You take the high road, and I'll take the low road....






Loch Lomond

Stirling

We started the overland portion of our trip with an easy driving day, stopping for lunch about an hour out of Edinburgh in Stirling.

After our delicious Indian buffet at Singh's, we walked through the little downtown area and then up a hill to Stirling Castle.

None of us had an overriding interest in actually paying for admission to the castle, but we walked around the grounds a bit, enjoying the scenic views. It was a pleasant stop.

Countryside View from Graveyard by Stirling Castle

Back in the car, we drove another hour through the scenic countryside to the quaint village of Callander, where we had a B & B booked for the night.

When we arrived on Saturday afternoon, the pub at Cragshotel was jumping. The bartender pulled taps on multiple kegs, filling several glasses simultaneously to keep up with orders from customers crowded around little tables and standing at the bar. He was also the hotel receptionist, though the “front desk" was nothing more than a  walkway to his side of the bar. 

We told him we had the Family Suite booked, and he said it would be just a minute. True to his word, he grabbed a key and whisked us up the stairs to our room. I was surprised to see a lot of signed and numbered Rolling Stones photos framed on the walls of the staircase.







Callander Landscape Reflected in River (photo by Jay)

Our Family Suite did have a separate bedroom for the kids, but I’d say calling it a suite was a bit of a stretch. If you ever had a hippie friend who let you crash at his pad, you know the look.



The main room had a couple of very old and faded tapestries thrown on the floor to cover what I assume was an even more badly worn carpet, a few pieces of old furniture filling in empty space without providing much utility, including a blanket-covered mattress where the couch should've been,  some random pictures scattered around the aging wallpaper, and a hastily made king-sized bed that looked, we would learn, much lumpier than it felt.



View from our Family Suite at Crags Hotel

The second bedroom with two twin beds looked a little better, but none of it looked like the pictures on their web site.

Then again, it appeared to be clean, and we liked the novelty of staying above a real Scottish pub, where we could hear a few noises from below but nothing substantial enough to keep us from sleeping.



The main room had a lovely view out its window, with a setup for making tea or instant coffee next to it. While the heating pot looked old, it worked as fast as the Cragshotel bartender, heating enough water for tea in no time.

After tea and crumpets (or whatever those little crackers are called), we took a walk through the village and down a cross street to view a peaceful river area.

 





Graveyard in Collander by river



When we came back to town, we entered a wood–carved toy store, and I left feeling sorry for the merchant who probably invested his life savings into this little shop where tourists from California just walked through and left with hands empty.

Back to Cragshotel, we set up in a small side room of the pub, with tables and a dart board, where we enjoyed some drinks and darts before heading down the street for a bad hamburger dinner. The Rolling Stones were playing over their speakers for quite a while, and I asked the bartender if Mick Jagger and Company had some kind of special relationship with the town of Callander.



Peaceful river in Callander (photo by Julie)



The bartender, who like the one at Cragshotel was about my age, smiled proudly and said, "The Stones stayed in Callander once."  And, after a pause, "Not here, but up the road."

While the burger wasn’t good, the atmosphere was friendly and the Belhaven’s Best was cold, and we did not head back to our room with a negative overall impression.

In fact, after an hour or so, Jay and I walked back over to the bad burger pub for the live music advertised on their sign, but there was none to be found, or even a place set up for anyone to play.

 

Amy, Wes and Jay at Crags Hotel doorway

The packed house didn’t seem to mind, as they were out on the town. Instead of staying home with the telly, it seemed like Scots in the burghs enjoy an evening in the pub on weekends, whether cheering football on TV as a group activity or waiting for bands to show up, but Jay and I decided not to stick around this time.

Our room came with a hot, delicious breakfast, served in Crags' large breakfast room that doubled as the banquet room and overflow seating for the pub. It was another great full Scottish breakfast, including haggis, served by a smiling lass.  We enjoyed a nice stay at Crags Hotel, but it was now time to hit the road again.

This day would have a lot of driving, but on the way, Julie planned an extended stop at Loch Lomond.

In preparation for the trip, Julie kept saying we would be going to "the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond," sometimes singing the words in a rather low voice which I assumed she related to some obscure Scottish song  her grandfather, Lester McQuillen, sang when she was a child.



Julie and Jay on Path by Loch Lomond

I had no idea what tune she was singing. She must have mentioned it a dozen times, including a few times as we drove there.  "What are you talking about?" asked Amy, finally verbalizing my own question. Julie said, "You know, like the song," and she again sang "Bonnie Bonnie banks of Loch Lomond." We all laughed, still with no clue what she meant.

I’m always up for seeing lakes and beautiful country settings, so I wasn’t too concerned about not recognizing her musical reference.  When I put music to this video about that day, I finally understood.


This happened to be a big event for the local Kayaking Club, so they had several dozen kayaks at Loch Lomond for guests to try.

Amy kayaking at Loch Lomond

They waived us over, suited us up in water resistant parkas and gave us some quick instructions as we shoved into the cold blue lake.

Having kayaked though the ocean in Cabo and elsewhere, we assumed paddling around a lake would be a piece of cake, but these kayaks could have been made by a 3-D printer. The hollow shells weren’t lined, so they didn’t have that extra stability of a large air chamber, and it took a while to get used to the feel, which required knee and thigh adjustments to maintain stability, combined with limited upper body movement when paddling. It was a fun, unique way to experience Loch Lomond.



Wes at Loch Lomond Castle

The Scots putting on the event were extremely friendly, and I enjoyed chatting with one fellow about our trip. I told him that I had some ancestors who came from Glasgow in the 17th Century (including some named Hamilton, which was a powerful Scottish family name he recognized), but I didn’t know much about them.  My wife, I said, had more relatives who came from Edinburgh, and he said with wink and a smile, “Glasgow is better.” Like clans of old, modern Scots still stand up for their own regions.  

Jay and Amy bid farewall to Ayr after a meal stop.

We wouldn’t have time on this trip to find out for ourselves about Glasgow, which Julie feared was just an industrial city, but we did pass tangent to it on the Motorway en route to Ayr, an attractive mid-sized city near a cold beach.  It's sort of a suburb of Glasgow, and my family tree also has roots in Ayr, sometimes intermingled with Glasgow in  individuals' records. We enjoyed a great Sunday roast beef dinner at the Old Racehorse Hotel, where we had a room booked the next night. In retrospect, we probably should have stayed two nights there, but we at least wanted to know where it was located, because we wouldn’t be scheduled to return until close to midnight the next evening, when the roads could be pitch black.



Amy and Jay by Stirling Castle

Stirling Castle

 

Wes Kayaking at Loch Lomond

  

Jay at Loch Lomond Castle