Scotland: Part 2 - In search of my roots

After a wonderful five days in Ballachulish, our next destination was Kinloch Rannoch - a tiny village nestled against mountains on the shores of Loch Rannoch. I'd included it in our itinerary because I wanted to visit the place my great great great great grandfather, Donald McIntosh, lived before he emigrated to Canada.

As it turned out, the village wasn't an easy place to reach. It's only about 20km from Glencoe as the crow flies but there's no road connecting the two directly so we had to drive 150kms around the moor and approach it from the east. Given that the roads were so narrow and winding - particularly for the last 40kms or so, the trip took several hours!  Fortunately, it was another perfect day and the scenery was gorgeous so we enjoyed the journey.



Serendipitously, our route took us past Castle Menzies, the ancestral home of the Menzies Clan, to which a dear friend belongs, so we stopped long enough to take a few photos for her before making our way to Kinloch Rannoch.



We don't know much about Donald McIntosh, other than that he settled in New Annan, Nova Scotia, around 1825 and beget a large family of McIntoshes (now known as MacIntoshes), who still call that part of the world "home". We didn't intend to do any serious geneological research while we were in Kinloch Rannoch - just wander around the village imagining what it might have been like in the early 1820s before Donald left for Canada.





It was another mild, sunny day so we ate our picnic lunch sitting on a bench in the village square. After lunch, we wandered across the river and happened on a fairly large graveyard, where we searched the headstones for some evidence that McIntoshes had lived in the area. At first, it seemed our efforts would be in vain since we couldn't find any grave markers with that name but, as I circled around the chapel to check the older stones in the far corner of graveyard, I spotted a small marker that read simply:

In memory of Donald McIntosh who died the 7th of June 1854 aged 54 years.

As far as we know, "our" Donald never returned to Scotland so it seems unlikely the stone marks his grave. On the other hand, how likely is it there were two Donald McIntoshes of about the same age living in the Kinloch Rannoch at the same time - particularly, given there are no other McIntosh stones? The position of the marker too - tucked away in a corner - made me I wonder if someone who remained behind when my ancestor left for Canada erected the stone in his memory when he died.



We noticed other stones commemorating people who'd died overseas so it's a plausible explanation but I don't suppose we'll ever know for sure. Still, it's nice to think that three decades after he emigrated Donald may have been remembered fondly by someone in Kinloch Rannoch.

Once we'd had our fill of Kinloch Rannoch, we climbed back in the car and headed up the road to Rannoch Station, where we intended to spend the night at the Moor of Rannoch Hotel. The hotel was a bit of a splurge for us since we were travelling on a budget, but I'd read marvelous things about it and we thought we ought to have one night in a romantic inn given that we'd made the trip to Scotland to mark our 25th wedding anniversary.



We weren't disappointed. Though the road to from Kinloch Rannoch to Rannoch Station was single track and somewhat nerve-wracking at times, the Hotel made the journey totally worthwhile. It's operated by a wonderful young couple, Scott and Steph, who obviously know a thing or two about hospitality. Everything was perfect - from the comfortable decor in the common rooms and Steph's delicious meals, to the roaring fires, cheese and whisky hour (with whisky appreciation lessons by Scott) before bedtime, the resident deer herd, and a perfectly appointed room, complete with an antique tub for two! And did I mention there was no radio, TV, or Wifi?  Heaven for someone who appreciates peace and tranquility as much as we do!







Though we arrived too late in the day for a proper hike on the moor, we still had time for a short meander to Loch Laidon, where we spent a  pleasant hour relaxing on the beach, drinking in views before returning to the Hotel to sample a couple of local brews before supper.





If and when we return to Scotland, Rannoch Station will certainly be on our itinerary once again, though of course we'll plan to stay longer. There's something magical about the moor, and the Hotel would be a wonderful base from which to explore it.



For more photos from our time in Kinloch Rannoch and Rannoch Station, follow this link to my Flickr album.

Scotland: Part 1 - My heart's in the Highlands

We arrived in Glasgow early Saturday morning after a comfortable overnight flight from Halifax and picked up our car at the airport. Our plan was to take all day to reach our first port of call, North Ballachulish, just a few kilometres from the Village of Glencoe.

En route, we stopped for a couple of hours in Luss, a picturesque village perched on the shores of Loch Lomond. After enjoying a delicious breakfast at the Village Rest, we took a short walk along the river that meandered around and through the village and stopped to observe folks prepping for a wedding in a local church. So far, so good. We were in high spirits as we climbed back into the car to head north.





The next few hours were a good deal less relaxing as we negotiated the narrow winding roads along Loch Lomond and the Moor of Rannoch. Given that the roads were so narrow, the stone walls so unforgiving, and the buses and lorries so threatening, I was grateful we'd rented a tiny car. I'm sure my blood pressure was a few points higher by the time Glen Coe came into view.  Fortunately, the scenery made the journey totally worthwhile.



