Castlebuono & Cefalu

27 Sunday Mar 2016

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Castlebuono, Cefalu, Italy, Palermo, Sicily

Palermo20009

26 March, 2016

Leaving Palermo

Friday the tour loaded into a minibus and went to visit the medieval town of Castlebuono. About an hour and a half east of Palermo, it is in the hills south of Cefalu. We toured the castle, and had a fantastic lunch at a restaurant specializing in mushrooms. The town of Castlebuono is quite charming, with the narrow twisting streets and alleys so typical to the ancient towns I have visited before. The castle dates to the 12^th century, but excavations have revealed the foundations of a Roman fortress. Though as it stands, the building is not particular to any one period due to having been rebuilt to it’s purpose following earthquakes in the 19^th Century.

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|In Cefalu we visited a restored medieval laundry, and then moved to the cathedral square. After enjoying a gelato we had a brief visit to the cathedral. This is a 12^th Century Norman church is very French in its external appearance, but inside the influence of Byzantine and Greek Orthodox is clear. Like Montreale and some of churches I visited in Palermo, the upper walls and domes are covered in mosaics of colored stone, glass, and gold.

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Returning to Palermo, after a brief stop at the hotel, Frank and I headed into the old town to to find one or two of the many Good Friday processions. The different churches all parade through the streets carrying floats of the crucified Jesus followed by the Virgin Mother. The biers are clearly very heavy, one was carried by over 30 men, and move maybe ten meters at a time. The procession of led by men in black representing death, accompanied by drums and a harsh bugle. At the rear comes a band on foot playing a lamenting dirge. Appearing somewhat anachronistic today, this is a tradition hundreds of years old. In history, the churches all tried to outdo each other with the larger churches and cathedral building to many meters high.

Today, we have left Palermo and are on a bus through the countryside to visit the city of Erice, a farm in the valley of Segesta, and finally our next home of three nights in Mazara, on the southwest coast of the island.

arrivederci!

Palermo, Day One

27 Sunday Mar 2016

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Palermo, Sicily

Monte Pelligrino

Thursday 24 March, 2016

Palermo, Sicily

We arrived at the hotel in Palermo after nearly 25 hours in transit. By then end of the day the two days added up to nearly 36 hours long with only a few hours nap over the Atlantic.

The first evening following the rain, there was opportunity to briefly explore the area of the hotel and nearby shoreline.

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The first day in Palermo we strolled through the center of the old town with a local guide, learning some of the history of the city. We stopped in a few piazza before boarding our minibus for the drive to the cathedral at Montreale.

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Fontana Pretoria

Fontana Pretoria

Quatro Canti — The Four Corners (One of four Identical monuments marking the center of the old city)

The Cathedral Square

Cattedrale di Palermo

Set on a hillside 250 meters above Palermo, the Cathedral of Montreale was constructed in the 11^th century “Norman” period of the early Crusades. It is heavy building in the Romanesque style of architecture. The small windows of the period result in the interior being fairly devoid of natural light. Rather than being painted, as the churches in Northern Europe were, this one is literally lined with gold. The influence of the Byzantine Greek Orthodox is plainly apparent in the intricate mosaics. It was the holy Thursday of Easter Week, there was a celebration with 150 priests from the region when we visited. Consequently it was not possible to have access to most of the building. This was a mixed bag as typically the space is dimly lit, but during the service the lights were all on allowing to the mosaics to shine in a way never seen in medieval times. Smoke from incense at the alter added a haze to the air that added an almost magic feel to the vast interior. Photography was not allowed, so I cannot show the interior here.

Returning to Palermo at lunchtime we strolled through the crowded street market filled with vegetable, meat, and fish vendors. We stopped for lunch in the market, and enjoyed fresh shrimp and several local dishes featuring eggplant. All of these pictures were taken with the phone camera which I have not gotten onto the computer yet. Stay tuned for a variety of pictures from that device in the near future.

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The last highlight of the day was a visit to one of the only remaining puppet theatres in Sicily. This was traditionally the entertainment for the people. Today there are few that survive and maintain the tradition, mainly as an attraction for tourists.

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There are many small churches that are all worth stepping into. Their somewhat plain facades conceal gorgeous baroque interiors that are all breathtaking.

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arrivederci!

