Scots "Heiress," Part II

This is sequel to yesterday's post, which began to make public my private claim to the throne of Scotland.  No, I am not an heir by birthline, but by loveline.

Here I am resting in front of St. Fillan's cave, on Cove Wynd, Pittenweem.

My daughter Leah had visited Pittenweem while an art student in college.  She took a picture of a fishing boat in the harbor. The reflections she captured took my breath away. Visiting the cave of the earliest Christian evangelist to this part of Scotland also took my breath away, not so much from the steep climb up the Wynd but from imagining LIVING across the street from such an ancient, sacred site.

Me, starting to climb Glen Nevis in heavy mist.

We started the climb in rain and fog, but as we climbed, the sun came out. By the time we reached the height of the mountain pass the valley was a wonderland of glittering droplets on every leaf and blade of grass.

We had finished sketching rockbound Dunnotar Castle, and then
finished napping in the hayfield overlooking the North Sea.

Hints in this post may bring out the question of the drawings and sketches mentioned.
      Will I ever show them?
             OK, when I find them. Wait for another posting.

And here we are, playing Laird and Lady of Dunnotar.

Young Scots may spring into impromptu dance in joy or in mockery, but they definitely
respond to the traditional music.

We stopped in Elgin ("g" as in "good") just as some public festival was breaking up. The two figures visible beyond the raised hand of the boy in the striped sweater are me and my daughter Rachel. She had gone to Scotland to give a paper at an international marine affairs conference in Aberdeen, and then joined us. It always adds wonderful dimensions to a trip to have the companionship of the children.

Here I am, drawing sketches of Castle Campbell in the valley below.

This road was sometime used for driving cattle to market.  It was hard to imagine it going anywhere , but instead tapering off into heather and ledge.

Rachel in full rain gear, crossing a mountain stream on a rope bridge.

And here am I, on the same rig, on my way back across.

No, it didn't always rain, Here I am at the river
Clyde, back to the rainbow of the day.

There are many more photos of this trip. I will end with a couple of scenics that should clinch my claim to my heritage.

Seaside farm near Stonehaven.

A capitalist's folly, now the Youth Hostel near Loch Lomond.

A remote school on the Isle of Skye. We were there during the last bluff and blow of Hurricane  Olivia. 

Tom and Sara occupying Glencoe. I mean, what else could we do after arriving at one of the most famous sites in Scotland only to find the rain pouring down?  But tell me, does she not look like the queen of Scotland?