Castle

Rob's birthdays are legendary.

He likes going big. Nothing extravagant, generally, but something special - boating trips in Croatia, super fun costume parties, that sort of thing. Even between birthdays, Rob plays host to his friends regularly for Sunday roasts and weekend gatherings at his London loft. He has a great talent for orchestrating and executing occasions for his friends to gather.

While having a gathering of my own back home in my Lower Haight flat one day, someone mentioned that, for this year, Rob had decided to rent a castle in Scotland to celebrate his and the other late September birthdays of our friends Joe and Tiffany.

I was sitting on a decent pile of frequent flier miles. I had been waiting for a trip idea to come along that was far away and interesting enough to be worth using the miles. Frankly, I enjoyed the idea of using them for something extravagant and almost irresponsible. I'd get a charge out of feeling somewhat jet set.

My eyes widened. I rode out the rest of that conversation, probably half listening. When I caught a break, I whipped out the phone and sent Rob a quick text message: "Can I come to your birthday party??"

He immediately responded with an enthusiastic "Really!??"... and the planning began.

I had some previous engagements I had to work around. I've only just started a new contract job and have already taken some time off. Also, Erin's sister's wedding would be the weekend following, so although I couldn't stay for the follow up party back in London and I wouldn't get to visit all the UK friends I wanted to, I would be able to swing a full week in the UK. So mid September, just after my own birthday, I hopped a plane and headed East.

It occurs to me that it's been awhile since I have flown somewhere I've already been. It's quite a luxurious feeling, I must say. Without having to do any research, I knew exactly what trains to take from Heathrow Airport and the walking route to get to Rob's front door. He texted me, "Need directions?". "I'm oriented!" I replied.

When I arrived late in the evening, Joe and Shana were already there. They had arrived from San Francisco the day before. As it turns out, about half of the people heading to the castle party are from San Francisco. Especially impressive considering the relative distance and the fact that most of the others were not traveling to London for free like I did.

Although I had planned to take a day trip to Brighton the next day, a late night Farkle tournament and its accompanying cocktails left me somewhat incapacitated until too late into the next morning. Instead I managed to do some shopping in Camden Town with Joe and Shana. Rob had given us a loose dress code of "castle wear" and I managed to find a couple of plaid items to accommodate my interpretation.

The remainder of the SF contingent showed up that day. We would all travel early the next morning by air to Edinburgh (pronounced Ehdinbruh) and so we took it easy that night and prepared a delicious BBQ dinner.

That evening, I was delighted to suddenly come face to face with Toria who stopped by to surprise me. I had been terribly disappointed I wasn't going to see her on my trip out this time around, so it was a big boost for me to see her walk in and hang out for a bit even if only for a couple of hours on her way in and out of town that evening. She's one of my very favorite people.

We all wanted to get a decent night's sleep and so Rob's loft soon resembled an orphanage. Anything comfortable to sleep on would be lined up the entire length of his main room's floor. All trying to sleep on the wrong side of the clock, we tossed and turned, and made a feeble attempt to be well rested for our journey into the grassy lands.

At dawn, with military precision, we assembled, picked up a few local London friends, and managed to move ourselves and all our castle gear northward. Once in Edinburgh, we rented four cars and wound our way through the rolling green countryside.

There was very little town to see on the way. We noted the somewhat tiny towns of Perth and Blairgowrie, but none lasted very long to drive through. Most of what we saw was sheep munching on the plentiful grass, and hay bales arranged like giant beige toilet paper rolls sitting in large formations along the landscape.

It wasn't green everywhere though. The hilltops were mostly beige. It was mainly the farmland with sheep and cattle to fertilize the soil that seemed to turn up the color knob. But the farmland was never ending. You could imagine these plots and towns existing in the same precise state back hundreds, maybe thousands of years. In fact, while we were in the air, our pilot announced in a very matter-of-fact manner that we would be passing over the town of Nottingham. You mean there's really such a place? Well if there was, it would be here, that's for sure.

The rental car we were driving in was outfitted with a GPS navigation package, however it required a street address to get us past the center of the closest town. Beyond that, all we had were directions from the castle's caretaker, Mel. Our castle had no use for a street address. Luckily, her directions were spot on, and after winding around a single lane road for awhile wondering if we might be lost, the castle and it's surrounding domain emerged. We had seen a couple of pictures so we knew this must be the place. And sure enough, as we crossed through the black iron gates, Mel was standing in the giant wood doorway waiting for our arrival.

