Taking on the world.

I’m cocooned in my hostel blanket and sporting a double layer of socks on my feet. The rain and the wind outside is rattling the windows, but the radiator is shielding me from the cold that I’ve just escaped from.

This morning I shuffled along the Royal Mile in the streetlight of the early hours of morning- crumbs from my croissant flying behind me- to clamber onto a minivan marked Scottish Highland Explorer Tours with a few other sleepy tourists.
“Welcome aboard! You may call me Mr Hagrid. I am Scottish but I don’t wear the kilt because it makes me feel bare.” He had us from the get-go. Our tour guide was a walking stereotype; ginger hair, big belly, strong accent. He also had a great taste in music.

We drove away from the city and into the highlands. Mr Hagrid blasted bagpipes through the van speakers and suddenly we were awake. Buildings shrunk away behind us while in front mountains broke through the horizon. The further we drove, the higher the sun rose behind us, casting a stunning soft glow across the small patch of Scotland that I was falling more in love with by the second.

Our final destination was Loch Ness in Fort Augustus, but the adventure comes from the journey. Along the way we stopped to take in this new world. I’ve wandered through the sparse beauty of the Wicklow gap before. None paralleled these views.

We made our way through ‘The Valley of Death’ and Mr Hagrid divulged gruesome facts from Scottish history- he was of the MacDonald clan and his ancestors had suffered in the Massacre of Glencoe when the Campbell clan took advantage of the traditional hospitality of his people.

Soon enough I reached a point where I had to stop. In front of me were snow-capped mountains, there was a shimmering river cutting through the landscape, beautiful reds and oranges from the sun shining through the clouds and onto the grass.

And then we got to Fort Augustus...
The loch stretched dark and mysterious beyond the horizon, though there was no sight of Nessie.
“It’s 5-statue-of-liberties deep. Won’t catch me paddling in it- scared of the eels.”
Taking in the wisdom of Mr Hagrid I kicked off my shoes and socks and paddled my feet in the loch. How many people can say that they’ve done that? Already I am wishing I was back there, melting into the landscape. My toes have only just thawed out and I can hear snoring from the bunk above so it’s lights out from me. Who knows what Edinburgh will have for me tomorrow?