Closing Out Scotland

I don't want to downplay the sheer awesomeness of Isle of Skye. After all, people including myself flock there in droves every year to see the unique landscapes and indulge in their history. So much so, that sustaining the demand has become a problem for locals. While the roads are well kept, there's not always two lanes and cars passing opposite need to alternate the right of way. The volume of vehicles overwhelm most parking lots, leaving determined visitors to park precariously (and carelessly) on the road side. The bottlenecking and the need for patience is impressive, especially when tourists hop off ferries and onto giant tour buses. Large influxes of people inevitably means more congestion; more trash; more makeshift roadside camping because cottages and inns are fully booked for months ahead of time. Mark and I had to amend our travel plans specifically for this reason. We all want to see everything, and we all want to see it RIGHT now! Yes?

Anyway, Isle of Skye is super cool, but the Highlands south of that region are amazing too. Even though the area is seemingly much of the same land (green, mountainy, and stuffed with lakes), the Highlands are undeniably different. It's hard to describe. The expansive textures of the Highlands is unparalleled to anything I have seen before, where the green is nearly blinding. The ancient, rounded mountain tops have a secret they won't tell, and the lakes disappear underneath a sea soft moss and teeny delicate flowers. The sky gets bigger and we get smaller. I desperately wished we had time to stay at least one night in the vicinity of Trossachs National Park. There was a gentleman in full on Scottish uniform, playing his bagpipe on the side of the road with his back to the Beinn Ime, the highest peak in Scotland at 1,011m/3,326ft. Everyone and their mom, including burly motorcyclists were pulled over to take a snapshot of this idyllic scene. I bet that musician makes a killing.  

Since the Harry Potter Studio was out of reach, we did the next best thing and stopped in Glencoe, where Hagrid's Hut once stood. There's no sign and no notice showing you where the hut was perched during filming, about 100 yards up from the road, but with a seasoned HP eye, the location is easily spotted. Mark had a hell of a time explaining to Deets and Margo that we wouldn't actually see the hut, nor Hagrid (God, they were hopeful), and had to talk them up from massive disappointment when they realized we were staring literally at a hill now overgrown with ferns. We made up for it by letting them throw rocks into a creek, which happens to be one of my favorite downtime activities.

Onward we went, and before we realized it, them mountains had petered out, leaving way to serene farmland and more cozy towns, streets lined with colorful hanging flower baskets and Scottish pride. The drive ended before I wanted it to and left me wanting more, but I suppose that's the sign of a good trip. We checked back into a hotel near the airport and settled ourselves for a quick overnight before flying to Oslo for the next leg of "rest & relaxation." 

Hagrid's Hut

Credit: Mark

No regrets.