The Hicks Place

May 9, 2012

Things began to go wrong just just after noon.  We were getting ready to take a trip to Alhambra, Ca. to celebrate Mother’s Day with Marcia’s mom, and while we were gone we were going to have the living/dining room, master bedroom and halls of our condo painted.  We had spent the last two days moving books, dishes, lamps, television, smaller pieces of furniture, etc. into the kitchen, guest room and den, and the painters had moved the larger furniture pieces into the middle of the rooms and wrapped them in plastic wrap.  We had packed that morning, Wednesday, and were on our way to the airport.  Our Southwest Airlines flight 562 to Burbank, with scheduled stops in Phoenix and Las Vegas, was scheduled to depart at 3:40 (remember this -- the sequence of stops).

Half-way to the airport we discovered that Marcia's iPhone had apparently been left behind.  We decided against turning back to retrieve it for lack of time.  We had a laptop and my simple cell phone; that would have to do.  Everything went well through check-in, security, and we had time for a sandwich before going to the gate. 

Just as we were walking into the gate area my cell phone rang.  It was an automated call from Southwest to inform me that our flight was delayed for about an hour (so we would have had plenty of time to go back for the phone!)  As we were standing there lamenting that fact, the pilot walked up.  We briefly spoke and he acknowledged that the delay was news to him as well.  About 40 minutes later my phone rang again and another message told me that our gate had been changed and the departure time was further delayed by about 15 minutes.  (remember this -- Southwest had an automated system in place which called passengers directly to explain the flight status).  Things got a little hectic again for awhile during our wait – we were fielding calls from the contractor, who had found the iPhone, and calling our friend Lynn, to ask her to overnight us the iPhone, and then in the melee, the alarm system was set off at the house and calls came in about that…. But otherwise, all was calm.

Our plane pushed back from the gate at shortly after 5pm and our flight was uneventful until just after we could see snow on mountains, likely somewhere in southeast Colorado.  Then a thick cloud cover formed just below our flying altitude, but we remained in bright sunshine.  As we started our descent into Phoenix we began to encounter some roughness which was not alarming but which increased dramatically as we continued.  A couple of announcements about turbulence were made.  It then became apparent that we were in a holding pattern over the city and it had become much darker.  I had a window seat on the left side of the plane; my view was to the south when we finally broke through the clouds.  On that side of the plane it was dark and threatening and the clouds were moving rapidly.  Although it was 6 o'clock local time, the city and vehicle traffic lights were all on.  On the other side of the plane the sun was shining and the horizon was nearly clear.  Marcia pointed and made the anxious joke, “I want to land over there!”  We made another loop to the east and then turned back west, descending now in very gusty conditions, doing a lot of bouncing around.  Finally we made a pretty sharp u-turn and straightened out for the final approach.  We were still being flipped back and forth and occasionally up and down.  Honestly, we were terrified.  As two probably 30-story or higher buildings came into view on my left, it seemed perhaps almost half as tall as our altitude.  The right wing went up sharply, we hung there for a second, and then to my relief I felt and heard the power being increased and I said to Marcia, "Thank God he is pulling up and aborting the landing!"  The cabin was briefly remarkably quiet, but then some sobbing and chatter began.  Gradually gaining altitude and proceeding northeast we flew for perhaps ten minutes before the pilot came on the intercom, acknowledged that we had had a very bad experience, apologized, and told us that we were diverting to Las Vegas to refuel and then would return to Phoenix. 

Return to Phoenix?!  No way!  It was then that I lost it.  I announced to all that I was not flying back to Phoenix.  We had just been through, as George Carlin would have said, "not a near miss, but more accurately, a near crash".  In 45 minutes we would be in Las Vegas, where we were going anyway.  Why should the Burbank passengers be subjected to returning to Phoenix!?  Surely the Las Vegas passengers would be allowed to deplane, so we decided to get off too, and take another flight to Burbank either later that night or sometime early the next day.  Marcia and I even agreed that it would be better to rent a car and drive to the L.A. area rather than be subjected to the anguish of flying back to Phoenix.

