There and back again

The rain started to fall again as we left the Isle of Skye and made the long journey to the far north. We reached lands end at the aptly named town of Scrabster. Sadly, we missed the last ferry to the Orkney Islands, which was a mixed blessing for two reasons: firstly, we would have bitten off more than we could chew in the time we had in Scotland, and secondly, we now have a reason to go back. We turned the car around and ended up in Wick for the night. The hotel where we stayed was hosting the annual Bingo Masters so we had to look elsewhere for dinner. Fortunately, the glamorous water front cafeteria was not closed and we enjoyed some local fish 'n' chips.

The next day, after a restful sleep, we stopped at a Neolithic burial mound named the Cairn of Get. The site was precisely aligned to magnetic north, although recent restorations may have altered the original site plan. Nevertheless, the long walk across the swampy fields was well worth it and made up in part for missing a chance of visiting Skara Brae in the Orkneys. We finished the day in Inverness, where Paul and Luke spent the night entertaining their new Israeli friend, whom they had first met on the Isle of Skye.

We made an early run next day down Loch Ness to Urquhart Castle, which was probably the most interesting castle we visited. They had a great introductory film and a working replica trebuchet. We backtracked to Inverness in the late morning with the intention of making a fast trip down to St Andrews for lunch and finishing in Edinburgh. However, we stopped in Perth and had a deliciously beery lunch and decided against squeezing in a round at the home of golf. Content that we had seen much of Scotland, we hung up the car keys and stayed at Karen and Andrews' once more.

We farewelled the family on the tenth day and all agreed that it was tremendous fun and that we should do more travelling together. Weisie and I returned to Harrogate for a couple of weeks work (before hitting the shores of Malta) and Eny, Tony, Luke and Paul pushed on the Netherlands for a few days.

The Isle of Skye

It was bucketing with rain as we crossed the bridge onto the Isle of Skye. Water was cascading down the mossy rocks. We stopped in Portree and took a room in the hostel. In spite of the close quarters (we all shared bunks in the one room) the hostel was memorable. We drank whisky from the Oban distillery and played cards late into the early evening in the humid, industrious kitchen.

We decided to take our rest day on the Isle of Skye, but still managed to clock up a couple of hundred miles driving around the island (we ended up covering over 1,000 miles in total). The Isle of Skye with its dramatic scenery is a must see. In one fine day we saw beautiful geological formations, waterfalls, inspiring ruins, expansive peat fields, and of course a hairy coo (below).




I know we already have a photo by a waterfall but I thought this one was particularly fun.




No trip to Scotland would be complete without the obligatory distillery tour, which we took at Talisker on the Isle of Skye (below). I was very interested to see the processes and to taste the end product, of course. With a belly full of warm whisky, we made our way back to Portree listening to the chilled-out tunes of "BJ-the-DJ".

Stirling and our Loch Ness surprise!

We stayed at the Willy Wallace hostel in Stirling. The castle at Stirling was fantastic, probably the best presented one I have seen, with its newly restored Great Hall, moody music and lively kitchen diorama. After Stirling we made for the town of Luss by the voluminous Loch Lomond. This picture was taken by the shores of the loch (below).




We made it to Oban, home of the famous distillery, just in time to the miss the last tour of the day. Disappointed but not defeated, we made the most of our time in this little coastal town. We checked out some tourist shops, had a Chinese dinner and retired to our hostel early. Apart from undertaking a few repairs (my bed had a large hole in it), we had a quiet evening watching a movie (Ice Age, if you must know), and a short dram of whisky before tucking in for the night.

The night in Oban was cold but our spirits were warmed next day as we took breakfast in the cosy hostel kitchen. We feasted on home-made scones then set off for the Isle of Skye. We drove through impressive Glen Coe after stopping at Fort Augustus for morning tea, where we saw a couple of interesting things: a long barge driving upstream through a multiple chamber lock, and a jet plane roaring at low altitude overhead. But, that was not all we saw…




Shortly after this picture was taken near Fort Augustus (above), a patch of water near where we were standing began to bubble and there was a sound of gushing air. Before we had a chance to point and shoot the creature – with our cameras – the hideous leviathan turned its long slimy neck and dived back into the murky depths of Loch Ness, probably not to be seen again. All we could capture was the final flick of its tail (below). Shortly afterwards, Weisie fainted.




