Natasha and I packed the night before, but under the influence of one dram too many of whisky. We hurriedly repacked and checked out of the hotel. My upper respiratory infection seemed to turn into a cough that made me bark like a sea lion, so she insisted that we stop at a pharmacy so I could get cough drops. (Which by the way, only worked when I had one in my mouth. As soon as it dissolved, I was back to sounding like a sea lion…)
At the bus station, we had quite possibly the most attractive man I had ever seen in a bus station help us figure out which one we needed to board. I could have played the dumb blonde all day in order to chat with him; but apparently, according to Natasha, we actually had to get on the bus headed towards Glasgow. Our bus driver was one of those gruff-but-with-a-heart-of-gold men and he held back the surging crowds at the Glasgow station so we could get off. We had an hour to kill before our onward journey but before I knew it, it was time to get on our bus that was going to take us north into the highlands.
Jack ended up sitting directly behind me. He was a sweet young man from an island called Gigha and he spent the first hour or so telling me all about his island homeland. By the time we made it to the road paralleling Loch Lomond, we had settled into a dreamy silence with all of us staring out of the window. A82 turned wilder the further north we went and suddenly there were windswept mountains peeking through the rain clouds. The scenery was magnificent. Eventually, about three hours later, we pulled through the small town of Glencoe. Our bus driver made sure that we got out at the correct stop for our hotel (not the one that I assumed was the correct one, thank you CityLink for hiring nice and helpful people).
At the correct stop, we scurried through the rain to our hotel, about a 5 minute journey from the bus stop. We were drenched by the time we got through the front door and the desk clerk eyed us with undisguised amusement. He got us checked in and even helped us get our dinner reservation times squared away (meals were included with our package). The first night in Ballachulish, we did little more than eat and watch the mist and rain from inside.
The next day, it was overcast but not raining. We grabbed breakfast and went for a walk around the grounds of the Isles of Glencoe hotel. Water, mountains, and birds were everywhere we looked. When we got back into the hotel, the Highlands Titles people were setting up. The whole reason Natasha and I decided to embark on this trip was because of the group’s annual gathering. Highland Titles is basically a conservation group which will let you buy a plot of Scottish highlands and in exchange you can pretend that you are a lord, laird or lady. But the beauty of the scheme is that they are very serious about conserving the land and helping native species regain a foothold. The movement to conserve the Scottish Wildcat was what really drew me in. I cannot turn down a feline…
The gathering is an annual three-ish days of learning about what the group is doing from a conservation standpoint, a trip to the nature preserve that your land purchases help conserve, a gala dinner, and introductions to the Scottish culture through musical performances, dancing, and whisky tastings. The first day was mostly “speechifying” as Natasha called it. But I did get to astonish myself and those around me with my knowledge of various bird facts during one presentation (no idea, don’t ask why I knew so damn much about birds). That evening, we had a gala dinner. I tried haggis (was more tasty than I would have imagined), had wine, chatted with people who had the coolest Scottish accents.
The next morning, we piled into buses to take us to the nature preserve, located about 20 minutes from the hotel. We walked with one of the founders who inspired us with his passion for land conservation on our tour of the grounds, which were beautiful in the misty weather.
Highland Titles Nature Reserve
Back at the hotel, we had more “speechifying” and then a special performance by the Scottish Highland band Ho-ro, which was awesome (check them out on Spotify if you want to hear what they sound like, and trust me, you do). A falconer came to provide us a display of various birds of prey, including falcons, owls, and a bald eagle that I got to hold! I felt like a legit American badass with that bird sitting on my arm…And finally, we got an update on the Scottish Wildcat conservation work (spoiler alert, we got to see footage of a real live wildcat – there’s only an estimated 35 left in the wild). All in all, I felt like I was supporting an organization that really is putting my small donation to good use. And I got to pretend that I’m landed gentry, which is always fun to be referred to as “Lady Nicole of Glencoe”. Before dinner, we got to do a whisky tasting and Scottish country dancing (should have had the whisky first to loosen up). Dinner was on our own but we ended up hanging out in the lobby after drinking drams of whisky with other participants of the gathering.
The final day dawned clear and sunny. We packed up, stored our suitcases with the hotel, and got to go on adventures set up for the group. We first went out in a Zodiac boat on the loch. We really lucked out and got the very cute younger captain with the dreamy accent (although Natasha ended up snagging the spot right next to him, dang it) who took us on a watery tour. Next, we went on the peninsula walk with an older gentleman who played bag-pipes while we walked to various points to learn more about the history of the area. And finally, we got a chance to try laser skeet shooting. For those of you who have never done this, they basically take regular shotguns, take out the firing mechanism, put in a laser instead of bullets, and then let you and up to five other people shoot at frisbees that are launched just like clay pigeons. Despite being from Texas, I had never held any type of gun before (Nintendo Duck Hunt guns don’t count). The instructor eyed me up when I said I was left-handed and gave me instructions on how to hold it – basically, hold it opposite the way everyone else is. I missed both shots on the first attempt. He came back over to me, are you lining up the target here? Well, no, I replied, I can’t see out of my left eye. He sighed. Can you try it right-handed then? Ok, and I switched the positioning of the gun. Suddenly, and I’m not joking, I hit everything. I’m a damn sniper shooting right-handed. Who knew? We progressed through various rounds, with those with the highest scores moving on. I ended up in the shoot-out final against a bunch of men who shoot things every day (or so it seemed from their boasting). In the end, I didn’t win but I think I scared the heck out of people, so that was a bonus.
All too soon, the gathering’s last activity began. Two highland gentlemen in full regalia showed us how to pleat your kilt, what each of the weapons that an average Highlander would wield looks like and how to use them, and then the finale of a musket being loaded and fired. And then, people started packing their cars and making promises to see each other next year.
Natasha and I grabbed our suitcases and made our way back to the bus stop. Both of us were very quiet on the journey back to Glasgow, but that might have been because we were speechless due to the spectacular scenery out of the window.
View from the bus window, Scottish Highlands