Rotary Trip to Scotland

Mitzi and others seem to have wanted to hear from all of us on this blog, and today we transferred to Symington, to Mike & Liz Kelly’s house, leaving Killearn, and Jason and I are staying together.  He has just introduced me to the ease of using this technology, so I will try to make my reports on the blog.

We have now been the much honored and looked after guests in two communities, and I don’t think I can really accurately describe the extent of hospitality we have enjoyed.  Jason has written about the celebration of George Buchanan’s 500th birthday on Saturday in Killearn.  The dinner in the church hall, prepared by the women of the church, was terrific, and for my next lesson I might add a picture of the summer pudding that I took there.  We moved next door to the village hall, and the musicians, the villagers, our hosts, and the team had a party we will never forget. 

When it ended, Roger said let’s have a nightcap, and we were off to Robert’s house and another wee dram.  I realized about that point that I had better start to write down the list of whisky’s I have been offered (and accepted), and this list has grown since then.

My favorite description of a whisky, in a very nice book presented to me today by Roger, is that it “turns mean and moody in the middle.”

Despite the drinks and the late hours, Sunday morning was no problem and Roger took me on a hike, or hill walk as he describes it, to the summit of Ben Lomond, the tallest peak on the shores of Loch Lomond, about 15 miles from his home in Killearn.  Roger, 76, does a hill walk of at least an hour to an hour and a half 2 or three times a week, and he was spry and chatty all the way up the hill and back down again.  It was misting when we started, raining in the middle (mean and moody?), and misting again at the top and Roger was disappointed from me that I did not get to see the view of Loch Lomond and a great deal more of the country in every direction.  He will send me a picture. 

On the way up we encountered five mountain bikers in full gear, riding down.  They had taken the bikes and their protective gear up to the summit on their backs!  They said it would be a good chat up in the pub.  We didn’t see their bodies on the rocks coming down, so presume they made it.  I barely did, as the steepness cut into my knees all the way down, and another 50 feet would have been too long.

Roger prescribed the appropriate cure in the first pub we came to, a Galvar, something like Drambuie, but better!  It worked!

On Monday night we attended the Killearn Rotary Club meeting in the Black Bull Hotel, a very handsome establishment with very good food in an attractive glassed in dining room.  Jason has written about the program, so I will direct you to his report on the content of the evening.  You’ll note there that Jason noticed the barmaid after the meeting, but failed to get her name.  Roger will be supplying that via email, we think. 

Leaving Roger and Mary Short this morning was like leaving Mike and Diana Ure last week. Difficult.  It’s hard to describe the depth of friendship we have been granted by each family, and impossible to think that all of this takes place in such a short period of time.  We have each made friends for life, and forged relationships that we will continue to treasure.

The drive to Symington was interrupted with a fascinating stop at the Dalgarven Mill, a family created museum and restoration of a water driven mill, with a long talk from the director, founder, curator, delicious lunch provided by his wife in the tea room, and a look at Scottish history in the museum and an insight into Scottish present as he recounted all the difficulites he has encountered and the discouraging unintended consequences of some of the help he has been provided from various sources.  You can learn more about the museum at www.dalgarvenmill.org and you are heartily encourged to visit when you bring yourself to this part of the world.

Looking for comments from readers of my debut post.  Signing off to join Mike, Liz and Jason in a glass of wine.  Best wishes to everyone!  Thorns

 

I think I might break yesterday into three sections.  The day was filled with amazing events and opportunities, but each one was so different it might be easier to read, and for me to refine later, if I take them one at a time.

We are now in the village of Symington, staying with Mike Kelly and his wife Liz (Jason and me), but we are really the guests of the Prestwick RC.  Prestwick has the airport, the golf course (also Troon) and the ocean.  It was reassuring on Tuesday night to know that Mike’s house was made of stone, because all the wolves on Scotland were trying to blow it down.  The wind was fierce all night, with sheets of rain mixed in, but we pressed on with the schedule yesterday (Wednesday, Septermber 20).  At breakfast I was introduced to butterys, sort of a doughnut without the hole and not so fluffy.  Had another today, and will probably continue to seek them out.

After breakfast we all drove down through the meadows and fields to Dunure, tiny village on the coast, and were treated to an enchanted hour in the dining room of Rotarian Roy Storie, a retired headmaster who has been living in Dunure for 40 years with his wife Mary.  He has an extraordinarily broad and curious mind, and shared with us his research about the history of his village, the castle of which appears on one of Mercator’s maps in the 16th century.  That castle is now a ruin, and has been for a long time, neglected by the family that sought to extend its reach and influence throughout the region with tactics that would be frowned upon today.  In one instance, the reigning lord of the castle, frustrated by his cousin’s refusal to sign over his share of the estate, put the cousin on a spit and roasted him (perhaps the answer to the mystery meat question which sometimes arises).  Cousin did not give in, and in fact survived the event and sued the lord to have the contract of conveyance voided as being executed under durress. 