Chat

The Road Through Rome

22 Tuesday Mar 2016

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Italy, Rome, Sicily

22 March, 2016

0851, FL 370

All roads, they said, lead to Rome. On the forthcoming adventure this holds true. Today, however, the roads are flight paths, and we will only pass nearby Rome. The destination is Paleromo, Sicily. That is many hours and several thousand miles away from my seat onboard this 757 bound for Newark Liberty International. There we have a three hour layover before an overnight flight to Rome. Changing planes one more time we touch down at 1100, nearly twenty four hours after the journey began on an airport shuttle at 0330 mountain time.

The next month brings a trip into thousands of years of Mediterranian history, and immersion into the culture of Sicily and Southern Italy. For twenty-one days I am on tour with Overseas Adventure Travel. Two weeks touring the isle will see history dating to the phoenecians and Greeks, and the traditional food and culture of the Sicilian people. From Sicily we hop onto the mainland, and spend a week in the south of Italy. I admit to not having researched much about this part of the trip. This is the first timeI have been on an organized tour, and want to go into it with an open mind, ready to absorb what the itinerary has to teach me. After the tour ends in Salerno, the road reaches Rome. Five nights and four full days will feature the ruins of the Colessuem and Roman Forum, the seat of Catholicism at St. Peters and the Vatican, the bones of of the Cappucin Monks, and all the spelndor that is the nearly three thousand year old city.

Leaving Rome and Italy we fly to Hamburg, Germany and stay four nights to visit the amazing Miniatur Wonderland. This is the largest model railway in the world and I am more than a little excited to spend the majority of two days touring the models of Denmark, Germany, America, Switzerland, and the incredible Knuffigen Airport.

A train to Cologne and the Rhine Valley will take us to Frankfurt for one night before flying back on the Lufthansa non-stop 747 to Denver.

For now the view is pure white as we ride the wind eastward at 600 mph, skimming through the hazy tops of the clouds that are covering the midwest today. Just over two hours and 1200 miles to Newark, where we will perhaps engage in a bit of trainspotting on the North East Corridor before boarding the 767-400 that will carry us across the water towards a Mediterranean sunrise.

So, as the song says: “Come along, now, come along with me. Come along, come along and see . . . “

St. Andrews and the Old Course

20 Friday Mar 2015

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Golf, Old Course, scotland, St. Andrews, St. Andrews Castle, St. Andrews Cathedral, Tom Morris

18 March, 2015

Charming Town

Tuesday 17 March, St. Patrick’s Day, I took a bus through the mists of County Fife to the coastal village of St. Andrews. This legendary Scottish town is home to the oldest university in the English speaking world, it is the spiritual home of the Church of Scotland, and of course, here are found the links of the Old Course of St. Andrews and the home of the game of Golf.

Market Street.

From the bus station I walked down Market Street in the heart of the town to find the Visit Scotland Information Center. I picked up several leaflets on the history of the town that I have not yet looked at and likely will not before I return to the US. Nothing like learning the history of a place a couple weeks after visiting. Ah well, such is the life. I have a strong feeling that I will return to St. Andrews one day. I purchased lunch stuffs from Gregg’s (a takeaway shop with no real equivalent in the states), and carried on eastward through the town to the cathedral ruins.

Looking north from Market and Castle Streets.

In my family, the name Taylor goes back several generations. Here it is a chain of pubs.

Stunning cathedral ruins.

St. Andrews Cathedral was the largest building in Scotland when it was built, and remains the largest church constructed in the nation. Built between 1158 and 1318, it was abandoned by 1561 after the Scottish Reformation banned the practice of Catholic mass. By the end of the 16^th century, the crossing tower and north wall had collapsed and the ruins began to be mined to re-purpose the stones for buildings in the town. In the mid 19^th century efforts began to preserve the remaining ruins that still stand today. The bones of this once glorious cathedral stand watch over hundreds of graves on the cathedral grounds.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St_Andrews_Cathedral

800 year old stone on the west wall of the cathedral ruins.

The guys wanted a picture.

Clergy graves in the medieval priory

St. Rules Tower

Inside the tower, looking up.

