Last leg of the journey--and golf

Well, we said goodbye to Meadows Smithy Cottage this morning at 7 a.m. After an 8-hour drive, we arrived at Jessie and Alec’s house. We’ll stay here until Monday morning when we leave for Manchester Airport and ultimately, Toronto.

For Christmas, I ordered a pair of “plus fours” for Don for Christmas (I’d call them knickers, but that means underwear in Great Britain, so I’d better not). I assumed he’d encounter all sorts of chaps wearing these on the golf courses over here, but there wasn’t a pair to be found. Therefore, Don was reluctant to don them! However, he didn’t want to offend me since I’d ordered them from the States, so half way around the course, with no one behind us, he slipped behind a bush and changed into a proper golf costume. He did a bit of modelling for me, ran behind the bush and changed, and no one was the wiser. Here’s the result:



Before arriving at Jessie’s place, we did a quick run through the Lake District. 28 years ago we’d cycled around Ullswater (a huge lake), walking our bikes over a monstrous hill before we could get back to our campground. This time we sat comfortably in Wonder Car and drove past fabulous scenery until reaching our favourite pub, The Kirkstone Inn. It’s nestled between two hills and was full of hikers, cyclists, and a few dogs. We managed to get a table and had our last sticky toffee pudding of the trip.



Tomorrow we’ll be meeting Ewan, my cousin Jessie’s one-year-old grandson. Ewan’s parents, Neil and Megan, and the four of us will be having one last meal together tomorrow night. On Monday morning, we’ll be leaving for home.
It’s been a wonderful holiday--restful, interesting, and timely. I really needed to recharge my batteries. Don learned to tame the North Sea winds so that he could score in the mid-70s while golfing, and I got a little bit better at golf, even though it will be a long time before I’m able to score in the double digits!
I hope you’ve enjoyed my blog, and I look forward to seeing you all soon!

Saying goodbye to the library

This may be my last post from the good old Dornoch library. Here’s a picture of my “internet café”:




The library is closed Thursday, and I may be too busy to post on Friday—packing, cleaning up the cottage, saying goodbye to Jack, Sam, Sally, Peter, and Nigel. We spent a few hours at Sally and Peter’s place last night. They’re both very artistic. Peter does drawings and watercolours, and Sally does pen and ink drawings and linotypes. She’s also the illustrator of many books. She creates rag rugs and there’s a gorgeous example on the floor of the bedroom here. I’m almost afraid to walk on it! She also rents some land where her 26 Shetland sheep happily munch away. Peter is a curator of the 5-star Dornoch museum. His latest passions are carving in slate and learning to play the sax! These two organize all sorts of events in Dornoch. They’ve been a wealth of information for us, and great neighbours to boot!



Don is feverishly trying to get all the golf he can in before he has to pack up the clubs on Friday night. He’s almost tamed the Tain course, recently scoring two 75s and a 74. He’s debating whether or not to bring the Wonder Club back with him to Canada. The bunkers are much lower and there’s probably little use for it. I think it would be a great souvenir.
Although I’ve had a great time here, I’m looking forward to getting home again to see family, friends, and Buster. Emma assures me she’s put him on a diet and now he’s a lean, mean, fighting machine. Luckily I postponed his annual vet visit until I return, so when the vet congratulates me for the fact that Buster is finally approaching his proper weight after 10 years, I’ll take all the credit!

