Walking through the ruins of Castle Urquhart

 

We wander along tidy walkways

through these ruins of Castle Urquhart,

once a 5th Century fort situate on this high mound,

overlooking the Great Glen cut through by the River Ness.

Here, battles were fought with sword and dagger

and siege for Scottish Independence.

These stone walls, strong over hundreds of years, 

held by the Scots, and then the English, 

and back again: even the Robert the Bruce fought here. 

Fierce arguments, tenuous agreements, political machinations, 

dead-of-night attack. 

Until finally, the time of battles passed, 

the people of the Glen took stones

from the castle for their cottages; 

they fished along the Ness, 

and told stories of mighty armies, 

the Earls of Moray, the Clan MacDonald, 

Lords of the Isles, that once fought here. 

Perhaps that line of rowan trees, the one that separates

the castle from the car park where tour buses wait,

will protect the history here. 

I touch the leaves of this traveler's tree, 

my first sight of a rowan tree. I wonder 

if the berries carry poison and hope 

the rowan will flower twice.

This poem began as a daily commitment to link pictures from my travels (to Scotland in 2009 for Standing Stones) with a bit of writing. But the vote for Scottish independence from Great Britain is now over. Reports suggest a time of healing will be needed as political discussions begin, for while we no longer arm ourselves with dagger and sword, families argued most fiercely whether to stay a part of Great Britain or to separate. A British commentator noted, "We didn't actually fight a war over this; we resolved it at the polls." A not-so-gentle dig at the American civil war of the 19th Century. Yes, but that comment didn't take into account those centuries of conflict between Scotland and England that yet simmer.  

Read more of Urquhart's history HERE or HERE.

What's in the number 25?

Hexagram 25 of the I Ching: Wu Wang

Mathematically, twenty-five

is a 'non-sociable number'

for it does not group itself 

in trios to chat, 

but remains 

the smallest square

which squared 

equals five times five,

nearly a perfect number,

the number of grace 

and innocence.

Some say twenty-five

predicts a difficult childhood,

but the hexagram from the I Ching 

shows strength squared.

Perhaps in September that hexagram

with its sturdy foundation 

is the house we need to survive winter,

safe within ourselves.

Meditation says:  Seek joy in each moment,

balance in all things, 

squared, steady, solid.

This little poem was fun to write, not drawn from nature or travel, but a little searching online to find fanciful reactions for September 25, today's date.

Read more of I Ching's meditation HERE.

Poem for the end of September

Just last year, the leaves turned

every color of autumn,

in this garden, 

its graveled paths smooth,

its trees carefully pruned.

Even the carp swam

more slowly

in the reflecting pool.

as if they knew

these last days of warmth

and light

were numbered.

Pictures taken of Manito Park, Spokane (Camp 2013)

Click on the image to see a larger version.

North to Cape Breton . . .

When I visited Novia Scotia back in 2003, on a leisurely trip along the coast, I never thought I'd want to return for historical reasons. But this year's travel plans may well take us back to Canada, perhaps as far east as Novia Scotia, to research those intrepid Scots who immigrated here in mid-19th Century, leaving behind famine, evictions, and the potato blight.

In 2003, we drove north from Philadelphia with friends, mostly interested in hiking and camping along the Novia Scotia coast. One of our stops featured a small hike through a boggy marshland. 

I'm still entranced by the lovely reflections of water plants in still pools (see above), and my first sight of the Pitcher Plant (below), its carnivorous nature reflected in its intense red coloring. Sad be the insect who stops here for a sip of clear, cold water.

We hiked along the coast following along the Cape Breton Highlands National Park, stopping at wooden walkways that seemed to plunge down steep cliffs, right into the mist. That night, we set up tents overlooking a sharp ravine, the ocean below, and in the morning, watched the sun rise.

Also at Cape Breton Highlands National Park, we came across this constructed "crofter's cottage," nothing like those stone cottages I later visited in the Orkney Islands in northern Scotland, though the walls were of stone and the roof of grasses.

The Scottish heritage runs deep in Canada. Lord Selkirk, in 1803, used his funds and connections to send Scottish emigrants to Red River (near Hudson's Bay; this location and its history will show up in my third book, Rivers of Stone) and to Belfast on Prince Edward Island which we visited on this trip.

Once the potato famine began in earnest, the British Government sent thousands of Irish to Canada, The earlier Scottish Presbyterian settlers clashed with Catholic Irish emigrants in the 1847 Belfast Riot. Just a smidgen of research shows crowds with cudgels on election day, many injured and several killed as these two groups fought in the streets. One of the controversies was whether to allow the Bible in public schools, an issue still debated today in the States.

Anticipate more about our travels to the east of Canada in September. Meanwhile, may your travels bring you unexpected pleasures!