West and south walls from tower

East wall and Castle from tower

Stonework at the top of the tower steps

Masons drawing on stone

Ruined Archway pieces

Medieval tomb stone

The Morris Grave

On the south wall of the grounds, one monument stands pristine and white against the rest of the stone. I suspect it has been recently refreshed in anticipation of the 144^th Open Championship this coming July. I don’t want to use my space here to try and give a biographical account, but if you know the game, you should know the name. There is a name shared by two men that is nearly synonymous with the Old Course – Tom Morris. Old Tom had a bigger hand than perhaps anyone in early course design and greens keeping. Between them Old and Young Tom won four of the first eight Opens, and Young Tom still stands as the youngest ever winner at 17 years old, and the only man to win four consecutive Championships. It was moving for me, immersed as I have been in the game since childhood, to stand at the grave of these men. I am not the only one. For many golfers this is but one of many stops on the pilgrims trail of St Andrews and the Old Course.

For more of the history of these men, see the Wikipedia:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Old_Tom_Morris

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Young_Tom_Morris

Memorial to Young Tom Morris

The Morris graves.

Castle Ruins

The Bishops of St Andrews had a Castle on the coast just north of the cathedral. There were many notable events in the history of Christianity and the Church of Scotland that happened here. The ruins are gorgeous and very well preserved. The castle is the site of one of the only siege mines that has survived to present day.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St_Andrews_Castle

Castle Sands and bathing pool

Inside the counter mine

In the counter-mine

Where the mine and counter-mine meet

Inside the siege-mine

the Scores; the University of St. Andrews.

The Royal and Ancient on the right, the Old Course beyond

Leaving the castle, and heading north west on the the street called the Scores, I set out for the golfing grounds. Leaving the University area, I came into a car park atop a hill. Ahead of me stood the obelisk of the Martyrs Monument (to protestants killed in the Scottish Reformation). Beyond, the Royal and Ancient Golf Clubhouse and in the mist the 18^th fairway and the Swilcan Bridge.

Tom Morris’s shop

The Tom Morris Golf Shop is the oldest in the world and overlooks the 18^th green on Link Lane. It is still in the family and open today, though they no longer make and repair woods, mashies, and niblicks. Today it looks to be a high end clothing shop. Just inside the window, Tom’s workbench still stands, and in a glass case, his clubs and locker from the Royal and Ancient Clubhouse are preserved. I purchased a book about Old Tom himself.

Panorama from the steps above the #1 tee/ #18 green

I set out onto the course, at first down the perimeter path to stay out of the way of the remaining foursomes coming home at the end of the day. I hoped to make it clear to the shore, but only got as far as the fifth green and fourteenth tee before turning back in order to get home before dark. Once I passed the last of the groups playing, I made my way out onto the links proper. I found myself happy to be alone as I walked, because I was laughing like a madman in disbelief that I was actually there. Beyond the walk, I intended to bring home a unique souvenir for myself and a few friends who can appreciate it. The plan, successfully carried out, was to nick a wee bit of sand from some of the bunkers. In the end I brought sand from Admiral’s bunker on (3) Cartgate Out, the Hell bunker on (14) Long, and the legendary Road Hole Bunker on (17) Road. I photographed tee markers, the landscape, took the obligatory selfie at the Swilcan Bridge (Ground Under Repair for the upcoming Open), and let the minions out to experience it for themselves.

Near Swilcan Bridge, 18 fairway behind me.

The Road Hole Bunker at #17 green

Admiral Bunker on #3

Gorse. This ground is all in play.

I wish I was building this one!

Panorama near #5 green — the extent of my walk on the course

In the far left, the Hell Bunker on #14

I stood on the tee at (18) Tom Morris as the daylight faded, looking at one of the most famous views in the game and thought about the history these links have known. For 600 years the game has evolved here to what it is today. It is not a place of immaculate beauty. It is a simple landscape, natural and not heavily manipulated by the hand of man. These links, while in themselves challenging present an amazing potential for testing your character and mettle. A well placed ball might produce a rewarding round, but this course looks very demanding and unforgiving. Bunkers are not the small and pristine beaches I grew up with, rather they are terrifying holes that appear suddenly in the landscape ready to swallow your ball and ambitions, perhaps forever. I am not much of a golfer, but having grown up on a golf course and surrounded by the game, it was something of a pilgrimage for me to visit St. Andrews. I don’t know if I will ever return to play the links, but just to have walked ten of the eighteen holes moved me beyond words. I have had many frustrating days with the game, but I do not believe I have ever been moved to tears just standing on, and walking about, a golf course. But then, this is not any course. This is The Old Course, a place of history and legend. As I walked home up the wide shared fairway of 18/1, a hole named Tom Morris, I strode in the footsteps of the giants of the game. Old and Young Tom Morris, Bobby Jones, Arnold Palmer. The Golden Bear, The Shark, and Tiger.