We passengers were admonished to stay in our seats, as the weather was still bumpy.  The cabin crew announced that they were in the dark as to what the exact procedure would be when we got to Las Vegas.  I think it was about 7:10 when we arrived.  It took awhile for a gate to become available, but after we finally parked, we were still required to remain in our seats.  We were told that a customer service agent was reviewing the passenger list and making individual arrangements for us.  We waited.  We were again asked to be patient, that momentarily we would get these instructions.  My blood pressure was rising!  A woman who was sick was allowed to get off of the plane.  Then a couple with a baby came from the back of the plane and apparently left.  That confused the flight attendants so we were asked to remain seated so a passenger count could be made.  Then the ground attendant came on the plane, took the microphone, and announced that the weather had improved in Phoenix and we had been cleared to return.  This set off an uproar, but not as loud as my cry of "Burbank", attempting to get her attention to consider the plight of the Burbank passengers.  Marcia calmed me back into my seat and proceeded to the front of the plane where she had a very direct conversation with the head of the cabin crew, who it turns out had not even heard the announcement  by the ground attendant.  She got on the microphone to reassure the passengers that the plane was not returning to Phoenix.  Marcia returned to our seat and I, feigning a need to go to the restroom, went to the front of the plane where I had my second conversation of the day with the pilot.  I told him he had done a great job and thanked him for pulling us out and coming on to Las Vegas.  I explained that we were going on to Burbank and didn't want to go back to Phoenix, we wanted off of the plane.  He said he understood.  Then, the ground attendant returned again, took the microphone, and advised everyone that they had been working on individual plans, but that their home office had just directed them to stop doing so and to send the plane back to Phoenix after all.  After some further discussion with other passengers and another cabin attendant, Marcia joined me with our carry-on bags and we started out the ramp, on the way passing the pilot again and offering him our thanks.   

Once off the plane, several things became clear.  First, the ground crew member and the cabin crew were primarily concentrating on the Phoenix passengers’ situation.  They had not been doing anything to find alternatives for the other passengers.  Secondly, this was probably because neither the flight crew nor the ground crew had any passenger lists whatsoever to work with – on paper or online.  So they not only didn’t know where we were going, they didn’t even know who we were (although wait, didn’t they call us twice on the phone to tell us of flight delays?  How did they manage that?)  Thirdly, it appeared maybe the flight attendants had not even been aware of the final destination of the plane, as they had been expecting to be replaced in Phoenix.  We insisted on getting off.  The agent took our baggage claim tickets, wrote our names on a sheet of paper, and informed us we were voluntarily terminating service but that our bags would be delivered to Burbank at some time and we could claim them there.  She advised us to call their 800 number for additional help. She herself was on a radio begging for additional help because by now, other passengers were starting to crowd the ramp behind us.  By this point, my cell phone battery was down, and my charger was in the suitcase under the plane, so Marcia and I just walked over to another Southwest gate and explained our plight to the attendant and her supervisor, who immediately booked us onto a flight leaving for Burbank in less than an hour.  Marcia went back to retrieve a lady in the jetway who had been in tears and was also bound for Burbank, and the result was that probably another dozen or so passengers followed our lead and were also on our flight to Burbank.  The plane was only about two-thirds full, so there would have been room for others.

We arrived in Burbank without luggage, too late to pick up our rental car, and so stressed out after the trauma that we decided to get a hotel room (at our own expense) and go to bed.  Thursday was a better day.  Our bags, along with many others from that flight, were in fact at the airport, our rental car agency had no vehicles left but we found a car elsewhere, and we are now enjoying our stay in sunny California with Marcia's mom.

In summary, Southwest Airlines has good pilots but their cabin and ground crews as well as their home office staff really dropped the ball on this one! 

Oh, and Phoenix is now on my list along with Chicago and Atlanta of airports to avoid if at all possible.  

 

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Sorry I Haven't Written

A lot has happened since my last post in November.  We bought a condo, sold our house and moved, all of it happening between Thanksgiving and Valentine's day.   Our objective was to "simplify our lives", which essentially means "downsizing", so deciding what we didn't need and selling several items including furniture on Craig's list and a garage sale on the coldest Saturday in January were also involved.  We did have Two Men and a Truck help Marcia with the packing and move us, and luckily our moving day was a sunny, April-like day in early February.

