August 28

The Cast of Characters:

Allan and Marian, Ann’s brother and sister-in-law are accompanying us in Scotland for two weeks. Ann’s sister, Mary, and brother-in-law, German, were not able to come along due to a last minute illness in the family. While here, we will visit Alistair and Judy on the Isle of Islay located off the west coast of Scotland (our friends for over 30 years), their daughter, Jane and her husband, Ian, living in Lenzie, near Glasgow. In Edinburgh, we will visit with Susie, their twins-pregnant other daughter, but not see her husband Pete who is away on business in London. Jane and Susie came from Scotland to spend summers with us in Bakersfield in 1983 (Jane), 1990 (Susie and Katherine) and again in 1991 (Susie).

We arose at 3:45 am and were out the door at 5:05 am. We boarded the plane after standing in long lines that moved quickly. After landing in Chicago and having lunch at the airport, we faced our first problem. We had been noticing that United Airlines was offering a seat they market as “Economy Plus” which provides five extra inches of legroom. Wow, five whole inches – big deal. Heck, we have been travelling to Europe over many years always purchasing Least Class seating since we love cramping legs and the aroma of the unwashed nearby. We have always had a problem with legroom but gotten by with it. It is never enough but we persevere because we are cheap, ok I am cheap. For this international seat, Chicago to London Heathrow, the cost was an extra $89 per person. That is the same as dining in a fantastic multi-star restaurant on our trip. We would rather splurge on a great meal instead of the extra five inches. We passed on this opportunity (scam?).

This was the first mistake of our trip. [I do anticipate many more before we return.] It took getting into our seats to realize where these extra five inches in Economy Extra actually came from – my seat! When we sat down, our knees nearly hit the seat in front of us. Crossing my legs was a major act of contortion. With the seats in front of us reclined, it was almost impossible to get out into the aisle. Never did $89 per person seem like such a small amount of money. Too late now though. It was obvious that United Airlines was in the business of increasing revenue any way imaginable.

The next example of cheapness in United Airlines came with the beverage service. Wine, beer and hard stuff were each $6 a pop. Never before had we ever paid for a glass of wine flying over the Atlantic. That was a shock but understandable. What was not understandable, but what was still a shock, was the meal service. Ravioli and some form of beef were the choices. I have been eating dinner for sixty years so I am somewhat of an authority on this. The food was poor, flavorless and sparse. It took airline food to another level – an even lower level than thought possible. Breakfast was so poor as to be unmentionable.

Ok, so what if my calves are cramping from lack of circulation and my stomach is growling, I am headed to Scotland and France for four weeks. I can handle this. I was not even particularly angry (It is tough economic times for airlines) - until we got on the British Midland Airlines shuttle flight from London Heathrow to Glasgow. There was so much legroom we could have danced a waltz in front of our seats and these were regular economy seats. This flight lasted only 55 minutes, unfortunately, since the one with no legroom that flight lasted eight hours!

August 29

At Heathrow Airport in London, while waiting for the shuttle to Glasgow at six am in a deserted waiting area, we happened upon an American couple also waiting but for the Edinburgh shuttle. They were from the Elmira, New York area and knew Joey Sindelar, a pro golfer acquaintance of ours. In fact, this man plays golf at Joey’s home golf course, Soaring Eagles Country Club. To add to this they knew of the Elbow Room in Elmira and its owner Billie Cox, also Ole Petersen’s first wife who is Tommy Hilfiger’s sister. It gets better. He was originally from Bellingham, Washington and went to the University of Washington. He found out I was a dentist. His wife’s father and grandfather were dentists. He and his wife are both librarians. I showed him that I was reading a library book, an obscure title: Mysteries of the Middle Ages. [Ironically, I NEVER read library books] He was quite pleased I used the library system. He had not only read that book but also asked if I had read others by that author. He had enjoyed them all. It gets even better. They were taking a tour of Scotland and had booked a Rick Steves’ tour. We said we had a friend, Ann Neel, who works with Rick at his office in Edmonds, Washington. I have never had so many connections with a person I had met for the first time at Heathrow Airport! We boarded our plane destined never to see this couple again.

Finally, we arrived at Glasgow Airport and stood in line to rent our previously booked 16-day rental through Alamo. First issue was that the car, Alamo said, was not scheduled to be picked up until the next day. I had changed the reservation the previous day due to Mary and German not coming along. The change order that I received by email10 seconds after pressing the button still had not arrived in Scotland two days later. Fortunately, I had my copy so that trumped everything else. After calling around they found a car suitable for us at Europcar Rental. The rental cost for this larger than usual, for us, mid-sized station wagon was to be $575 split two ways. Not bad. The car required mandatory insurance, they said. The total would be slightly over $2000!!!!!!!! That was almost 4 times the quoted price. I went round and round with rental agent lady saying I had a contract for the stated price. Yes, she said but you need insurance, it is mandatory. American auto insurance does not insure cars outside the US. Finally, exasperated, I said I had car rental insurance through my Visa Business card. OK, that was fine then. The car rental was the stated $575 after all. Tempest in a teapot but adrenalin was now coursing through my body. I was no longer as tired as I was five minutes ago.

Off we drove to Jane and Ian’s house in Lenzie, just outside Glasgow, for the night. We spent the afternoon with Jane and later her son, 11-year-old Fraser. When Jane left to be “taxi mom” for four hours, we took a walk around central Lenzie (a small village). After an hour and a half nap to rejuvenate us, Ian and the girls came home – Rachael 9 and Kirsten 7. Rachael is about the same age Laurel was when Jane spent the summer with us in 1983. All three of their children were a delight to be around, bright, interested, interesting and politely verbal. Fraser, without much success, attempted to teach me the rules of his favorite sport, rugby. This dumb American just couldn’t comprehend the intricacies of the sport Fraser plays for his school. Ever tried explaining baseball to a Scot: Same result.

We began a true Scottish meal – a couple of beers followed by two and a half bottles of wine. Oh, we had something to eat also, I think. Actually, the meal menu included whole prawns on a green salad with small shrimp in a Marie Rose sauce, Coq au Vin, broccoli and a Pavlova for dessert. Who says Scottish food is uninteresting. But then again this was not traditional Scottish fare, was it? Jane is a very good cook.

Ian is a hoot to be with; Jane is the still the wonderful girl we met 25 years ago. Off we went to bed at the late (?) hour of 9:45 to sleep until after 8:00 the next morning. We were restored. Our trip could now begin in earnest thanks to the Cannon’s taking in these poor, tired, hungry travelers for the night.

August 30

Today, after a breakfast of three instant coffees for wake-up stimulation and a bacon roll, we were ready to pick up Allan and Marian in the afternoon for the true beginning of our adventure. I must digress and discuss a bacon roll. This just might be the perfect breakfast. Three or so pieces of fried English bacon are placed on a soft roll called a bap. However, since bacon apparently does not have the requisite amount of fat for Scottish folk, butter is spread onto the roll. Real butter. This is a delightful way to begin the day!

After Jane took us into the center of Glasgow, George Square, to get our Heritage passes, we stopped at a Sainsbury Supermarket to get food for breakfast (and dinner tonight if A&M are not able to stay awake for a dinner at a restaurant after their flight from LA). Jane and Ian called a friend of theirs who used to be a chef in Stirling (where we are staying) and gave us the name of a restaurant he recommended. We booked for 7:00 pm (or 19:00 as it is called here).

We will spend the first week at the Coach House in Stirling. Ann and I drove out to the house before picking up A&M to see it and drop off the food we bought. This is a one-year-old purpose built self-catering house. It is located halfway between Glasgow and Edinburgh about twenty minutes north of their midpoint. With German and Mary not able to make the trip, the house is VERY roomy. Our house is very well appointed – just outstanding - great job finding it, Ann. What we have is a four bedroom, three-bath house, a large lounge with three leather sofas and a 42 inch plasma TV, huge kitchen, dining area, and an upstairs lounge with another TV. The house is located on a working farm, Cowden Farm. Gavin, the owner was harvesting wheat with a small combine as we arrived. Linzi, his wife, was the person Ann has been corresponding with by email for the past six months. We find ourselves surrounded on all four sides with fields of ripe, golden wheat. Off the motorway, then off a minor road, we take a single-track road for about a mile through rural fields to the house. As isolated as we are here, we are less than 5 minutes from the motorway. Stirling Castle, located on a high outcropping of volcanic rock just past a hill outside our door, dominates our valley.

After driving back to Glasgow Airport, we picked up Allan and Marian right on schedule. Showing them the house, we all decided we could live here for more than a week.

Dinner was at the recommended restaurant, Hermann’s, one block from Stirling Castle in a 17th century manor house. Although the meal for the four of us was very nice – white table clothes, etc, four fish entrees, three glasses of wine (I was driving) and one dessert totaled $170. Ouch. I do not think this will be a regular event on our tour. Although a surcharge might have been added for us being loud Americans. Yes, the locals stared at our laughing – a lot. I would have been embarrassed but we, as Americans, do have a stereotype to maintain, don’t we?