From the moment we arrived, I was bewitched by the Glen, It's hard to put into words but I immediately sensed the spirit of the place - as if every drop of MacDonald and MacIntosh blood flowing through my veins responded to ancient music playing just beyond my hearing. In some primordial way, I was home.





Our studio in North Ballachulish was a wonderful base for the next five days - not least because the views were terrific, our rooms were clean and comfortable, and our hosts (both of whom were musicians) invited us to join them for a couple of traditional music jams at local pubs.



We were blessed with excellent weather for much of our time in Glen Coe. Plenty of sunshine and mild temperatures made spending time outdoors a joy.

Our first full day day, we visited the Glencoe Massacre Monument before exploring the trails around Glencoe Lochan in the morning and Glen Righ in the afternoon. Unfortunately, we got a bit disoriented on the trails at Glen Righ so ended up walking 4 or 5 kilometres farther than we intended but it was no great hardship. We had plenty of time and the views were gorgeous. Needless to say we slept well that night.









The next day, we drove to Oban for a more laid-back day. After a fantastic lunch of steamed mussels and fish sandwiches on the pier, we toured the Oban Distillery, then hiked to the top of town to visit McCaig's Tower (aka McCaig's Folly). The Tower was commissioned by a wealthy banker to create employment for local stonemasons during the winter months. Though it seems a little out of place, it has the advantage of providing wonderful views over the harbour.









We really liked Oban. It was friendly, attractive little place, well worth visiting again when we have more time. There were plenty of pleasant looking guesthouses with breathtaking views of the harbour.



En route back from Oban, we stopped to visit Dunstaffnage Castle. Now in ruins, the castle has a fascinating history. It was originally built by the MacDougalls, but the small graveyard adjacent to the ruined chapel is filled with Campbell headstones because they were the last inhabitants of the property.







This photo of Husband gives some sense of the size of the massive rocks upon which the castle rests.



As is so often the case, my eye was caught by light spilling through windows in the ancient stone walls.



On the third day, we tackled our most ambitious "walk" so far - a 4 km hike along a trail winding between two mountains into the Lost Valley (Coire Gabhail). It's considered an easy route compared with others in the area but, given we were still recovering from jetlag, we found the 335m climb along narrow, rocky paths challenging enough.

The weather was perfect - mild and sunny - and we had the trail and the valley almost entirely to ourselves. It's said the MacDonalds hid the cattle they "borrowed" in the valley so I found myself imagining what it must have been like to spend long dark nights huddled round fires built close to the base of the huge rocks that were left behind by the glaciers that created the valley.





After a picnic lunch and a short rest, we hiked out of the Valley. Husband took this photo on the return trip. If you look closely, you can just make out the road and a couple of trucks far below.



We also stopped to take a few photos of the Three Sisters. Some day, I'd like to try hiking up the Pap of Glencoe.





We thought we might tackle a second hike after lunch but it was so warm and we were so weary, we opted for a pint on the deck of the Clachaig Inn instead. When I went inside to collect our drinks, I was amused to see this sign in the lobby. Given that my great grandmother was a MacDonald, it was a sentiment I could appreciate.



We spent most of our last day on the west coast aboard the Jacobite Steam Train (aka the Harry Potter train) travelling from Fort William to Mallaig and back. We enjoyed the trip, especially our lengthy conversation with an impressive young couple from Stirling, but I confess I'd have preferred to spend the day hiking. The weather was incredible! Fortunately, after a delicious lunch of fresh fish and local beer, we had an hour or so to explore the Mallaig waterfront before boarding the train for the return journey.







I've not yet mentioned the sunsets in Ballachulish. Nearly every evening, we found ourselves back at the studio in time to take in the stunning sunsets while sipping a pre-dinner glass of wine. Needless to say I couldn't resist putting my camera to work.







On our last evening, we walked to Ballachulish Bridge to get better views of a last glorious sunset over Loch Linnhe, and found ourselves envying some kayakers we spotted returning from a paddle along its shores. Being on the water must have been magical.





Preparing to leave Ballachulish on our last morning, I realized I was leaving a piece of my heart behind. Or perhaps it's truer to say the Highlands had taken up residence in my heart. Whatever the case, it's a beautiful part of the world I'd very much like to visit again one day.

For more photos from our Highland adventures, you can check out this set on Flickr.  If all goes well, I'll be sharing more of our Scottish adventures in the weeks ahead.

Running lessons: Pain is temporary

"Pain is temporary, pride is forever." 

It's a quote I've repeated often to myself over the years - especially, in the midst of my longest, toughest runs. Usually, I focus on the pride I'll feel if I stick with my training but, during my long run Sunday afternoon, it was the pain I was pondering.

Any running coach will tell you you should never ignore pain because it often has important things to tell you. On the other hand, if you pay it too much attention, it can quickly discourage you from training altogether. It's a tricky balance.

My runs felt tough last week - mostly because the tightness in my quads and hip flexors, which I'd thought was resolved before we left for Scotland, returned with a vengeance after I spent a week walking Indy (the rescue dog) 5 or 6 kilometres a day. I suspect the trouble was I was walking too quickly. Or maybe I was over-striding. Whatever the cause, getting out of bed in the mornings had once more become an ordeal.