The most famous tee view in the game

The Swilcan Bridge

The Swilcan Burn

Approaching the Royal and Ancient at dusk. The Swilcan Bridge is behind the green barriers.

This summer the Open Championship returns to the links of the Old Course, and on a rare Sunday afternoon that play is allowed one man will make this walk up 18 and into the pages of the game’s history. He will stand atop the steps, beneath the clock and frieze of Old Tom Morris on the Royal and Ancient Clubhouse and hoist the Claret Jug. I will never know that feeling, maybe one day I will be serious enough to return and play the course, but after my visit, this place is become very real for me. I have stood atop those steps and looked out across the dunes into the mist and wondered if I have what it takes. What would this greatest course in golf reveal within me?

The Guys on 18 tee

Me and the Guys at the bridge.

fin

Dunnottar Castle

16 Monday Mar 2015

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Dunnottar Castle, scotland

14 March, 2015

I have been to a few spectacular places in my travels, but I don’t think any have been as outright stunning as Dunnottar. The castle is perched atop a rocky peninsula two miles south of Stonehaven. Though the ruins that stand today are predominantly from the 16^th and 17^th centuries, this has been the site of a fortress since before William Wallace in the late 12^th. Works continue with restoration and upkeep and their composter was cheekily labeled as being from the early 21^st century.

The Stagecoach X7 Coastrider bus drops off on the highway about 1/4 mile from the castle car park. From there it is another quarter mile or so to the castle gate. There is a brief diversionary path that leads to an amazing view of the castle from a bluff just to the south. Returning from this vantage point I eschewed the stairway for a steep grassy trail that may well follow the historic approach to the castle.

I’d like to say that I have some sense of the history of the castle, or a great tale of heroic romance that I took away from my time there. What I came away with was just being humbled by the experience of Dunnottar’s incredible beauty. In the course of events in the Highlands and Aberdeenshire the castle has more than once held an important role. Wallace and the Bruce were here in the 12^th century, and the Scottish Crown Jewels were hidden from the English.

As always, the wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dunnottar_Castle

Unlike so many other castles there are no grand walls and crenelated fortifications here. The cliffs of the outcrop provide the defenses for a collection of buildings that sit atop them like an island fort. Any invading force is put a distinct disadvantage by the landscape itself before any defensive works are encountered.

Chapel interior

I walked the grounds astonished by the grand beauty of the ruined buildings, and humbled by the fact I was actually there. I took nearly 200 photographs in the three hours I was at the castle. I am sure you will agree that there are some fantastic images here. I have selected just a few that I think are the best. The camera cannot capture the experience, though. The page can convey the idea, but never the wind coming from the North Sea, or the sound of the waves on the rocks below. My words cannot truly capture the feeling of standing on the cliff across the bay, or on the beach below, looking at the tower rising above the gate.

Restored 17th century drawing room

Drawing room exterior

Time marches on, and I must be off so I can pack for travel to Dundee. I hope to catch up with a few more pics from Inverness as well as some from around central Aberdeen tomorrow.

Stonehaven from the coastal trail.

fin

The Battlefield on Culloden Moor

13 Friday Mar 2015

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Battle of Culloden, Culloden Battlefield, Culloden Moor, Highland history, Highlander, Inverness, Inverness City Center, scotland, the Highlanders

12 March, 2015

As I start this entry, I am on the 8A bus heading east from Inverness City Center, headed to the site of one of the bloodiest battles in Highland history. More on the history of this place to follow.

On this last full day here at Inverness I once again find that seventy two hours is barely enough time to be anywhere and come out feeling like I have done anything but scratch the surface of what is there. It is entirely likely that I will one day return here as a starting point for a summer time tour of the upper Highlands and islands.

Writing on my new tablet — the Galactic Savage — I am immediately aware of two things: one, that I need a genuine word processing app, and two, I must secure a detachable keyboard before the onscreen thumb typing makes me crazy. Time to consult the interwebs about that. More and more, however, this device is proving itself useful to me.

