Hello March!

Today has been a beautiful, sunny day. Such days are rare in the UK, particularly this time of year. Yet it is days like today that make the desire to live one's life on this island in the North Atlantic understandable. The sudden bursts of sunshine have not only awakened the daffodils and crocus, ushering in the beginning of spring in Cambridge, they have also reminded us that time is passing, and passing quickly. Though we are certainly excited for what the coming months may bring, we are also sad at the prospect of leaving a place we have only begun to understand and appreciate. Not to mention a style of life we enjoy, and people we love. Ah, but such thoughts are not for now. No, as we continue to savor our time in Cambridge, let us share with you a short photo post of our recent adventures and activities. Cue 80s montage music!


Celebrating Jackie's 25th birthday. Highlights included: a Will-planned + exceptionally executed SURPRISE PARTY (complete with 25 years of photos slideshow); weekend in London at Hotel 41; cupcakes from hummingbird; dinner at Moro; high tea at Fortnum + Mason; and buying The Tray.


Receiving a quick visit from Will's Mom. Awwww.


Exploring previously-unfamiliar parts of London, such as The City, Southwark, Notting Hill, and Wherever the River Cafe is Located.

Sometimes Will secretly dreams of becoming a City Banker.

The Tate Modern: A World All its Own. And one with GIANT lightsaber displays at that!

Why, yes, we now know how to find Shakespeare's Globe Theatre. Not to mention, Vinopolis + Terroirs!

Loving Borough Market, despite the Saturday crowds.

Curry makes everything better. So does coffee from Monmouth.

Wine is good too.

Enjoying a visit from KRISTA! Our first, and only friend thus far, to plan a trip to Europe solely for the purpose of visiting us. (She, in fact, joined us on many of the excursions mentioned above and below.) Yes, we felt special. Not enough photos were taken (blame it on the cold) to do justice to her time here, but trust us, it was awesome. Space was tight, but no one got hurt. We think we can now say with confidence, that, yes Krista, if Will should ever become a City Banker, you can come live with us and Jackie will bake bread for breakfast.


Traveling to Paris. Just a quick hop across The Channel for Jackie and Krista, but a nice trip nonetheless. Many baguettes, bottles of wine, and French pastries were consumed.
Annnnnd Jackie's traveling back in less than 2 weeks to meet up with her Mom while Will's in AUSTRALIA.
Many more baguettes, bottles of wine, and French pastries will be consumed.

Read More...

Summary only...

The Great Summer Omnibus Post Part II: Germany

Photos
Having taken our roadtrip around the Scottish Highlands, one would not be presumptuous to suppose that we had had our full measure of travel for the summer. Yet, with our time being limited, and the opportunities plentiful, we set off a mere two weeks later to rendezvous with Jackie's family in the picturesque German city of Heidelberg for a (slightly) more relaxed tour of Southern Germany. Three countries and two weeks later we had 600 photos and even more memories of what was a beautiful and amazing family holiday.

Lesen Sich mehr über unseren wünderschönen Ferien nach Deutschland! (Ins Kursivschrift nur für Herr Damm).



Stop 1: Brussels


With a acknowledgments of convenience, history, and irony, we decided to travel to Germany via Belgium. It was a blessing to be able to stay with family friends who currently live in Brussels and were gracious enough to let us use their home as a base for launching on our wider European adventures, whilst still having the opportunity to explore a very unique city. Will's first impressions of Brussels were quite unfavorable, having had to navigate an incomprehensible one-way system with his colleagues in April on returning from Luxembourg. For those of you who have had the joy of driving in Brussels (and are still among the living) you will appreciate how this is not the most flattering perspective of the city. Bonus points if you have also had to drive the wrong way down the tramway to get into Gare du Midi. 
Yet, when the pace of life slows down to a French/Flemish pace (re: significantly slower than the automobile), we found Brussels to be a charming city of cafés, chocolate, and lovely parks. It is a supremely pleasant city to just wander through without agenda. We also were scoping out the lay of the land for when Jackie's parents would return with us through Brussels. Culinary highlights were waffles at Wittamer, tartines and coffee at Le Pain Quotidien, and the beautiful dinner of spätzle and sausage that our friends cooked for us our first night in.