Before subjecting myself to more of Dr. Warren's tender ART, I decided to try doing some gentle yoga each morning to see if I could get my body moving normally. So far, it seems to be helping and I must say it's a lovely way to start the day - once I get through the first few rounds of creaky sun salutations, that is.

One of the things running has taught me is that I shouldn't let pain discourage me too quickly. In the past 13 and a half years, I've had a wide assortment of running injuries - from shin splints, IT band tightness, and plantar fasciitis to frozen shoulder, back pain and anemia. And, each time I've been injured, one or more of my family and friends has suggested it's time to give up running. Fortunately, I haven't been inclined to do that, and have always managed to recover through some combination of body work (massage, chiro and/or physio), stretching, strength-training, rest, diet and (occasional) anti-inflammatories. The key I've found is to remain patient, attentive, committed to finding solutions for however long it takes to get back on the road.

On Sunday, as I ran one of my favourite routes through Shubie Park, it occurred to me that the same holds true in respect to healing emotional pain. On days when the state of the world seems too bleak to bear, when old griefs come circling back to knock the breath out of me, or when anger and fear undermine my peace of mind, I need to remind myself that emotional pain is just as temporary as physical pain - that, with enough patience, attentiveness and commitment, it too can be healed.

It's an important lesson. Too many people are discouraged from living happy, caring and productive lives by the belief that their physical and/or emotional pain is insurmountable when, in truth, it isn't. Need proof? Check out this video about Arthur Boorman.



Or this open letter from Antoine Leiris to the terrorists who killed his wife in Paris last weekend.

Pain is temporary. I'm hanging on to that thought. For as long as it takes my body and heart to heal this time around.

Happy running and writing friends.

352

My friend and fellow blogger, Keith, just published his 2000th post, which prompted me to check my own stats.  It turns out I've only published 351 posts since I started blogging in October 2008, which is less than one per week - not nearly as impressive as Keith's average of a post every day and half. Honestly, I don't know how he manages to find so much interesting stuff to talk about!

Aside from the stats, Keith's post got me thinking again about why I blog and what topics I'd like to focus on in future. I've mostly blogged about running to this point but I don't really feel I have much left to say on that subject. And, anyway, there are plenty of bloggers offering more useful running information and advice than I do. Given that, perhaps it's time to switch gears - at least, until I register for another challenging event and get more serious about training again.

On the other hand, blogging about running motivates me to train more regularly. I like being able to report that I've successful followed my training plan for the week, which is often enough to get me out the door even when running's the last thing I feel like doing.

Fortunately, I'm having far fewer issues with motivation these days. Running pain-free in the crisp autumn air feels wonderful so it's pretty easy to get my butt in gear. It was especially easy this weekend. The weather was perfect Saturday morning - so warm and sunny that I stripped off my long sleeved shirt midway to run in my singlet. (And, no, I wasn't having hot flashes. It was 16C when I made it back to the house.)

Today was considerably cooler but still really comfortable for running. After a leisurely cup of coffee, Husband and I loaded the puppy we're fostering into the car and headed to Peace Park for an easy jog. The puppy (appropriately named Indy) had a fantastic time trotting along beside us - when she wasn't running mad circles around us, that is. It was great fun for everyone. Of course, since she's only 7 or 8 months old, we kept a close watch on her and slowed to a walk often enough to ensure she wasn't overdoing it though she showed no signs of struggling to keep up. To the contrary, I'm pretty sure she was frustrated because we were moving too slowly.

It's been fun having Indy around this past week - though tiring too. Husband's looked after her during the day while I've taken her for long walks in the mornings and evenings - which means I've been getting far more fresh air and exercise than I usually do and feeling wearier as a result. On the upside, waking earlier's been nice and it's been great fun introducing her to the neighbourhood.

Indy's a rescue so was a little nervous about playing with the local dogs at the start but, by Friday morning, she'd gotten over that totally. She threw herself wholeheartedly into the fun and had a whole pack chasing her around the ballfield at one point. Though much younger and smaller then the other dogs, she has no difficulty keeping ahead of them. We don't know have any info about her background but it's clear there's a small, fast breed somewhere in her ancestry.

Yesterday and today, we took her to Risser's Beach for walks, which she enjoyed too. Since there was no one else around and we were a long way from the road, we let her run off leash a few times to see what she'd do. It turns out she's a clever little thing who happily bounded back to us whenever we called her. What a cutie! I'm sure she'll make her forever family very happy.

This afternoon, I took her to visit a lovely family in Petite Riviere who are interested in adopting her. I hope it works out. She's incredibly affectionate so I'm sure she'd thrive as part of a bigger family and it would be great if she could go for beach walks regularly.

So there it is. Post #352. No great literary achievement but at least I'm blogging again. Here's hoping I can find something more interesting to say in the weeks and months ahead.

Happy running and writing, friends!