Planning a venture with others can be a fickle enterprise. Some people have different ideas of the appropriate measure of travel and adventure to satisfy their immersion experience. I have decided not to be held back by going somewhere only if my friends are. This is not exactly a change. I have seen people gape at me for eating by myself (by myself sounds pathetic) at Chick-fil-a before. Anyway, when a group decided to skip out on a weekend adventure in Glasgow, the home of Tennants lager no less, I was wondering what I should do for my weekend. I saw a stunning aerial photo of a Scottish castle that I had downloaded in December. The castle was surrounded by sheer cliffs on eighty percent of its circumference, almost an island. I was like, "Neal you bloomin' fool. There are castles nearby." I did not look specifically for that castle. But when I read of a seaside castle outside of Stonehaven just a direct train north, I decided to check it out. The first picture I saw was the same one I had downloaded. I experienced a transcendental epiphany. The castle was the Dunnottar ruins, former seat of the Keiths, the Earl Marischal of Scotland.
Some brief history of the site. St. Ninian built a church around 400 AD to convert the Picts to Christianity.
The Vikings, not Capital One, pillaged and burned the castle, killing the Scottish monarch King Donald II in the eighth century. William Wallace, according to "Blind Harry" burned the chapel to kill a garrison of English soldiers. The Honours of Scotland was saved from English seizure at the isolated castle. Sadly, around 1680 almost 200 Presbyterian Covenanters perished in captivity primarily from starvation just a floor above the castle kitchens. The age of the stones was magnified by the sheer cliffs, the pounding surf, and the ruined conditions. The castle is now a home for lichens, mosses, and seabirds. The people who milled about did not belong. The pervasive feeling was not one of "stepping back in time." Instead,
you felt as if you were a lost descendant of the
men who used to live there, gazing at the aftermath of a cultural apocalypse. I felt that instead of 15th century stone the walls were from the 6th century. How can solid stone crumble and fade so much. Dunnottar is a green castle now. Yet the was lived in as recently as the 18th century. If solid stone falls into disrepair so, ehm, quickly, where will the wooden buildings I know go? Dunnottar was such a place for introspection. The salt air and steady waves were broken up by the screech of gulls. I could feel the wind taking up my spirit. I'm sorry to be so transcendental but I'm telling you it is true. To the immediate south of the castle there was a beautiful pebble beach. Remember those neon rain sticks from the zoo that you could flip upside down and hear the rice fall down? A receding wave on a pebble beach has a throatier call. For about thirty minutes, I sat on the top of a rock that would be nearly underwater after the tide came in and watched a cormorant dive fishing. I thought I'd love to be an otter if I were an animal. The diving bird (I clocked him once a 36 seconds) surpasses the river beast. I thought real thoughts. Solitude is as cathartic as a well timed sauna.
Planning a venture with others can be a fickle enterprise. Some people have different ideas of the appropriate measure of travel and adventure to satisfy their immersion experience. I have decided not to be held back by going somewhere only if my friends are. This is not exactly a change. I have seen people gape at me for eating by myself (by myself sounds pathetic) at Chick-fil-a before. Anyway, when a group decided to skip out on a weekend adventure in Glasgow, the home of Tennants lager no less, I was wondering what I should do for my weekend. I saw a stunning aerial photo of a Scottish castle that I had downloaded in December. The castle was surrounded by sheer cliffs on eighty percent of its circumference, almost an island. I was like, "Neal you bloomin' fool. There are castles nearby." I did not look specifically for that castle. But when I read of a seaside castle outside of Stonehaven just a direct train north, I decided to check it out. The first picture I saw was the same one I had downloaded. I experienced a transcendental epiphany. The castle was the Dunnottar ruins, former seat of the Keiths, the Earl Marischal of Scotland.
Some brief history of the site. St. Ninian built a church around 400 AD to convert the Picts to Christianity.
The Vikings, not Capital One, pillaged and burned the castle, killing the Scottish monarch King Donald II in the eighth century. William Wallace, according to "Blind Harry" burned the chapel to kill a garrison of English soldiers. The Honours of Scotland was saved from English seizure at the isolated castle. Sadly, around 1680 almost 200 Presbyterian Covenanters perished in captivity primarily from starvation just a floor above the castle kitchens. The age of the stones was magnified by the sheer cliffs, the pounding surf, and the ruined conditions. The castle is now a home for lichens, mosses, and seabirds. The people who milled about did not belong. The pervasive feeling was not one of "stepping back in time." Instead,
you felt as if you were a lost descendant of the
men who used to live there, gazing at the aftermath of a cultural apocalypse. I felt that instead of 15th century stone the walls were from the 6th century. How can solid stone crumble and fade so much. Dunnottar is a green castle now. Yet the was lived in as recently as the 18th century. If solid stone falls into disrepair so, ehm, quickly, where will the wooden buildings I know go? Dunnottar was such a place for introspection. The salt air and steady waves were broken up by the screech of gulls. I could feel the wind taking up my spirit. I'm sorry to be so transcendental but I'm telling you it is true. To the immediate south of the castle there was a beautiful pebble beach. Remember those neon rain sticks from the zoo that you could flip upside down and hear the rice fall down? A receding wave on a pebble beach has a throatier call. For about thirty minutes, I sat on the top of a rock that would be nearly underwater after the tide came in and watched a cormorant dive fishing. I thought I'd love to be an otter if I were an animal. The diving bird (I clocked him once a 36 seconds) surpasses the river beast. I thought real thoughts. Solitude is as cathartic as a well timed sauna.
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