At any rate, after tea and biscuits served by Roy’s wife Irene, we went down the the harbor of the village to see the sea surging, the waves crashing, the wind blowing, and not seeing the Isle of Arran just 10-12 miles off the coast.  We saw pictures at the Storie’s of what their view is like in all seasons, in clear weather and storm, at dawn and sunset.  It’s an extraordinary sight, and to see it from someone’s living room while chatting with them about their lives is a great privilege.

Thorns 

We left the village of Dunure and drove off in wind and rain to Culzean Castle, pausing at the Electric Brae to experience the sensation of coasting backwards and uphill in the car.  The optical illusion of the western Scottish coast.

Culzean Castle is the one you want to visit if castles strike your fancy.  Built as a residence for a bachelor a long time ago, and not as a fortified defense outpost, it’s all rooms full of paintings, odd sculpture, and an entrance hall with more than 700 flintlock pistols arranged up and down the walls on all sides.  Before heading into the castle we had wonderful light lunch at the Farm and Country Life Museum on the grounds, and I dug into my first (but certainly not the last) plateful of haggis and tatties (passed on the neeps and took beans instead).  Then we had an illuminating conversation with the director of the entire complex, Mike Shaffer, about the challenges and opportunities of managing a property that seemed to combine Reynolda House, the Nature Science Center, Tanglewood (without the golf course) and 5 miles of rugged sea coast.  150 employees, funding from the National Trust, but open entry for most people walking through the grounds, enjoying the day but not putting anything into the revenue box.

For those of you who have been to Scotland, played golf at Troon, and took some time for a castle tour, this is probably where you went.  To refresh your memory, this is the castle which provided Gen. Eisenhower with an apartment of life after WWII.  Top floor is swell hotel, with 6-8 rooms, and you can probably find out how to book a week there on the internet.  I’ll try to plug in a link later.

Returning to Prestwick late in the afternoon, see DTR III for final report on September 20.

Thorns

Throughout the day the wind blew and the rain fell, but it did not detract from anything.  In fact, I think I mentioned that seeing some of these sights in this extreme weather seems to heighten the effect.

But the evening was indoors, so the weather was immaterial.  We were all invited to dinner at a Rotarian’s restaurant, voted one of the best Indian restaurants in the UK.  Taj, actually now owned by Dish Uppal Singh’s brother, provided a night to remember.  And, as Jason noted, there was a big surprise for the rest of us when Dish, who is hosting Melissa and Adrienne, brought those two into the restaurant dressed in his daughter-in-law’s clothes.  They looked terrific, and we should have some pictures up soon. 

The dishes came fast and from all sides, and we’ll have to post a link to the menu to provide you with proper descriptions.  Needless to say, it was all wonderful.  Advice from Dish about how you, too, can get this result in your next Indian restaurant visit:  Just tell the waiter, “Please us.”  Don’t even bother with the menu!

This wasn’t a quick meal, and most people might have called it a night at the end and headed home.  Bill had a nice bag of leftovers that he was taking back with his host, Henry Pimental, but we all trooped up the street to an Irish pub to see if there might be any music being performed.  Of course there was, but the musicians were still setting up, and Mike knew one (”Last time I spoke with that fellow he sold me a wheelbarrow.”), so there were some introductions and pretty soon we had a table of 8-10 with glasses of Guiness all around and Jason tuning the borrowed guitar and doing some mike checks. 

Then, with a very modest introduction (Hi, I’m Jason) he took over the room.  On the first song, Amy, feet were tapping, and on the second whole tables were mouthing the words and singing along.  The homeboys gave him a third round, and he got a great hand from his entourage and everyone else in the place.  It was a great ending to a great day.

Thorns

Those of you who read these postings probably know intuitively that none of this would happen without a lot of work on each side.  I can say that the work of the GSE team ended when we all showed up at the airport with our passports in our pockets. Since then, its been a magic ride.

On the Scottish side, all the clubs and the members we have met have been wonderful, and that has to be a tribute not only to their natural hospitality, but to the organizing efforts of Mike Kelly.  Mike was a GSE team leader from District 1230 to Thailand earlier this year, so he has spent a lot of time on this Rotary endeavor.  For us he has been amazing, lining up fascinating visits to places high and low, and each one coming with a personal contact and touch that could not be achieved if you were traveling without the benefit of Rotary.  Yesterday was a great example–tea and history in Roy and Irene Storie’s dining room; long, candid and private conversation with Mike Shaffer at Culzean Castle; lavish and friendly currie dinner at Taj with Dish, Henry & Irene, Mike and Liz, and Jim — another Rotarian guide; final drink and entertainment provided by our talented teammate Jason Pierce, playing on an electric guitar provided by another friend of Mike’s.  As they say here, let’s show our appreciation for Mike in the usual manner.  And with that, we raise a glass, take a sip, and applaud.

Thorns 

 

This list will be amended and enlarged as the days and nights go on, and there are several of the early selections which require further research and recollection. But these I have written down:

Glen Turret

Ardbeg

Glen Goyne 10

Glen Goyne 15 (wood finish from Scottish oak)

Glayva

Bladnoch

Glenfiddich

Talisker (for you Andy)

Scotch Whiskey Sociey 14 year old (cask strength)

Edradour

Bowmore

Macallan

Glenlivet

Arran (special distillers reserve)

 

Beer list being started, to be posted later. tc

Breakfast in Scotland

I have just finished breakfast with Bill Hanbury, in the dining room of Inveryne Lodge in Lochgilphead. A quiet fire is burning in the fireplace. We’ve had some fruit, cereal and toasted bread and coffee. Before breakfast we walked about a quarter mile around the bend in the village to the grocery store to pick up the morning papers and anything else needed.

