I tried to keep up my retention levels of Scottish history as we travelled between Glasgow, Stirling, Glen Coe and Callander. Vague ideas remain of burning bridges, desperate fights for freedom, bloodshed, betrayal, English oppression, vengeance, kings and queens, Edward VI who is also Edward II, and escaping princes. Please don’t ask me to explain.
Traveling north from the south of England we saw a gradual improvement in the roads. There is plenty of land on which to build and, not restricted by ancient horse and carriage tracks, the roads in Scotland are wide and safe. When we checked in to our lovely accommodation at Callander about 4pm, our hosts encouraged us to start walking straight away because the weather the next day was predicted to be very wet. We took their advice, making the most of the remaining daylight to walk past a lovely water fall. Unfortunately, the predictions about the next day were fulfilled.
We drove to Loch Carron in the hope that the rain would abate briefly when we arrived. It hadn’t but a two-hour boat cruise along the loch was about to set out and Derek spontaneously ran and bought us tickets. Expostulation was a bit late at this point, so I resigned myself.
I learnt that there seems to be no limit to the positivity of the English. At midway point, a large group of shivering geriatrics waited in the rain (in line) for the boat. They had come here as part of a one-week bus tour of Scotland, leaving sunny London the previous day. With gnarled stiff fingers, they stoically sat on the boat’s saturated hard bench seats, holding up drenched blankets to their chins. “Oh well, it’s a change of scenery,” one upbeat lady said.
A lady cheerfully squeezed in next to us, considered buying a boat photo, then decided it was too expensive. I showed her how to take photos on the phone provided by her daughter, then how to email them. I suspect it wasn’t the first time she’d been shown but she was delighted.
Decided I am never going on an organised bus tour.