Back on the bus to the city. The day has taken a wintry Scotch turn. I was able to tour the battlefield before the rain blew in. The weather on the moor was likely quite like that on the day nearly 270 years ago when the Jacobite uprising was stopped here in this boggy heather.

The history of the Battle of Culloden Moor is more than just the hours slaughter of the Jacobites hoping to restore the Scottish Crown to the Stewart Prince. It begins long before that. The Wikipedia can give a far better and thorough history of the conflict.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Culloden

The battle for Scottish independence is not a new thing. It goes back a thousand years at least. Time and again it is the Highlanders that are behind the desire to be free. These are a fierce people who have wanted to stand on their own in the world for countless generations.

On the left of the path are the graves the Jacobite Highland Clansmen.

clan Mackintosh

There is a comprehensive visitors center that details the story of the events that led up to the day in 1745 that the two forces met on this boggy field. Exiting the rear of the museum, there is a 45 minute walk that tours the main points of the battlefield. This is perhaps one of the best audio-guides that I have ever used. The way points are triggered by GPS, and there is additional information, complete with pictures and animations on an Android powered touchscreen, available between stations on the tour.

Like Omaha Beach the land here bears few scars of the brutal events that took place, but like the Norman beach there is an echo in the air of the tragic loss of life. Towards the end of the loop, the path comes to the stones marking the mass graves of the Highlanders who died that day. It is estimated that more than 1500 men lost their lives in the fateful charge. The men were buried together with their fellow clansmen. Stones mark the spots where the different clans lay in their eternal rest.

To the Scots this ground is more than just a memorial to fallen ancestors. It is a hallowed war grave, and a part of the national psyche. For on that day, it was more than just a battle, more than just an uprising against the crown that was lost. Following the conflict the wearing of Tartan was banned, and the Highlanders lost a large part of their identity.

There are not so many pictures from the day. Like my day in Normandy a year and a half ago, the things that are here cannot be photographed. It is an experience for the mind, heart and soul. I left the moor with a feeling that I understand the Scots, particularly the Highlanders, just a bit more. Building on my experience learning of the battles of the Highland Picts against the Romans, of Robert the Bruce and William Wallace against Edward Longshanks in the battles of Stirling Bridge and Bannockburn, through to the WWI Highland Fusiliers, I have come to understand that these are a proud, rugged and fierce people. They have a strong national pride – I have not seen the Union Jack flying anywhere, but the Blue and White Cross of St. Andrew is everywhere – and loyalty to their fellow countrymen that is truly respectable. Even across clans, when the call is made, “Are there no true Scots?” they will all rise together as one people.

I do not know the history of it, but Walker is a Scottish name. While I am clearly an American mutt from many generations and many different international bloodlines in the UK and Western Europe, I know that there is Scots blood in me, and I am proud.

A few more pics around Inverness as I prepare to head for Aberdeen.

A wee bit aboot tha hielan’ coo.

fin

Urquhart Castle

12 Thursday Mar 2015

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Loch Ness, scotland, Urquhart Castle

12 March, 2015

Forty minutes bus ride into the Great Glen from Inverness to the Castle Urquhart on the shore of Loch Ness. The weather was fantastically Scottish for my visit. Gray and rainy with gusty wind. There were three to four foot swells and white capped waves breaking down the length of the Loch. Truly the Highlanders are hearty folk to have lived in this place for millennia.

Overview of the castle.

The guys are unsure of the weather, but wanted a souvenir shot.

The craig on the shore of the Loch has been fortified since the sixth century, if not longer. A succession of Kings and Lords built the castle in stages through the 17^th century. Today what stands are remains of walls and a tower that were restored in the last 100 years. The castle sits in a prominent and strategic place on the water, and commands a gorgeous view of the surrounding area.

Today these are but the crumbled ruins of walls and foundations, but for centuries this was home to more than 100 people, and the center of life for countless others in the surrounding area. There are two distinct phases of the castles’ existence. The Grant Tower on the north end is the newest part, and the ruined foundations on the high craig are where the earliest buildings stood 1500 years ago. It always amazes me to stand in these places and imagine life in the medieval times. Today it is a historic preservation, but there were thousands who were born and lived and died here. This place was their world.

