We checked into an airport hotel near Inverness (clean, convenient, and central to much of the Highlands and the Great Glen). The Marriott was busy but not crowded, and everyone was very friendly. When we got to our floor, there was a young man, dressed in black Tee and jeans, just sitting in a chair at the T-junction of the halls, acknowledging everyone who went by with a cheery Essex, “Hullo, luv.” Ummm. . . . okay.
He was there when Scout & I went for a late evening walk. He was there when we went out at 7 a.m., and when we came back, he was on his chair, eating a sausage butty breakfast from a styrofoam container. Well, that was weird. Polite, but weird. I mean what airport hotel needs an on-site security team on each floor?
When we came back from a day of picnicking on the shores of Loch Ness and driving the back roads of Ross & Cromarty, he was gone. Hunh.
Earlier this morning, Scout & I had sat in the lounge and I had watched three Cockney 20-somethings, with clipboard, spreadsheet, cell phone, and trolleys assemble and deliver a series of clearly pre-ordered room-service breakfasts, compiled to order from the buffet. I’ve travelled a lot for work and I have never seen room service prepared and delivered in this way. And what was with sweat pants and flip flops? Why no uniforms. Well, maybe in Canada we’re more uptight than the Scots about business formality?
All in all, the Inverness Marriott is a different sort of experience.
And then it all became clear – I asked at the front desk. Why was there a security guard in an airport motel?
Turns out there hasn’t been a spate of To Catch A Thief style burglaries, nor is the Princess Royal and her court staying in the east wing of the Inverness Airport Marriott. It seems there is a competition-based show filming around here and the contestants are all sleeping on our floor. It’s Skippy the hall guard’s job to make sure there is no interaction between contestants, and those three brekkie-makers are ensuring the contestants have no reason to leave their rooms before the bus leaves. Really? How exotic.
Never did find out what the show was that they’re filming (I asked three different staff and supposedly nobody knew – yeah, right) – I will just say there was a lot of crockery and leftovers littering the hallways each day – I hope it’s not one of those survival shows, because it looks like they all rely heavily on room service – hardly a bunch of Bear Grylls.

You should have seen the luggage we jammed into the car – as well as new clothes, we had new alcohol, and as LL is staying for a full month, one more suitcase than she normally travels with (the fact that there is an entire bag of ramen in the boot/trunk is a story for later).
The House of Bruar – Scout’s favourite place to go for a walk, and LL’s new favourite shopping in the UK. We didn’t empty the Food Halls, but it wasn’t for lack of trying.
Then 2 hours along a single lane 100km/hr corkscrew ‘highway’ through the Cairngorms. We stopped at The Watchers – a clever installation up the side of a mountain. Below is the view from The Watchers and yes, we did just drive that long windy snake you can see down in the valley and up the hills.
I hadn’t told LL where we were going next – it’s been a well-kept secret. In our decade of travelling, ‘ABC’ has been a catch phrase (from Terry in Australia) – an ABC is ‘another bloody castle’ – you know, “oh God, here we go, another bloody castle”. Well this ABC was tickets to tour Balmoral Castle, the royal family’s summer home – LL was literally bouncing in her seat when she heard this. It was a lovely day with hardly anyone else there.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, travelling with a dog is how you meet people. A gardener on the grounds came up and asked to pet Scout. Twenty lovely minutes later, LL & I had had insights into life at Balmoral that no audio-tour would ever give you. McGardener (we never got his name) was so interesting – telling us lots about being a gardener to the Queen, without actually disclosing anything truly private. He clearly loves his job, and because there weren’t many other tourists about, was more than happy to shoot the breeze with us.
*To top the day off, he offered to get Scout a bowl of water from his delightful-looking little stone cottage smack in the middle of the castle gardens. Turns out that this water is drawn from a super-secret local burn (he wouldn’t say which burn) and the only ones who drink this water are the Queen and her court – yes, Scout has drunk water from the Queen’s own special water-supply. That’s my little princess.

A royal day – we started the day touring Her Majesty’s former yacht, Britannia. It was a great morning. Then on to a bus tour of the Royal Mile and the old city.
But for LL and me, the highlight of any trip is the local cuisine. A spectacular meal at a restaurant I’ve been dreaming about for years, The Kitchin. It was a tasting menu of exceptional Scottish ingredients – we had spoots (razor clams), sweetbreads, and an apple souffle with whisky sauce (they left the bottle of 15 year old Macallan on the table after pouring it into the centre of the souffle – you know, something to look at while eating). The staff were exceptional; part of what really pushed the meal over the top was Zoe, the waiter from Victoria BC.

(Yes, for anyone reading this – the food is a repetitive theme on this trip – as I’ve said before, with Lori & me that’s inevitable.)

