Lovely Jams

A stone circle in a field near Aberfeldy

The Vale of Atholl Pipes and Drums, at Pitlochry Highland Festival on Monday

It is 7:00 am Thursday as I write this. We are in Pitlochry, Scotland, a small town of maybe a thousand residents and 500 tourists, centrally located in the Perthshire Highlands. We are staying in a 2-bedroom cottage, what is called a ‘self-catered’, and it is perfect for our needs, $800 for the week but we will only stay 5 nights. Tuesday we toured the countryside to the south, down to Aberfeldy and Loch Tay, and visited Castle Menzies. It was good to be a Menzies.

Around Loch Tay lived the Menzies, MacDougalls, the MacDonalds, the MacGregors, the Clunies, the Robertsons, the Stewarts and the Camerons, and they worked out their differences with swords, dirks, shields, ambushes and thievery. The Robertsons were greatly feared after they invented the Claymore, a 2-handed sword over 5’ long, but the Menzies had the best cattle and some good-looking women, so they held their own. Bonnie Prince Charlie lost his bid for the throne in this area, but the Jacobites defeated the government troops at the battle of Killiecrankie, a revered site for the locals which we will visit today.

The Scots we meet are very nice, friendly people, but you can see their history of warring, their dander in the young men, a lot of Bravehearts walking around, ready for a scrap should the need arise. I see Mac here, the light hair, blue eyes, ruddy face. Are you from here, Mac? I see Bill M. here too, or his dad, especially the curly hair. I know there is a big mix of Irish and English in many of these people, and it shows in many ways.

Yesterday Dana did laundry in the morning early, and we set it on the line to dry. The sun was beaming, but it seems there are always big clouds of varying shades of gray lurking about, and sprinkles constantly remind you that you are not in California. After helping hang the clothes, I made a lunch and Mike and I set out on one of the walks nearby, Craigower walk, a 5.5 miles jaunt to Craigower peak, with Laura and John some 20 minutes behind. Dana is on a cane with a plantar fasciitis injury. She needs to heal up fast. I was wearing my plaid shorts and a Live Oak ‘Peace, Love, Dirt’ shirt, black socks and Ecco hikers, and a brown felt cowboy hat I got in Sevilla. I looked like a tourist. Dana loves how I dress, and the kids stay 20’ behind me when we go through town.

What they don’t mention in the hike descriptions is elevation gain. Our walk started with 2.5 miles up, and up, and up. We wound around the Pitlochry Golf Course, which you’d better be in good shape to play as the outbound nine go up and up, and there are no carts. Every golf course I have seen, and there are many, is so green and pristine it hurts the eyes. They do not need to irrigate, just mow like crazy.

Up we went to Craigower Peak, 1000’ of gain, and I had to stop for a breath many times, and busted a good sweat in 75 degree humid weather, but we made it. The finish to the peak is a series of punishing stairs, just for good measure. John and Laura arrived at the peak just behind us, and we set ponchos on the ground to make a picnic. We took some great photos, and watched the rain start to come down on the hills in the distance, and wondered which way it was moving. Just as we were finishing our picnic we got our answer – toward us.

Mike at Craigower Peak

A light sprinkle started, so we put on the 3 ponchos we had, and I gave leather-coated poncholess John my hat. We packed up quickly and headed out, and within a few hundred yards we came to a spot where we could see the sun beaming to the southeast, and a line of rain advancing on us from the west. John stopped to take some video, but he should have been pulling on the rain pants I had in my pack, as within 30 seconds it was pouring on us. The walk so far had been on well marked trail and roads, and now was on logging roads, so we bombed down the crag, laughing and singing. When we were put back on the trail, it had turned into a creek, and without options we slogged on. My waterproof shoes, it turns out, are only waterproof from the bottom up.

View from Craigower Peak

We were soaked by the time we made it back to the cottage, but happy. It had barely sprinkled here in town, just enough to mess with the laundry. We changed up, and later John and I made toasties and soup for dinner. The McCray pub had a ceilidh (jam session) that night, and the boys had their ukuleles, so off we went to jam. In the pub were a bagpiper, a fiddler, a guitarist and a mandolin player, and later an accordionist. Mike wouldn’t bring his ukulele in until he’d scouted it out, but John brought his. We sat at a table next to the musicians, and John tried to hide the uke. He explained that he couldn’t hang with these guys, and didn’t want to bring them down. Mike glued his eyes to the telly and made believe he was elsewhere.

This is a situation that demands tender mercies. I asked the players if they would mind if I sat with them to shoot some video, and they said only if I got the ‘good bits and posted them on YouTube.’ I said I wouldn’t know a good bit from a bad bit, but the boys are musical so I will have them shoot the video, and they will be on YouTube. The boys’ musicianship was outed. We got some drinks, beers for John and Laura, hard cider (Strongbow) for Mom, lemonade for me, and Mike had nothing. Dana had been worrying Mike for liking beer too much, and he would not budge at the moment we wanted him to have a beer and loosen up.

John is a master at getting people to do what needs to be done, so after Mike had loosened up a bit and we had dropped the issue, he suggested that it was time for Mike’s first whiskey. He got 2 whiskeys, and Mike took his first sip of the demon. After a few sips he was about to chug the rest, but I stopped him and ordered chasers of a porter’s ale. The guitarist asked John if he wanted to join in, and deferred to his brother’s skills, and Mike took out the uke and sat in. It was a glorious moment. Mike could hang, making the chord changes by following the guitar, and he jammed with these accomplished players for an hour, until they had to stop at ten pm. The players were smiling at Mike, enjoying his playing and earnestness, and I bought a round for the table of musicians. We beamed in our glory for a while.

It was a great day, I hope the rest are nearly as good. There are so many pictures and videos that I will try to post links to them on Vimeo and Picasa, or here if need be. Today we will road trip to Balmoral Castle, the summer home of the queen. Again, check John's blog here. Amazing how we chose the same pics.

This is Mo's poem, I mean Anonymous'

I see you snagged a crag
Despite jetlag

Mo prednisone
For the no doze zone

With mouth clutch popped
And wrong way traffic
In a bird flipping populace
Now there’s a graphic

Is it the cow or the sheep
Through long lashes do peep

Mrs Garmin is charmin
But that won’t help
With the Bobbies alarmin

Though you mention
The family tension
It could be the metamucil stroll
That takes the toll
Not just on knickers
That are in a twist
But family blogs that report the tryst