The Orkneys--and golf

What a busy weekend! On Friday we picked up our pals Steve and Ina from Inverness Airport, and after a quick dinner in the cottage, we headed over (on foot) to the Royal Dornoch golf course, one of the best in Europe. It costs about $135 to play a round during the day. If you wait until after 6, you can play for $60. Since golf courses in Great Britain are public land, anyone can walk them, so Ina and I followed along all 18 holes. The first 8 holes take you north all the way up to Embo, and then the remaining holes follow along the North Sea back to the club house. I’ve never played such a challenging and well-groomed course, and I may try it next week, but it was a pleasure just to walk it. The fairways are quite difficult, with tall hedges of gorse on one side (your ball is lost if it goes in there—it’s far too prickly to walk through) and long grass on the other. Good news: there are no water hazards (if you don’t count the North Sea!). Both Steve and Don found themselves victims of the evil bunkers, and even the Wonder Wedge (64 degree loft) Don bought a couple weeks ago didn’t bring relief. The gorse claimed a few balls and the undulating, multi-level greens were extremely difficult, making two-putts rare. They finished at 9:30 and we headed to the Club House for some drinks. It was lovely looking out over the course as the sun began to set. There were no golfers, but lots of walkers with their dogs. We could see the lighthouse at Tarbat Ness with its bright light flashing a warning to approaching ships. Then it was home to bed for an early start on Saturday.



We began our drive at 6:50 the next morning. By 8:45 we were in John O’Groats boarding a ferry to the Orkneys. During the 40-minute crossing (very calm seas, but very foggy) we saw lots of sea birds—puffins, gannets, oyster catchers, sea gulls—and a dolphin! We opted for a bus tour of the Orkneys. The driver was very entertaining, and we learned many interesting things. For example, the Orkneys are made up of more than 60 islands, but only 16 are inhabited. There are four causeways built to join islands and to discourage foreign ships from entering the main body of water in the middle of the Orkney’s—Scapa Flow. These “Churchill Barriers” were built by Italian prisoners of war. They loaded tonnes of rock into the water and topped them with huge concrete blocks. Scapa Flow was used as a staging ground for the entire British fleet during WW2. Soldiers built aerodromes and excellent roads that made the islands more accessible. Before the barriers were built, the British sunk old ships to be used as “blockers” so German U-boats couldn’t enter Scapa Flow and threaten the fleet. However, on October 31, 1939, a U-boat managed to negotiate a passage between some blockers and enter the Flow. Fortunately, the majority of the fleet had left the day before. One battleship remained: the Royal Oak. The U-boat sent four torpedoes into her and she sunk almost immediately killing 833 soldiers asleep on board. The U-boat escaped and the German captain received a medal for his actions. Also in Scapa Flow at the end of WW1, 74 German warships were being held as spoils of war. Rather than letting the British take them, the German commanders intentionally scuttled them. They were later refloated and used for scrap metal. We also visited Skafa Brae, the best preserved group of prehistoric houses in Western Europe dating from 5000 BC. Did you know that there are virtually no trees in the Orkneys? This is because the winds are often hurricane force, and trees cannot withstand them. When the Churchill Barriers were constructed, local fisherman could no longer get out to the North Sea and North Atlantic, so they had to choose a different profession. They chose chicken farming, and made a great success of it. But in 1952 a storm hit the Orkneys packing winds strong enough to blow all the chickens into the sea! The chicken farmers became sheep and beef farmers. Farming and tourism are the major industries in the Orkneys today. Anyway, there`s far too much to say, so I`ll stop now! I highly recommend a visit there!





Only one week of holidays to go and then home again!

Duck Hunting

For some reason, I was absolutely exhausted on Wednesday, so I spent the day inside watching t.v., reading, and eating. IT WAS GREAT!!!!!!! Don, on the other hand, was so energetic that he golfed first thing in the morning and then again in late afternoon. The first time he shot an 83, a couple strokes worse than his average so far. But then in the afternoon he shot a 75, so he was over the moon. He attributes this success to the fact that, for the first time, there was very little wind.

When he got home, he had a duty. He had to corral Nigel the duck and put him to bed. At first we couldn’t find him, and assumed he was hiding in one of the many flower beds. But then I spotted him and it almost made me cry. You see, about three weeks ago Nigel’s fellow duck was ab-duck-ted from the backyard, perhaps by a cat. Ever since, Nigel has been pretty lonely. Anyway, there’s a patio door at the back of the neighbour’s home. The two dogs, Jack and Sam, were stationed behind the glass watching for anything they could bark at. Well there was Nigel, right up by the patio door, looking longingly at his pals. So now Don approaches. Nigel starts to flee, quacking all the way. After chasing Nigel through a couple flower beds, Don managed to sneak up behind him and nab him. After a short walk to Nigel’s house, Don carefully placed duckie inside and locked him up for the night. Nigel was out again early this morning, playing with the dogs and gleefully biting ankles once again! Good on you, Don!