Yep – we are awaiting a suitcase, yet again. This time it’s not mine, but rather my friend LL from Calgary. We believe her main suitcase made it as far as Dublin, and should arrive at the hotel any time now.
Obviously our way of coping with this stress was to go out for a nice lunch. The chef at Noto Restaurant in central Edinburgh was on one of our favourite cooking competitions, so we went there for our first meal together in months. LL and I dine together better than anyone I know. Our excitement was palpable – the wait staff could tell we were just so happy to be there. (Of course, they could just have been reacting to our choice of wine – we won’t be spending like that every day)
There was tartare, truffles, trout, and tap water (just keeping it real with that last one) and it was the best culinary experience I’ve had since COVID.

We then headed to a drugstore to replace her missing toothbrush, deodorant, moisturizer (shades of the Seine all over again). And then the foodhalls at Marks & Spencer – yippee! We thought we’d have a light dinner in our room, so quite sensibly we headed straight to the cans of gin & tonic, then the wine section, then junk food. At that point we then headed over to the crackers and cheese (something has to absorb that wine).`

Scout and I went to one of the many dog-friendly pubs in Leith – it was fun, and busy, and vibrant, and made me think, I may just be getting a tad too used to my safe, sensible, and insular Scottish existence. This neighbourhood is full of families, and young people, and dog-owners, and different ethnicities. The last is particularly pleasing to my eyes after 7 monochromatic months in Orkney. Now don’t get me wrong, I am not passing judgement – just because I got it into my head to live in Orkney, does not mean the rest of the world is dying to move to a remote northern island. But I gotta admit, I felt more at home on streets that included people from all walks of life.

Another adventure
Yes, I’m off again. This is a visit I’ve been looking forward to for months – a friend is coming to stay for the month of May.
I’m picking her up in Edinburgh (’cause everyone has to see Edinburgh at least once – or in my case, several times) and after a few days here, we’re wending our way north through the highlands before heading back to Orkney for some rest, relaxation, and exploration.

So, today was another looooong driving day. We left the house at 7:30am, and pulled into our hotel in Leith (Edinburgh’s harbour) at 5pm. I had been warned about the construction in town, so the last half hour wasn’t as fraught as it might have been had I come upon it unawares. But I was bagged. (And I think Scout was a tad stir crazy – she gets at least 4 walks on driving days: home, before ferry, after ferry, Golspie beach, and The House of Bruar hills, but even with those, nine hours is a long time for a dog in a car.) In fact, on one of those stops, at The House of Bruar, we saw the remnants of a bad-looking car accident and while we were wandering the fields behind the shops we saw an ambulance-helicopter air lift someone out. 🙁

But we made it to Leith – as I mentioned earlier, I have been to Edinburgh several times and honestly, how many times can you see the Royal Mile? So when planning for this visit, I did some digging, and found out that Leith, formerly quite a rough town (port city, drug issues, etc) has been undergoing a gentrification. A Michelin-starred restaurant I’ve always wanted to visit is here, as is the Royal Yacht Britannia (the former ship of the Queen), and Leith is only a 30 minute walk from Princes St. Oh, and I love the movie Sunshine on Leith. So I booked us in at a dog-friendly hotel (Pillars House – the concierge sent a lovely welcoming email).

Well, we arrived in Leith. It’s, um . . . gritty. Now, some of the things adding to the ‘grit’ aren’t really Leith’s fault – it’s overcast, there is an insane amount of construction right around the hotel, and well, the grey stone of Scottish buildings, while sturdy and long-lasting, looks old fast. To add to the overall sense of ‘a city with issues’, there was a Mercedes in the secret hotel car park when we arrived, with 4 rather scary looking gentlemen sitting in it, and clouds of weed smoke drifting out of the windows (I believe cannabis is still illegal in the UK). Our hotel is actually a B&B ( how did I miss that?) and the rooms are tiny – LL, Scout and I, along with our suitcases, have to fit into this room. And it turns out that post-COVID, the second B in B&B is moot. Nae brekkie. Well, there are cookies and juice boxes in the room. Hmm. Okay. On the other hand – the owner was sooo welcoming, they clearly love dogs here (they’ve offered to dog-sit when we’re out) and the room is scrupulously clean.
And LL is pretty chill and always willing to go with the flow, so here’s hoping for a nice week in Edinburgh and Leith!

The following are some of the things I saw on yesterday’s hike up Muddisdale with my walking group.

Lambs arrive later in the spring this far north, so these are the first I’ve seen since leaving Kent last month. These twins were curious about us, but hied off to Mummy when we got too close. You can see the farmer’s mark on the little guy on the right – the lambs are given the same number as their mother to help with identification – sort of like what George Foreman did with his sons, naming them all George (although in that case, I would have to think that made identification harder, not easier). These two are called 64.

Snake’s head fritillary – I like the name almost as much as I like the look of the flower.

A local artist made this Chevrolet truck entirely out of stone. I believe an American offered to purchase it and have it shipped home, but the artist declined. It’s full scale. I believe he has also made a full scale stone Orkney Chair.