Walking back from the store, I thought of Mike and Diana Ure in Houston, probably standing in their kitchen having a cup of tea and talking about what would be happening during the rest of the day. Were I there, I would be admiring the newly installed cabinets and tile and remarking on how neat and tidy everything seems to be.

In Killearn right now, Mary and Roger Short are settling down in the conservatory off the dining room, around a table set with all manner of condiments. The partridge chicks that live in the pasture are rummaging under the bird feeders, and the horses have spotted activity in the house so they amble over for the carrots Roger and Mary feed them each morning.

Move to Prestwick, and Mike and Liz Kelly are sitting in their conservatory. No horse in the front, but cows out the back. Mike has put a jazz cd on, the coffee is served, and some butteries from Aberdeen are the special treat.

Down in Stanraer, Malcolm and Sheila Henry are in their kitchen. Malcolm is in the corner seat, and the BBC is silently playing over Sheila’s shoulder. Cereal, orange juice, coffee, and a visit from their grandsons, riding up on their quad bikes in full gear and helmets.

In Alloway, Peter and Hilary Christy have come down the wide stairs of their house almost on the beach and are bustling about the kitchen, using the microwave to make the porridge. Each is headed out to a busy day, and breakfast on Monday is just to get them started.

On a hill high in suburban Beardsden, with all of Glasgow shining in the distance under the fast moving clouds with sun starting to break through to the west, Mary Henderson is offering another full Scottish breakfast. Fried egg, potato scone, black pudding, sausage, bacon, toast, jam, marmalade, orange juice, cranberry juice, tea, coffee, anything else? And if I am there, I am trying hard to limit myself to the porridge which Stewart makes each morning.

Back here in Lochgilphead, Bill pours another cup of coffee.

Breakfast in Scotland!

PS added on October 6:

Now that I have spent three nights in Inverawe House with Robert and Rosie Campbell-Preston, I can tell you that breakfast at their house takes place in a wonderful dining room in the 300 year old structure by the River Awe.  Not only is it their residence, but also their business, so breakfast is also the first business meeting of the day, and Robert is pouring coffee, making tea, putting out toast and Rosie is checking in with details of their smoked fish business.  On Friday, Robert took a phone call informing him that Inverawe Smokehouses had been declared the best food business in the northern Highlands and Islands.  You can check out  their products at www.smokedsalmon.co.uk but don’t try to order anything.  Can’t get the products into the US.  That means you’ll have to visit.  They will put out a warm welcome.

Around Lochgilphead a lot of the roads are single track, with wide places every so often for cars coming in opposite directions to pass each other.  The drivers must be very attentive to oncoming traffice.

Driving around on Sunday, a glorious day with the sun shining, and the top down on Bill Hanbury’s Miata, this conversation occurred as he came to a screeching halt to let the car coming down the road reach us at the passing point.

Thorns:  Is there a rule of the road?

Bill:  Politeness. 

 

-Thorns

Last night at dinner at Inverawe, at the 300 year old home of Robert and Rosie Campbell-Preston, as Robert gave me a glass of the local single malt, Oban 14 year old, and extended the water pitcher, one of the guests said:

You know, of course, what the Queen Mother said was the rudest thing one could do?

“Pour water into a gentleman’s whiskey without asking his permission.”

 

-Thorns

Saturday, with less than 48 hours left in Scotland.  This morning we went on stage to express our gratitude to the participants in the District 1230 conference at a beautiful location in the Highlands, Aviemore Conference Center.  For the occasion the team wrote a song which incorporated almost all of our adventures and misadventures, and it was warmly received.  There is a video we hope we will be able to provide to all our friends and family at home–I think it does show how much we have enjoyed this amazing adventure.

Last night was the formal evening on the conference.  I didn’t bring my tuxedo, but not to worry, Graham McQueen, president of the Oban RC, looked me up and down, decided that he and I are the same size, and before I know it I was decked out in kilt and all the works.  I now know the answer to that famous question!

Pictures were taken, and I assume will make it to the blog. 

-Thorns

I can’t say enough about how wonderful it has been to travel and get to know these four great people.  They have been upbeat, enthusiastic, warm, friendly, curious, fuuny, energetic and genuinely themselves from the time we first got together, and it is difficult to think about the coming weeks when we won’t be gathering together and apart to meet new people, see new things, and marvel together at this great gift we have all been given by Rotary–Rotary International and our home District 7690 and our host District 1230.

To all their friends and families let me say that you are all very fortunate to have Melissa, Adrienne, Jason and Bill in your midst.  I know you’re anxious for them to return, and we have decided as a group that we will return.  But we are changed forever, just as we were told we would be.  And part of that change is our friendship and affection.
-Thorns