On Thursday we visited a family in Embo we’d last visited in 1980. It was lovely to see Una again. Then it was off to Golspie for fish and chips, and back home to clean the house in preparation for our Ottawa friends who arrive on Friday.

Shin Falls and Sir John A.

I had intended to have a picture for you of the Duke of Sutherland’s monument taken from the top of Ben Bhraiggie, but when we realized we had to do a vertical climb of 7 kilometres in order to get the shot, we opted for fish and chips in the village instead. They were delicious! Maybe another day...

We took Jessie and Alec for a drive to Shin Falls yesterday. On the way, we paid homage to the spot where Sir John's grandparents had their farm. You can see the cairn (dedicated by Diefenbaker in 1968)marking the spot:



Shin Fall, about 40 minutes from Dornoch, is is a tourist spot where the salmon jump upstream over the falls in order to spawn. Unfortunately, the salmon were nowhere in site, but the falls were lovely and the gift shop amazing considering it was in the middle of nowhere. It’s owned by Mohammad Fyad, father of Dodi and until recently owner of Harrods in London. Fyad bought a castle in Ross-shire, and is, in effect, chief of the Ross clan. There’s a Madame Tussaud’s wax statue of him in a kilt as you walk in the store! Inside are lots of high-priced items from Harrods in London. There’s also a restaurant with gourmet food. After an amazing lunch (beef stroganoff, prawn cocktail, lamb with rosemary), we returned to Dornoch where we met our landlords who made an interesting request.

Don’s job, tonight at dusk, is to put Nigel the duck to bed. This involves catching him and taking him to his little house. Sally gave us a demonstration. Apparently, Nigel loves to give little ankle bites, so while Don attempts to round him up tonight, I will be standing at a safe distance snapping photos for Friday’s blog. No blog tomorrow because the library is closed on Thursday.

I forgot to post my seals photo. Here you go.

Old friends and new golf courses

My cousin Jessie and her husband Alex arrived Friday. Actually, Jessie is my dad’s first cousin. Jessie’s dad and my grandmother were brother and sister. They were born in Embo. Jessie’s dad never left Embo, but my grandmother married my grandfather during the First World War and came to live in Canada. Teenie (her name was Christina) was able to get back to Embo for a few visits during her life, and my dad finally made it over to Scotland in 1979. Jessie lives in England (near the Lake District). Don and I lived in England for three years in the early 80’s and spent Christmas with Jessie in England and summer holidays with Jessie in Embo. Yesterday Jessie and Alex took us to a scrumptious “carvery,” a buffet at a swish hotel in Tain. Here’s a picture of the dessert tower:



After that incredible meal, we visited the home where my grandmother was born, much modernized since the turn of the century. Don and I took advantage of the washing machine there to wash, basically, everything we weren’t wearing. Jessie and I walked along the beach. If you set sail straight across the North Sea from the beach, you’d probably hit Denmark. To the right we could see Tarbut Ness lighthouse in the distance, a spot we visited last week. Jessie informed us that just a few days earlier, a woman had fallen over the cliffs at Tarbut Ness. I’m not surprised—the winds were very strong when we were there. I was in no such danger because a) I’m far too cowardly to go near the edge of a cliff, and b) any hint of cold and I’m back in the car in a shot.
Early yesterday morning, we went to Gospie, a town 5 miles beyond Embo, to try out the golf course. It was a links course built along the North Sea. It was beautifully groomed and very challenging. From every hole you could look up at Ben Braigghie, a huge hill behind Golspie with a monument depicting the Duke of Sutherland at the top. Don and I plan to hike up to the top and take a picture of the monument, but after that meal yesterday, we have to rest a couple days! You can see the Duke, also called “The Mannie,” in this picture:



Oh, I almost forgot. Don shot an 81 and I shot a – Oh no, the computer is warning me that my half hour on the Internet is up. It’s shutting do

Boot sale--and golf

Don and I just came back from a boot sale. For you silly North Americans, this is NOT a)the sale of boots, or b)the sale of articles from the boot of a car. It's like a rummage sale where you bring items to sell in a community hall. The fact that you convey them in the boot of your car is probably where the term originated. Anyway, Don bought two golf gloves and I bought some fudge. Now we both need to golf, but for different reasons.

Speaking of golf, we went out yesterday. It rained on and off for the last nine holes, which was no fun at all. My putting-from-the-bunker move failed me, so I guess I'll just have to NOT hit the ball in a bunker anymore.

Since I haven't taken any new photos recently, here's a poop shot from Durness:

Loch Ness--and golf

Yesterday we had a nice drive around Loch Ness. We stopped at Urquart Castle where Don took this shot.


At the end of Loch Ness is Inverness, and I convinced Don that we should take a walk around the city and do a bit of shopping. Well, Don likes shopping about as much as eating rusty nails, so I convinced him to look around at the historical sites and leave me to my own devices for an hour after which we'd meet at the carpark. I did a bit of shopping, and when I returned to the car, I saw Don inside lovingly caressing a new golf club he'd just bought. And there in the back was a new golf cart! (I'd been renting one for 2 pound a round, so this 20 pound purchase was a good idea, actually). Here's the story on the new club. It's REALLY HARD to get out of a walled bunker here in Scotland. When your ball lands five inches from a four-foot vertical wall, the only way to get it out is pop it up, and Don's Canadian sand wedge, having a 56 degree loft, just wouldn't do it. So he found one with a 64 degree loft on sale for about ten bucks. Anyway, after we returned home, he went golfing at about 5 p.m. (it stays light until 10 p.m. here). When he returned home, he said the new wedge worked wonders in the bunker, but when he tried to use it on the grass, it cost him a stroke so he finished with an 80 instead of a 79. So I say, well don't use it on the grass, to which he replies that he can only have 14 clubs in his bag, and so he'd left his old wedge at home, to which I reply, who says you can only have 14 clubs in your bag, to which he says, well, that's the rule of tournament play, to which I reply, and exactly which tournament were you in today, to which he says nothing. Is this a guy golf thing? Did I step over the line? How do I get out of those bunkers, you ask? Simple. I take my putter and run the ball up the wall. What's the big deal?

As promised, here's the photo of neeps, tatties, and haggis:


My cousin Jessie and her husband Alex arrive today. They'll be staying in Embo, and I'm hoping that they will tell us a bit more about the Sir John A. MacDonald connection, and perhaps some stories about my grandmother's life in Embo at the turn of the century.

INTENDED FOR A MATURE AUDIENCE: PHOTO OF NEIGHBOUR TAKING A BATH

Slow news day

Not much to say today. We went for a drive to the Tarbac Light House on the east coast yesterday, but didn't see the much-anticipated dolphins or whales. Most of our day trips involve driving along one-track roads. When another car approaches, you (or they) have to duck into a passing place. Don is getting good at this, but he's still rusty driving through Tain. The road has two lanes, but cars are allowed to park along one side, so really there's just one lane. If you're driving down the side with no parked cars, piece of cake. However, if you're on the other side, you have to keep tucking in between parked cars in order to let the cars on the other side pass. Don calls this "Dodgecar." I think he's actually turned it into a sport.
On our trip out, we had an excellent pub lunch in Balintore. Don had "tatties, neeps and haggis" which translates to "potatoes, turnips, and sheep-organs-stewed-in-a-sheep-stomach." (My apologies to all you haggis-lovers out there, but it just isn't my cup of tea.) Don assured me it was wonderful. I'll have a picture tomorrow. Forgot my thumb drive again!!