Meanwhile, in little spurts before falling asleep each night I was reading, and one of the books was Tom Brokaw's "The Time of Our Lives".   In it he advocates among other things that Americans consume less, learn to live in smaller houses, drive smaller cars, use less energy etc., which helped confirm that we had made the right decision.  We certainly have never been big consumers or measured success by the size of our house, cars or televisions, but like most middle class Americans our possessions far exceeded our actual needs.  Marcia is a master at selling (and buying) stuff on the internet, so the proceeds from her sales paid for the cost of the move.  

I also made several trips to Goodwill and the Habitat Store with charitable items, both before and after the move.  One of the items I took to Habitat was an old reel-type push lawn mower that had belonged to my mother's parents.  It had been in the corner of the garage for many years and I only tried to use it a couple of times.  Hopefully some family with a small inner-city lot will find it meets their needs perfectly.

It now occurs to me that my life could be defined in terms of lawn mowers.  My father used to tell about the jobs he had as a young man taking care of small cemeteries near Barnard, Indiana.  Rotary mowers were of course unheard of, so a good, smooth working reel mower was to him a necessity.  We had a good one with hard rubber tires when we lived on the Hicks Place.  We had a fairly large yard, sloping down some distance from the two-story white house to the gravel road.  In the yard  were a cherry tree (under which unfortunately was the sand box we kids played in), a large oak tree down near the road, and two beechnut trees west of the house planted so a hammock could be hung between them, though we never had one.  Beside the house were a couple of cedar trees, which my dad took turns topping for Christmas trees each year.

As soon as I was tall enough so that my chin was level with the handle, one of my chores was to help dad cut the grass.  It never got very tall under those beech trees so there it was easy enough for me to push the mower, but the beechnuts scattered on the ground presented a life threatening hazard.  Invariably one of those nuts would suddenly get caught between the reel and the blade of the mower, sending me chin first into the handle.  I don't recall ever losing a tooth or suffering serious injury, but that is probably where I learned to use one of dad's favorite, not cuss words, but a good substitute.

As the oldest of three sons, mowing the lawn seemed always to be my job.  We moved from the Hicks place when I was ten when the folks bought their own farm.  It had an even bigger lawn.  I fondly remember cutting the grass there on many autumn Saturday afternoons listening to either IU or Purdue football games.  I don't think dad got a gas powered rotary mower until after I went off to college. 

For four years there and two more while I was in service I had no lawn to mow.  Then, with a family, I moved to the northeast side of Indianapolis, began my work career, and bought the lawn mower required of today's homeowner.  Really I always enjoyed cutting the grass, especially in the spring when it smells fresh, the weather is cool and one is just happy to be outside again. 

When my sons were 11 and 9, their mother and I divorced and for two or three years I was without a yard to cut. But most of the time since I can remember there has been a lawn mower in my life, my most recent ones of the Lawnboy variety.  In January, on that cold day when we had the garage sale, my last mower went out of my life.  I'm sure come April there will be a day or two when I will miss it, but I will still be able to sit on the patio or deck, hear the nearby hum of one, and smell the fresh cuttings.  I've passed another mile stone, but I look forward to other pleasant ways to spend my Saturday afternoons.  

My Day.

This morning I finished the book In the Garden of Beasts by Erik Larson, which covers the U S Ambassador William Dodd's career in Berlin from his appointment in 1933 through 1938.  Dodd's diplomatic efforts with various Nazi authorities including Hitler, as well as his adult daughter Martha's social life with prominent persons in Berlin society at the time are reported in considerable detail.  While Dodd had Roosevelt's support, the State Department mostly looked upon his actions and efforts with disfavor and even ridicule.   Early on, many prominent officials in the German government were opposed to Hitler and kept believing his regime would collapse, but as time passed and foreign governments failed to denounce publicly Nazi atrocities and sway world wide opinion against Hitler's regime, (the primary objective of the U S State department was to appease Germany in hopes of obtaining payment for German bonds held by large U S Banks) Hitler broadened and strengthened his control.  Dodd's early requests for sanctions and public disapproval of the Nazi actions went unheeded and he soon saw the inevitable outcome would be war.  I found the book very interesting and enlightening.