Stop 2: Heidelberg

After our brief time as Belgians, we got our first chance to experience the European high-speed rail network in earnest. Our readers will know how much we thoroughly have enjoyed Eurostar (despite twice now having been frustrated by difficulties with the Channel Tunnel). However, put Eurostar next to its continental cousins and it starts to seem a few years behind. To get to Heidelberg we had to take a Thalys train from Brussels to Köln via the Ardennes and then a Deutsche-Bahn InterCity Express service from Köln to Mannheim via Frankfurt. While the Thalys could only go so quickly through the hilly parts, this was easily the most picturesque train journey we've ever had.  It seemed that around every bend was some quaint Belgian hamlet with an old church and houses built up the forested slopes. We even saw a cycle race! Thalys is an absolute joy to use. The seating is more like Virgin Business Class than coach. There are even power plugs at every seat and the cars are whisper quiet.

Transferring in Köln was an experience. Will had taken all of three weeks of German this past summer and hadn't used it at all in the month and a half leading up to the trip. Thankfully, the Germans appreciate the fact that not everyone travelling between their largest cities will be German. When we arrived at our platform there was a train, however, it did not have the coach that we needed. With five minutes until our scheduled departure we started to get nervous that half of a train would be leaving on time and our seats would never materialize. Then, as if by magic, Will said "Well, if another train was going to couple up to this one then it would have to arrive right about..." 


WHOOSH!


... and so arrived the other half of our ICE. Naturally, we left promptly on schedule. While the Eurostar and Thalys are both fast, nothing could quite prepare us for the inhuman pace of the ICE. As we got into the more remote parts between Bonn and Frankfurt the conductor let loose. It felt like the train was going to come off the rails and achieve takeoff. At the same time, though, there was the same solidity one finds in a BMW or a Mercedes as if to say "Fear not, my American friends, this was built by Germans." Recognizing the fact that we have not been to Japan, we can say that in this world there are the German trains and then everything else. Even the normal S-Bahn between Mannheim and Heidelberg was spotless. Despite the relative ease of our travel, we arrived slightly wearied and hungry in Heidelberg.

Heidelberg, like Cambridge, is an historic University town. Founded in 1328, Universität Heidelberg is one of the foremost universities in Germany and is, as they say in Germany, weltberümte. When it comes to surroundings, though, Heidelberg easily outpaces its older, English peer. Situated in the Neckar River valley, Heidelberg climbs the forested slopes on either side of the aforementioned river. Unlike the rest of Germany, Heidelberg was spared the worst of the war having been conquered early by General Patton. Since 1945, the US military has maintained a significant presence in this part of Germany that is still apparent today. The Germany that many Americans picture of little streets, cute houses, and castles is born largely from pictures and family ties to this city. Jackie's brother was, in fact, born in Heidelberg, West Germany, whilst her family was stationed there. This trip was a homecoming after more than 20 years away.
For us, it was exciting to be in such a hilly place. Our first run was straight up the opposite side of the Neckar to the Philosophen Weg; a mountainside path overlooking the Altestadt and the river. Not only was it healthy, it was inspirational! We also walked up from the Old City to Heidelberg Castle which also had beautiful panoramic vistas. Arguably, our favorite thing about Heidelberg was a small bakery chain named Mantei. Not only did they serve local Janssen Coffee, they also introduced us to something we would seek out the rest of our trip: mohnkuchen. If you have never tried this German poppy-seed cake before, book a Lufthansa flight to Frankfurt or seek out an authentic German baker in your area. It is like a dense, dark gray slice of pure wonder. We also enjoyed beautiful sunshine and hot weather (finally!) our entire stay. The unfortunate side effect from this was that we paid for the lack of midge flies in Scotland. German wasps are fearless and abundant in summer. They also have developed a taste for Weißbier; something of a problem in a city full of outdoor cafés flowing with the stuff. They would even fly onto your lips after you take a sip! To these expats fresh off Ol' Blighty, though, this was not about to discourage us from getting some long-awaited time in the sun.