We had all been keen to sight the infamous and elusive beast, none more so than Techno Tony who invested in a Nessie Locating Sonar Device (Mk II), which he got with the GPS tracking option and 3-way radio (pictured here). Alas, Tony was not able to capture the monster on video, in spite of hanging back on at least one occasion and throwing rocks into the water to spur the monster into action. He did return with one dubious photo that might have been Nessie (finger inserted for perspective: here).

After all the excitement of Loch Ness, we were happy to come across picturesque Eilean Donan Castle, where we paused in the parking lot for a sandwich. Even on a bleak rainy day, the castle was quite a sight (below).

Edinburgh

Tony, Eny, Luke and Paul stayed with us in Harrogate for the night. Jacqui and Steve took us out for a sumptuous Italian meal and much merriment was had by all. After breakfast the next day, we took in most of the sites around town and then made the midday train to Edinburgh, via Leeds. The train was a mad house and our reserved seats were taken due to a cancelled earlier service (what a surprise). We drank all the Fosters on board, then all the cold beer available, which was all very humorous until we arrived and discovered our accommodation booking had fallen through. An hour or more later we were able to secure a small but clean apartment. The hospitable owners, Karen and Andrew, went out of their way puting us up given that it was late in the day.

The next day we took in the majestic Edinburgh Castle, where we gazed upon the Honours and pondered the Destiny Stone. Afterwards, we ate “stovies” in a little pub where Luke was reunited with his long lost look alike (brother?). All the while the intermittent precipitation fell on us as it would do so for all but 3 days whilst we were in Scotland.




Half of our third day in Edinburgh was spent in an Internet café searching for an automobile to suit our particular specifications: 6 adults with too much luggage. In the end we found a 7-seater Renault but had to leave some bags with a friendly newsagent next to the apartment. Weisie was fortunate enough (and small enough) to be granted the honour of riding in the luggage hold for entire road trip and to the surprise of all did not lose her sense of humour (nor did she lose any sleep as she snoozed her way around the country amongst the bags, stirring only for meals).

On the third night in Edinburgh, we joined an Auld Reekie tour on which we were positively scared out of our wits. Although Luke would not admit it, he actually held my hand when the lights went out.

Our first stop in our newly acquired vehicle was the enigmatic Rosslyn Chapel in the town of Roslin, a few miles south of Edinburgh. Roslin has been a particular fascination of mine since the first of a string of alternative/revisionist “historians” wrote a number of popular books about the place. Roslin featured relevantly, although somewhat fancifully, in Dan Brown’s recent bestseller. My interests, however, have been the St Claire family’s connection with the Templars (some of whose traditions are probably the precursor to modern Freemasonry).

After a couple of chilly hours in and around Rosslyn Chapel we piled back into the car with an audio tape of the Da Vinci Code, which we listened to for a few days until we discovered one of the tapes was missing! We resorted to purchasing a paperback copy of the book and took turns reading aloud, which was most amusing. However, the prospect of not finishing the story before the trip ended forced us to buy another (complete) set of audio tapes. The trip around Scotland was all the richer having listened to the adventures of Professor Langdon and Agent “I am not a princess” Nuevo.

Primosten, Plitvika and Trieste

And now the final entries for this leg of the Big Trip. We had a great night at the local vino in Primosten, where we drank and ate like the locals. A litre of wine, some fried squid and baitfish, with a side of octopus salad cost next to nothing (probably because I was not paying). The wine was fantastic we all had too much to drink. Everyone was drunk, even the vino owner. It was great. The shop itself comprised of an open room with two huge wine barrels. The only decorations were the cured hams hanging from the roof. After the vino, and a spot of dinner, Weisie unilaterally decided to have a piggy back race up the hill...

There is a national park in Plitvika. It is unlike any I have seen before, replete with emerald green water, fish that are so tame they will eat from your hand, waterfalls, caves, and suspended wooden walk ways. Anyone going to Croatia has to put a day aside for this place. Amazing.




We took a coach via Slovenia back to Italy, where we spent the night in Trieste before catching the return flight to Stansted. Fortunately, there was a festival on and we spent our time shopping and looking at different food and trinket stores. During the evening we were treated to a street performance involving an overly enthusiastic sound system and ballerinas on pianos (below). It was an awesome trip and speak on behalf of Weisie in saying that it was a trip to remember. Thanks to all of the Pasha II crew!