August 31

Rain was the dominant theme for the day. TV Scotland gave a dire forecast for anyone wishing decent weather. Undaunted we headed to Stirling Castle. Possibly the finest castle in all of Scotland, we spent the entire morning there taking a tour from a passionate guide and thus learning much more than we ever thought possible about Scotland, William Wallace (or as Scots now call him - Mel Gibson), Robert the Bruce and the James kings of Scotland in one morning. Heck the tour guide even touched on Bonnie Prince Charlie and the Jacobite Revolution. Gosh, are we now smart!

With the weather closing in we headed to the Trossachs. This is a mountain range and national park north and west of us beginning about 10 miles up our road. The beauty of the fresh water lochs and mountains would have been stunning. Instead, it was as it should be seen. Misty clouds, drizzle and cool weather making the afternoon a perfect Scottish day. We walked along the shore of Loch Katrine where mountains descend straight down into the water much like a small Norwegian fjord.

For lunch we found a pub on the shores of Loch Earn in the town of Lochearnhead. Four ales, bangers and mash, fish and chips, salmon, and chicken curry filled us each to the gills for half the price of the previous evening. When we arrived home, it was time for whisky and shortbread. Then another whisky. Then another piece of shortbread…

Our first day was a true success. A great time was had by all.

September 1

This day dawned rainless with bright, partly overcast skies but blue showing through. A low fog is dotting several areas of the valley, hanging only a few feet above the ground. On the hillsides, the clouds are hanging down from the sky like normal fog almost to ground level. It is amazingly beautiful looking out our windows over the calm fields of wheat. I am enjoying this – a lot.

We have arrived back from our trip today to the Kingdom of Fife. Allan took the controls and drove our Skoda to St. Andrews. He has driven on the “wrong” side of the road when living in Japan. He though the idea of a manual transmission was a cruel joke though. Shifting with the left hand is just plain odd. I was truly impressed; Allan did a superior job. If driving did not take so much attention away from sightseeing, I would have him drive all the time. To keep it all in the family, when I drive Ann navigates in the shotgun position. When Allan drives, Marian navigates. If we do not do it this way, I would be divorcing Marian, and Allan would be divorcing Ann. That is just wrong. You cannot divorce your sibling can you, Laurel?

We walked through the Old Course at St. Andrews, St. Andrews Cathedral ruins, and St. Andrews Castle ruins. The weather was brilliant blue skies, drenching rain, brilliant blue skies, drizzle, and grey overcast, beautiful white fluffy clouds. As the weatherman said today, “We will have a diversity of autumn weather.” Amazingly, this was a correct weather diagnosis for once!

After St. Andrews, we drove down to the East Neuk of Fife to four quaint fishing villages along the coast on the Firth of Forth: Crail, Anstruther, Pittenweem and St. Monans. I have a new most hated village ever in the East Neuk of Fife: St. Monans. As I was driving up the steep hill from the harbor, I met a nice woman driving DOWN the single-track road toward me in a huge Land Rover. Stalemate. I drove into a parking area so she could pass me. Of course, SHE wanted to drive into the same parking area but I was blocking her. I began to back up down the hill. But the idiot behind me decided to pass me (Remember, this is a single-track road) at the exact moment I began backing up to get out of the parking area. I almost hit him. However, he continued to pass me (I have no idea how) and drove into the SAME parking area I was in and the downhill lady wished to get into. After seeing this, the downhill lady began backing up the hill laughing at me the whole way, to a point where I could pass her. Unfortunately, this road led into a dead end requiring a turnabout: The ultimate insult.

At home, it was a dinner of fresh pasta and sauce cooked by the ladies with a green salad, baguette and a Spanish Rioja for drinking. This was a great meal well within our budget!

September 2

Today we slept in a little since we are heading to Glasgow for the day. There is no need to drive in during the morning rush hour commute. Unfortunately, Allan is not feeling well today. He will be staying home this day and will miss the golf with Ian and dinner at Jane and Ian’s house this evening.

After picking up some medications for Allan at Sainsbury’s supermarket, Ann, Marian and I drove into Glasgow. We went to the beautiful Glasgow University, visiting several museums. I dropped off the ladies at Kelvingrove, another museum, to drive out of Glasgow back to Lenzie, alone, to meet Ian for golf. Driving on the wrong side of the road, shifting with my left hand, without a navigator, through thee center of a major foreign city was daunting. But, in the immortal words of Miss Eloise, our granddaughter, “I did it”.

The golf was perfect. Ian and I played a two-ball (meaning just two of us played together). We went around in three hours walking. The Lenzie Golf Club Course was built onto the side of a hill with some “mountain climbing” required to get from tees to greens. It seemed like every hole was up hill until we finished at the same place we started so I guess some holes had to be downhill but I hardly remember them. Ian defeated me 3 and 2. He is a 7 handicap I am a 9. Playing with golf clubs of Ian’s friend at a course I had only played once before eight years ago, I held my own. Ian has played at this club since he began golf some thirty years ago. I think he didn’t have his “game face” on in the match.

After golf, we went home back to the Jane and Ian’s and called Allan. He was feeling better so Ian drove as he and I went back the 20 minutes to the Coach House in Stirling to pick him up. We were all so happy that he was able to join us for dinner. On a personal note, I was happy he came: He would be the designated driver back home after dinner. I was able to enjoy the wines and port during dinner.

The six of us had a wonderful visit and dinner. Allan presented Ian and Jane with a very fine bottle of Napa’s finest. A roast leg of lamb was the main course with peas, carrots, broccoli, cauliflower, and roasted and scalloped potatoes. The shrimp salad before and the fruit covered with chocolate sauce after still did not complete the meal. Then the cheese board and port came. Oh, and red and white wine, was, of course, poured during the meal.

Thanking Jane and Ian profusely, Allan then drove us home and we fell into bed.

September 3

Off to Ayrshire. First, we needed petrol. We headed to the gas station at the Sainsbury supermarket. Making sure to fill up with diesel, Allan and I stood there amazed at how fast the counter clicked one pound after another (each pound was about $2). It showed two pounds, then seven pounds, thirteen pounds, nineteen pounds, thirty pounds, forty-five pounds. Finally, it came to a merciful rest at £53, which was $100 for about 10 Imperial gallons. From my ciphering that came out to about $8 a US gallon for the diesel.

We began talking to another customer buying petrol who was from Stirling. Allan asked him a question. “If our gas prices in America rose by $2.00 why, in the same time, did British gas prices increase in price by $5.00?” The man went into a dissertation of Britain’s taxes. Allan was not impressed since that really did not answer the question. If their price went up $5 that means taxes increased by over $3 on that gallon. Really? I think not. The man also told us that if we were in a place with no petrol stations open, go into a grocery store and buy cooking oil. It will work. I think petrol stations are probably open later than grocery stores here but I am just a foreigner.

The tour today was to Burns country to educate ourselves about Robbie Burns, the poet laureate of Scotland. We saw an old thatched cottage (his birthplace), a bridge (the Brig o’Doon of his writing), and a tourist info/souvenir shop all in a driving rain. After a soggy time there, we went to Culzean Castle on the shores of the Firth of Clyde. Back through the evening rush hour commute got us home at 7 pm. Dinner was cheese, crackers, cereal, wine and whisky followed by some inane UK telly.

September 4

To the Borders today. No, not the bookstore but the border area with England. Heading south, we traveled into Sir Walter Scott country. On the way to our destination, we made two stops. Roslyn Chapel, I think it was mentioned in The Di Vinci Code, was first. The ancient chapel had a metal roof superstructure built over the entire building. Apparently, it was crumbling due to the constant wetness (Really?). For this visual abomination, the entry fee was $15 per person and not free on our $118 Heritage Pass so we passed. The second stop was to the oldest continually inhabited house in Scotland, Traquir House. It was not a wooden house with a thatched roof but rather a manor house of no small size.

Out in back was a huge hedge maze eight feet high and a quarter mile from start to the center requiring an hour and a half to complete (or so it says). Yes, Marian decided to enter into the abyss on her own. After only a few minutes, she was hopelessly ensnared. She would jump up with her hand in the air. We were in an elevated place and could just see a hand popping up and disappearing. This was the only way to attempt giving her directions. It was certainly the blind leading the blind. She got close to the start and I went in – very carefully. We met and got out.

Heading onward we attacked the abbeys of Dryburgh and Jedburgh only to find them already in ruins. Apparently, we missed the height of their influence by only about 500 years. Dryburgh Abbey was founded on a grant by “great-grandfather”, Hugh de Morville in the early 1100s. Both abbeys were spectacular and well worth the trip.

Allan drove the 90 minutes down there and I drove the 90 minutes back. My new “issue du jour” is with the speed cameras found throughout the UK. Ian told us he received a $90 “dunning” for being caught at 34 mph in a 30 mph area. The one and only nice part is that there is always a sign telling you that there is a camera area approaching – somewhere up ahead – or maybe not. I feel I am at a disadvantage since the locals know the exact location of where these cameras are. The speed of the flow of traffic is regulated by the local’s knowledge of the location these cameras. If no local is driving near me, I have to drive the speed limit or lower. This is not always my driving style. I have not seen every camera so am sure some of these “automated coppers” have nicked me. On a related subject, our full sized Czech-made Skoda station wagon with four people in it is getting over 45 mpg (imperial gallon) so about high 30s mpg American!