Read more about Cape Breton Highlands National Park OR read about the Belfast Riot in "A 'New Ireland Lost': The Irish Presence in Prince Edward Island" by Brendan O'Grady.

From Punto Tombo to the Falklands

My hubby says I should be more disciplined in sharing these photos from trips gone by. He's right. Yet somehow other writing projects leap onto the keyboard, and I find myself doing research elsewhere. Since we're not able to travel most likely until next year, I shall try to stay organized, but not without a final look at the penguins.

Who could not love this moulting penguin from Punto Tombo? Somehow this penguin faced into the wind, patiently still, yet hoping the constant wind would hurry the removal of those feathers to reveal his sleek, new coat.

Continuing south on the Norwegian Sun, we had a stopover on the Falkland Islands, our troupe packed into military green jeeps to careen over the wind-blown, rainy, and muddy moors, hoping for a view of the penguins nearby, yet grateful for a stop at the Sea Cabbage Cafe for hot tea and crumpets.  

Our first wild life was this rather angry looking Dolphin Gull, perhaps because of his very red encircled eyes. 

Next, we spied the lovely, almost delicate Gentoo Penguin, facing into the wind just as their cousins at Punto Tombo did, the mounds of grassy moor covered with feathers.

And, finally, the "Aha . . . " moment of our side trip before our journey took us north again, we observed King Penguins with their young.

We returned to the ship, grateful for warmth and for a haven out of the steady wind. 

Not sure what I will write about next week.  Note: You can click on any picture to see an enlargement.

Further south in Argentina -- with Penguins

Calm crossing, Cape Horn (Camp 2009)

One of the lasting memories of our trip around the Horn on the Norwegian Sun, was a stop at Punto Tombo, a small peninsula very nearly at the tip of Argentina, where a large colony of Magellanic Penguins make their home.

We took a day trip to Punto Tombo with strict admonitions to stay on the path. To our delight, the birds paid no attention to the signs! 

Stay on the Path! (Camp 2009)

These beautiful penguins burrowed in the dirt and near scrub brush to protect themselves from the incessant wind.

Is this my best side? (Camp 2009)

Momma Penguin with lighter chick (Camp 2009)

At home near the ocean (Camp 2009)

Que vista, baby! (Camp 2009)

What a treat to see them in their natural habitat -- during molting season. The wind was fierce; some of the birds stood, their wings oustretched so that the wind would blow away the feathers. Close to the ocean, these penguins dive right in for their supper -- fish!

Moulting in the wind (Camp 2009)

According to Wikipedia, the birds come here by the thousands in the spring to nest on this rocky beach.

Ponto Tombo (Camp 2009)

When we visited, the birds were calm, seemingly oblivious to the tourists passing by. What do you think?

At the end of the day, we returned to our ship, full of amazement we had been able to see with our own eyes this penguin colony.

Click on any image to see a larger version.
More about Punto Tombo on Wikipedia HERE.
More about Magellanic Penguins HERE.

About Argentina . . .

Today's the playoff for the World Cup. Football (or soccer). Take your pick. Germany or Argentina.

Since we traveled with two couples for several weeks in Buenos Aires in 2009, how could I root for anyone but the "white and sky blue"? 

So today's post is a celebration of Buenos and Argentina, that land of tango and sharp, pungent coffee. 

Our apartment was in busy but elegant Recoleta, around the corner from a patisserie . . . each morning, someone would dash downstairs to buy the fresh fruits, the pastries and crema, while someone else would struggle with the coffee machine. Ah, perfection to begin the morning this way.







Each day began differently, Sunday strolls to San Telmo, that funky neighborhood filled with artists, dancers, street musicians, and tango everywhere. 

Every once in a while just turning a corner, we'd be surprised by the sight of Portuguese tiles, the azuela, brilliant blue affirming the history of those intrepid Portuguese explorers, more common in Brazil, but still, here in Argentina as well.


And the surprise of vibrant street art splashed across the walls and buildings also everywhere, transforming narrow streets or tunnels or walkways into another world.

How could we not celebrate the beautiful flowers of the very tall Silk Floss Tree as we passed by? Planted along the streets, these trees, which can grow as high as 80 feet high, gave a sense of respite and shade. The sweet-smelling and sticky flowers attract Monarch butterflies by the hundreds in the spring.

Or the many-footed Ombú  tree that can be 40-50 feet wide and 50-60 feet tall. They say if you visit this tree, memories of your childhood will return to you. This Ombú was immense, so large we could not spread our arms around it, not even if we held hands.

Today's nostalgic photo visit ends at San Martin Plaza, where just in March and April (when we visited), the UNICEF bears representing some 140 countries were on display. 

Perhaps today, they cheer for Argentina!