that we were on the ridge, we could sometimes see down the cut-steep valley on the other side.

And we kept going!

No trail, thick fog, we just kept going.  It was a grand adventure.

Finally, and a bit sadly, we found the summit marker at the edge of one final ridge slope and celebrated with some more sheep who kindly took our picture before we ate a little snack and began our hike back down.

Summiting the Storr has become one of my Life Memories.  You know the ones - those memories that rank way up there.  The ones that kind of feel like they defined an era for you?  That was Skye and the Storr for me - just Paul and I, wandering the wilds of the Scottish highlands together and completely on our own, colorful visions appearing in the sky, and just the sound of silence and sheep bells around us.  Heidi and Paul in Europe - the memory makers.

The Isle of Skye: Part the First

Hairy Coo Sighting!

A really long time ago (college), I remember perusing a map of Scotland with a friend (because I like maps) and stumbling on a place called The Isle of Skye.  And I thought (and said outloud), "I have to go to there."  Except I didn't say it exactly like that because I wouldn't watch 30 Rock until I was in graduate school four years later, but you get my point.

And Paul was the guy who made it all possible.  It was pretty clear that spending three full days on Skye, the longest stretch of our trip, was all about me and checking off my particular dream.  And Skye is such a barren but also lush but also grey but also bright green but also remote but also homey...it's such a beautiful, strange, gorgeous rugged inspiring place.  We had a chance to maybe spend a day taking a ferry over to the Isle of Harris (because, I mean, come on), but Skye was so amazing, we couldn't justify it.  I passed of the Isle of Harris, people!  Can you imagine the pictures??  But the thing is that we got so many other, better, pictures on Skye.

The day we arrived, we drove up the west coast from Oban and over the small bridge on the island, which was pretty lucky.  It wasn't that long ago you had to take a ferry over.  And on our way, made a quick stop to see Eilean Donan, one of the most filmed/photographed castles in the world.  And it was no freaking joke.  In the middle of sound, surrounded by those highland moors and mountains.  Sheesh.  It was ridiculous.  This picture does not do it justice.  But it does start to capture the grey/green colors that we had been getting used to in the highlands and just explode on Skye.

As a side note, if you read "Skype" instead of "Skye" it's because every time I try to type it, that's what comes out.  The Isle of Skype.  Yep.

We took our time driving through about half of the island on our way to our bed and breakfast, which was essentially just a room in a little family's home (which was pretty cool but also made us introvert types feel super intrusive at the same time).  On the way we got our first up-close Hairy Coo sightings and the Black Cuillin mountain range.  The Black Cuillins are just amazing - razor sharp peaks, black against the sky...of Skye.  Sorry, that just happened.

It was a long day of driving, but we were really excited to be there.  Though, to be fair, it was also a little sad since it was our last big place to visit in Scotland.  But we were going to milk it for whatever we could.

Because it was Scotland.  And because we were on Skye.


(Okay, small addendum.  None of our pictures of Skye really do it justice because we aren't professionals, have a 10+ year old point and shoot camera, and were too busy staring to take pictures all the time.  So I'm just going to leave this link here and you can see what kind of landscape I'm talking about here.)

Castle Castle Castle Castle Castle Castle Castle

After our quiet stay in Glenlyon, our trip turned into Castlemania.

The day we left, it was just raining like crazy, which actually made our drive through the Loch Lomond National Park really....uh evocative?  Romantic in the literary way?  It was beautiful.  It also made our Castle tours very wet.

First, we hit up the Campbell Clan's current castle headquarters at Inverary where the clan lead still lives in his rich British aristocracy kind of way.  That's the place I learned that there is a thing called Elephant Polo (bored are we, aristocrats?).  And apparently that it was a big part of an episode of Downton Abbey - there were posters about it eeeeeverywhere.

And it was cool to see.  I mean, the wood paneled dining rooms, chandeliers, manicured gardens, tapestries.  Very castle.  Yes, wow.  But, it also felt a bit weird being there.  I mean, one room had family photos on a piano and, I mean, I was in their house you know?  Elephant polo or no, I just didn't think they deserved to have people gawking through their house.

BUT I also learned that that exact same piano was where a lot of the music for My Fair Lady was written.  Sooo, okay, I guess it was cool.

We had bigger things to find, though!

The next castle was a ruin on an island in Loch Tay - one of the McArthur castles.  And it was just pouring when we got there, but the hike through the causeway in our waterproof jackets and boots was just so Scotland.  The rain cleared up now and then, and the whole experience was just super cool.

And finally, we finished our drive on the western coast of Scotland in Oban, where we finally made it to Dunstaffnige Castle, the BIG McArthur castle, a place Paul had dreamed of going since he had heard about it as a little boy, ....and found a castle with signage that didn't say one word about McArthurs!  Ha!  It was sad and also weird and also funny?

But, Paul had his sources in order, shrugged off the whole "Campbells got to write the history, McArthurs didn't" injustice of it all, and just ran around in the rain all over that castle like crazy kids.  It was really fun, actually.  Especially since the rain had scared everyone else away.

We rolled into Oban, found our B&B (which was fantaaaastic and had amazing bathtub and bed and, well, breakfast and I miss it every day), and proceeded to walk down to the main street and eat the hands down best fish and chips in the world.

We also met a 65 year old Canadian man who had just retired and decided to spend his summer hiking through the Hebrides.  He was a doppelganger for that Ron Dunn character in Parks and Recreation - looks, voice, life philosophy.  It was  magical.

Oban is great.  Heatherfield House is great.  All the castles (everywhere!  There are castles everywhere!) are great!  The fish and chips on the main drag are perfect!  I'd love to go back.  It was a town that felt in so many ways like Coos Bay, Oregon - just a laid back, beautiful rugged coastal town.

All of that in one day, it was a bit crazy.  But totally amazing.  Because CASTLES!

And seriously.  Those fish and chips...