Lunch was at the Dryburgh Abbey Hotel where Alistair and Judy had their 40th Anniversary party several years ago. This is an old, elegant hotel adjacent to the Abbey’s ruins. Allan, Marian and I had smoked salmon sandwiches, with tea, of course. Ann had cheese and chutney. Marian and I have had this outstanding meal the last two lunches. Marian’s new passions are smoked salmon sandwiches and scones, scones, scones. There is no shortage of either in this country.

As we drove back into Stirling on the M9 motorway, the evening sunlight bathing the castle on the escarpment was brilliant. We drove around to find the perfect camera shot for Allan and his 400mm lens. Then we made it home for cheese, crackers and the ubiquitous whisky and wine followed by a well-deserved, welcoming bed. The weather today had been beautiful, dry and warm.

September 5

The weather forecast for our day in Edinburgh today will be interesting: Nice until about 2 pm then wind and heavy rain. We are driving to Susie’s in-laws unused house to park very near Edinburgh center, meet Susie and bus into downtown. We met at the agreed spot but not the first time. We whiffed the Murrayfield Hotel meeting spot because the construction for the new tram blocked the sign for the hotel. We called Susie who explained what apparently happened, we turned around, met her and parked the car. Whew.

Susie hailed a taxi instead and the five of us climbed in heading for central Edinburgh. The taxi drove to a point about a mile from the Royal Mile. We walked to Susie’s favorite place, Pete’s, for a cup of well-deserved coffee. Allan and Ann had lattes, Marian had a cappuccino and I had black coffee. They thought the coffees were some of the best they had ever tasted. My black coffee was staggeringly strong - and I like coffee strong. Copious amounts of sugar and milk tamed the beast enough to drink. Allan and Marian had immediately recognized Susie when we met. She and he sister Katherine had spent a weekend with them in Irvine when they lived there in 1990. After about an hour of conversation and reminiscing it was time to get to the business of tourism.

Shopping on the main tourist street, the Royal Mile, in the late morning, Susie then led us to the restaurant where she had booked a table for lunch at half twelve (12:30). She left since she could not take all day off as she was taking next Friday off to fly to Islay to be with us next weekend at Alistair and Judy’s.

For lunch at the Outsider, I had a chilli [sic] burger and chips. Why not? Since our friends the Brennans are always in search of the perfect burger, I thought I would try a Scottish twist on this All-American delicacy. For John and Lisa: This was the best burger I have ever had - Gruyere cheese, huge Scottish Angus beef patty, hot chilis in the meat and a sweet red chili sauce over the meat with the perfect bun. The fries were better than McDonalds, who even Julia Child, that famous French cuisine expert, says are the best.

After that gut-busting meal, we headed UP to Edinburgh Castle. As we reached the top of the castle at Margaret’s Chapel, built in the early 1100s, the dreaded weather hit. The wind howled, the rain came down and life was difficult. We spent most of our time inside the castle rooms fortunately.

Since it was raining and very windy we went into the restaurant Susie had suggested for dinner even though it was only 5:30 (we weren’t hungry yet). We were advised not to try to leave Edinburgh on a Friday evening until after 7 pm due to excessive commute congestion. In the restaurant, Le Sept, we met the perfect French waiter/owner except he only acted French – rude. First, we were told we could only have the table until 7 pm, if not eating, then he told Marian he did not want her wet coat on his seat. It was covered with vinyl! This would have almost been understandable if he were not dressed in Levis and a faded, ratty golf shirt. Oh, and he had not shaved for a while. And he was about 50 years old, overweight and had the attitude of a condescending jerk. We left well before 7 pm – as soon as the rain let up a little.

Hailing a taxi back to the car in the rain and traffic congestion was expensive. We watched as the $10 on the meter doubled as we remained motionless for 15 minutes only 10 blocks from where we parked the car. If it were not pounding rain at this time we would have gotten out and walked. We drove home to Stirling. Now we were hungry. In town we found a bar/pub called the Outback. It was Aussie themed but the only thing Aussie was the Fosters Beer they had. It was now almost 9 pm on a Friday night in a local, not tourist, pub and nobody in the world gets drunk better or faster than a Scot on a weekend. Everyone was well on their way to oblivion. The four of us pushed and shoved locals to get to a table in the back. Ordering the pints at the bar, I asked the barmaid if they served food (I had found a menu) and she had to ask another barmaid. This was not a good sign! Long story short, it was a fantastic meal among loud, singing, spilling drunks. Enough for one day, we fell into bed for the last night at the Coach House.

September 6

We left the Coach House to sadness and tears (not really) but it was a wonderful week. Our first stop was at Pitlochry, a woolen mill town for coffee, good coffee. A little shopping and we were on our way to Blair Castle. This is a beautiful white castle on vast grounds. The castle has thirty rooms open. As we made our way through them, I realized that after ten rooms there was not much new to see. It was a beautiful castle though. Lunch there and off to the Whisky Trail.

We spent so much time at the castle so Allan had to put the “pedal to the metal” to get us to Dufftown before Glenfiddich Distillery closed at 4:30. We rolled into town at 4:15 and caught the last tour. Four others joined the four of us. That was the entire tour. This was certainly not a summer month! Afterward we sampled their product. Marian not being a whisky drinker (she can get the wine down with ease though) threw back the single malt and then the whisky liqueur. Both were delightful. Marian and Ann both bought the liqueur that is not available in the States.

Dinner was at the Taste of Speyside restaurant. Carol and her husband, Sandy, run the place. Since Marian said she would try haggis if I ordered it as an appetizer, I had to call her bluff. I got it and we both ate it. It was surprisingly good, made by the local butcher. I think this is an upscale version of the traditional oats, lungs, heart, and liver cooked in a sheep’s stomach variety. Allan and Marian had wild Atlantic salmon Ann and I had Angus beef. After we finished, Sandy, the chef, came out and talked to us. Ann got into a good-natured argument about Atlantic vs. Pacific salmon. I don’t think either argument “won” though.

September 7

Alan of the Tannochbrae B&B served us breakfast. Again, I will digress: Alan with one “l” is a forename (first name) while with “ll” it is a surname (last name). Poor Allan has had a last name for a first name his entire life. So now he realizes that his name, Allan Ross Goodman, is made up of three last names. Breakfast was the majestic, famous English fry-up. I had toast, juice, fried eggs, sausage, bacon and warm tomato halves. This can get one started for a morning of almost anything. For us it was driving to Culloden Battlefield first off.

Snag in the plans! Marian is not feeling well, did not sleep last night and apparently has the dreaded Allan-her-husband’s virus from Stirling, which will incapacitate her for 24 hours and leave her ready to travel well again. She was so quiet in the back seat we thought we had left her in Dufftown.

We stopped off at the Culloden Battlefield. Ann and I had been there in 1971. It was only a moor where a battle was fought against the British in 1746 when we last visited. Today it is a multi-media historical happening in a huge building opened just over four months ago. I learned more about this one-hour battle in the one hour there than I imagined possible. From the Scottish Jacobite side and the British side the events leading up to, during and after the battle were vividly explained. The finale was a huge horizontal video screen say 5’x12’ which ran a computer simulated movement of troops in the battle showing the terrain with an audio description as events played out. This was an outstanding time well spent. All this for the final battle fought against the British. One in which the Scots were soundly trounced. Apparently, the Scots are celebrating the agony of defeat. Or the English showing their triumph.

Lunch was for once NOT a loud embarrassing event for the three of us. Without Marian, we three were as quiet in the restaurant as were the well-mannered British tables. Marian was asleep in the back seat of the car out in parking lot the whole time.

After many more hours spent driving than anticipated, we arrived on the Isle of Skye. Now we only needed to get to our B&B, Carters Rest. The day had turned warm and sunny after a windy cold morning at Culloden. We drove across the island on a winding two-lane road. Then we hit the town of Dunvegan. From there to our B&B we drove on 10 miles of twisting, turning, up and down single track roads with turnouts for passing. Finally, we arrived.

I wished a unique experience for A&M and booked this place at the furthest point west on the Isle of Skye from the bridge. Here are some words to describe it: rural, sparse, lonely, windy, beautiful, awesome, and unforgettable. The B&B is two years old and in magnificent condition. We look out our window to see the Isle of Uist in the Outer Hebridean Islands. This is a special place, possibly the most romantic, remote location imaginable.

Ann and I went out to a restaurant in Dunvegan ten miles (30 minutes each way on the single track road) away for dinner while Allan stayed home with poor Marian. We went to the only place in this remote part of Skye open on a Sunday night. The food was edible but straight out of the freezer. It was filling but lacking in inspiration - much like the hotel where it was located. We brought home two cheese and tomato sandwiches for A&M.

September 8

We arose to an overcast but dry day on the Isle of Skye. In the breakfast room Betty, the owner, served breakfast cooked by her husband Freddie. Out on this remote place on a remote Scottish island these two have opened a B&B with every convenience imaginable. Freddie was in the hotel industry before “retiring”. There is a major binocular telescope on a tripod for spotting. On the distant Isle of Uist, merely a shadow on the horizon, a village of white houses can be seen in the scope. All TVs in the lounge and in the rooms are high definition. Each room has a laptop computer with high-speed wireless. But best of all are the personalities of these lovely, sometimes sarcastic to me, owners. I spilled my orange juice on the first morning and heard about it, in good-natured ribbing, until we left two days later!