The road to Dubrovnik

After saying farewell to Karen (who waited in Split by herself for 10 hours due to a cancelled ferry), we boarded the Jumper, a left-side-drive, 9 seater Citroën van and headed for Dubrovnik. The cliff top roads were daunting and exhausting (as the driver). But, thankfully, we made it no small thanks to my co-pilot the ever mindful Weisie!




Old Dubrovnik is exactly what you would expect. Picturesque (we took loads of photos) and on the cusp of being overrun with tourists. It took a long time for us to find a solitary corner not occupied by pizza restaurants or souvenir shops. Having said that, the people were friendly, the fortified walls were fantastic, and the cobbled streets were amazing (they were polished to the point of being slippery by thousands of shoes over the years). The pall of recent conflict had not lifted and there were many reminders of the damage and loss of life sustained most recently in the early 90’s.




On the way to Dubrovnik from Split, you have to cross a border into another country, and as true travelling Aussies, we wanted passport trophies. We crossed the border in question 6 times in the van (three times each way) during our trip and managed to only get stamps with “Republika Hrvatska”, until finally, we were rewarded with our stamps (after my suspicious dirty laundry was inspected by border patrol). The second time we passed into this country, we wanted a photo. Because the landscape was indistinguishable to most of southern Croatia, we decided to spell it out (if you cannot work it out, click here).




Trish left the party as planned after a night in Dubrovnik. Then there was six. We turned the Jumper around after a second night in Dubrovnik and made our way north. The landscape was extraordinarily rocky but became greener the farther north we travelled. Dave and I took shifts at the wheel. Dave, the better driver (and sailor) had no accidents. I only claimed two, both times I merely "kissed" the car in front or behind whilst parking. But, I would like to have seen anyone pull off the park I did in Rijeka outside the car hire office! Anyway, those that did not drive/navigate, took in the scenery and read. Speaking of reading, dare I mention The Da Vinci Code? In Dubrovnik, I snapped this of a large canvas in a Franciscan church in the old town (below). Any theories on why there might have been two ladies at the last supper (one of whom is getting the personal treatment by big J)?

The Pasha II

Rather than bore our expanding fan base that religiously check this blog for updates and leave comments, I will not detail every island and town we visited whilst with the Pasha II. However, I will briefly recount our trip to Modra Spilja (the Blue Grotto) near the island of Vis.

The cave was guarded by a dishevelled, smoking woman in a small boat with 3 dogs. The boat was tied across the entrance and she demanded money of anyone who dared enter. Some locals deemed it their right to go in without paying. The woman’s paddle was too short so she assaulted them instead with an array of Croatian vulgarity (roughly translated by Zejlko as: “You zucchini! You unripe banana!”).

Undaunted, we braved the swell in our rubber dinghy, paying off Medusa and her hounds, and ventured into the deep, dark tunnel. We howled at each other to paddle faster, slower, to fend of the sharp volcanic rocks, and once inside the tunnel and out of sight of daylight our howling subsided. We rounded a corner and it felt like your first horror ride at the Easter show. We contemplated turning back but kept going, the water still rising and falling with the waves that rolled in, until the water began to brighten. We kept paddling until we were inside a lofty cavern adorned with large round stalactites. The only sound was the dripping of water and our breathing. The water was a fantastic silvery blue on account of the sunlight refracting through the underwater entrance. We let out a simultaneous “Wow…”, then a large bubble burped to the surface next to the dinghy. Then another. We looked down and were surprised to see, way down below us, tiny yellow scuba divers. The cave was huge! The water gave new meaning to the word “azure”. Enough of my kindergarten imagery, here is a thousand words:




Most of us later swam into the cave via the water entrance (pictured above). Bit of a rush. There would have been some photos of us swimming in the cave but sadly Em’s camera got wet during all the excitement.

We did have plenty of other fun during the boat leg of our trip, like the 15 minute monastery walk on Brac island that ended up taking over an hour; the fender-plank-raft challenge; Dave’s unannounced sail trimming; seeing wild dolphins (okay, at a distance); Tim and Mel’s inaugural chicken risotto; and ritual morning coffee runs (please, anyone, feel free to add to his list).

