Scolty Hill - One woman’s triumph over an ‘easy to moderate’ hill trail

“I don’t like you right now,” I said to Richard between gasps. A lady coming down the hill had just looked at me sympathetically, saying, “it’s not much further dear,” dispelling my notion that I was only suffering on the inside.

“Why?” He asked.

I gave him the death glare. Not my best work with all the wheezing, but it got the message across.

“I thought you’d be happy this way is quicker,” he said with much less sympathy than the stranger I’d just seen.

Funny thing, the quicker way up a hill is also the most vertical.

“Come on, the view will be worth it,” he declared as he skipped ahead.

I grumbled my way up the last few metres but I had to grudgingly admit the view was spectacular. Once I’d caught my breath I even voluntarily climbed up the tower staircase.

I was feeling quite proud of myself as we made our way down, even though my legs shook with every step. Then I saw something that made my blood run cold.

A dude was jogging up the steep path.

Bleep.

The Hills of Bennachie

Every morning I get a view of Bennachie on the school run, and every morning one line of a song drifts through my head.

Up among the heather, on the hills of Bennachie.

It’s from a Scottish folk song called Mary Mac, but I know it because it was covered by Great Big Sea, one of my favourite Canadian bands. I listened to it so many times in my youth that the words are burned into my brain forever. If you know the song, you’ve probably got brain worms right now.

You’re welcome.

…

Hang on a minute. Now that I’ve seen that line written, a great puzzle has been solved. That mysterious purple flower we saw on our hikes up the mountain, it’s heather. Duh.

Return to Scotland - A Visa Success Story

Robert the Bruce statue in Aberdeen, Scotland. Photo by Christa Galloway.

A UPS man arrived at a country house in snow-covered Ontario, only to have a strange woman race up to him with wild eyes. He read the name on the thick envelope and she cried “Yes!” and tore the envelope from his gloved hands. He convinced her she had to first sign for the package before ripping it open, then grinned like a hero while she pressed the package to her chest and exclaimed how happy she was. She would see her family. She would be home for Christmas.

That woman was me and the envelope held my passport with a visa.

I booked a flight for two days later. Now that I’ve returned to Scotland, my six-week sojourn in Canada is a fond memory. With my residence permit safely in my possession I can get my life started. I no longer feel like a tourist in my own home. I’m a local, and proud. When people disparage Aberdeen as the concrete city, I am quick to leap to its defense, pointing out the architecture, the parks the sea,even the new bypass. Having taken a long road trip to Wiltshire, I can safely say the traffic here is much better, especially for a Canadian like me who is used to wide roads and comprehensible traffic rules.

I had no inkling of how traumatic (and expensive) the move here would be, but now that life is settling into its rhythms, the memory of the process is fading. After all, the fickle nature of memory is essential to human survival. Otherwise women wouldn’t give birth more than once, and then where would we be?

Now for the next challenge, using my hard-won work visa and getting a job!

Soldiers of Killicrankie

A calvary display at the Soldiers of Killiecrankie Battle Re-enactment.

Finally, rain! I was beginning to think all this talk of bad Scottish weather was just to keep people out. Until last weekend. In between some epic downpours (the kind that drenches you in two seconds), we had a blast at the battle re-enactment at Killiecrankie, near Pitlochry in Perthshire. We saw horseback sword fights, cannon fire, musket demonstrations, a grumpy magic juggler, a sword dance and almost a beheading before the rain drove us away. Oscar got to hold a real sword, which was a highlight for him. We saw a witch dragged away and tied to a post, while a re-enactor assured us that the blood was fake, which was in hindsight was perhaps a bit worrying in itself. We, the audience, were a real disappointment to the magic juggler who expected a much more enthusiastic crowd, with more lust for danger. Rich and Ozzie did their best to cheer and gasp as appropriate. The magic juggler was either a very good actor, specifically at pretending to be bad (many sharp knives were dropped) or he was a very bad juggler and we were lucky to escape with intact fingers and no unwanted piercings. Overall, everyone was really into it, and it was a lot of fun.