Stop 3: Garmisch-Partenkirchen, München, and Bayern in General

Our first destination post-Heidelberg was, funnily, on the other side of Germany in the Alpine village of Garmisch-Partenkirchen. Like Heidelberg (and the rest of Baden-Wurttemburg), the US military also continues to, how can we put this delicately, keep property in Bavaria. This includes a ski-resort for servicemen in Garmisch. For the next five days, we stayed in what can only be described as the most surreal hotel in Europe. If Coloradoan ski towns were inspired by their Alpine forebears, then the US military has managed to bring things full-circle by bringing a Coloradoan ski resort to the Alps. Don't think us at all ungrateful; we never would have made it to this area without substantial help from Jackie's family. It was just very weird to be staying in an American hotel in Germany.
Garmisch-Partenkirchen is famous for hosting the 1936 Winter Olympics, after Adolf Hitler forced the mayors of the two towns to unite into one entity. To this day, the Olympic ski jump and park remain dominant features of the small towns. G-P reminded us quite a bit of (unsurprisingly) Banff in the Canadian Rockies; lots of flower boxes, small houses, and a heavy reliance on the tourist trade. G-P is a popular resort area for people who live near Munich and lies at the end of the A95 autobahn; a direct link to the city. The town seems to spill out onto the plain from the mountains that surround it. Highest among these is the Zugspitze, the highest peak in Germany at 2,962m (9717 feet).
Not surprisingly, we gorged ourselves on mohnkuchen  from the two konditorei-cafés not far from the resort. We also found a delightful little cheese shop and green grocer. While many of the servicemen staying at the resort seemed to eat exclusively in the installation, we were heartened to see that most of the staff (who lived outside the fenceline) had good knowledge of the local area and food.

One of the highlights from this part of the trip was touring Neuschwanstein Castle. Neuschwanstein is a monument to the crazy things that spoiled, insane, and hyperwealthy tyrants consider to be not only normal, but necessary. "Crazy" Ludwig wanted to build a castle as grand and epic as the operas of his favorite composer: Richard Wagner. Naturally, this meant bankrupting his people. The enormous white palace sits high up on a mountain, imperiously overlooking the picturesque Bavarian scenery below. Inside, it is a psychotic's fantastyland. Each room's decor is inspired by a different Wagnerian story. There is even a fake cave! It was a surreal trip through the mind of a madman. In case you were curious, yes, Neuschwanstein Castle was the inspiration for Walt Disney's Magic Kingdom. Happy family vacations everybody!

From G-P we did something we've never done before: we hopped onto a tour bus. Controversial as this decision was, rail links between G-P and Munich were expensive and seemed infrequent. While we had originally considered driving, the fear of foreign road signs and a massive logjam in Munich convinced us that the more relaxing (if hurried) option was to take the bus. Thankfully, we did not have to stay on the tour with the rest of the old people guests because we had plans. Oh yes, precious, we had plans. After being dropped off in Max-Joseph Platz (after arriving late argh!), we ran to the nearest U-Bahn station and hopped a train to Olympiapark, home of BMW. You will see a few pictures from there. It was an amazing museum full of information about arguably the greatest car company in the world. Will was in his element, perhaps a little too much so.
We left Olympiapark a little after lunchtime and made our way back to the city center to pick up lunch in the Viktualienmarkt; a huge urban market full of every type of produce, bread, meat, cheese, whatever that you can think of. Of course, it was packed, but that's the fun of markets, right? The weather had already started turning a bit gray, but we proceeded undaunted to Marienplatz, location of the famous glöckenspiel and the heart of the old city. No trip to Munich for these two foodies would be complete without a trip to Alois Dallmayr, the German equivalent of Fortnum & Mason. We've thus far been to the French and German equivalents and, really, there is only one F&M. Dallmayr, to its credit had an amazing foodhall vastly superior to the Harrod's equivalent. Jackie was elated to find some high-quality, good German mustard (Will, of course, was nonplussed).
In our ambition, we hurried off towards the Englischer Garten to try and make it to the Chinisischer Turm biergarten in time to get a maß of beer, but found that it would be too far to make it, sit down, and get back to our bus. Disappointed though we may have been, we were thoroughly impressed with the serene Japanese garden at the entrance. We also saw young Müncheners surfing the Eisbach at the Prinzregentenstraße bridge where the canals flow out into the garden. In this land-locked German state, these surfers found permanent waves a stone's throw from the Alps.
A real treat on this leg of the trip was being able to take the Seilbahn up to the top of the Zugspitze. Although Will is certainly afraid of heights, the appeal of ascending the highest peak in Germany was too great to resist. He was also tempted by the possibility of getting a lukewarm mug of buttermilk (an Alpine tradition) at the top. Jackie, perhaps more sensibly, was enthused with the promise of real Glühwein; the thick, German equivalent of the mulled wine that we've come to love here in England. To our surprise, the door to Austria was left open so we popped over to the other side of the mountain and into Austria (yay! another country!). At the bottom of the mountain we met up with Jackie's family and began the next phase of our trip. Sadly, this meant leaving Bavaria.