She gave us all a tour and explained that the castle has been a family home for some years. The family had been responsible for salvaging a rather run down shell of a building and transforming it into a grand place that strikes a balance between rustic and authentic yet comfortable and homey. With family photos still decorating each room, it seems the family still uses the house as a country retreat and rents it out while they're not using it. This would be our home for the next three days. We were the, albeit temporary, lairds and ladies.

From the upper floors one could get a good look at the valley surrounding the castle. Green grass and sheep as far as the eye could see with babbling brooks weaving their way through the property.

There were clearly farms belonging to other families in the Glen Isla valley. But Mel informed us we had something known as "rambling rights". As occupants of the castle, we had the right to hop fences and explore any property we wished as long as we didn't disrupt the livestock. I liked the sound of that.

Besides food and drink, the castle was stocked with just about everything one might want during a cozy highland getaway. The "bootery" next to the front door had enough rubber galoshes for everyone to meander through the marsh. The "piggery", although devoid of any pigs, did have a clothes washer and dryer and as much firewood as we would need to keep the largest fireplace I have every seen ablaze with warmth. I have been learning to play proper chess recently and sure enough there was a gorgeous leather chess table with tournament pieces ready and waiting for me and my challengers, along with a myriad other games perfect for a big chill type weekend.

The kitchen was cavernous with a low arched stone ceiling. You could imagine the servants down here cooking away and walking plates of roast beast up the back servants stairs to the main dining and living floor which had room for all of us to hang out comfortably.

From there, a spiral stone staircase lifted you up the five story building, and wooden doors would greet you as you were winding your way up, each with its own room themed for the family member that sleeps there.

The master bedroom housed a four poster bed with a purple mink comforter and was universally described by everyone who slept in it as the most comfortable bed they had ever experienced. It also had a claw tub surrounded by an antique partition and a reading nook up some stairs in one of the corner turrets looking out a small sunny window.

The place was littered with interesting ancient books on regional history, maps, and outdoor activities. Every room was filled with charming but inviting antique furniture and each was outfitted with a carafe of scotch whisky and a couple of glasses.

Part of our group went out to grocery shop for the week while others napped and got their bearings around the house.

We were lucky that some in our group were magnificent cooks. All week we had delicious dinners and desserts. It could have been spaghetti and sauce every night if it had been left to some of us less kitchen worthy. We all contributed in our own way to the festivities. But I am quite thankful for those who cooked.

On a few occasions, groups of us would throw on some rubber boots, kilts if we had 'em, and anything plaid, and then head off into the horizon to survey our domain. Since we didn't really know our way around too well, we'd often find ourselves in a pickle, needing to cross a stream or hop a barbed fence. It was an adventure to be sure. It wasn't unusual to get jabbed or soaked along the way.

While climbing one of the nearby "mountains" (more like foothills), we noted an abundance of a certain shrub that was clearly dry and out of season, and was responsible for that beige color at the hilltops. Someone said it was heather, but I'm not sure of that. I noticed that a few of the plants still had their vibrant purple flowers from their blooming season. That brought me to the conclusion that during that season (maybe spring?), all of the surrounding land that was not bright green would be bright purple. I couldn't imagine how breathtaking that would be. We climbed up to the peak of the nearest mountain and beheld a lonely loch with a single cabin on its shores. No other building as far as you could see. Tough for a city boy like me to imagine.

No lands like these would be complete without a mythical legend. As we were strolling back from the mountains we came across a plaque that gave some information. Apparently Glen Isla, the region we were in, used to be the home of two giants, husband and wife. The townspeople feared the giants as they would periodically throw boulders down onto to the town from above. Luckily we didn't see any giants, but there was a neighbor farmer they called "Big John". Maybe he was a descendant.

While we filled our days with rambling, our nights were all eating and drinking, with the occasional dance party. We brought a bit of sound equipment for just this purpose and some folks really went all out with some opulent period costumes. I had to wonder if the castle had seen this kind of party before. I sure hope so.

On our final day, part of our crew arranged to see one of the original whisky distilleries in the area. I had a different mission. I used to have a favorite scarf that got lost last year. The pattern was a dark blue and green plaid - a pattern that I noticed quite frequently around these parts. I figured I'd be able to find a new scarf if we headed to town. So on the way back some of us stopped in Blairgowrie to do a little shopping, and sure enough found some lovely lambswool scarves and one with the pattern I wanted. Success! I knew there was a practial reason for coming to Scotland.

Sadly, the party had to come to and end and we zoomed back to Edinburgh and real life.

It was a big chill indeed, and I couldn't have spent it with a better group. Thanks all.

I certainly can't think of a better use for those flier miles.