I had lunch today with Jeff Rasley, who annually takes a group of trekkers into the mountains of Nepal, and has made a project of improving living conditions in the town of Basa, where many of the Rai people live who are porters for his trips. He has written a book about his experiences in Nepal, Bringing Progress to Paradise.  During his latest trip, from which he just returned a few weeks ago, a "green" toilet was installed on the school grounds in Basa.  It essentially is a septic system, the building having two rooms, one for students and one for the staff at the school.  The eighty villagers have no toilets, they relieve themselves in the nearby woods or in their fields.  If you want to now more about Jeff and his Basa project go to Basa, Nepal .

This afternoon I went to the Jordan Y for a workout.  One of the greatest features of my Medicare Advantage health insurance is called "Silver Sneakers", which is membership in a local health fitness center.  Since I started going almost two years ago, I have not had any significant problems with the osteoarthritis in my back.  I am convinced that preventative health care is most important, and specifically exercise, in keeping one healthy.  It certainly is better and cheaper than medications and seeing a physical therapist, which would be necessary for me if I just sat around.

So that was my day, plus of course taking time to write this little post telling you about it.  Thanks to my wife, Marcia, who pointed out some errors in my initial post.

What I've been reading

I've been negligent in updating the list of books I've read on this web site, so today it was necessary to add 4, all of which deserve some attention.  I just finished Winesburg Ohio by Sherwood Anderson, stories about small town Ohio a century ago.  This book is on Modern Library's list of the 100 best Novels of the last century.  I have passed by it several times when searching for something to read next, but finally selected it because it was available as a free e-book.  While it may not appeal to younger, sophisticated readers, it was right down my alley with its descriptions of small town/rural life in a simpler time.  It made me wish I could have walked under the trees on a warm summer night in that small town as so many of Anderson's characters did.  

I recently read a non-fiction account of the travels in Nepal of the author, Jeff Rasley, in his book Bringing Progress to Paradise.  His experiences taking tourists on treks in the Himilayan foothills and efforts to provide needed school supplies for the children of Basa were made even more interesting for me because he lives in Indianapolis and we recently became acquainted. 

I have also read over the summer two other books from Modern Library's 100 Best Novels list, Of Human Bondage by W. Somerset Maugham, and Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald.  The first is set in England in the late 19th century and about Phillip, who at the age of 9 must be raised by his uncle, a cleric, after the death of his mother.  His father, a physician had died previously.  His life is filled with bondage; his young years to the oppressive uncle and the church which bring Phillip into young adulthood without much self respect or confidence in what he wants to be or do.  He then falls victim to friends and lovers, always unable to assert his own will, yet always striving to become a doctor like his father.  His life is primarily determined by events, not will.  

Finally, Fitzgerald writes about a psychiatrist studying in Europe who meets a rich young woman who has suffered a mental trauma from being abused by her father.  While she is in treatment they fall in love and are married.  They lead a rich life with friends in Europe during the 1920's before the woman has a relapse.  Fitzgerald gained his knowledge of psychiatry from experience with his real life wife who had mental problems. 

I enjoyed each of these books and recommend any or all of them to my readers.  There is so much to be learned from reading both fiction and non-fiction, it is only too bad that in the hectic pace of work life when we are between our high school or college years and retirement it is hard to find the time.  Retired now, I'm learning late what might have been useful earlier in life.  

Summer of 1936

I was 9 months old in July, 1936, which was the hottest month of the 1936 North American heat wave .  In the midst of the decade of the depression and dust bowl, it was the hottest summer of the 20th century.  Notably, it came on the heels of a record cold winter, the 1936 North American cold wave which set cold and snow records in the upper mid-west and resulted then in record Spring flooding.  If all of this sounds familiar, it should, but the summer of 2011 cannot match the summer of 1936. 

A recent article in the Indianapolis Star, Aug. 5th, entitled Hard Times in Raging Heat  describes the 1936 summer as follows:  "That summer residents withstood temperatures of at least 100 degrees a record 12 times, including a 9 day streak.  There was a separate 14 day 90-and-above heat wave earlier in the summer -- the fourth-longest on record. And Collegeville hit 116 degrees on July 14 of that year, the highest temperature ever recorded in the state.The summer of 1936 is the benchmark for heat waves in Indiana, said Ken Scheeringa, an associate state climatologist from the Indiana State Climate Office."

