When we were planning this trip, we came to realize how easy it would be to drive. From the top of Scotland to the bottom on Britain can't be more than 10 or 12 hours drive. And with Scotland, we'd wanted to see the country. So, we made car reservations and now it was time to see if we were still able to drive on the "wrong side of the road". We'd done this before, but not for 10 years or more.
Cab (again, way too much luggage) to the Waverly train station and we pick up our car. The guy who checks us in seems pleased that we're American. Mentions that he'd seen Reagan on TV last night.
The car manages to, just barely, fit all our luggage in the trunk. The GPS is ready to head us north. I remember what I'd read about driving on the left. The trick is simple. Keep the passenger against the curb. Don't think about right side or wrong side. Just, passenger on the left.
That and spend the extra money for an automatic transmission to reduce the number of things you might be tempted to think about.
We get up to St. Andrews, glad that we didn't spend the money yesterday to do it by train. Downtown is interesting, but not that much. We stop at a take out salad bar. They, meaning everyone in the UK, apparently aren't fans of lettuce. More toppings than lettuce, and they're not charging by weight, so it isn't a financial thing at all. I study the students who are walking by. I've got college friends whose son is a senior here at the university. Unfortunately, our timing is off just a few weeks. They'll be in this very place in 3 weeks. They live in Vermont, so we only see them every 10+ years and it's sad that this won't work.
In case you didn't know, golf was invented in Scotland. At St. Andrews specifically. At the Old Course, which is at the edge of town. We walk over. It's beautiful. On a rugged coastline. The clubhouse, the Royal and Ancient, adjoins it. I go in to the pro shop and they point me across the green to the, get this, Tom Morris, shop. He. Old Tom Morris, and his son, Young Tom Morris, are big names in golf. The pro shop is actually named the Tom Morris shop. We go in and I introduce myself...
They're nice, but it isn't an uncommon name and I get the feeling they've been through this before. BUT, it's really fun (!) for me. Everything in the shop has my name on it. Hats, coasters, shirts, sweaters, everything! In print, script. Red, blue, green, orange. I guess I'm set for life -- I don't have to put my name inside my clothes any more (that was a joke). I buy a hat, the brightest red and most visible one I can find. I'm wearing it now. On the brim it says, "Tom Morris, 1848, St. Andrews". Fun. He was also the first golf pro and the store has his original work table.
We continue on the drive up to Inverness. Scenery is ehh. Again, I'd been expecting more craggy. We past a distillery, but it's 6pm and they're closed. Sunset is after 9pm so we've got a longer day to work with. Driving up to the hotel we're a bit nervous. It's on the outskirts of a housing development. We're puzzled. It's on the Conde Nast list as the 11th best hotel in the world.
It's much better than expected. Yes, on the edge of a housing development, but it's own world. Some of the reviews had described it as being like a friend's old country home and it is. The people who work there are great. Cordial and always willing to help. We check in and two of them carry all (!) that luggage up to our room. Which is huge! A king bed. A sitting area with a sofa and chair. A view out across the great lawn. And, best of all, two bathrooms at opposite sides of the room. We've been upgraded!
Downstairs for a couple whiskys. The hotel has someone come by for a half hour at cocktail time to play bagpipes. It's a great thing. I'm in Scotland. At a great country house. Drinking old Scotch whisky. With real bag pipes in the background.
We drive into town for dinner and eat along the water outside (!!!!) at an Italian restaurant with the Inverness Castle looking down at us...
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