DAY 294

Monday 30 April 2012

Since we hadn’t gotten up at 4:45 AM with corn flakes and driven to nearby Fort Augustus, we missed seeing “Nessie” (this was how our campsite manager had instructed her children when they were young for a guaranteed sighting of the monster). It was just as well since Nicole had risen at 7:30 to sort photos on the computer taking advantage of the electricity included in our camping price. With the Loch a stone’s throw away, we lingered a bit to enjoy the magnificent view. After showering in the nicest restrooms we had encountered (wood panelling, real glass doors, air tight rooms to change in and HOT water), we packed up and headed out of Loch Ness. While Charles filled the tank at the gas station with diesel, Nicole did an impromptu clogging dance to a Kitty Wells song and had Dian cracking up as she groped for the camera to capture the moment on video. She did.

All along the 50 mile drive down to Fort William we saw snow covered mountains – the last of our majestic highland views.  Since our dear Scottish friend, Frances had recommended the town of Stirling (and her other recommendations had turned out to be sterling), we drove there by way of Loch Lomand. Of course the guitar had to come out for a final version of "On The Bonnie Bonnie Banks of Loch Lomand" and a final goodbye to Scotland with "Auld Lang Syne." The departure was capped with the last of our oak smoked salmon overlooking the loch.

As we headed for Edinburgh we really weren’t sure where we were going to find the Beltane Festival. All we knew was that it was on Calton Hill. Luckily our GPS had a listing for that and we drove there fairly directly. Upon arriving in the area we learned from a friendly policeman who was setting up barriers that we were close to the festival site and learned from another friendly local that we could park on the street and only have to be out by 9:30 the next morning. Perfect! As we looked out our windows we saw a group of volunteers gathering outside an apartment so we went over to them to see if we could volunteer. They were enthusiastic after hearing we had come from California but then realized the “health and safety” regulations would need to be adhered to. They told us who to go see and so we hurriedly gathered our warm clothes and umbrellas and climbed the steep stairs to the top of Calton Hill.

Ivan, the photographer we met

There we found John Wilson, one of the event managers who kindly informed us that due to fire retardants needing to have been sprayed on our clothes it was too late to help out. He did, however give us a wonderful overview of what we were going to witness complete with an Eddie Izzard/Craig Ferguson style delivery which lasted about 10 minutes. We were given his permission to do a walk about which gave Nicole a chance to shoot some pre-show photos. We met another student photographer named Ivan with whom we ended up spending some time chatting while eating our haggis and chips and fish and chips. He was quite interesting and had grown up in Bulgaria. We also met a woman from Boston who had stayed after her tour group left so she could experience the pagan rituals of Edinburgh’s 26 year old Beltane Fire Festival. We were starting to get really excited as the actors began to walk around in their costumes and make up. There was an unmistakable vibe of magic in the air and the cold mist added to it.

Thankfully, Nicole’s photos tell the best story of our experience but suffice it to say it was a real slice. After greeting the re-birthed Green Man and his May Queen at the bonfire, we walked down the hill to our van and turned the heater on full blast. Happy Summer!!!

DAY 293

Sunday 29 April 2012

We’ve been so close we’ve seen each other in all lights from picking our noses to picking our guitars. Before we pulled out of Ullapool we took a moment to take a photograph of Nicole’s six original greeting cards she had created the day before. She declined to be photographed with them in her “onesie.” It was sunny when we drove through Badcall and we joked that that was where bad refs went to retire. Nicole wondered if there would ever be a call for a drive through church with “to go” communion. We all knew that was unthinkable but sometimes a punchy mood and a bit of cabin fever caused our imaginations to go wild. We saw many people in Tartan skirts (women mostly) walking to church in the drizzle and that was where Nicole got the idea for “take away wafers.” Another reason we were trying to keep things light was that there were no gas stations open and we were on empty! Finally after about five false tries, we filled up our tank and bellies (Charles bought ice cream), overlooking the loch in a town not too far from Portree which was rich in war memorabilia and statues and it was easy to see why the white-haired tourists enjoyed the bus ride to thosesights.

Your typical dumpster labels in this region.

We crossed the Skye Bridge and entered the beautiful Isle of Skye. The drive up to the northern part and looping back down was wonderful and we decided that with the goal of getting to Loch Ness by evening we would cut out a further investigation of the island. Charles vowed to return someday and do a thorough drive around. As we drove over the Skye Bridge and hit the mainland again we were getting a pretty fair amount of rain.

"Wish you were here"

We arrived at Loch Ness Campground at 7:30 and with a glass of wine to unwind we sat outside in what had become COLD wind but no more rain. Soup and couscous with string beans was consumed while Charles read from Mark Twain’s “The Innocents Abroad” and Dian debuted her original song dedicated to her shipmates.

"Highlander" was filmed at this castle

It was cold.

We spotted Nessie!