Yesterday we broke the 19 day long streak of 90 or above temperatures set in Indianapolis, also that summer of 1936.  Now the record is 20 days, we had a cooler 87 degrees today, but 90's are promised again tomorrow.  This July set a record as the driest ever officially in Indianapolis; only .47 inches of precipitation for the month.

That summer of 1936 I lived with my parents in a little house on my granddad Page's farm, often referred to as the "weaning pen", because each of my grandfather's three children "set up housekeeping" there when they married.  I never heard my parents complain about that hot summer of 1936, but it must have been unbearable as of course they had no air conditioning, and my father and grandfather had to work in the hay and wheat fields without the help of modern farm equipment.   In 1937, my dad rented a nearby farm and we moved to what my parents often referred to as "the Hicks Place ".  Not because we were hicks but because that was the name of a previous owner.  We lived there until 1946 and my two younger brothers were born there.

Two weeks ago we spent 3 days visiting friends near Baldwin City, Kansas, and needless to say it wasn't any cooler there.  They took us to the National WW I museum in Kansas City, which exhibits many pieces of equipment including tanks, mortars, artillery guns, rifles, gas masks, uniforms and planes as well as facsimiles of trenches and other graphics showing the tremendous loss of lives during that stalemate.  It is one of the best historical museums I know of and is a "must see" if you are in the Kansas City area.  Due to the heat, we spent a lot of time indoors but saw a couple of great movies I also recommend; Get Low and True Grit (2010) .  These are the kind of movies I really enjoy, no stupid fast car chases, gratuitous violence or ridiculous action sequences.

I finally watered the flower beds today, figuring that is likely the only thing I can do to get it to rain.  This year we truly can say "It don't rain in Indianapolis in the summertime".

Racing Through Life

FDR had a year left in his first term when I was born in the heart of the Great Depression.  I cast my first vote for President for Dwight Eisenhower.  He gave us the Interstate Highways System which allowed trucks to replace trains and crowd passenger vehicles so that every year more I-routes have to be built, widened and repaired, leaving not enough money to improve rapid transit and public transportation.  Interstates allow us to "see the USA in your Toyota" (not Chevrolet) without seeing the poverty in our cities and rural areas but enjoying the scenery as it flashes by at 75 miles an hour. 

We didn't elect some very good men, Adlai Stevenson, Hubert Humphrey, Walter Mondale,  Al Gore, and one good woman, Hillary Clinton.  We did elect Nixon, an actor, and a C student from Yale.  But the best President we have had in my time was a haberdasher from Missouri, who really understood and fought for the common man because he was one of us.

However, the worst may be yet to come, one that may Trump all the others.  Yes, none other than the "Donald".  It makes me cringe evertime I hear his name, and regret mine.  How anyone can believe that he is in any way qualified is beyond my comprehension!  Furthermore, Race Fans, he has been selected to drive the pace car for the 100th anniversary of the Indy 500!  If I didn't already have my ticket, I wouldn't go!  And believe me, the fans around me in turn 3 will hear my disapproval when he drives by!

The Weather and This and That

We had the driest month of August on record, and the fifth hottest!  And so far, September is a little cooler but still no significant rain.  Since the end of July we have had less than a half inch where we live.  I have given up on the grass, just let it turn brown, but have watered the flower beds. 

I don’t remember ever seeing corn harvested in central Indiana before Labor Day, but it happened this year.  Also some soy beans have been combined.  We had a wet Spring and enough rain in early Summer to push everything about two weeks ahead of a normal growing season, but now without rain the fields have turned brown so crops will not continue to increase in yield.  The one positive thing is that farmers won’t have to do much drying of the grain after it is harvested.

As I write this we are somewhere over Iowa or Missouri, above clouds that look like they could be producing rain below.  It was clear until we got to western Illinois and the clouds have continued to thicken since then.  This may get to Indiana tomorrow, but the pattern has been that as storms or fronts move our way they get sucked up by our dry air, dissipate and fall apart.  So much for weather. 