Epilogue

After the German part of our trip, we drove across Germany (literally) and North into France to the city of Epernay; home of the great champagne houses. While in Epernay we toured Moët et Chandon; an enjoyable and educational venture. Champagne is fascinating because, like diamonds, the price is completely fixed. If they charge $100 for Dom Perignon in the US, they'll charge £100 in the UK and 100€ on the continent. Furthermore, Moët is a flagship of Louis Vuitton-Moët-Hennessey whose business is making money. Lots of money. After a couple of days relaxing in France and consuming organs (don't ask), we completed our journey by doing something that Will resolved never to do again: driving to Brussels-Midi Station to drop off our intrepid Peugeot. Thanks to some earlier reconnaissance (and gratuitous map-review), a detailed street map of Brussels, and not one but TWO functioning GPS units, we took the most efficient route straight into the gut of one of the most ill-planned cities in the world. And we can't wait to go back.

Read More...

Summary only...

Sand + Snow

Our Cozy Cube covered in snow.
It's been an uncharacteristically cold and snowy winter in the UK. In fact, Cambridge had its first white Christmas in almost half a century as a result of a pre-Christmas snowstorm: a whole 7 inches. While this is nothing compared to past winters spent in Virginia (or -dare we even mention- Massachusetts), any accumulation of snow in the UK that consists of more than a flurry is cause for a Snow Day.
Snowy branches against the morning sky.
Currently in the midst of our second significant snowfall (3 inches and counting) in nearly as many weeks, we find ourselves "snowed in" at home and, of course, slightly amused by the UK's inexperience (and incompetence) in the snow department. Will is taking the opportunity to work from home in our cozy (and warmer than his office) cube. Jackie, who would normally be in London today if the city wasn't shut down because of the weather, is reading, relaxing, and oh yes reviewing a 700+ page law textbook for her internship (at least she finds the material exciting!).

A well-traveled path along The Backs.
View over The Cam from Garrett Hostel Bridge.
Gardens at Trinity Hall
As much as we enjoy a good Snow Day, however, when it comes to snow vs sand, beach vs mountains, for us, sun, sea, and sand win hands down. When living on an island in the North Atlantic, where sunny days, temperatures above 80, and even excursions to the seaside are rare, the preference of one over the other becomes even stronger. Of course it doesn't help remembering that this time LAST year we were in South Florida. At the beach. Probably right at this moment. Beeeeaaaach.

The photo is relevant. Promise
Anyway, though the rocky shore and cool (read: freezing) water might not make it ideal for swimming, we have visited several lovely beaches across the UK during our 2 1/2 years here. Our favorite little seaside town, Southwold, in Suffolk is also home to Will's favorite English brewery (Note that I said English; his fav British brewery is on the Isle of Skye in Scotland aka the mostbeautifulpleaceintheworld. Keep this in mind should you ever visit these places. Try some beer, then buy some for Will. He'll pay you back. Promise.). Back in October (yes, we've kept this photos from you that long), we took a daytrip with our friends J + C to visit the brewery, as well as the beach (fish + chips were also involved).

See?
Beach Huts
Will At: the beach!
Whether you are partial to the sand or the snow, enjoy these few photos from Southwold (hint: clicking the post title takes you to the Flickr album), and, of course, from snowy Cambridge. Stay warm; summer is only a few months away!

Read More...

Summary only...

A Trip 20 Years in the Making

And the post only took 3 months!Photos from our summer holiday to southern Germany are finally all uploaded, organized, and described on flickr. Click here to view. Enjoy, and not to worry, our 2009 Christmas Letter/Blogpost is currently in writing. We won't leave you (Mom, Dad, and the few others who read the blog) for such a long period again. Even though there is a lot going on, there is also a lot to tell. Love!

Read More...

Summary only...

