This post about Oban is an abbreviated version of the original article found on the Travel & Life Rhythms page. Please check it out, along with our journey on the Royal Scotsman.
Next Stop: Oban
After a wonderful first five days in Scotland, we picked up a rental at the Edinburgh airport. Michael bravely got behind the wheel, and we headed off to the western Highlands on the “wrong” side of the road in a Peugeot 3008. We left in a heavy rainfall, because that is what happens almost daily in Scotland. This kind of weather is called oorlich, meaning undesirably damp, nippy, cold and chilly. It is a grand chance to accentuate the Scots “ich” sound. Not to be pronounced “oor-lick.”
We passed the Kelpies, two 98 foot steel horsehead sculptures, as we drove toward our destination. Oban, one of the larger cities on the Atlantic coast. Oban is also known as the seafood capital of Scotland, and as the signs in the city pubs like to remind visitors, it is pronounced O-bin.
Exploring the Highlands and the Hebrides Isles
We spent the next several days based in Oban, taking the ferry to the Isle of Mull, touring the Oban Distillery, and finally giving ourselves one rainy day to do nothing at all. By Thursday, we were back on the narrow, winding roads, headed for the Glenfinnan Viaduct.
We stood in pouring rain for 45 minutes waiting for the Jacobite Steam Train, the one Harry Potter fans know well, to cross. It was worth every soaked minute. The locomotive came around the corner puffing white clouds of steam, blowing its horn the entire way across the viaduct. Watching it felt like stepping back into an era when this was the only way through the Highlands.
The Devil’s Pulpit
The next day, we packed up for Glasgow and took the scenic route through Kilmartin and Inveraray. Our last stop before the city was the Devil’s Pulpit, a trail down to a blood red waterfall and stream, running between the towering walls of a moss covered gorge.
The stop was a disappointment at first. We walked through a hay field to reach the river, only to find the path too muddy and slippery to get close to the cliff’s edge. It was certainly not a climb I was willing to risk. Turning back, I looked up and once again saw dark clouds moving in. The rain pelted down as we ran back through the field to the car.
Laughing, we pulled out and noticed a sign pointing to the Glengoyne distillery. Michael had visited it ten years earlier on a work trip near Newhouse. What could we do but stop for another visit?
Glengoyne
Soaked through, we skipped the tour and went straight to the warmth of the tasting room. We spent a happy hour sipping some of the best whisky of the entire trip while our host shared more history and knowledge of Scotland’s whisky making tradition.
This trip had been built around the Royal Scotsman and the distilleries of the Highlands. At every stop we found people who who are kind, hospitable, and genuinely proud of their heritage. We left with a new appreciation for both the whisky and the history behind it.
Cail Bruich in Glasgow
That evening, dried off and dressed for the city, we made our way to Cail Bruich, a Michelin star restaurant in Glasgow’s West End. Our menu was artfully presented and delicious, paired perfectly with the wine selections. We had an 8:30 seating and were still there at 11, the last table to leave. The streets outside were just as lively, full of people enjoying the warm evening.
Returning Home
Our morning came early on Saturday, with a quick trip to the airport and a long journey home through Amsterdam and back to Chicago. This was a busy trip, one I was not sure I would even be able to take, but it is now chronicled as successful, interesting, and a time we will look back on and smile.
Scotland is an ancient land, with a rich and colorful history, a slowly disappearing Gaelic language, and kind, humorous people. They might have said to us, “Aye, it’s been a braw trip but it’s time to head hame!” I will let you check the pronunciation and meaning of that one yourself.
(This is only part of the story. Visit the Travel & Life Rhythms page for the full account of our seven days in the Highlands, from Duart Castle to the wrecks at Salen to a day we spent doing absolutely nothing at all.)