As I continue my quest to read all of the Pulitzer Prize winning fiction, I have found another one that just wasn’t worth the effort to complete.  I really enjoyed William Faulkner’s ‘The Reivers”, but I couldn’t finish his Pulitzer winning “A Fable”.  In making the point of the uselessness of war by describing France in WW1 and what might have happened if a whole division just refused to attack, why through in a long unbelievable story about a three legged race horse in the southern United States?  And then the obvious relationship of characters in the book in situations which parallel the life of Christ just goes on too long and too contrived.  If you read the book, just start to count the times that he has a character say or think “it was this way”, but in the same sentence then changes to “well not even that but such and such”.  Sorry, I didn’t like it.

Then I followed that with Pearl S Buck’s “The Good Earth”.  I could relate to Wang Lung, maybe because of my farm upbringing.  In simple but descriptive language, Buck tells the story of Wang’s life, affected by the rhythm of the seasons and the rhythm life events.   Yes, and the weather isn’t always favorable.  One quote: “five years is nothing in a man’s life, except if it’s very early or very late.”  Buck tells the story also to describe the despicable treatment of women in early 20th century China.  I really liked this book.

Now we are over southwest Kansas approaching southeast Colorado.  Brown!  Clear and sunny.  We are supposed to fly over Durango, which I’ve seen from the ground so am anxious to see from the air.  Then of course it will be the beautiful painted landscape of southern Utah which I’ve seen from the air but not by land.  We are supposed to arrive in L.A. about 2:30 and then hopefully enjoy that beautiful Southern California weather for a couple of weeks.   While some people sleep or read, if I can see the ground I just can’t help looking out at the changing scenery of this great, beautiful land.  Oh to have the time and resources to drive my jeep through every part of it!

Where Did July Go?

Well July got by me without a post.  Of course we did have the Hopkins/Page reunion on the 18th, in Roachdale at the VFW as usual, and had 37 attending by my count.  We lose some occasionally of course as we get older, this year my brother Charles and cousin Jean Ann's husband, Bob Wolfenbarger.  Attendees included guests Dale and Muriel White, Dale being a descendant of William Hopkins, brother of Cornelius who the rest of us go back to.  There of course was plenty of food and reminiscing.

It has been a hot and rainy Summer in Indy, continuing from a rainy Spring, so everything is green but it has been too warm to enjoy the outdoors much.  If you check my reading list you will see additions, the Scotland related items of course occurred mostly in June.  I have downloaded some other Pulitzer Prize winners to my Kindle which remain unfinished.  American Pastoral by Phillip Roth I'll likely never finish because I don't like his style.  Main Street by Sinclair Lewis because the heroine is so bored in small town Minnesota and never should have married the old doctor anyway.

We spent the last two weeks of the month at the condo in Roanoke.  Drove out this time because Amtrak doubled their rates for the summer.  It's almost exactly 500 miles and without major cities except Dayton and Charleston, so not a bad days drive.  

I've been under medication for an impinged nerve causing pain in my left arm and shoulder for much of the month.  For that reason Marcia did most of the driving and many days I was forced to go without my usual late afternoon martini.  I am now off the strong pain medicine and so think it is time to go back to my old habit.  

More Scotland

A few comments to flesh out our trip to Scotland.   My previous post mentioned the major places we visited in sequence with the pictures that we shared with family and friends.  I tried to find a map of Scotland to display here and which I could reference to show the extent of our travels, but the best way I could come up with was to give you this link http://www.mapquest.com/mq/8-o8h9zZQp?sms_ss=email  to map quest.  You will see a map showing our routes to The Isle of Skye, Stonehaven, Edinburgh and Balmoral Castle.  While I mainly wanted to show the map, it also shows that Dean drove us well over 800 miles (the driving instructions don't include return mileage from Stonehaven and Balmoral) through the beautiful Scotland countryside (on the left side of the road). 

My only regret is that I did not get a good photo showing a panoramic view of the stone fenced scottish fields  showing the crops of rapeseed, barley and wheat.  The latter two were just a spring green when we were there but the rapeseed was in bloom, a brilliant yellow, and the patchwork of colors with hills in the background just can't be described in words.  In this photo you can faintly see the yellow field beyond the trees;   that is a rapeseed field just down the road from Broomhead, our home away from home.

If you follow this link    http://www.flickr.com/search/?q=rapeseed+fields+in+scotland&w=all&s=int&referer_searched=1 you will find some photos shared on Flickr by persons who have been inspired by seeing these yellow fields. 