The money shot

Tim and I climbed up a spidery, rocky ravine to take this shot of our yacht moored in a little bay. We were standing on top of one of the many caves that over looked the area. Whilst we were climbing, Louise and Dave were on their own adventure climbing the rocks near the yacht. They found another cave which turned out to be an old munitions cache and battlement aimed conspicuously in the direction of Italy. When we had all finished adventuring, we were warned that the snakes in the region were deadly, that many of the military sites were booby trapped by the retreating Yugoslav army, and that under no circumstances should we climb in the bushes or go into caves. The photo is pretty though, don't you think? Or as Tim would call it, "the money shot".

Fig jam

Zjelko, our skipper, is a good sailor, a great teacher, and a very generous person. By the end of our week with Zjelko (not pronounced "Velcro", Dave) we had all got to know him very well. So well in fact that he and his partner, Duda, and her daughter, Lana, put us up in Zagreb for a couple of nights, which I will never forget. The dinner conversation on the first night was hilarious, spiced up notably with a cameo from a Slovenian family friend and plenty of Babic wine. The following night we returned the favour and took them out for dinner (picture below). Zjelko ordered the entrée and we were all treated to some delicious cow tongue and sausages. Zjelko, who advocated a strict diet of figs, yoghurt, juice and a glass of red wine, tucked into an enormous steak. I would have been jealous if my own meal wasn't so fantastic. Apparently moderation is the key.




One day, somewhere in the Adriatic (someone help me with the name of the island), Zjelko took the dinghy and disappeared for an hour or so whilst we all competed in a lilo race. He returned from the island grinning, his shirt laden with ripe, purple, sticky figs. We were assured they were 100% organic and free from pesticides. We believed him and all tucked in, sort of, and were shortly thereafter reprimanded for peeling the skins off. After we had had our fill of figs, there was three bowls left (below), which remained full for a few days until Trish threw them out! Zjelko was most displeased and Trish and Karen made up some story about the main cabin (their bedroom) being full of little flies as a result of the slowly decomposing fruit.




Not to be deprived of figs, Zjelko replenished his supply from another island later on but kept them in a bag near the wheel, apparently so no-one could eat them when he was not looking. When we finally left Zjelko in Zagreb, we promised to catch up with him in London and he gave us each a jar of fig jam.

Lickety Split

We left for Ancona from Stansted airport (the previous night had been spent celebrating Karen's birthday at a Chinese restaurant). To start the day, Weisie, Karen and I caught the Stansted Express (just) and buried our faces in breakfast from Burger King. We each ordered something different but somehow ended up with the same thing: two all lips'n'butt patties, special sauce (lard, lipid and clarified butter), cheese, cheese, cheese, and half an onion, on a slightly stale bun. When the train pulled into the airport we were bleary eyed and needless to say queasy. We met Dave, Em, Tim, Mel and Trish in the queue for our Ryan Air flight. Before taking off, Em bought travel insurance from Boots (don't you just love Boots) and Trish threw her passport in the bin.

Trish later retrieved her passport.

Ancona is a big, dusty port town. No-one seemed to mind that it was hot and our bags were over packed. We were all tremendously excited about our upcoming adventure. We ate some pizza in town and drank beer from 1 litre tankards. We then found our ferry and cabins, dumped our belongings and commenced drinking a lot more beer, and wine, and spirits - so much so that after a while we actually thought the iPod and portable speakers sounded like a DJ when you flicked the on-off button in time to the music...

After midnight, almost everyone went to their bed for a few hours sleep. Weisie, however, woke up at 4 am, passed Karen in the corridor, showered and packed her bag thinking that the ferry was nearly at port. When we did actually reach Split a few hours later, Weisie was most penitent and prayed often to the porcelain god for her silliness. She was finally forgiven about 8 hours later (pictured below).




Split was lovely, not that we saw much of it. Instead of sightseeing, we elected to wait in the shade of the Marina for the pizzeria to open. It was a lovely day, the sun was shining, but we were all clearly under the weather. Finally, we were shown to our floating home for the next week, the Pasha II, a 43 foot Sun Odyssey yacht. We bought supplies, met our skipper (more of him later) and set sail.