Wednesday - Helensburgh

The day started with another not your average breakfast at the Hotel Ceilidh-Donia: Steve sampled mini haggis and found it quite edible! Then we snaked our way out to the street after the owners moved their double parked van from behind us. Really tight parking there. Lots of innovation required.

We programmed GPS to take us to Princes Street, the main road along side of the large gulch (there must be a nicer Scottish word for it) that was probably a moat providing protection for the castle. As there was major roadwork happening on Princes Street, nothing but buses and taxis were allowed. We got ourselves into a number of awkward situations as a result—pull to the side to let the buses past before we could duck out of their lane, U-turns to get out of places where we weren't supposed to be, and the like. We did get a quick view of the New Town (18^th and 19^th centuries), and it was very pleasant indeed—more green, and open with parks. But with the current construction work underway, the only way to really see Princes Street is on foot, and we just didn’t have the time.

GPS then wound us rather quickly out of town on roads we could never have found by ourselves, and delivered us to the impressive suspension bridge across the Firth (estuary) of Forth (a major east-flowing river). It was the longest bridge of its kind in Europe at the time of its construction in 1964 and is adjacent to the 1890 Forth Railway Bridge, described as the world’s first major steel bridge.

We drove for about an hour, some on motorway and some through typical countryside and a few small towns, to St. Andrews, the home of golf. We trusted the ‘distance remaining’ gas gauge on our minivan, and sure enough we reached the gas station before it was too late—though it was tight. It did take a bit of maneuvering through some rather skinny roads in this old city, but we made it. Gas mileage seemed to be up around 30. Pretty good, especially for a not so small vehicle with four passengers and luggage.

We parked at the lot by the Old Course and walked past the large granite clubhouse. Bruce had stayed there (it’s also a hotel, perhaps only for members?) when accompanying a few of his apparently well connected British and Canadian associates on a wonderfully enjoyable business trip about 25 years ago.

We marveled at the famous rolling terrain of the course, within sight of crashing waves of the North Sea. Some of the depressions are so deep that they have roads running through them for use by service vehicles. It’s certainly a shock to be looking out at what appears to be a continuous stretch of green, only to see a car or a small truck emerge from behind a barely perceptible rise. We watched a few golfers coming in to the 18^th hole and joined in a cheer as one of them sank an especially long putt.

Steve picked up a few golf souvenir items at the shop (including an Old Course scorecard which he planned to forge with an especially low score and show to his golf buddies back home!), and then we headed off on foot to the downtown area. Lots of students about, both university and high school. Some of the former were wearing academic capes, hip length, all draped in casual disarray as is the custom. Delicious lunch of wrap sandwiches, eaten at a park bench. Then we headed to the ruined cathedral (collapsed from structural failures very early in its life and never reconstructed as a consequence of the religious differences that subsequently swept the country) and back to the car along the seaside pathway.

Then we settled in to travel across the country to Helensburgh on the west coast. We programmed the GPS to take us along the north side of the Forth rather than going back over the bridge and into the congested area of Edinburgh. And in so doing we perhaps inadvertently influenced it to avoid a number of the larger roads we could have taken. The most memorable part of the resulting route was a 2-mile stretch of farm track, no more than a lane and a half wide! And we met a tractor along the way! Maybe the routing process awarded extra points to quality of views in laying out the route, as the mountains, hillsides, and valley vistas along the way were absolutely superb! It was our first view of the magnificent Loch Lomond and the Trossachs National Park.

We arrived at the Lethamhill B&B at a bit after 4. It is a genuine Craftsman house, with a few Tudor revival style elements. We were cheerfully greeted by the owner Jane and taken to our lovely rooms, complete with stunning views down the hill to the water. We’re not quite on the ocean but well down the Firth of Clyde. Bruce’s Scottish grandparents would have sailed right past here on their way to a new life in the New World, a bit over a hundred years ago.

The view from our hotel room - down the steep hill and across the Firth of Clyde - Helensburgh

We rested for an hour or so, and then we ambled down the hill to find dinner. There is very much a grid pattern to the town. Quite unexpected, as road layouts throughout the UK can generally be described as random. Restaurants are all lined up along the final street, facing out to the water. We chose an Indian buffet that claimed to be open till 11! It was indeed open, but the buffet appeared to have been pretty well cleared out by the early crowd so we had quite a wait before they restocked. It was worth the wait, however, as the food was delicious.

Walked back up the long hill to our B&B, with a brief stop at a supermarket. We got some of the things on your shopping list there, Karin. No Internet service here at the B&B, so we can’t publish this tonight. Will load it onto a flash drive and try to find an Internet shop tomorrow, or take the laptop to a bar down in the town that advertises free WiFi. We didn’t have time for Paisley today, but it’s along the route of our drive south on Friday so we’ll try to catch it then.

Wednesday - October 8