DAY 292

Saturday 28 April 2012 

Just checking up!

With apologies to the Irish (of whom Dian and Nicole are a part) this is a joke we heard in England:

“Alright lads we’re outnumbered four to one, we’ve got to go out there and hit 'em with all we’ve got!” said the captain. The one Irish lad and all the other English lads went out and there was a wild battle with mayhem and blood everywhere. Pretty soon the captain noticed the Irish lad smoking a cigarette under a tree. “What’s this all about? Why aren’t you out there fighting!” The Irishman replied, “I killed my four.”

We were still reeling from the stunning views of the day before and all of us agreed it had been a great day. After a Scottish sausage and mushroom omelette with hot chocolate we did a load of laundry and had hot showers before finally pulling ourselves away from gorgeous Camp Scouri at 1:45. We thrilled to the sight of a large formation of geese flying overhead and honking their song of eons here. Sheep and seagulls mingled their voices in what sounded like a fond farewell as we drove out of town. We had to stop at an old woman’s house and buy a packet of oak smoked salmon (they're famous for it here) before pulling away from Scouri and heading down the west coast to Ullapool. On the way we saw a bald man with a briefcase hitch hiking and knew of course he was the murderer/escaped convict we’d heard about through Jon at the B&B in Tongue – “He’s reported to be heading to Scotland.” (It’s interesting to note that the gallows humor DOES alleviate tension – not that we were really worried.)

Entering Ullapool

We pulled into Ullapool, the beautiful seaport town that even had a tall ship and was having an art fair. We chatted with some of the artists and bought a card painted by a woman whose house we could see across the bay. Another kind woman found the local newspaper and showed us that there would be live music that evening at the Argyll. We parked in a big lot and walked over to the restaurant/hotel and put in a reservation for that evening.

Another artisan

The smallest car we had ever seen (right).

A couple of hours later we were sitting in front of Martin Stevenson eating haggis with Drambuie sauce along with two delicious soups. He's quite the talker and storyteller and when he mentioned being in Albuquerque, off we go! We got to chatting, you know? He said when he landed there for a concert in Santa Fe (except his guitars went to Phoenix), the first person he met, the taxi driver, was from Liverpool. That may have been where he picked up the bolo tie he was wearing, a New Mexico thing but never seen in Europe. The charming entertainment by the generous Martin (he gave us his three CDs) and his accompanying musicians Chippy and George made for a delightful evening, just the kind this music-loving family cherishes. 


When they started off on a long vamp on "Freight Train," we got a good idea of what kind of music we were in for, and the quality. It's been fascinating to see how many European musicians are totally enamored of American music, and how many (not many) get far enough into it to be able to pull it off credibly, not just he right notes (that's fairly easy) but the right spirit, the soul of the music.


Chippy played stellar guitar all night, and George, well, George was this rather mysterious character, sitting "on stage" with hat pulled down low but resisting pleas to pick up a guitar and join in. Seems he had quite a history, making videos for Stephan Grossman, hanging out with Bob Marley and John Renbourne (who played in Ullapool three weeks ago -- oooh noooo! -- Charles has been wanting to see him live for 40 years).


When Martin spent a looooong time talking with a fan, an intent bearded guy in yellow rubber boots who squatted right in front of him, Martin pretty much giving him a guitar seminar right there while the rest of us stared into our beers. It signaled how loose this gig was, and what a generous spirit Martin has. We loved him as a performer, an entertainer, so he had our free rein to be himself, wherever that went.


By 9:30 the pizza was delivered on stage, and Martin had his dinner. The show was supposed to start at 9. George picked up a guitar and vamped during pizza time and showed impressive, wistful chops. Around a quarter to 10 the set finally gets under way, with "Long Forgotten," and he stops at the end and announces, "Hi, my name is Martin and I'm an alcoholic.... 17 years sober." He gets some applause but he interrupts, "No, no, if I was in California you'd all respond, 'Hi Martin!'" and he grinned huge. Martin Stephenson grins a lot. He seemed to be a man who enjoys life immensely, and that was borne out in some intermission conversation Charles had with him outside.


He played to a dog at the bar whose tail was wagging furiously, a furry metronome. He joked with a guy in a wheelchair. He did a talking vamp (he talk-sang a lot, but in other songs hit all the notes nicely) on Yellowman, Eek-a-Mouse and Sweet Bob Marley. He told Charles he looked like banjo great Charlie Poole (can't see it but took the musical compliment) as he picked one up and did a couple of songs and told stories that hinted at just how knowledgeable he is about American roots music.


 He asked Dian and Nicole to sing a couple tunes and they responded with an original they wrote on this trip, with Robyn in Greece, "Food and Love," then really brought the house down and plastered an even bigger grin on Martin's face with their gorgeous arrangement of "Blue Bayou." We stayed till the last bell then walked back to our van.

 

Haggis on the left

Martin

Chippy and George