Back to the breakfast. We sit at one of the three tables (there are only three B&B rooms) looking out over the end of a sea loch, past the end of Skye toward the Outer Hebrides. I don’t think it is possible to have a more lovely view. Oh yes, and the breakfast was outstanding. Bacon sausage, tomatoes, eggs from their chickens out front, porridge, juice, toast and perfect coffee. Marian even had scrambled eggs with slices of smoked salmon one morning. Apparently she is back to full strength now.

Our first adventure this morning was Neist lighthouse on Neist Point. We drove three miles from the B&B and parked the car. From there it was a nice little mile walk to and another mile back. Let me explain this “little walk”. On the promontory where we parked, the lighthouse and point are down a hill then up a hill then down. In this desolate place the trail is asphalt fortunately. Beginning the walk down the hill (actually descending down across the face of cliff), the trail is so steep there are steps. I counted the steps to the bottom of the cliff – well over 200. From there a long walk across a sloping meadow to again climb up and around the point to get to the lighthouse.

On the way back, the climb UP the steps was a thigh-burner. I was puffing like a steam engine by the time I scaled the last step - a nice morning constitutional. I wanted to go back to bed. Instead, we drove back to Carters Rest B&B to walk down to what can only be described as a fishing village in the most liberal sense of the term. This is true old Scotland at its best. Since A&M like Skye, I am sure they will like the completely different nature of the Isle of Islay tomorrow.

Feeling very healthy but tired, we drove to Portree (Port Righ in Gallic if you care). This is the “big town” of the island. It takes an hour to get there from our B&B. It is not many miles, either. Wow, tourist. Well a few since this is the tourist place on Skye.

For dinner Freddie booked us into the Old Schoolhouse Restaurant in Dunvegan for eight o’clock. The food was of the highest quality, prepared with care by a chef who knows his stuff. Allan and I had an entrée I had never tried before - pheasant. “It tasted like chicken” as the joke goes. A bottle of Chilean sauvignon blanc washed this fine meal down. Driving back was Allan’s job. Now comfortable with the wrong way driving and the left handed gear shift a new challenge awaited him: Driving in the pitch black darkness of NO lights whatsoever except his headlights. It was easier though since he knew when a car was coming on this wee road for miles.

September 9

Today was a traveler’s hell. We knew this was to be a long day on the road but this was absurd. Freddie talked us out of taking the ferry off the south of the island and suggested we go back the way we came – across the bridge. We had the Islay ferry to catch at 6 pm. This two-and-a-half hour ferry was the last of the day. Leaving the house at 9am, we arrived at the ferry dock at 4:30pm, disembarked from the ferry at 8:45pm, and arrived at the Rosses’ house at 9pm, a 12-hour trip.

Actually all went quite well until we got on the 60 car Islay ferry (with only about 20 cars today). Although the weather was mild, this was the day that the former hurricane Gustav (I think) headed north from America across the Atlantic south of Iceland and is now sweeping upon the shores of Scotland. No problem occurred until we passed the Isle of Gigha and hit open water. Waves crashed over the ships bow as it rose and fell into the water. This was accompanied by a continual roll - left and right. Ann was the first to succumb, heading to the head to spend the next hour praying to the god of porcelain. Marian was next but she went outside into the teeth of the gale force winds to try to “hold it all together”. She withstood all the storm could give her but not without discomfort. Allan and I were fine drinking Talisker, a fine Isle of Skye single malt.

Finally, we reached Islay and were out of the wind. Off the ship, we drove to Alistair and Judy’s home, Benbhragghie, for a well-deserved Bruichladdich single malt then another. Ann and Marian did not imbibe but water satisfied them. We finished the day without a dinner but nobody seemed to mind. We crossed the patio and entered our house, Dunedin, for our stay on Islay. Dunedin is a three-bedroom two-bath house with a living room, full kitchen and a study adjacent to the Rosses’ main house.

Seeing Alistair and Judy was so comfortable. They are wonderful hosts, delightful conversationalists, and island folk living large but subtle if that makes any sense. Allan and Marian were immediately their new friends, family actually, since they are relatives of Ann and Allan’s father, Big Al.

September 10

I got up this morning but we had no coffee maker. We brought coffee with us but that was of little value. This is a serious concern since coffee is my drug of choice in the morning. Tea, the usual drink here, is not the proper vehicle for sufficient delivery of the drug caffeine. So, off I went to forage in downtown Bowmore.

Downtown Bowmore is just down School Street and past the Bowmore distillery from our house. The distance is not measured in minutes but steps and there are not many to get there. There cannot be 25 shops at the crossroads of Main and School Streets, which encompass the total of the business “district”. One thing became apparent immediately: No stores were open at 8:00am. Back I went to have a cuppa (that being tea) at the house.

Alistair took Allan and me to the Machrie Golf Course for a round of true Scottish golf. The Machrie is the most true links course imaginable. On the shore of the sea loch, Lochindaal, it is built amid the sand dunes and sea grasses. There is not a tree for miles to break the wind. This course defines all that is not fair in golf. Blind tee shots on some holes, blind approach shots on others. In fact, some holes have blind tee shots AND blind approach shots. To add to this the wind was blowing at 30-35 mph sustained. I have never played in a wind this strong. The occasional rain was also a nice touch coming down at a 45 degree angle and feeling like sleet as it hit us due to the wind speed.

I hit a 5 iron into the wind, normally a 175 yard shot, and it went only 92 yards and it was hit flush. On the 18th tee I ripped a tee shot straight down the center of the fairway. Before the ball reached its apex, the crosswind caressed my ball. Holding it gently the wind took it slowly at first then more rapidly to the left of the fairway, then across the first cut of rough then into the grass then well into the deep sea grass and ferns. I walked over and shook Alistair’s hand conceding defeat 1 up. Allan played very well in these very non Southern California conditions. He now knows what REAL golf is like.

Dinner was at the Rosses. The oral invitation was “drinks at 6:15 and the conservatory door will be open so you don’t have to come all the way around the house”. Yes, the wind was still howling to such a degree that Alistair didn’t want the “ladies” to have their hair too mussed. What a guy.

Whisky and red wine were served in the lounge before tea (dinner). The red wine was Clancey’s, an Australian Merlot/Cab blend. It was outstanding. A&M gave a bottle of the same wine as he gave Ian and Jane plus some almonds. We gave them assorted, flavored hazel nuts from our Redmond Saturday Market grower/vendor. A 2002 red from Matthews Cellars in Woodinville and a Syrah from the Columbia Valley completed the gifting.

Dinner: a starter of individual smoked haddock, baked with a cheese cream sauce. Entrée was a steak pie, only the best cut of meat, with a perfect flaky crust. Sides were Alistair’s potatoes, broccoli, peas and turnips. Dessert was a rhubarb crumble with ice cream and fruit served with the first French sauterne I had ever tasted. Oh such a delicious, true Scottish meal it was.

After dinner we saw the video of A&J’s 40th anniversary party at the Dryburgh Abbey Hotel. We had had lunch there last week. A nice connection. We heard the toasts, the roast and images of people we had met over the past 28 years. I am sure it was not as heart-warming to A&M as it was for us.

September 11

Both Alistair and Judy are off to Gasgow today. Alistair for a Western Ferries board meeting. He is the chairman of that ferry company. His son Gordon is the CEO. Alistair had set us up with an appointment for a tour at the Bowmore Distillery at 10 am. The four of us walked directly across the one lane street to the visitor’s center. Alistair had set us up so we were to leave the public tour near the end and meet with Alina’s son, the associate distillery manager, David Turner. Alina is the Rosses’ housekeeper. It is all in the family here in Islay.

The public tour does not get into the cask room where the whisky is matured in barrels. We met David outside the door to that warehouse and went in as the rest of the tour was led off by the guide to have a dram of Bowmore whisky. It is so nice to be treated special.

First we sampled a 64% alcohol whisky with no color since it was drawn straight from the stills – called low wine. That is 128 proof moonshine. It burned anything it touched and it touched my lips, tongue, throat and empty stomach – more than once to be sure. One big ouch all the way down followed by another. I am such an idiot. To our surprise and amazement, David pulled the corks from several maturing casks and used a “villein “ to withdraw the raw maturing whisky. He took the product from the tube, the wine thief as we would call it, and poured it into glasses. The second and third were more mature whisky and in different types of casks – one was bourbon (Jim Beam used the barrel first) and the other a sherry cask from Spain used for that purpose first. Both had been matured for 15 years. We were to sample the real stuff! Although we only had a few sips, this was powerful cask-strength nectar and when we left, Allan and I both had a little buzz going. As we left, David was pouring the remains in the glasses back into the casks. Never waste a drop. I appreciated that. It was impossible to drink all he poured and still live to see the next distillery.