The Great Summer Omnibus Post Part I: Scotland

Photos
So, after having said in September that we were sorry for not updating more frequently, it looks like we proceeded to get even more busy. Oops. Will has been working late nights and early morning to try and finish up the project faster. Jackie has been working part-time for a research office at the University and commuting to London twice-a-week for an internship. Add in Sunday School and Bible Study and the weeks begin to roll. Now, suddenly, we find ourselves in middle December, in damp, dark, and cold, and thinking fondly of our warm summer trips. What better time, then, to update you all on those adventures.

---

Scotland

It had been our full intent to give a complete and detailed update of our time in Scotland. Suffice to say, we got bogged down in the details, the masses of photos (over 500!) and the memories of what was our most enjoyable vacation, yet.
There's no other way to say it: we love Scotland. It wasn't even on our short-list of places to visit yet, like Man On Fire it's come out of nowhere to shock us with its awesomeness. England has national pride; there's no doubt about that. But, one wonders how much is born out of jealousy directed towards her more naturally handsome Northern sister. Our first trip to this "far-greener country" was in December 2007. We had stayed with friends over Christmas and Boxing Day, but then we caught the express train to Edinburgh because it stopped in Peterborough. Despite the cold (extremely) and wet (this is Britain, don't forget), we loved the city's strong, Georgian architecture and its little alcoves. More than that, the food was beyond compare. We knew that there was more to this country and we wanted to see it. Trouble was, we couldn't drive and that is the only way to get around Scotland.
Enter 2009. We decide in January that our big trip, our second anniversary, was going to be a Highlands Roadtrip. For Will, this meant learning to drive. Lots of breakfasts spent pouring over the Highway Code, several lessons with an instructor, fake parking spaces made of cones, and the incomparable generosity of family and one of the world's better drivers (at least, in his opinion) was now qualified to drive not just on the right, but the left as well. A tune-up trip to Devon (to adjust to the tiny-windy roads) and it was time to head out into the vast verge of Scotland.

We started and ended our trip in that glorious city of which we have written so much: Edinburgh. Since we were spending quite a bit of money on B and B's at nicer locales, we opted to do something that neither one of us has every done: we stayed in a hostel. We figured it would be one night, we could get a private room, and hey, it was £50/night. What could possibly go wrong? First of all, let's get one thing straight. Neither one of us are "silver-spooners." Yes, we are middle, if not upper-middle class, but we won't turn our noses up at anything if it's given to us. However, our lives are mean enough as is. The ability to travel, and to travel well, is highly important to us. Thus, hostels have never made much sense to us. Perhaps we could "get more for our money," but really, we would not enjoy it nearly as much. We're quite happy to cook for ourselves, and not go out during the year, if it means that we can eat without guilt or sacrifice when we travel. It's just being prudent. So, we quickly found that the "hostel crowd" is not our crowd.
Let's just say, it wasn't a great night's sleep. Concurrent with our arrival in the Scottish capitol was the beginning of the largest clan gathering since the 19th century. It was being billed as the "Scottish Homecomings" in the United States, meaning who else but Sean Connery could sell it. So, our convenient hostel, located right at the foot of the Castle Mount, was within earshot of the dress rehearsal for the massive opening ceremonies. It's hard to describe in text the disorientation we felt as we struggled to fall asleep to the sounds of tribal drums and an overbearing director shouting "If you are running in a circle, then you should be running NOW!" There was some interesting singing, as well, but perhaps that was just us praying for daylight.
Fast-forwarding to the next morning, we picked up our microscopic rental car from Edinburgh Waverley station. After getting lost for about an hour trying to get out of the city--Edinburgh is in the process of destroying all its streets by installing tram rails--we made it onto the motorway and off to our first destination: the Falkirk Wheel. It's big, it moves boats, it runs on the electrical power of a hairdryer. To an engineer this is still magic.
To get a grip on Scottish weather, picture wintertime, wherever you are. See something gray? Now turn down the brightness by about 12%, throw in some high winds, and rain that comes from every direction. This is roughly the description that you will receive from 98% of all Englishmen and 99.5% of all Scotsmen. Bizarrely, the further North and West we went from Edinburgh, the better the weather was getting. By the time we made it North of Glasgow (...nothing to see here...) we were already getting sunshine. We took some wonderful pictures of Loch Lomond, the largest loch in Scotland, from a roadside lay-by. The jet-skier was a total bonus.