I got back from my holiday and took a couple of days to get over my cold, then was ready to resume my normal routines. Earlier this week I started to notice some changes had taken place in town – it’s tourist season!

The cruise ships have started to arrive. The newspaper publishes a list of the ships, their arrival & departure dates & times, and their capacity. The same is posted on the harbourmaster’s website. Massive coaches are now on the roads, or parked in lay-bys meant to fit a Vauxhall Astra, while tourists wander down the middle of the road, or climb fences, cameras in hand. One tourist was spotted wandering down the middle of the Churchill Barriers – imagine Trafalgar Road, but one lane, and no sidewalks or shoulders, just ocean on either side – the speed limit is 100km/hr.

In the village they have closed off the road that I had thought was a pedestrian-only lane in the first place, presumably to allow the tourists to do more shopping. It seems like the town made this decision without advising the businesses along said road, who count on vans and trucks bringing them deliveries on a daily basis. Oops. I have heard both fiddlers and pipers busking along the harbour front.

On social media, the locals are giving one another ‘heads-up’ warnings about where the main tour buses are going and which roads and sites to avoid. No one is complaining – I think after two long, shut-down years, everyone recognizes how much Orkney needs the tourist trade.

I am doing my very best to at least look local, taking Scout everywhere I go. (And while I don’t sound Scottish, I do most definitely look like I fit in – pasty white skin, light-coloured eyes, what my mother would (somewhat less than kindly) refer to as a righ’ baw face.) I’ve also taken to carrying a Tesco’s bag with me everywhere and flashing my Orkney Library card at anyone who will stop to look. Presumably this is our new norm, at least until September.

People kept asking me before I left, if I would develop a Scottish or Orcadian accent whilst here. I cited my sister’s experience – she lived several years in England in her teens and while she didn’t take on an English accent per se, there was a slight but noticeable difference to the rhythm of her speech. She has since returned, and now speaks perfect Canadian.

There are certain words that I have had to start using differently – here ‘pants’ means undies so I am quite careful there (don’t want to be asking someone to admire my news pants when I meant to say trousers – things could get frisky fast). I now stop for ‘petrol’ at a ‘service station’ on the ‘motorway’. I try to remember to say ‘pavement’ for sidewalk and at my cookery club I do reference ‘aubergines’ and ‘courgettes’. As an aside – I think a lot more North Americans would eat eggplants if we called them aubergines. Who wants to eat something called an ‘egg-plant’? But I digress.

And I do hear myself using certain words a lot more often – these are mainly words or phrases I heard around the house growing up. ‘I dinna ken’ means I don’t know; I say ‘wee’ a lot for small; and we’ve always referred to ground beef as ‘mince’, so I fit right in here. Oh yes, and ‘tatties’ and ‘neeps’ are also a normal part of my vocabulary.

There are words I likely won’t change: although ‘kirk’ is used frequently here, most people say church, so I still do too. I talk about going to the grocery store instead of the ‘supermarket’ and my friends know perfectly well what I mean.

But I have no intention of changing my pronunciation of words we have in common. I still say lab’rah-tory or cel-ah-brah-tory, instead of ‘lab-OR-atory’, or ‘cel-a-BRAY-tory’. My parents had moved permanently to Canada, so over time gave up ‘privv-acy’ for the North American privacy and ‘vitt-ah-min’ for our vitamin. But I am not staying forever, and fully intend to continue with my Canadian-speak. And I would point out, I occasionally hear Brits from different regions asking each other to repeat or clarify something, and yet, no one has ever once struggled to understand my nice, clean, clear Canadian accent. Just sayin’.

And then I said it. I heard myself, yesterday in Wm Shearer’s, asking one of the staff where the ‘tinned to-mah-toes’ were. Oh dear. Resistance is futile.

There’s not a lot of outdoor art here on Orkney – I don’t know why I had expected it, maybe because another island community, Iceland, had loads of it (it’s one of the first things I fell in love with in Iceland). But maybe the Orcadians (quite rightly) think their Neolithic standing stones, cairns, and broches are artistry enough?

Last week my walking group headed out towards the edge of town, towards a mound of what I thought was waste land. But we circled around some paths, and came into a clearing with a huge dragon’s head mounted on some rocks in the middle. It seems it’s the work of the local car dealership owner/artisan – I believe it’s going to be part of a bigger installation in the future. On the picture on the right, you can see a metal spider climbing up the back of the skull; on top those are mice or more likely, Orkney voles – we have our own, you know; and in the eye holes are little nests, all made of beaten metal. It is very impressive – I think COVID pushed the work back – I hope whatever it is will be finished before I leave.

Speaking of monsters: there are dozens of doggy-waste bins all over Kirkwall and many have been renamed. Orkney has definitely rallied behind Ukraine – there are blue & yellow flags & posters all over town; local school kids have been painting flags on stones and leaving about; the islands have volunteered to house a number of displaced families; and most importantly, thousands of pounds of money & goods are being donated every week.