One good distillery deserves another so off we went to Ardbeg for lunch at their restaurant. Then we went to Lagavulin, then to Laphroaig. Laphroaig is one of my least favorite single malts using much too much peat in the distillation process. We weren’t planning on tasting after lunch but just buying the etched logo glass at each distillery. The young woman serving at Laphroaig asked me if I liked their product when I walked into the gift shop/tasting room. I honestly said no as it had too much peat for me, unbalancing the flavors and aroma. She pulled out their 15-year-old bottle and poured a fair dram for Allan and me. It was much better than the cheaper 10 year old. Then she gave us both a sleeve of their logoed golf balls when I mentioned we played at the Machrie yesterday. Now I like Laphroaig (the expensive 15 year old) but only because of this very cute ambassador for their whisky.

The rest of the afternoon was spent exploring the town of Bowmore. At Ardbeg, earlier for lunch, we had baguette sandwiches that turned out to be gigantic: Allan and I had a baguette of shrimp in Marie Rose sauce, excellent. Marian had a Herbie baguette: ham and cheese, just as good. Ann had a cheese and tomato toastie. To wash it down, Allan and I tried a new experience, Islay ale. Again very nice.

Ann and Marian served Pasta carbonara at our house for dinner.

September 12

Today was another get out and see something day. Aren’t they all? First off, we visited Ann’s favorite place to shop, the Islay Woolen Mill. This is an active wool fabric looming shop using Islay sheep’s wool. The owner, Gordon Covell, gave us a tour of his mid 19th century stone building and the period machinery. The old loom was in action this morning creating an amazing amount metal on metal clanking and crashing. The sound echoed from the thick stone walls of the building seeming to engulf us in pure noise. Of course, the owner knew Alistair and Judy. I guess everyone here does. The tour of the facility from this chatty Welsh tartan maker was a delight.

We then headed next to Finlaggan, the ancient home of the Lords of the Isles, the ancestors of the clan MacDonald. This is now a ruin on an island in Loch Finlaggan reached through a wooden walkway through the marsh. We were the only people there but the midges and wasps in the swamp area discouraged Ann and Marian so we left.

With the next stop Bunnahabhain Distillery, none of us were too upset about leaving Finlaggan. Getting there is exciting since the only access is by a single-track road with huge distillery trucks sharing our winding road. We had a nice chat with the young lady who opened the reception and gift shop for us. Casually but with purpose I mentioned that we were staying with our friend Alistair Ross, she immediately pulled out two bottles and gave us a tasting of their product. Since we received tours at Glenfiddich and Bowmore we now know enough so we could make our own whisky. We are now way too cool to take these “tourist tours”. We four are so much above the level of general tourists here in Scotland! Or so we think…

Our next stop, our sixth distillery on Islay, was Caol Ila (Coal-eela). A tasting of their 18 year old was offered there also. Then to Brigend Hotel for a late sandwich since we were going out to dinner at 8 with the Rosses and Susie.

After coming home and putting our feet up for a rest, we were off to Margaret and Islay Campbell’s house for drinks prior to the taxi picking us up. Islay Campbell was the distillery manager at Bowmore after Alistair moved to the head office of Stanley Morrison in Glasgow, the parent company of Bowmore Whisky. Islay’s pour of whisky is, as it was in 2000 when we were there, a fair measure – exactly like Alistair’s. That means a large glass is filled half way, at least, with the whisky, then water to fill the glass to the top. After a lovely hour with the Campbells, we got into our taxi for the ride around to the other side of Lochindaal to the tinier town of Bruichladdich.

With Susie, Alistair, and Judy there were seven of us in the party for dinner. It was a wonderful dinner. The food was excellent as were the four bottles of very nice wine. Allan and I split the $560 bill. By that time in the night we were in no condition to complain about the bill. Heck, we loved every dollar of it, one of the finest evenings imaginable. At least until we get the credit card bill next month! Since Alistair and Judy are allowing us the use of their house, it was the least we could do. Alistair was surprised we paid, as he did not plan for that to happen. Not often does one beat Alistair at anything.

September 13

This day we needed to complete the distillery adventure. With two more, we will have visited all eight of the distilleries on Islay. Marian and Ann did a fry up for breakfast of bacon, eggs and toast. We then set off for Bruichladdich Distillery and the new farm distillery at Kilchoman. Kilchoman is not bottling yet. The first bottling will be in 2011. The product is aging in their casks now.

Allan and Marian leave today on the 3:30 ferry from Port Askaig, taking the car and driving to Glasgow airport. Spending the night at a hotel adjacent to the airport, they take off for America at 6am the following day. We needed to get the distilleries done and be back to our Dunedin House by 2:00.

Back at the house, A&M did last minute packing and took off for the ferry. Alistair, Ann and I followed in the Rosses’ car to see them off or as Alistair said to make sure they left! I know I will miss them. It was delightful sharing Scotland and the Ross Family with them. They were invited back anytime as family and I am sure they will take Alistair up on the offer.

For dinner I barbecued a fillet steak, as it is called here not Fillet Mignon as we say, with wrapped bacon and vegetable kabobs. The excitement of the evening was Alistair opening two bottles of 1987 red claret from the Pomerol region adjacent to St-Emilion, where we will be spending the last days of our trip. That was a perfect complement to a quiet evening in.

September 14

Up this morning for church at 10 am. We attended Alistair and Judy’s church. It is located at the top of the hill at the highest point of the town looking straight down the street through the four-block town to the little harbor. The Round Church of Killarow was constructed in the round - so the devil will have no place to hide. A lay reader led the service from the Church of Scotland. The Church has no minister at present, as the Church of Scotland needs about 90 ministers to fill all of its needs. In addition lightning recently struck the church directly and blew out the church organ’s electrical system rendering it inoperable. What kind of sign does it signify when thunderbolts are sent from the heavens to harm a church? Tough times for the Round Church built in 1768. Oddly, we sang five hymns and all were written by writers born in the 1700s. Rock of Ages was included today - yea. Talk about your traditional service…

After church, Alistair and I picked up Islay Campbell for a round of golf again at the Machrie. Although the wind was less severe than Thursday, it was not less by much. Fortunately, there was no rain during play; it was due at 3pm and arrived on time. It is just plain exhausting playing in such windy conditions. I did not play my best by a long shot losing many balls in the knee high rough. Before the round, I told Alistair I would be leaving the remaining balls from the dozen I brought. So, for each ball lost I wasn’t losing my balls anymore, I was losing HIS! When we dropped off Islay Campbell (he lives two blocks away from the Ross Compound), I bid him farewell hoping to see him and Margaret in Seattle soon.

Tonight dinner will be Loch Fyne smoked salmon as a starter followed by roast lamb for the traditional Sunday roast meal. I have opened a 2003 Matthews Cellars Claret to breathe for the meal tonight. Matthews Cellars is a Woodinville Winery now owned by one of Ann’s “little garden club friends”, Dawn Rubstello and her husband, Jim. I hope it stands up to Alistair’s expectations. We will see.

Tomorrow we take the 9:45am ferry from Port Ellen back to the mainland so Ann is washing and packing.

September 15

First off, Alistair loved the Woodinville wine. He says he is now becoming more interested in the fruity wines of the New World over the more vegetative wines of the Old World. Even though he is more used to Australian and New Zealand wines, he now realizes the Pacific Northwest makes a fabulous product. He has long known about California wines. Since Katherine, the Rosses’ daughter, lives outside Christchurch, New Zealand he is very familiar with the Marlborough region of N. Z. wine. Another of his daughters, Susie, has a brother-in-law who is a wine maker in Napa. Not bad, huh?

We awoke, got beautiful, finished packing, and ate breakfast before seeing Alistair, Judy and Susie. Susie was to depart soon from the Islay airport for a flight to Glasgow then drive on to Edinburgh. The day was, using my new most favorite word, “dreich”. It completely describes a grey, drizzly, cold, windy day to perfection (A Seattle day to be exact).

Since Ann did not fare too well on the ferry over to Islay, she would not get onto the ship this time without a seasickness pill in her and several near her. Unfortunately the only pharmacist on the island closed at 1pm on Saturday (one hour after Ann realized she needed one) and would not open until 9am Monday – the ferry left at 9:45 that morning from Port Ellen. Alistair drove us down to the pharmacist before 9am; we waited, bought the magic medication and headed to Port Ellen in plenty of time for the ferry departure.

As it is with things like this, the ferry crossing was perfect with no high seas even with the inclement weather. Ann even had breakfast on the ferry! Arriving at the port of Kennacraig we got on the Glasgow bus for the three and a half hour ride to Glasgow’s Buchanan Street Bus Station. We stopped any place a passenger wanted to get off along the way, even picking up fares on this bus that I thought was a direct shuttle to Glasgow. Wrong. In Inverary the bus stopped for 15 minutes so we all could hit the restrooms (none on the bus) and also buy some food for lunch. We got back on the bus “relieved” (and I mean that) and ate our packaged sandwich, chips, sweet and coke. On we went to Glasgow. When we arrived, we got off the bus and headed to Queen Street Train Station. Although Ann “knew” how to do this on foot (lugging every bit of our luggage and carry-ons mind you), it did not turn out that way. Summoning the help of a cute, local lassie, she took us there in the, of course, rain. We made the train by 9 minutes and rode the two stops to the station near Jane and Ian’s house in Lenzie. This 12-minute, two-stop commuter train ride cost $7.50 for the two of us. Ann rode home from the station with Jane in her car completely filled with four children, and now two suitcases, two large carry-ons and Ann. Fraser was kicked out of the car. He and I walked home – in the rain.