Our first port-of-call was the Victorian fishing village of Oban. Famous in the UK for producing whisky, Oban was once a popular resort for the merchants and aristocrats coming from Edinburgh and other points southward. Nowadays, it is still popular, though a tad past prime. Nevertheless, it has managed to avoid the ubiquitous kitsch and tat of the English seaside (our favorite little Southwold, excepted, of course). Having walked around for 15 minutes, we'd pretty much seen all there was to see in Oban, but that was just fine by us.
We stayed at Dun-na-Mara, a charmingly renovated house with its own private beach looking out to the Isle of Jura and Isle of Mull. This particular B&B sported wonderful minimalist design and a tranquil atmosphere that literally stripped all the stress of our Edinburgh adventure away. We had a gorgeous sunny dinner picnic on the rocky beach (albeit, in high winds, of course) and were generally loving life.
At this point, we weren't quite in the Highlands. Yet, we were already finding how difficult it would be to get around the countryside. While you might be inclined to think this was due to caravans being pulled slowly by elderly people in Kias (since most of the time this is the case), in fact it was because of the countryside itself. Every parking place along the way was an opportunity to take a picture of some hillock, some loch, or some other gorgeous piece of Earth. It was astounding to be surrounded by such beauty, having just come from the fenland.
We stopped off for the afternoon in the resort town of Inveraray. Its uniformly white Georgian buildings were quaint, if the town itself was a bit quiet. Inveraray is famous for being the seat of the Dukes of Argyll, notable for gifting the world with the diamond-patterned knit sweater and socks. It also lies on Loch Fyne, a wealthy fishing loch.
Oh the fish. Will was never much for seafood living in the US. Scotland, though, has changed him forever. Everything, and we mean everything is locally-sourced, fresh, caught that morning. More on that, though, when we get to the best part of the trip.

Leaving Oban (and the lawyerly named county of Argyll & Bute) we made our way northward in dense fog and mist into the Highland Council. We decided to drive through Glen Coe, based on the recommendation of friends. Despite (do we even have to mention the high winds?) wind and rain, we were amazed at the rising peaks, the green glens, and the waterfalls. There were waterfalls coming down literally every hillside. As we made it out of that sad, but brilliant valley, it started to sun up. We stopped off for lunch just outside of Fort William (ha ha), the gateway to the Highlands. At this point we were still a little over 100 miles south and East of our ultimate destination: the Isle of Skye.

In The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe the Narnians speak of Aslan with great reverence and fear. Despite his being a lion (and that being quite a scary thing for a beaver), there is no question that Aslan is more beautiful, more wonderful, more amazing than anything the Pevensey children have ever seen. When they finally meet Aslan, they understand that the hyperbole was not exaggeration at all. Rarely is anything in reality that good. When it comes to people, the face-to-face encounter often brings out their more human characteristics. When it comes to places, different people have different preferences.

When we mentioned that we were going to Skye, no one, not a single person at all had a single bad word to say. In fact, almost all people described it as being one of--if not the--most beautiful place on Earth they have ever been. Once or twice, you think this is just a narrow thing. Five or six times, though, and you make it the hinge of your trip. Despite a typically harried timetable (we only had 10 days) we planned to spend three days on Skye.

One drives to Skye by first driving through Lochalsh; a rugged, beautiful, rural country in the Western Highlands. The queues of traffic that we had followed on the run up to Fort William had all but dispersed. It was now us, some scattered sheep, and Dutch motorcyclists doing at least 120 MPH. Before Skye, we stopped at one of the most photographed landmarks in Britain: Eileen Donan castle. Famous for its place in The Highlander, Eileen Donan is the seat of Clan MacRae and was a family home up until the 1980s. It sits on its own small island surrounded by gorgeous Highland vistas.