A bit of snow—and a sad story

I decided to stay in yesterday because it was very cold with the odd flurry. Don, as ever, went golfing and was only detained on two holes where he had to take shelter from the hail. While he was away, I went around the corner to the butcher and bought a small roast of beef (silverside, a really nice cut) and my favourite teacake, Golden Syrup cake. After figuring out the cooker (oven) here, I managed to cook a delicious medium-rare roast. I had a nice text from home: Kathleen informed me that she’d passed her G driving test, so congrats to you, sweetie!
Don’s golf course is in Tain which is 15 minutes from Dornoch. Because a long stretch of water (Dornoch Firth) lies between these two communities, residents were forced to take a long drive to the end of the firth in order to get from one to the other. Then, in 1990, a bridge was built between Tain and Dornoch, and this shaved more than 30 minutes off the trip. Two hundred years ago, residents used to take a ferry from one side to the other—the Meikle Ferry. In 1809, a severely overcrowded ferry left from the Dornoch side taking residents to the market in Tain. Although conditions were calm, the boat took on water and 99 people drowned that day. Only 12 were saved. Below is a picture of Dornoch Firth taken from the Tain side at low tide.

Ullapool--and golf

Yesterday we drove west to Ullapool. It’s a beautiful seaside town with a lovely harbour. You can catch a ferry to the Hebrides from Ullapool. After a bit of shopping, we stopped in at a pub where Don had fish and chips, and I had beef that had been stewed in “An Teallach” ale and served in a giant Yorkshire pudding “bowl.” For dessert, we had an apple and cherry crumble served in a teacup with hot custard on the side (pictured). To counteract all those calories, I guess I’ll have to go golfing tomorrow!


British television continues to be entertaining. On last night’s episode of Britain’s Got Talent, there was an 80-year-old great-grandma who had an amazing set of lungs. Here's the Youtube link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0gfqeyq0xJQ. Sorry, you'll have to paste the link in. And then on Antiques Roadshow was the story of a carrier pigeon named Billy who served with the RAF. In 1942 he was on a plane that was shot down in France, but before the crash, he was set free with the plane’s coordinates tied to his leg. He flew 250 miles back to England in a snowstorm, and arrived the next day near collapse. He received the Medal of Gallantry for his war effort! He was 11 months old!!!

I’ve been meaning to describe a particularly interesting hole at Tain golf course. The 11th hole is called “The Alps” and features two huge mounds hiding a green deep below on the other side. Here’s a picture of me in the middle of the mounds looking down at the green. Another name for this hole is Dolly Parton (I’m serious). Don has been parring this hole recently, but I keep getting stuck in a huge bunker on the other side of the cleavage. Anyway, Don shot an 81 and I shot a – OH NO, FIRE DRILL!!!

Neighbours

Hey, I've just noticed your comments! I tried to reply, but I can't see my comments, so rest assured, I appreciate them. It's nice to hear voices from home.

Yesterday I wanted to shop, so knowing Don's disdain for that activity, I sent him golfing. He was only too happy to oblige. I found a cute little store around the corner where I bought a bunch of postcards. Then it was off to the Post Office for stamps, and home to compose.

I promised to introduce you to my neighbours. The first picture is of Jack (left) and Sam (right). They belong to Sally and Peter, the folks we're renting the cottage from. The next is their duck (we haven't been introduced yet, so I don't know his name. I'll call him Nigel).

The third are three of the birds that live across the street in a wildlife park. Their names are, starting from the top and going clockwise, Chris, Dwayne, and Bill.

Election (and golf)

It turns out there was no battle for the telly last night. I went to bed early after an exhausting day, and election results were still coming in at 9 a.m. this morning! There is fear of a “hung” parliament (minority government), but I don’t know why. It’s worked well for Harper for the last five years!