As if that were not enough for one day: car, ferry, bus, train, we went out to dinner back in Glasgow when Ian got home from his day of doctoring. The restaurant, Café Gandolfi, was casual, in the Caledonian University area. The food was great. The waiter was a young lad majoring in economics at the university who had a multitude of interesting opinions that he needed to share with us.

Ann had a starter, Cullen Skink, smoked haddock made like a Boston clam chowder. I had Arbroath smokies in tomato and cream and/or cheese sauce baked in a little crock. Both were wonderful tried for the first time. A “G and T” for Jane and me (gin and tonic) started the meal but Ian, who was driving, was good. Ann was good too. We ordered a Chilean Sauvignon Blanc with the meal. Here it got weird. My dinner was a Spanish tortilla sandwich. In a baguette, I had an omelette of cheese, onion and potato with a garlic aioli. Good but certainly different.

Home we went to a welcoming bed to be awakened at 6am to get ready for the next day.

September 16

Up at 6am we readied ourselves for a taxi at 7am to take us to the airport. I was still too tired after a week in Islay to think about breakfast but did have a cup of Jane’s wonderful coffee. Unfortunately, the taxi was on time and we said our farewells to the Cannon clan, knowing we would not see them again for some time.

Oh, did I mention it was still “dreich”? It was. The checking in and security was swift and easy at GLA. Our flight to Charles de Gaulle Airport outside Paris was on EasyJet, a UK discount carrier of the ilk of Southwest in the US. Susie calls it SleazyJet. Nice, Susie, thanks. Our flight was delayed a half-hour but we were soon off and offered food and beverages, for a slight fee, well not so slight. Since there was nothing we wanted to eat or drink, we passed.

We now figuratively will remove our kilt and don our beret for 10 days in France.

On arrival at CDG in Paris we went through customs and collected our baggage easily, if certainly not rapidly. On to car rental. Where in the Hell is car rental? A sign might have been nice. CDG makes LAX look like a commuter airport. In exasperation, we ask two people in broken French and getting the answer in broken English found it - after a half hour. Waiting in line at EuropCar for another half hour got us the ability to stand in front of the happy, smiling woman behind the counter. Ok, that was a lie. She was neither and to add to that we spent a half hour with her – AND THERE WERE NO PROBLEMS! Ah, the Parisians. So easy to dislike. Hoping to leave the airport in our car at 12:15, we finally left the airport at 2:30. Ouch.

On to Rouen. One slight miscalculation headed us in the wrong direction. Instead of leaving Paris in the direction north of, say, 10 o’clock on the clock face we left at a direction of 2 o’clock. After 30 minutes we were further from Rouen that when we started. Now this would have not been so embarrassing if we DID NOT HAVE A GPS navigation in our car-- but we did. (We always order the smallest, cheapest compact available for the two of us hoping for the usual upgrade but we scored a Toyota Avensis with GPS!). Not knowing how it worked since there was no manual, we had not bothered using it.

So, the next order of business was to figure this darn GPS thingy out now that we had screwed things up so miserably. Changing the language from French to English helped more than a little!

It came to our attention that Ann had not eaten since 6:30am this morning and I had not eaten since Café Gandolfi the previous night. To say we were bitchy and cranky at each other would be no slight understatement – it was now 4pm. As we drove through farmland with few towns and fewer open restaurants, we found a gas station and bought a packaged sandwich to split, a coke and chips in their tiny, tiny 7-11 type cashier area. This helped a little but we still were not really polite.

After previously yelling at each other over any mistake in direction giving and direction taking, we found our sweet GPS lady with a cultured British accent so easy to understand. She never got angry when I made a wrong turn. She just recalculated and gave me new directions both visibly and orally. I really liked “her”. Ann said she loved “her” - that being a little scary on several levels.

We made it to our B&B in Cantelou, a few minutes from Rouen. Exhausted, we had to venture into town to see the Cathedral of Rouen and find dinner – food! Dinner was a gallette, a crepe with cheese and ham for me and fried egg, mushroom, ham and cheese inside for Ann. A demi litre of a rose complimented a meal we were both too tired to eat. Somehow, we arrived back at the B&B and mercifully fell into bed. The day was finally over.

September 17

Wow did I sleep. I am almost a normal person today and so is Ann, although she thought she was fine yesterday – wrong. We are staying in Cantelou as I have said. When we arrived yesterday, I was too cranky to describe where we were staying. The Manoir de Captot is, in the oldest section, an 18th century manor house along the Seine as it flows from Paris into the English Channel. Michelle, the owner, was so kind when we arrived, shy but so polite with these tired Americans. I am sure she is much more comfortable with the French.

We stayed in one of the two rooms she lets. Our room was huge with a large tub in the enormous en suite bathroom. The house had to play a major factor in WWII as a command post for the Germans and then the Allies being strategically located just west of Rouen. Oh, what this house has seen. It had been in Michelle’s family for over 100 years. I only wish I could have discussed this with Michelle but language would interfere.

For breakfast, Michelle led us to the dining room, a large table in a large room with antiques. We were the only ones in the manoir this day. The house, when we arrived, being a little tired looking and well worn was a bit of a shock. As we walked up the main flight of stairs to our room, we passed mounted boar heads, deer heads and deer hooves with braided leg hide. All these trophies were pre WWII. As we stayed there longer, it grew on us as a house with history, a house we were lucky to have found but a house on the downside of its glory days.

We bid adieu to Michelle and drove to Bayeux to view the famous tapestry (actually an embroidery) celebrating the victory of William the Conqueror in the battle of Hastings on October 14, 1066 thus claiming the throne of England from King Harold Godwinson. The tapestry, commissioned by William’s half-brother Bishop Odo in about 1070, is 210 feet long. A hand held audio guide led us through the entire 210 feet as we walked along viewing each continuous panel. This is the major reason I wished to go to Normandy. It was certainly not a disappointment. The entire experience was awe-inspiring. I was stunned. The fact that William is a great-grandfather of mine may have piqued my interest in the Bayeux Tapestry. At almost 1000 years old, it is in amazing condition and tells us history from a primary, although most likely Norman biased, source. Bishop Odo was at the battle but carried a club rather than a sword; clergy could not spill blood. However, killing someone with a whack to the head was all right according to the Pope at that time.

We drove after that to Le Mont St. Michel, the fantastic monastery in a bay off La Manche (the English Channel) entered via a causeway. We will be spending two nights here. Arriving at our B&B adjacent but off the island, we met Danielle, the owner. She speaks English but better than that, she is a wondeful host. Our place is one and a half miles from Mont St. Michele and perfect in every way. Tomorrow we will go to the island monastery but for tonight a bottle of $6 Bordeaux, a baguette and Camembert was our late afternoon snack on our patio. Dinner was in town sampling the famous salt marsh raised lamb, which is a specialty of the area. With, of course, a demi-litre of Bordeaux to wash it down.

After dinner, around 9:30, we drove out to the causeway to view Mont St. Michele at high tide as Danielle had urged us. Not only was it high but a super high tide of 107%. The parking lot we used earlier to view Mont St. Michele, where hundreds of cars were parked, was now completely under water from the tide rushing in. All access to Mont St. Michele was cut off from the causeway rendering it isolated. This was due to the full moon. Even with the warnings, occasionally cars are left in the lot and will become rather wet with seawater, a local joke.

September 18

Breakfast was a hoot here in Beauvoir near Mont St. Michel. In the breakfast room are tables for the six rooms. The others who stayed the night were from England and Scotland so we could all converse. Danielle held court and soon her husband, Kin, did so also. Humor and frivolity abounded. What a delightful way to start the day.

Today we were off into Mont St. Michel. We arrived early just after the morning high tide so the parking lot near the Mont was just beginning to open. On the salty, wet surface, we drove on as the water was receding at an alarming rate. So, no tour bus parking yet!!! Up we went to follow the circular pedestrian road up and up and up. Ann was a mountain goat ascending the uphill pedestrian road to the Abbey then the stairs then more stairs and then again more stairs. I was impressed. Once at the top, we then came down on the same road littered with tourist souvenir shops – one after another. It reminded me of the town of Assisi.

Now on to Brittany or Bretagne as these folks call it. Driving, we went to Cancale, St. Malo and Dinan all very cute villages on the coast but very tourist laden. We are snobs and do not appreciate these tourist folk!

Dinner was an adventure. From Danielle’s suggestion, we went to the Auberge de la Baie about two miles away. This restaurant is definitely not prepared for anyone who does not use the native tongue. After lamb last night, we wished the other delicacy of the area, seafood. I ordered andouille sausage and apples in pastry for a starter followed by a rouge something-or-another (turned out to be red mullet) then crème brûlée. Ann started with a fish soup then tronchons de saumonette and Normand tart for desert.