The older fortifications. Already ruined in the 17th century.

The newer close, with the 17th century Grant Tower.

On the Tower. Tim was the only one willing to come out for another picture. Jerry said “no thanks” and Wee Dave was afraid of being blown into the Loch and eaten by the monster.

The blustery weather did hold one advantage for me. There were relatively few people there. One lady in the shop told me that in the summer the castle can see up to four and a half thousand a day. On my visit there were maybe a dozen at most among the ruins with me. This allowed me to capture images of the place that are nearly completely unpopulated.

The day calls, and I must be on my way to Culloden.

Banana!

Fin

Through the Highlands

11 Wednesday Mar 2015

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Highlands, Inverness

Arrival at Inverness Station

11 March, 2015

Inverness, Scotland – I came across the lower Highlands yesterday on ScotRail from Glasgow Queen Street Station to Inverness. It was a beautiful and sunny day for my ride through the Highlands via Stirling and Perth.

My travelling mates. Jerry, Tim and Wee Dave. Jerry came with me from the States, and the other two found us in Glasgow.

Stirling Castle

Watching the Scottish countryside roll by.

What is there to say about this three hour rail journey? From the air, the Highlands look quite different from the Colorado Rocky Mountains, but from the train they looked very similar. The peaks, being a much lower altitude, are not barren like the high alpine tundra I am used to at home. Covered with snow, there is still a distinct familiarity.

Ye can hae aer sheep, but ye cannae hae aer freedom! Hmmm. Nae, ye cannae hae aer sheep aither!

Railway viaduct nearing Inverness

Community Garden

I took a bunch of pictures from the train, but with the glass, and the speed of the train there were just not that many good frames. The minions haven’t presented any trouble. They largely stay out of the way, though they do like being photographed.

The guys are excited for the train ride.

I arrived in Inverness in late afternoon, and was able to have a stroll around the heart of the old town near the station and my hotel. I walked to the Castle, which houses the Sheriff’s Court, on a hill overlooking the river and city center. I was able to catch the golden light of sunset from the banks of the River Ness. This river is no joke. It is big, and the black water runs amazingly fast. Somehow, the combination of the darkness and the current makes it almost frightening just to look at.

Inverness Castle

Cemetery, Old Inverness

Urban decay

The River Ness

Lombard Street

Thus ended day one in Inverness. Stay tuned for my trip to Uruquhart Castle on the shore of Loch Ness, and a day at Culloden Battlefield and a walking tour of the city.

My room at the Waverly Guest House

Not much of a view, but it’s quiet at night.

fin

Anniesland Arrival: Four days from Iceland to Glasgow

09 Monday Mar 2015

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glasgow, Iceland, reykjavik, scotland, Troon

7 March, 2015

Enjoying a cuppa at my friends kitchen table here in Anniesland, Glasgow. It’s a gray and rainy day here in the UK, perfect for sorting the next two weeks.

My time in Reykjavik was fantastic. The layover offered is such a wonderful way to get through the jet-lag before reaching a European destination. Just two years ago, Iceland was just an island on a map, today I have several new friends there, and I look forward to returning many times in the future. I had a mellow stay this time. Hot pots and steam baths the first morning, the Game of Thrones revisited tour, and a fair amount of rest adjusting to the seven hour time change from the Rocky Mountains

Thursday morning I had coffee with my friend Petur Steinn at the Perlan – former hot water storage tanks that have a dome atop them with a restaurant and cafe that have fantastic views of the city. Leaving here we went to the President’s house. We walked right up to it, the grounds around the church next to the house are completely open. We joked that maybe we could have a coffee, but it looked like there was no one home.

President’s House.

Walking right up to the President’s House in Iceland

Shot of a selfie shooter

Returning to my hotel, I began to organize my kit for the flight to Glasgow and the next chapter of this adventure. Late afternoon I went out on the town and made my way to the Saga Museum. Seventeen vignettes depict key scenes from Icelandic history. I had a pretty decent fish and chips at the Reykjavik Fish Restaurant and spent a while walking around the old harbor area before meeting new friends for a late coffee and dessert.

Viking headwear at the Saga Museum

Banana! Well, fish and chips for lunch.

Excursion van for trips into the countryside over the lava and snowfields.

Icelandic Pancakes with sugar and Jam

Late coffee and dessert with new friends at Paris Cafe.

