A Really Big Sword

We are on Skye now, having driven about 14,000 winding miles through the Scottish outback. I only accidentally nearly killed us a couple of times.

On Sunday morning, we picked up the car -- the office was in Edinburgh not far from the Stuarts', but we had to actually get the car at a lot farther outside of town: a good thing. It isn't so hard to drive on the wrong side of the car on the wrong side of the road, but it's ... ROUNDABOUTS! The Doc warned me that they would be the hard part, but I kinda scoffed. How typical of me.

The car is black. I was so happy when I saw it. I couldn't believe the luck. It's a cute little four-door thing called a Vauxhall. With all mod cons. We have not given it a name. But it's sturdy and handles so well, I feel very confident driving it. The only drag is, no armrests. WTF is that about? Thankfully, I've been doing a lot of core-strengthening exercises, so my shoulders aren't too taxed. But it's not a very comfortable way to drive. Anyway, after we picked up the car, we got gas and drove on the motorway to Stirling -- this time to the Wallace National Monument. The motorway is easy -- just stay to the left (slow lane), pass on the right, follow the signs to where you want to go. Fairly normal, except for the orientation. Off the motorway, it's trickier. Roundabouts are very confusing until you get the hang of them. Deb navigated well, and our sophisticated system kept me on track:

Me (approaching roundabout): Tell me what to do!

Her: Follow the red car (or blue or silver or white van or whatever was going the same way we wanted to go).

Excellent system. It works every time. Only fails if there is no one to follow.

The Wallace Monument was a long way off the motorway on a two-lane road ... I forget whether that is a "dual carriageway" or "single carriageway." This type of road was somewhat trickier, but still dealable. Still, by the time I parked the car, I was feeling slightly giddy. I think it's actually good that I have been so sleep-deprived and off my feed and whatnot these last few days. Something as potentially headspinning as driving in the U.K. is just another little mindfuck to unravel ... and actually loads of fun ... not to mention probably a welcome relief in the form of me being able to have control over something in this strange new world. (Control issues? Moi?)

So ... we didn't have much time at the monument b/c had to get to Kentallen before dark. Got our tickets and waited for the shuttle van to arrive. Then, up to the top we went, to the peak of a very rugged, winding path. It is a tall tower with ornate pointy spires forming the top ... oh, just look at the picture:



If you don't take the shuttle, you have to walk up that same path ... so when the shuttle goes by, you have to step off the path into the woods or press yourself up against the side of the cliff. I was glad we took the van. On our way up the hill, we came upon a man in a kilt, who told the driver quite pleasantly that there was a fire in the forest, and they didn't seem to be having much luck putting it out with extinguishers, so could the driver please inform the fire brigade when he went back down the hill? The driver, of course, agreed. Zoinks!

At the tower we got some Earl Grey tea and a snack (egg mayo sandwich and some kind of truly evil caramel-and-chocolate confection ... mmmm). Then we just went up the first level of the tower -- I think there are seven -- to see Wallace's sword. William Wallace was the subject of the Mel Gibson movie Braveheart, and outside the gift shop back down the the hill was a statue of Wallace that looked like Mel and said "BRAVEHEART" on it, and "FREEDOM," which is what he yelled in the movie, implausibly, after the British draw and quarter him for his defiant ways. It seemed silly, the statue, and we joked that in future millennia it would be quite a puzzle for historians. The other paintings and images of Wallace that we saw looked nothing like that one.

So up we climbed into the narrow, twisting tower. The space was such a tight corkscrew of smooth stone, the steps so tiny and seemingly treacherous, and endless, that I got claustrophobic vertigo for the first time in my life. I really felt near panic for a moment, which was interesting, since such things don't usually bug me very much. OMG, seven levels? I never would've made it. Seeing the sword was worth it -- 66 inches, including the hilt. Taller than me! The guide said that Wallace was a big dude -- 6'6". So I guess a big dude needs a big sword. (Edit: I have since learned it might actually not be his sword? Bummer.) There was a kind of cheesy historical reenactment-type multimedia presentation, with the face of "Wallace" projected onto an otherwise unmoving dummy, speaking about the battles fought and lost, being betrayed by his own countrymen, etc. Despite cheesiness, I felt strangely moved ... but I was rather disoriented from the climb, not to mention still physically out of sorts and of course sleep-deprived. But when Robert the Bruce showed up on video to scold Wallace for not being more diplomatic -- like that really would've helped -- and King Edward sneered that Wallace would be defeated (which he was, but he only became more powerful...or something), I guess I had sympathy. Who wants to be diplomatic when people are trying to wipe you off the planet?

This is Robert the Bruce's statue outside of Stirling Castle. Later on he would give up his diplomatic ways and fight the British, proper-like. Or something like that.



I dunno. This whole history trip is a bit of a drag. I am constantly reminded that religion is an evil, destructive force in the world. Like we really need more reminders right now. And women got totally screwed, despite the tough chicks of Scottish/English history. And also, humans suck. On the other hand, I do like seeing all these bones, of castles and kings. The land just seems to vibrate with all the eons past. I'd rather feel it than actually know about it, which is probably weird, but what can you do?

My thirst for a sight of the sword sated, we caught the shuttle back down the hill about 45 minutes later (the driver was having his lunch break). at the bottom, the driver informed the people queued up that he would have to wait to speak to the fire brigade before taking them up. Relieved to have had such good timing, we jumped in the car and made our escape. Hope they put the fire out.