But all is not peachy for our little coach tour through the United Kingdom. Our bus broke down about an hour from Glencoe so we waited for another bus to pick us up. During the wait, and in spite of the darkness we looked around the area known as Spean Bridge only to find a railway station currently in repair. A bus arrived and we hopped on it for the trip to Glencoe. Unfortunately we could not get our luggage which arrived the next day, resulting in a night with no luggage and lots of dirty clothes. But we slept well, ate a large Scottish breakfast of sausage, tattie scone, porridge, juice, coffee, toast, ham, and eggs, and most of us went hiking. As I walked along the road and occasionally followed the stream through the hills and into the mountains, I was intent to find the monument to the Glencoe Massacre.
When we arrived at the hotel outside of Glencoe last night, I immediately saw the sign stating "No Hawkers or Campbells." Not being of either persuasion (a hawker is a peddler), I felt at ease and welcomed into the area. But of course I wondered about the hatred of the Campbells. The story goes that in 1692, the MacDonald clan welcomed the Campbell clan and showed them Scottish hospitality. But the Campbells proceeded to massacre 38 of them out of anger for not showing allegiance to the rulers William and Mary. This has resulted in many years of hard feelings toward the Campbells that continues to this day. Long grudge for sure.
The charm of Glencoe with its small country store, Episcopalian church, one room police station, narrow roads, and stunning scenery is contagious, getting into one's heart and residing there as though Brigadoon lies dormant only to shine when it is needed or wanted. In many ways the town, the trees, the streams, the lakes, and yes, even the massacre of 1692, remind me of the value of life, the beauty that is around us, the thorns and the roses that exist throughout the world and the extent of hope and optimism for the future.
The journey to Glencoe, in spite of the mechanical challenges, took us through Loch Ness where we searched in vain for the famed monster. We did not find her, but we did find a beautiful lake surrounded by mountains and trees nestled in a valley like a dream of perfection for weary travelers seeking fresh water. The angelic and radiant world of Scotland is enveloped with a type of sanguine tranquility, ease of laughter, and expressive joy. Yet our time in Edinburgh taught me another side to this amazing country. After seeing the homes of Robert Louis Stevenson, Arthur Conan Doyle, Sir Walter Scott, and Ian Rankin we toured through various parts of the magnificent city and arrived at the famous Edinburgh Castle.
The castle which was used at times for royalty as well as a prison, has everything someone would want in a castle, tall walls, hidden staircases, deep holes, winding paths, spacious rooms, cold rooms, great views, and muscular strength. Seeing the Scotland Crown Jewels, paintings, and swords, I was catapulted backward to a time of sword-fighting, wars, power, defense, and physical aggression. The events of the past created a great pride in Scottish Heritage that continues to this day. Walking further through the castle, I found the War Museum of Scotland. In one humbling room, I saw the national registry of names of those who lost their lives in WWI and WWII. Looking for my family, I saw many Robertsons, Briggs, and some Tuckers. With my English roots that include Ireland and Scotland, I am drawn to this area and proud of my heritage.
Among the most gripping experiences I have had, was the room describing the history and new developments of prosthetic devices for soldiers who have lost their limbs. At one time, death was the expectation for soldiers without arms or legs but with modern medicine and quick attention, a soldier can live a long and fruitful life. Scots are a tough breed of people with a determination to live life to its fullest, enduring hardships and overcoming them with smiles and quick wit. And they love their music. A piper is highly regarded in this country for his talent and his inspiration. Playing the bagpipes is not simply a hobby for fun but is seen as a calling and a responsibility in war or in peace, and pipers are on the same level as leaders of a community.
Perhaps it is time to lift all musicians to their rightful place among the ruling elite! I vote for that.
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