Trolls in the window at 66 Degrees North

Old Harbor Area

My desk at Centerhotel Skjaldbried.

The night brought no sleep as I packed my gear for the flight, and waited for the FlyBus to pick me up to go to Keflavik International Airport at four am. Though everyone is at the airport at such an early hour for the days’ first European flights, it is remarkably efficient. I moved quickly through a long queue for baggage check and then for security. I think it took longer to unload and repack my hand luggage than the time in the actual screening process or line.

The flight was delayed by waiting for fuel. Then someone inadvertently disconnected the ground power, resulting in the aircraft having to be completely restarted from zero – a “hard reboot.” Taking off into fifty knot winds made for a bumpy ride out. We rode light turbulence at FL34 (34,000 feet) skimming across the tops of clouds for the two hours flight across the North Atlantic and Upper Highlands to and exciting and rather hard crosswind touchdown in Glasgow.

Glasgow City Center. Canopy of lights.

Me and Trisha!

Glasgow City Center under the canopy of lights.

Looks like the Doctor’s here. I wonder if he locked up?

Friday evening and Saturday were spent with my friend, catching up, working out plans on a calendar, and a jaunt to City Center on Saturday night. Sunday we took a train southwest from Glasgow to See the beach and have lunch at Troon on the coast. It was a cold and windy day, but it is always good to see the ocean shore.

Troon. The Royal Troon Links are just below the town in the white area between the railway and shore.

View across the bay

Looking south towards the Royal Troon Links.

WWI Memorial to the Troon boys buried in foreign soil and lost at sea.

On the WWI Memorial — note Robert Walker and William Wallace

Monday the 9^th brought more blustery, rainy weather – a typically Scottish late winter’s day. We ventured into City Center for lunch, a couple of shops and to pick up my train tickets for the week’s journey around the Highlands. Tomorrow I head for Inverness for three nights. I plan one day up Loch Ness to Castle Urquhart and a day in Inverness proper, then I head to Aberdeen for the weekend.

Front of Glasgow Central Station

The Doctor’s still here.

Buchannon Street — Glasgow’s main shopping district

Mmmmmm! Bangers and Mash (and peas, of course)

Another Tardis, another Time Lord?

Shifting gears again and preparing for the next stage. Cheers!

Bello!

Booking an crafting words.

fin

Saga Begins: Through Night into Light, Towards the Equinox Eclipse

04 Wednesday Mar 2015

Posted by savagemythology in Uncategorized

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Game of Thrones, Iceland, reykjavik, Thingvellir

Solar Voyager sculpture at Reykjavik Harbor.

4 March, 2015

Welcome to Reykjavik. After a gray Monday and gorgeous blue skies on Tuesday, today brings what they say is typical, rugged and blustery Icelandic winter weather. I have taken this as an opportunity to sleep and enjoy coffee and the view of the rooftops from the hotel breakfast room.

I am light on the words today, perhaps they are all gone in this cold wind. I wrote for a minute on the airplane, and now here midweek. There are pictures from the flight, and from the “Game of Thrones” location tour I took. This is but the start of a four weeks journey, so I’m sure as the days pass, I will again find my voice.

As always click a picture to embiggen

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The view from 31 A

Bouncing through the sky six miles above the plains of western Wisconsin, the sun begins to slip behind the horizon. This flight to Reykjavik is the start of a months’ journey through a land of Ice and Fire to the Scottish Highlands and the seat of my heart.

With the setting sun, the American border falls behind and the IcelandAir 757 named Grabrok sails into Canadian airspace and the darkness of night. The flight will take us across Manitoba, Hudson Bay, Newfoundland and southern Greenland before crossing a stretch of the North Atlantic to land at Keflavik International in Iceland.

I am entering this journey with no itinerary, no agenda. I have ideas of where I would like to go, places I want to visit, but mostly this journey is more of one within myself away from the distractions of home. There is change coming this year, and events in the dark of winter brought a great catalyst. I don’t know what I will learn, what I will find, what this time out in the world will unlock within me. I do know that it is not outside of me, the problems and the answers both are within.

I venture into the unknown this time to expand my boundaries and knowledge of the world I live in, and those within myself. This is not a new journey; just a new chapter. Doors have closed, somewhere a window is open, and the journey continues.