On our way to The Isle of Skye we stopped to stretch our legs at the harbor in Nairn.  As we were walking along the pier we came upon a group of boys who were jumping off and turning somersaults in the air before landing on their feet in the sand. I asked for a photo and the obligingly performed.  This is the result:

Later we drove along the west side of Loch Ness.  It was a beautiful, sunny day as you can see from this photo where we had lunch by the Loch.      I won't show all of the photos I took here, but I will upload a video to my Facebook taken on the road between Fettercairn and Banchory.  It shows a panoramic view of the countryside, looking back toward the coast of the North Sea between Stonehaven and Dundee. 

We ate lunch in a bar in Kingussie and enjoyed good food in various local restaurants in Scotland, although we didn't try the Haggis- Wikipedia.  I was surprised to look out the window of our place for lunch on the west coast of the Isle of Skye and see a palm tree.  The weather here is influenced by the gulf stream in the Atlantic so, (we were told) has a milder winter than most of Scotland.  I was also surprised to be served baked beans with eggs and bacon for breakfast at the B & B in Portree, and also at the Aberdeen airport.  Our condo in Leith (Edinburgh) was near a few bakeries but we didn't learn until the day we left that there was a  little breakfast place just around the corner.  We were not pleased to find a KFC and other American fast food restaurants nearby.  I think though that we only saw three McDonald,s the whole trip. 

 

Scotland Overview

We flew to Aberdeen with plane changes at Chicago O'hare and Heath-row airport in London.  We left Indianapolis about 8:30 pm. and got to Aberdeen at 5:30 pm. the next day, which was 12:30 pm. Indianapolis time. Luckily, we were upgraded to business class for the Chicago to London leg.  Friends Dean and Nora, who arranged to swap there properties in Chicago with the Hendersons in Aberdeenshire, picked us up at the airport.  The Henderson's home, Broomhead,
is across the road from Scottish Castles - Cluny Castle. We arrived on Tuesday, June 1st. 

We survived the flight in pretty good shape, and on Wednesday afternoon we drove to Stonehaven and toured Dunnottar Castle , which sits dramatically on bluffs overlooking the North Sea.  Since it is daylight in northern Scotland from about 4 am to 11 pm, there is a lot of time for sightseeing.

Thursday we drove to and toured Balmoral Castle - Wikipedia

Friday morning we left for the long drive to the Isle Of Skye,  passing by Loch Ness - Wikipedia, on the way as well as the beautiful Munros (mountains) of the Highland area.   We spent Friday night at the Braeside Bed & Breakfast, Portree .

Saturday we toured Skye and the Talisker Distillery and then spent that night at Conchra House (Ardelve, United Kingdom) - Guest house.

Sunday morning we toured the nearby Eilean Donan Castle,  then drove back through the Highlands, crossing the River Don many times.

After all of that travel we felt like resting for a couple of days, and besides it was rainy with temp in the 50's Monday  and Tuesday. 

Tuesday afternoon, about 5:30 we left for Edinburgh and arrived there about 9:30, with lots of daylight left.  Our base of operation there was a flat belonging to one of the Henderson's sons, strategically located only a few blocks from the Royal Mile - Wikipedia .

Wednesday we toured Edinburgh Castle and then walked down High Street past the Kirk of the Canongate - Wikipedia (church of the Canongate), where poet Robert Fergusson - Wikipedia, is buried.  Marcia's father was descended from the Scotish Fergus/Fergussons. 

Thursday we walked through the Princes Street Gardens - Wikipedia, past the Robert Lewis Stevenson memorial and part of the new town section.   Then we drove by the Royal Yacht Britannia and back to Broomhead.  On the way we drove over the  Cairn O' Mounth - Wikipedia which gives a spectacular panoramic view. 

Friday morning we were up at 6 to pack and head for home.  Our flight left Chicago about an hour late and it was 10:30 pm in Indianapolis, (3:30am the next morning in Aberdeen) before we tumbled into bed.  We had a wonderful visit with Nora and Dean, ate very well both in restaurants (which I left out here) and at Broomhead where Dean did most of the cooking (after all he has chef training) and had a wonderful kitchen there to work in.

Surely from this description and the links enclosed you will realize what a wonderful trip we had.