When we arrived at the Skye bridge (a white elephant project of the 1970s) in Kyle of Lochalsh, we were all tense with excitement. Crossing over, though, led to a brief moment of panic for Will as the first road sign he saw was posted in Scots-Gaels. Thankfully, all the signs on Skye are (eventually) bilingual. In the rest of Scotland, the average amount of spoken Gaelic is down around 20-30% now. On the Hebridean islands, however, the rate is as high as 70%. Hence, we were now into some fiercely Scottish lands.
Our home for our three days on Skye was Tigh-an-Dochais (tie-an-doh-chess, Gaelic: "house of hope"), a modern B and B sat on the bay in the town of Harrapool. Our host, Neil, is now one of our favorite people in the world. Not only does Neil make his own yogurt, but he was an invaluable source of information about the entirety of Skye. Every day began with a 45 minute conversation with Neil about our plans, what was good about them, and what we might consider doing differently. Oh yeah, Neil can cook a mean breakfast too. He also will give you a ziploc bag for your muffins (home baked!) if you don't eat it with breakfast!

Skye is a hiker's paradise. Only 30 miles at the span, Skye has a disproportionately large ridge of mountains dividing it through the middle. The Cuillin Range, as they are called, create microclimate zones around the island. Hence, each peninsula has its own unique floral character. Harrapool, in the Southeast of the island where we were staying was flat and low-lying with scrub plants. Further to the North (across the Cuillin), we found it to remind us quite a bit of high prairie and the West Country. To the West, it was practically tropical with palm trees and sandy beaches. Now, this is not to imply that the temperatures fit the places (they didn't) but the lighting, the look, the feel. All of that was right. It was as if the whole world was pulled together in miniature on Skye.

Our favorite location on Skye was, without a doubt, Talisker Bay. One gets to Talisker by driving through the village of Corbost (home of Talisker Whisky Distillery. Do you even have to ask?) on a well-maintained single-track road. Rather than driving down into the town, you bear up onto the hills above and onto a very rural single track. Keep going for about 10-15 minutes through sheep-filled grassland until things start going downhill again and the road ends. There's a small cul-de-sac at the end of the road. If there is parking then you can go, otherwise, you're at a loss for private parking. Leaving the road, you walk for a mile through someone's private property past a gigantic Edwardian farmhouse. Passing the farmhouse on the farm road, the sheep are grazing up and down the impossibly steep hill off to the left and an expanse of cultivated fields runs down literally to the end of the Earth where there is a bay. Surrounded by high cliffs and filled with volcanic black sands, we believe that Talisker Bay is a piece of heaven here on Earth. We could stay for only a moment (it was about 45 minutes), but it hurt to leave because we knew we were somewhere beautiful.

As much as we enjoyed Neil's breakfasts, the food on Skye as a whole was wonderful. Being an island, things still have to be brought in. However, being a part of the Hebrides, Skye benefits from a fishing tradition. Hence, when we got seafood gumbo (yes! Seafood gumbo!) the majority of the seafood had been fished out of the bay across the road that morning. It doesn't get much more fresh than that. The most unique dining experience was absolutely dinner at The Three Chimneys. Although located at the opposite end of Skye from our B&B, and in a tiny village accessible only by single track, Three Chimneys is a luxury B&B with a world-famous restaurant. The food and service were easily the match of anything we've had in London or anywhere else. Jackie is still craving some hot marmalade pudding. That meal alone will be enough to draw us back to Skye one last time.

When the sad, though inevitable, day arrived for us to depart, we drove largely in the same direction from which we had come. However, this being the Highlands, we knew that we had to at least see Loch Ness. We did. It was a beautiful sunny day. We didn't stop. After ricocheting off Inverness, we piloted the Bonnie Blue southwards and into the pastoral Speyside region. We spent only a short time near the Spey, but we enjoyed the distillery tours. It is fascinating to visit a large operation (like Glenfiddich) who still insist on using traditional methods, while a smaller producer (like Aberlour) uses the most modern production techniques. Both manage to make a good dram.

Following our Bacchanalian stop off in Speyside, we crossed the Cairngorm Mountains and returned to Edinburgh. Of note was how we still managed to get lost, but were able to get to the train station by driving up the Royal Mile. Once central, it seems, the traffic seems to disappear.

The pictures of Scotland tell the story better than this writer ever could.  It is, after all, a picturesque country, rather than one given to description. We could lavish hyperbole on the scenery, heap praise on the local food, or go on for hours about the people and how welcoming and relaxing a country it is. It would do none of it justice. Instead, this understated, wet, plucky little country to the North of a much more-heralded brother can continue to awe and inspire all who visit, no matter what we may say.

Read More...

Summary only...