Yesterday we drove two hours north until we hit the North Atlantic and could go no further. The landscape was spectacular all the way up, along the northern coast, and back down again. We reached the northernmost golf course in Britain (Durness) at lunch. We ate a hearty Scottish lunch at a pub. Don, as usual, had the Scottish breakfast. In the picture, have a look at the egg; it’s sitting on a giant mushroom. Of course, included in the full breakfast is tea, coffee, or beer ;-). We decided to golf despite the fact that it was 11 Celcius and much colder with the wind chill. I had on about seven layers of clothing. This nine-hole course worked on the honour system. The clubhouse was open, but no one was inside. You just signed a book, left your money, and golfed. We were the only ones on the course! This was a course built in the middle of a sheep farm by three local men. As we hit our drives, the sheep and lambs would scatter. Our balls often landed in the middle of sheep poop. We had to step over the electric fencing around the greens in order to putt. I got a shock a couple of times, but that was because of my score, not the fence. The last hole was a par 3 over a cliff. Don hit it on the green, but I was so afraid of hitting it into the water that I almost hit the club house far to the right! Don shot a 40 and I shot a --- ooh, there’s the kettle. Gotta go!

I’m back. So after that amazing golf day we drove home a different route through the mountains. I was pretty chilled from those North Atlantic winds, but lo and behold, the Wonder Car had heated seats, so my butt was pretty happy. Don discovered that Wonder Car gets 50 miles per gallon (diesel), so he was pretty happy too.
Later today I’ll try to get some pictures of my neighbours. I think you’ll find them very interesting!

History

Here’s the most amazing thing I’ve seen so far: when it starts to rain, the rental car’s windshield wipers begin automatically. Do North American cars do this? I own a Cavalier and ’96 Astro Van, so such futuristic features are unknown to me. Hey, I’m still amazed by remote keyless entry.

I visited the museum here in Dornoch yesterday and found out more about my grandmother’s birthplace two miles from here--Embo. “Bo” is a Viking suffix that means “large farm.” Nearby are Skelbo and Skibo castles, the former a ruin but the latter a five-star hotel (Madonna got married there. There’s a whole section devoted to her in the museum!). Anyway, here’s a cool tale about the battle of Embo: Sigurd the Viking double-crossed Maelbrighte the Pict in AD 895, captured him, cut off his head, and strapped it to his saddle. While riding away in victory, Maelbrighte’s head bouncing to and fro, Malebrighte’s tooth pierced Sigurd’s leg. Sigurd got blood poisoning and died. Cool.

The telly here continues to intrigue me. Some of it is awful, but most of it is incredibly witty and entertaining. However, I know I’ll find it difficult to go back home and resume watching Corrie Street knowing what I know (Britain is nine months ahead with their episodes). I tried not to watch, but I caved.

The library is closed tomorrow, so I won’t be reporting again until Friday. There's a General Election here tomorrow, so Don, a political junkie, is excited. However, we only have one telly, so it may be the battle of Embo all over again.

p.s. Don shot an 82 today and I shot a [CENSORED].
I'll have some more pictures for you next time. I forgot my memory stick!!

The moment Don finally admits...

...that he's taken the wrong road.

Back on line

Here I am again! We arrived at our lovely stone cottage on Saturday, but discovered the town library was closed until Tuesday, and so had no Internet access until now.
Don, intending to get the full use of his golf membership at Tain, has been out every day. He will have paid for the membership after two more rounds, so the rest of the month is free. The courses here are very challenging—gorse bushes, heather, strong winds, walled bunkers—but he’s starting to figure them out. So far, he’s averaging about 6 strokes above his Ottawa Valley average, but he hopes to improve on that. I’d report my scores, but since space is limited on this blog, I’d better not.
Yesterday we visited Brora golf course. Here the greens are surrounded by invisible fencing to keep the sheep off. Otherwise, sheep and golfers share the fairways, and if your drive lands in a sheep pattie, tough luck! We stopped in at Golspie golf course for lunch where I partook of my favourite dish—sticky toffee pudding. (So you see, I need to play a four-hour game of golf in order to work off all this food!)
On the way back to Dornoch, we watched seals at the Loch Fleet nature reserve. Here are some pictures from the last few days: