Back with a vengeance!

OK, so here is a photo fest from the Stirling University daytrip to the Trossachs National Park. The Trossachs = a small woodland glen in the Stirling council area of Scotland. This was quite a while ago, but I'm catching up, so back off, k?

The group of almost 30 students started out at Doune Castle, but I missed it because the bus left without me! Mike, the guy supervising our trip, thought I was already on the bus and told the tour guide/driver -- a young Scottish guy by the name of Jamie MacDonald, who works for a Scottish tour company called MacBackpackers -- to take off while I was still running from my flat to the circle drive where we were supposed to meet. When I got there, I recall being confused, angry, and sad. But Lindsay soon came to my rescue as she told the supervisor that they forgot me, and he called me to say that Jamie would be coming back to campus to pick me up and bring me to the group at the castle. I didn't care that I was going to miss the castle fun; there are about 60 million castles in Scotland, and at least they came back to get me at all. So I got to enjoy a fun chat with Jamie, who had some pretty awesome Celtic (I think? There were bagpipes) music on and who was wearing a kilt. We talked about the fact that my mom's side of the family has ties to the MacDonald clan in Scotland, so we're probably 700th cousins or something. He can only trace back his own history to 1818, so who knows where our ancestral paths cross, but as a side note, he did say that the MacDonald men are quite handsome. Judge for yourself -- I think he gets bumped up 1.5 points for the kilt -- although this is quite a fuzzy picture:

He was a very entertaining guide. Clan MacDonald all the way!

So the first part of the tour that I really got to see was a weird guy showing off his sheepdog. It was an adorable dog, and a crowd gathered to watch it take commands from its master and boss some sheep around -- it was more captivating that my description indicates. Regena got a great pic of the action:

My pic is worse, but I don't care! You still have to look at it so that I feel like an active participant in my own travels:

The dog was adorable, in my opinion.

So then we drove past the historic Lake of Menteith. That's right, bitches -- the lake of my ancestors. The Monteiths/Menteiths are a sept of the Graham clan, an Anglo-Norman family of the early 12th century. Mike kept making a big deal out of the fact that I'm a Monteith and that this was my namesake lake; I think he was kind of sucking up because he felt bad that he left without me that morning. Still, the attention was nice, and it made me feel like I was seeing something personally significant. Now, I have a picture of this lake that I took from the moving bus, but I'm going to be a big boy right now and accept that it's a piece of shit. So, this is a much better photograph of the Lake of Menteith, taken from the Wikipedia entry on the lake:

Here's the story: The Lake of Menteith, or, until the 20th century, the Loch of Menteith, is often thought of as the only body of water in Scotland that is referred to as a lake. (Actually, there are two other small artificial bodies of water known as lakes: Pressmennan Lake and the Lake of the Hirsel.) All other major bodies of water in Scotland are known as lochs. The are a number of small islands in the lake. The clan seat of the Grahams of Menteith is on the island of Inchtalla. On the largest, Inchmahome, is Inchmahome Priory, an ancient Augustinian monastery. The priory served as refuge to Mary Queen of Scots in 1547. She was only four years old at the time, when Henry VIII was carrying out a series of military raids -- known collectively as the "rough wooing" -- designed to force the infant Mary into a marriage with his son. Henry VIII, you suck, and you couldn't find her because she was hiding on an island in the lake of my ancient people! Hahahaha, nice try, fatass/wife-killer. Am I too defensive of Scotland?

Then we headed to Queen Elizabeth Forest Park, where I posed by a waterfall. I'm wearing the hood because it was raining, not because I thought it was fashionable:

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On to Loch Katrine for a stroll along the pier. Loch Katrine is the lake of Sir Walter Scott's The Lady of the Lake. Oil-fired vessels are not permitted to sail its waters due to the danger of pollution to the drinking water of Glasgow. Instead, a wood-burning, steam-powered boat named the S.S. Sir Walter Scott offers local tourist transport. Here I am in front of it, with a HUGE umbrella that I reluctantly purchased because I could no longer handle the downpour. I think I'm laughing at the size of the umbrella here -- you should have seen that mofo fully opened:

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And another shot with more of the lake in the background:

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Regena and I got back on the bus and talked to Jamie for a while. He made us hot chocolate. I loved this tour and the fact that he really seems to get into his job, which is showing off Scotland's finest spots to the masses. Some more scenic driving took place, and we ended up at the Kilmahog Woolen Mill, the residence of Hamish, the Hairy Coo (or Highland Bull, if you prefer). Since Mike still felt guilty, he gave me a carrot to feed Hamish. Hamish almost ate my hand, but it was fun. Watch as I offer sustenance to one of the greatest Highland creatures:

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We were also taken to the grave of Robert Roy MacGregor -- or Rob Roy, as you may know him -- in Balquhidder. WIKIPEDIA: Rob Roy was a famous Scottish folk hero and outlaw of the early 18th century, and he is sometimes known as the Scottish Robin Hood. Rob Roy was a well-known and respected cattleman -- he borrowed a large sum of money to increase his own cattle herd, but due to the deception of his chief herder, who was entrusted with the money to bring the cattle back, Rob Roy lost his money and cattle, and defaulted on his loan. As a result, he was branded an outlaw, and his wife and family were evicted from their house at Inversnaid, which was then burned down. After his principal creditor, James Graham, 1st Duke of Montrose, seized his lands, Rob Roy warred with the duke until 1722, when Rob Roy was forced to surrender. Later imprisoned, he was finally pardoned in 1727 by King George I, who was influenced by Daniel Defoe's fictionalized account of Rob Roy's life called Highland Rogue, which made Rob Roy a legend. The publication of Rob Roy by Sir Walter Scott in 1817 further added to his fame and fleshed out his biography. William Wordsworth wrote a poem called "Rob Roy's Grave" during a visit to Scotland. Adaptations of his story have also been told in film, most notably the 1995 flick Rob Roy starring Liam Neeson and Jessica Lange. Picture time -- the first one is blurry because I had to resize it and I suck at photo editing:

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We did a little hike on a trail behind the graveyard, where there was a decent mini-waterfall. We also stopped by Loch Lomond, which has the largest surface area of the lochs. The wretched weather made the view relatively lame:

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We saw some more lochs, and I got some chips (fries) at a lochside diner. As I devoured them on the bus with ketchup and "brown sauce" (not a particularly big fan of this steak sauce cousin), a few people noted that they could smell them and that they were jealous. Is this a hint that I should offer a few up? Perhaps, but I was grumpy about the rain and only shared with Regena and Lindsay. Regena made me laugh pretty hard when she had a few of them and then self-consciously said something along the lines of: "I'm not trying to be like, 'CAN I HAVE A CHIP AURRRRR!'" Her impression sounded like Chris Farley in the Gap Girls skit when he has some of their fries and then turns into a monster. Gap Girls: "Aren't you on a diet?" "Yeah, save some for us." Chris Farley: "LAY OFF ME I'M STARVING!!" The box of chips seemed to last for ages, and I remember savoring them as we drove in the rain to our final destination, some Roman ruins that would make for a pretty bad photograph because they're kind of non-existent.

Jamie told a good story about Hadrian's Wall: it was a stone and turf fortification built by the Roman Empire across the width of Great Britain to prevent military raids by the tribes of (what is now) Scotland to the north, to provide peaceful conditions in the Roman province of Britannia to the south, to physically mark the frontier of the Empire, and to separate the unruly Selgovae tribe in the north from the Brigantes in the south and discourage them from uniting. In other words, the ancient inhabitants of Scotland were so unruly that they convinced the Romans not to annex the region to their massive empire. I love it! The more I hear, the more I love.

Finally, it is important to mention that near the end of the tour, Jamie poured all of us whiskey --- good Scottish whiskey -- to mark the end of a wonderful trip. It was the kind that you can really only sip as it fills your mouth and throat with intense warmth. Slanjiva! (Gaelic for cheers, or something) Regena and I with Lindsay in the background:

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And there you have it! A great day trip.