This is how it played out. Ann’s fish soup had the strongest fish smell (not aroma) I have ever endured and it was across the table form me. My andouille and apples had no flavor and no spicy sausage. On to the mains. Ann’s saumonette was not salmon but a fish that looked much like an eel cut into four inch pieces (actually segments of dogfish, a small shark). My fish was also unidentifiable but white and whole, sans head, thank goodness. Fortunately, my fish was mild unlike Ann’s dishes. The poor girl was 0-2 in the food score tonight. The dessert was the highlight of her meal.

To add to this, after we ordered we realized we had not checked if this out-of-the-way restaurant on the salt flats outside Beauvoir, France took Visa. As per usual, we did not carry enough cash to pay for the meal. After evaluating several scenarios in case of disaster, we ask and they said yes. This entire meal was too difficult for a couple of simple Americans. We left exhausted and still little hungry even after spending $60 for the meal.

After dinner we drove out to the causeway as we did last night but it was earlier and lighter so we could see the tide coming in at a speed unimaginable. It was windy and cold out over the bay but we saw a sight that was well worth the effort.

September 19

This morning was as amusing as the previous breakfast with Danielle and Kin again holding court at the Vieille Digues B&B. I finally had to ask if Kin had spent time in America because, for a Vietnamese “Chinaman” (his words) living in France, he used some rather salty American slang. In addition, he would say, “guys” and “screwed by the government”. Two phrases not used in British dialect. Yes, he spent 10 years in the US. For Ann Neel: This B&B in Rick’s guidebook is a real keeper. This is THE place to stay in Mont St. Michel! Apparently, Rick walked in one day when the mother-in-law was there, not the owners who were away. She had no idea who Rick Steves was but apparently impressed him. He returned a couple of years later when they were there. Danielle said MANY Americans, especially from Seattle come to stay due to his recommendation.

Today we drove the four plus hours to Chartres to see the cathedral. After reading Ken Follett’s books Pillars of the Earth and the sequel, World Without End, a fictionalized account of the building of a cathedral in 11th and then 13th century England (No, it really was fascinating for a medieval history geek – all 2000 pages!), we wanted to see this one. His books are uncannily similar to the history of the building of Chartres.

Anyway, the cathedral is magnificent with 179 stained glass windows dating mostly from the 12-13th centuries. After war broke out in Europe, WWI and WWII, all of the stained glass was removed from the church and stored in a safe place, painstakingly replaced when peace broke out.

Since there was to be a lightshow on the cathedral at 9pm we headed to our hotel outside of the city. Using our trusty GPS lady with the British accent we left town. Well we tried to leave town. Through the narrow winding streets adjacent to the cathedral we drove first once around the huge church then again around it using mostly the same streets. On the third go-round we wised up (better late than never). We had programmed in our hotel but I never pushed the final button. The GPS lady must have been frustrated taking us as close to the cathedral as she could (the destination was still the cathedral) but we kept “passing” it and needed to go around again. I think I heard the GPS lady whisper “Dumb Americans” at one point but I am not sure. We changed the destination and got to the hotel easily.

The hotel is a businessperson hotel on the outskirts of town in a light industrial area, ultra sleek and modern and ultra energy efficient. The free internet access was a bonus. We ate dinner there and went back into town finding the cathedral easily. There, we were stunned by the music and light patterns projected onto the façade of the cathedral in the pitch black of the night. What a sight. That sealed the deal. Chartres was well worth the detour.

September 20

Absolutely nothing unexpected happened during our two-hour drive to Chateau de Chambord in the Loire Valley. This in itself is worth mentioning (for obvious reasons). When we arrived we were well-rested and happy ready to “do” the Loire Valley.

We walked to the chateau from the parking lot, about a mile. We walked far away from the chateau just to get the, as Allan says, money shot of the building in the brilliant blue sky. Then we toured the chateau – all four levels going up and down the stone staircase with the exactly four hundred thousand seven hundred and fifteen TOURISTS also enjoying the beautiful weather and magnificent building. Everyone else spoke French. Apparently, most of the Americans, Italians, and Brits have gone home.

After a leisurely wandering through the huge chateau we decided on lunch before heading out again. In a little creperie on the grounds we each ordered a Croque Chevalier – ham and cheese sandwich fried with a fried egg on top. A quarter liter of vin rouge was the accompaniment. Waiting for the food over our red wine, we discussed the differences between the American and French Revolutions and how those differences created the two different national systems.

Then we moved the discussion into how the revolution in France was more of an upheaval of the downtrodden where in America it was a reluctant separation of the colony from the mother country. All we needed were black clothes, berets, a cigarette dangling from our lips in a smoky café in Paris and we would have been considered truly French.

The meal came and we became Americans again thankfully.

After that adventure, we went to our B&B that I booked and confirmed but never got the last confirmation I ask for 10 days before we left. I had no idea if we had a place to stay. We did. We are a mile from the Chateau de Chenonceau in a one-bedroom apartment called the pavillion with sitting room. Not bad. The owners are not too fluent in English but that is ok. Off we went to the second chateau of the day.

In both Chateaux we received free parking and discounted entrance fees because we were Americans and because we, as a nation, liberated the French from two major wars. Ha! No, it was some sort of special weekend we never understood but took the discounts anyhow. Chenonceau is a chateau that spans the river Cher. It is simply beautiful in the deep blue September sky. Again, there were tourists there. What’s with that?

I have a new rant. This is a good one. This is not directed at the French but to tourists in general. As we walked from room to room with the hordes of still and video camera laden people, I noticed that it seemed much more important for them to get a picture of each four walls of a room and the ceiling than to stop and take in the beauty of what they were seeing. One man walked into each room with his video camera over his head taking a video of the room I am sure he never saw until he looked at the video at home. I take pictures but rarely inside buildings and always after evaluating what I am looking at for historical or artistic significance. Everyone had a little camera and shot flash images. At some point, this has to stop for the enjoyment of those who wish to simply enjoy the environment. Rant over.

Dinner was a bottle of Touraine red (cabernet franc and cabernet sauvignon), cheese, an olive baguette and a bag of mushroom flavored potato chips. Yes, that was mushroom flavored potato chips. Interestingly they were quite good but I don’t know why. With that, we went to bed…

September 21

…and slept like the proverbial logs. This morning we are completely recharged. The night was quiet and the room was cool, not stuffy. At breakfast, I met the first Parisians I have really liked. They were not condescending or rude (that is my job!). Although his English was only little better than Ann’s French we had, a nice “conversation” with our hostess, Cathrine, helping as needed. Her husband Andre speaks no English. The breakfast was coffee, croissant, baguette with seeds, jam, butter and orange juice. The croissant was so flaky that each time I touched it pieces of the layers went flying like a brown snowstorm. By the time I finished it, I was embarrassed by the brown pieces everywhere but on my plate.

Ah, today is the day to which I have been looking forward. Ann now believes me to be a certified geeky soon-to-be ex-husband. We are going to the Abbaye Royale de Fontevraud near Chinon, France. I know this is a pilgrimage we all hope to take one day. No? This is the burial place of Eleanor of Aquitaine and Henry II, King of England. Also, it is the burial place of their son, King Richard, the lion hearted, and his brother King John’s wife, Isabella of Angouleme. WOW. Now you want to go there, right? No? Henry II died in Chinon Castle up on the hill. Still no takers?

I admire Eleanor because this one chick controlled the entire Aquitaine in her own name, was married to both the King of France and then the King of England (At different times!). She was the mother of King Richard and King John. Some good work, huh? Well except for John and the fact Henry kept her in “protective custody” in a castle for decades because she was too uppity and inspired a revolt by her sons to overthrow him. That is one strong woman. She lived into her 80s dying in 1204 so she did not have to see her inept son John lose her beloved Aquitaine to France. We got in gratis because I so much admire Eleanor. I mean we got in free because it was the same holiday weekend we don’t understand.

The wines of the Loire were our next learning experience. This is Sunday so many wineries are closed. The crush is about to begin and this is the beginning of the harvest festivities being the first weekend in autumn. Fortunately, I picked up a pamphlet in Fontevraud for a winery open for tasting today! We programmed in the address and the sweet-voiced British computer lady got us there directly, well almost directly. She made several mistakes (OK, Ann, I made several mistakes)

Here we walked into a room with only the young lady of the winery present. SHE SPOKE ENGLISH - not only English but beautiful English. We were able to talk to her about the wines of the Loire region I had so much wished to try. She poured two Saumur cremants, “champagnes”, followed by the ones I wanted to try: Chinon, Saumur white and red and a Sancerre. She patiently explained how the same grapes varietals in different terroirs (type of soil and weather) change the characteristics of the grape in different areas. This we knew but enjoyed her ‘teaching” us. She is also much impressed with Oregon pinot noirs, which she described as possibly the best. She was fantastic. We bought a Saumur red to take home which was 100% cabernet franc.

On the way back to the B&B we stopped at Chateau Villandry because Ann wished to see their magnificent gardens. A larger crowd I have never seen even at Disneyland (an exaggeration). We couldn’t get near the place. There was a very long line to get in and it was after four in the afternoon. We found out this is Heritage Weekend where all national monuments are free to enter and private ones are discounted. That explained the crowds of French.

Back home to pop the cork, have a wine, cheese and baguette dinner, and prepare for the Bordeaux area tomorrow. Our hostess, Katrine, came over to ask if we needed anything. I asked if she had internet, “Oui”. Do you have wireless, “Oui, here is the password”. Hurray!!!

September 22

I awoke to a start. I remembered needing cash to pay for the two nights in the B&B since Catherine did not take credit cards. There was only one thing I neglected to do yesterday. So, I showered and set off in the car on a money run before breakfast. Going into Chisseaux and Chenonceaux produced no cash machines – heck, no banks. These are little one street towns like most in the area so things were looking bad. The Chateau was not open for tourists yet but I went to the ticket office and asked where I could get money. This was a joke as I speak NO French and could not have understood any answer even if they understood me. Fortunately, the man just stared at me after I asked about a cash machine and said, “Bleary”. I knew I was tired but then remembered a town a little ways away, Blere.

Off I went seven miles west hoping for the best. This was a HUGE town of about five square blocks. Driving through, I found a commercial street with three banks. Getting back to the B&B for breakfast with money, I needed coffee. During breakfast (we were the only ones there that morning) Catherine sat down with us and we talked. We talked about WWII, the American elections, English and French history and any number of topics. It was delightful. We paid and left not really wishing to leave.

Ann really was disappointed not seeing Chateau Villandry’s gardens because of the huge crowds yesterday. We tried it again this Monday morning. What a difference. It was like we owned the place, hardly anyone was there. The gardens recreated the gardens of Medieval abbeys. The functionality and order were apparent immediately. Not a leaf was out of place anywhere in these many acres. There were vegetable gardens, medicinal gardens, meditative ponds and highly structured formal contemplative gardens. In total, quite an amazing display with terraces to view and appreciate the horticultural effort.

We drove straight to St-Emilion arriving four hours later stopping only for diesel and a sandwich on the toll motorway. This little drive set us back $45. Living nowhere near a toll road at home makes paying for the pavement odd.

Our B&B is in the large two story stone mini-chateau with incredibly high ceilings. The house belongs to the owner of a Grand Cru St-Emilion Winery, Chateau Franc-Pourret. The family lives here. There are two rooms available to let, both professionally furnished. This was a pleasant surprise since the outside, though an award winning winery, was tired, stark and cold in appearance. The grapevines surround the house; the harvest is beginning and all are working.

Dinner was at a restaurant featured in Wine Spectator Magazine last year in the center of the tiny town of St-Emilion. The wine was excellent the meal was ok. Butchering beef here in France is apparently not an art. Beef is tough with gristle and fascia throughout. That does distract from a steak but after our fish experience in Mont St. Michel we stick to land food in France.

September 23

Last night on satellite TV in our room we found Bloomberg Financial Network in English. I rather wish I had not watched. Let’s see, Dow down 400 points, Oil up $25 a barrel and the dollar getting hammered by the Euro – can’t wait to get home! I swear I will not watch that horror show again tonight. Ignorance is truly bliss.

To add to that, I have finally hit the wall. I do not really want to drive anywhere, to sit and do nothing or to take a walk. And now, going home is no great choice either apparently. So we staggered through town and found a very touristy, hokey tiny tram-train that drove through the streets in and around town that passed the great premier grand cru chateaux of St-Emilion.

That is how tired I was. I actually enjoyed this non-thinking tram experience. After 35 minutes of that we had lunch in the main square, al fresco (perhaps a French phrase would have been more appropriate there). Ann wished to try authentic cassoulet. I had a quattro stagione bruschetta (Italian words again!) Talking to a very proper older British couple (Our age? Yes), with fine upper crust accents at an adjacent table, was the highlight of the meal. The food was very good.

We went to a super market in Libourne, a large town nearby, to get bread, cheese and a sweet for dinner. We purchased a bottle of wine at an impressive local chateau winery for dinner, said screw the Dow and bought a 1994 St-Emilion. They said this 15-year-old wine was now ready to drink (and so were we). We put our feet up starting in the early afternoon and relaxed until we uncorked the wine for our “dinner”. Total relaxation, I think, for the first time in a month.

Tomorrow we go to the Haut Medoc north of Bordeaux and the birthplace of some of the most expensive wines in the world. Fortunately, these are wines that will not be ready to drink until well after my liver has shriveled to the size of an acorn. So, no need to purchase!

September 24

The time spent in St-Emilion was not as enthralling as I had anticipated. Staying at a winery in a world heritage designated site in one of the world’s premier wine areas sounded amazing. The town was small and littered with wine shops. That was to be expected. There was little else to do. The hundreds of wineries were mostly closed since it was the time of the harvest and the crush. Any winery tasting or tour needed to be booked rather than a drop-in visit. Almost all charge $10-$20 per person for a tour. Ann and I were both now totally exhausted after our 27 days on the lam without a day of rest. That colored our attitude to be sure.

The winery chateau where we stayed was nice but Catherine’s breakfasts were ordinary at best, she was not able to converse beyond minimally in English and she lacked the warmth of a true B&B host. To counter that issue, the other room was occupied by two sisters (our age) from Mississippi and Tennessee. They leased a car and were touring France having a ball. We talked with them at breakfast each morning hearing that soft serene Southern accent, laughing, relating stories and sharing experiences in the town. Without them this would have approached a dismal stay.

One example: One of the sisters told of a friend who always took a bath with a loaded gun near in case of an attacker entering. The other sister said, in that sweet Southern drawl, that if that happened to her the attacker would take one look at the sight of her naked in the bath, take the gun and shoot himself!

We bought two bottles of the Chateau-Pourret, one, the soon to be famous 2005 vintage that she told us not to open for at least 8 years. We paid and were off to the area of Bordeaux. Here another problem occurred that was not our fault – really!

Our sweet British accented lady of the GPS gave us a route to the peninsula of the Medoc, north of the town of Bordeaux. We drove 45 minutes to the Gironde estuary to cross the bridge at Blaye into the Medoc. When we arrived, there was not a bridge but a ferry. It was 11am. The next ferry was to depart 4:30pm. WHAT!

It would take almost two hours to drive down to Bordeaux where the first bridge was and then drive north up to Pauillac, the town across from Blaye. Instead, we drove to Bordeaux centre, walked the shopping area and had a late lunch. From there we drove to our airport Comfort Inn Hotel for the night. We registered, unloaded the car and relaxed for a moment. After that moment, we drove to the airport and delivered the car to EuropeCar.

Ann had gotten an employee out of the office back at CDG airport in Paris to show him a scrape on the right front bumper. This he noted on the paperwork and said he would enter it into the computer. You guessed it; the writing was undecipherable in the carbon copy. The lady checking us in gave us some serious questioning about it but gave us back our receipt for the 800 euros on Visa that they had secured for any damages when we picked up the car.

We walked back to the hotel from the airport and rearranged our luggage for the flight home. We were under our weight allowance by a little so all was well. To bed then a wake up call at 5am for the 5:45am taxi to the airport tomorrow.

September 25 (by Ann)

So, here we are at day 28, and I finally get to put a word in edgewise. So far, I have only been valuable for typo-checking and fact-quibbling. (Bob has been known to exaggerate, you see.) We were awake before the call, and very ready to leave our Comfort Inn room. For those of you who frequent this chain in the States, you should know that in France, these are old run-down hotel/motels at the edge of sketchy neighborhoods, with tiny rooms, and minimal cleanliness. They are dead cheap, especially compared to the other hotel chains around airports.

Our last contact with France, confirming Bob’s convictions: The taxi, a Mercedes, had a 5 euro drop charge on it when we got in. The trip took five minutes (we walked it in 15 minutes yesterday). The meter said 7.50, but the driver demanded 10.00 in a barrage of French (I think he pointed to the bags—which were not heavy). Oh, and he left us by a door that was not yet unlocked at the terminal. Can’t say we will miss him.

Lufthansa is in another league from United. In Bordeaux, Embraer170 has wide seats, good legroom. For the 6:55-8:45 flight, we got coffee, juice, water, and a delicious ham sandwich on a crusty roll with butter, tomato, and lettuce—no charge.

On our flight out of Frankfurt: a long walk to transfer to the most distant gate in a different terminal. After a layover of 90 minutes, we walked down two flights of stairs—no offer of an elevator—then sat or stood on a crowded bus, rode out to the plane, and climbed stairs to get on board. No consideration for disabilities, even though in France and Germany we have seen extensive accommodations. Frankfurt airport is overwhelmed—our plane (a big Airbus) was parked in the cargo area, even though the bay by our waiting gate was open!

On the flight, great seats with good legroom, adjustable head rest, tilting screen, and an interactive on demand TV/Movie menu. (You pick what to see, and when to start it!). There was even a cup-holder up by the screen, so you could shut the tray and still drink.

We were served beverages within an hour, wine and beer gratis, with pretzel crackers. An hour later, hot washcloths, then another beverage run, then a delicious hot meal. Only the entrée was hot, so the salad, dessert, butter and cheese were cold! Real silverware! More beverages. With 4.5 hours to go, Toblerone bars and another beverage service. Still another hot meal just an hour before landing. Lufthansa is in the Star Alliance with United, who should be ashamed of itself. From now on, we will avoid United at all costs! (This will serve as a substitute for Bob’s daily rant)

So we are gratefully home, happy to be here, and already looking forward to another trip together.