For many people, January is the worst month of the year. In the northern hemisphere anyway it can be cold and dark, one is often short of money after the holiday season, early January means back to work (if you have been fortunate enough to have the season off) and there is a societal pressure to better or reinvent yourself.
But, I think January has some good aspects, too: you are getting back to a routine after an often hectic holiday period (hey, I like routine); days are getting longer so that by the end of the month you can really see that it is lighter; I like winter snow when it comes, but most of all, the LIGHT.
There can be some truly gorgeous light in late December and January, either on a crisp cold blue winter day or when the long shadows of the golden hour last for two or three. I have often been fortunate enough to get a chunk of time off in January, which is another perk.
This January has not been a particular exciting month and there have not been any huge adventures, but I have managed a few lovely day trips. I was pleasantly surprised, when looking through my camera, that I have managed to capture some really beautiful scenes that I wanted to share, if nothing else to cheer up this January which for many has been even harder than others.
New Years Day
We were fortunate enough to spend New Years Eve with some good friends, and on New Years Day we had a lazy, quiet day playing games. By dinner time we were all in pyjamas or slouchy clothes, and there was a comedic scramble for coats when a WhatsApp came in stating that the aurora had been seen nearby. Sure enough, the reliable aurora tracker website was high red, and so we dashed outdoors to see what we could see. We were unfortunately a touch late for the best of the colour, but I managed a few good images (this has been my dream ever since we missed the extreme colours back in May). The rumour is that there will be lots of opportunity to see the aurora this year, and I will be consistently on high alert!
House of Bruar trip
Whenever Mum visits, we must make the time to visit the House of Bruar. We managed to visit on a cold quiet day when the food hall and shops were even quieter than normal. While Mum browsed the woollens, I took a short walk around the edge of the grounds.
On our way home, I took us the back route through Blair Atholl, where we experienced a proper Scottish winter day – a dusting of snow, and beautiful blue sky.
Kilconquhar
A glorious Scottish name, this village is pronounced locally as ‘Kinucker’, with the soft ‘ch’ sound rather than a hard ‘ck’, and a short ‘u’ like in luck. It is a town I love to drive through while taking visitors on a loop down through the East Neuk of Fife, visiting Elie, St Monans, Pittenweem, Anstruther and Crail. On this trip we paused briefly to explore the lovely local parish church which sits on a hill at the edge of the village. This current church is about 200 years old, but behind it are the ruins of the medieval version.
As is often the case this close to the solstice, the moon was out during the day, highlighted against the blue sky.
Loch Leven
There are two primary routes that one can take from east Fife to Edinburgh. For whatever reason, I have always preferred to go straight west across the A91, driving through the villages of Auchtermuchty and Gateside before joining the motorway south. Many opt instead to go through Glenrothes on the larger A92, but according to Google, there is very little difference in time. And, my route is more aesthetically pleasing, taking in the Fife countryside as well as a view out over Loch Leven. After dropping Mum for her early morning flight, I found myself returning home on a very cold (-6°C) morning with a gorgeous pink sunrise. I could not help stopping alongside the loch for a picture or two, and made the other half come back with me that weekend for a frosty, foggy walk at Loch Leven’s Larder.
St Andrews morning walk
A few weeks ago I had an early morning appointment in St Andrews, and used the opportunity to take in some of my favourite haunts in that beautiful time of the morning when the sun is just up and casting a pink and later golden glow.
Back to work – Dundee
Getting back to work in January after a few weeks away inevitably brings on a touch of excitement and a touch of anxiety – what will the new year bring? What have I missed during my weeks off?
Dundee isn’t always top of the list when one is considering photography options, but as with any location, being there every day means you can capture the light – or lack of it – at just the right time and really appreciate its beauty. The sunny picture is taken just outside the Overgate mall, and the two foggy early morning shots are from the Houff, a burial ground once part of the Grey Friars Monastery destroyed during the Reformation. On this morning it reminded me more of Dickensian London and I half expected the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come to drift across the grass.
Morning walk
Back to work means back to the morning walk routine, and I was lucky enough to catch a few stunning winter sunrises. Dark mornings sometimes mean a lunch rather than pre-work walk, but the view across to St Andrews is just as stunning in the daylight.
And finally, stargazing
About two years ago when I had some time off work, I became fascinated with photographing the night sky, as previous posts have shown. Fortunately, I have been blessed with both friends and my other half, who are willing to brave cold nights and uneven ground to find the dark views. Towards the end of the month, we went out several times to try to view the planetary alignment that was all over the news – we didn’t have a great deal of luck photographing them but did get some great views of the stars from West Sands, as well as of St Andrews at night.
Another perk of January is putting plans in place for the rest of your year (if you like planning, which I of course do). While I have only gotten to about June, I have trips of both work and family nature planned in the Highlands, USA and Caribbean – an exciting mix of places to photograph and explore!
Enjoying my pictures? Why not claim one for your own project or wall space through my online shop:
I have been thinking for some time that it would be nice to share here some of the research I have done over my years as a medievalist. While I have not formally studied for some time, I am always fascinated by how new views can be found on events that took place hundreds of years ago. So in this post, I will share with you a version of a piece of work which I put together for the International Medieval Congress in 2019.
I’ve tried to make it accessible, and I hope you will find it as interesting a topic as I did. It touches on some of my favourite characters in history, and the subject upon which I focussed for so long: medieval marriage.
But really, it’s a story – a story of the people involved in the negotiations, of their personalities, their strengths and weaknesses, and their priorities.
The title of the paper was, ‘An Unexpected Proposal: the suggestion of a marriage between Joanna of Sicily and al-Adil during the Third Crusade’.
Setting the scene…
The tale begins in the midst of the Third Crusade, which was called in 1187 by Pope Gregory VIII after the fall of Jerusalem to the Muslim forces led by Salah al-Din, the sultan of Egypt (for the purposes of this paper, I will refer to him as Saladin, as do most western historians). Jerusalem had been captured by the Christian armies of the First Crusade in 1099, establishing the Frankish Kingdom of Jerusalem, so the loss of the city less than a century later caused most of the leaders of Europe to take notice. The Holy Roman Emperor Frederick Barbarossa was the first to set off, but he drowned while crossing a river in Turkey, and his troops disbanded. This left the kings of England and France to lead the second wave of the crusade, and both Richard I of England and Philip II of France departed Europe in 1190.
Arrival in the Holy Land
In June 1191, Richard I, king of England – known in later years as the Lionheart – arrived in the Holy Land after a number of delays, to take his role as leader of the Third Crusade. He had left England some months previously but was held up first in Sicily – where his sister Joanna was the dowager queen – and then in Cyprus – where he was ‘forced’ to intervene when the Byzantine ruler, Isaac Komnenos, seized his supplies and belongings after a shipwreck. (it’s an interesting story, but not the point of this paper…)
There were plenty of other high-level nobles and kings present upon his arrival, including his now arch-enemy King Philip II of France, (they had fallen out in Sicily) and two candidates for the throne of Jerusalem: Guy de Lusignan and Conrad of Montferrat. But, almost from his arrival to dramatically lift the siege of Acre, Richard’s secured his position as the foremost warrior and hero.
The Itinerarium Peregrinorum (long title Itinerarium Peregrinorum et Gesta Regis Ricardi), a Latin prose account of the Third Crusade that is likely to have been written from first-hand experience, tells us:
Even the enemy had a view on his arrival with one chronicler stating,
“He was wise and experienced in warfare, and his coming had a dread and frightening effect on the hearts of the Muslims.”1
Richard’s first few months were very successful; Acre, the maritime foothold of the Kingdom of Jerusalem, was captured, though the surrender was marred by the controversial decision to execute the Muslim garrison, probably more than 2,600 men. The motives for this action have been debated at great length, and you can read more in Gillingham and Spencer.2
However, the incident does give us insight as to Richard’s negotiating strategy. The treaty he had made with the enemy forces upon the fall of Acre were for Saladin to hand over a fragment of the True Cross and to release 1,500 Christian prisoners in exchange for the lives of the garrison and their families.3 When the terms were not upheld by Saladin, Richard followed through on his threat, without compunction.
Negotiations
The military aspects of the crusade have been the stuff of numerous articles and discussion, and the diplomatic negotiations were also an integral part of the relationship between the Christian and Muslim armies, as well as between Richard and Saladin. These negotiations have been examined thoroughly by Thomas Asbridge,4 but this paper looks in more depth at one particular part of these negotiations: a series of exchanges that took place in Autumn 1192, during which Richard suggested that the battle for Jerusalem could be ended by a marriage between his sister Joanna, the widowed queen of Sicily, and Saladin’s brother, al-Adil, often called Saphadin by European sources of the time.
Curiously, eastern sources discuss this proposal in some depth and are our primary evidence for it, while western sources are completely silent. This silence has always intrigued me. Many historians have focussed on the likelihood that the whole thing was just a joke, if it took place at all, but I believe it to be quite clear from reliable sources close to Saladin that the proposal was indeed made and considered in seriousness, at least at first.
Here I will make an effort to come to terms with why western sources leave the incident out, and I hope to answer some of the questions surrounding the event, which has been called ‘implausible’5, ‘extraordinary’,6 ‘remarkable’7 and ‘curious’.8
The proposal was not the first step in this round of negotiations. Rather, Richard had requested personal meetings with Saladin from the time of his arrival at Acre, but Saladin always refused.
For that reason, Saladin’s trusted general and brother, al-Adil, was his stand-in, and he met Richard in person on several occasions. They developed a rapport and traded regularly both food and gifts, and shared many meals.
In autumn 1192, Richard’s first offer, an opening gambit if you will, was one Saladin could never possibly accept. Baha al-Din, one of Saladin’s most trusted personal secretaries – and the writer from whom we get the most detailed account of these events – recorded Richard’s letter.
Saladin’s response, unsurprisingly, was a much wordier version of ‘no’.
He also reminded Richard that Jerusalem was as holy for Muslims as it was for Christians, and that the land had of course been theirs originally, before the First Crusade of the 1090s.
There was another player in these negotiations who was influencing Richard’s position. This was Conrad of Montferrat, one of two rivals to the crown of Jerusalem. Conrad was attempting to make his own agreement with Saladin, wherein the Muslim leader would confirm his possession of lands in Sidon and Tyre in exchange for Conrad’s attack on Acre, now garrisoned by Richard’s men.
Fortunately for Richard, the majority of Saladin’s advisors favoured a deal with the English king over one with Conrad. So, with his opening offer refused, Richard moved on to the second. There are three accounts of this incident, and I will look at each in turn.
Three Accounts
1. Old French Continuation of William of Tyre
This is the only surviving Christian source to mention the incident, and the source is often hostile to Richard. The writer states that Saladin was the initiator – the only source to suggest this, almost certainly in error. Further, the passage supports the belief held by some historians that Saladin was afraid of his brother. Certainly strife between two brothers is a common trope, but there is no real evidence of it, rather the sultan appears to have trusted and depended upon his brother. The overall accuracy of this version is therefore questionable.
2.Les Livres de Deux Jardins, an account heavily based upon the writings of Imad al-Din al-Ishfahan, a Persian scholar who worked as a secretary to Saladin and was personally involved in many of the political machinations at court.
Clearly, this account is far more in-depth and indicates the more likely scenario that Richard initiated the proposal, directly to al-Adil, who passed the terms to Saladin. It was not a secret.
Furthermore, this account brings in a fact left out by the Continuation, that it was Joanna herself who was the spanner in the works, refusing to marry a man not of her religion. I’ll come back to this.
3. Baha al-Din, The Rare and Excellent History of Saladin. As mentioned, Baha al-Din was one of Saladin’s personal secretaries and a writer who is considered one of the most reliable for this period due to his first-hand knowledge of Saladin’s inner circle. His account is most comprehensive, covering Richard’s opening gambit, Saladin’s subsequent refusal, and Richard’s regroup to approach a second time. The delicate nature of the terms is made clear in that al-Adil required both Saladin’s trusted emissary, Baha al-Din himself, and a number of emirs to be present when they were announced.
Al-Din asserts that he himself was given the task of bringing the message to Saladin and bore witness to the reply. There were to be no secret negotiations between Richard and al-Adil, rather al-Adil was cautious, acting in self-preservation – Saladin may have not reacted well to hearing about the offer second-hand.
Echoing Imad al-Din’s account but with more detail, the story goes on. Saladin immediately approved the terms, ‘believing that the king of England would not agree to them at all and that it was intended to mock and deceive.’9
Baha al-Din also confirms Joanna’s involvement, stating that she was very displeased, ‘How could she possibly allow a Muslim to have carnal knowledge of her!’ instead asking al-Adil to convert. (remember of course that she was Catholic and this was the Middle Ages – it was entirely unheard of to marry a non-Christian). With regard to this refusal of Joanna’s, I do have my doubts about whether Richard would have allowed the prospect of peace in the Middle East to be ruined by his sister’s temper tantrum. The fact that the story is repeated by both Muslim writers makes it more likely that Richard used her as an excuse to get out of a proposal with which he never intended to follow through.
What does it all mean?
What the sources indicate, then, is a diplomatic suggestion that, joke or not, was also quite daring. Al-Adil considered it so noteworthy that, rather than continue his personal tête-à-tête with Richard, he wrote immediately to his brother. If the brothers were aware, as Baha al-Din relates, that the proposal was a joke, they certainly reacted in a serious fashion. They may also have wished to call Richard’s bluff.
So one has to ask of Richard – why? Was the proposal merely a distraction? Did he do it just to see what Saladin and al-Adil would do? It could have been a test of al-Adil, a way of assessing his loyalty to his brother – certainly Richard himself had no reason to believe in brotherly bonds and knew how precarious the relationship could be, so perhaps he hoped that al-Adil would leap on the suggestion to gain power over his brother.
Seal of Richard I
Or perhaps he hoped that Saladin would grow to view his brother as a threat. Either way, Richard would be causing dissension in the ranks, which could only be to his advantage.
One can understand the Muslim writers’ assertions that Richard never intended for the proposal to be taken seriously when one looks at the rest of the tale. When Saladin accepted the offer, Richard was forced to scramble for a reason why Joanna could not, in fact, be married: he would have to ask the pope (dowager queens in Europe could not remarry without his permission), and that could take months. Richard suggested the al-Adil could have his niece instead, of course she was in Europe so again another delay…this is not the sign of a well-constructed plan. Richard may even have fibbed, saying that his Christian colleagues objected to the idea – but if the Christians had been asked, surely one chronicle somewhere would have mentioned it?
Finally, if this was a real proposal, part of a long-term strategy to end the warfare and allow Richard to return to Europe where the king of France was chipping away at his empire with the help of his brother John, why is it not in the Itinerarium Peregrinorum?
Because this period of negotiation IS there:
I feel this section to be a bit harsh on Richard. He was more than experienced at the art of war and negotiation, and would never have allowed himself to be distracted. Rather he would have been perfectly aware that a period of negotiation did not mean cessation of hostilities – frequently the opposite. Instead this indicates that the writer, whoever he was, had no knowledge of the more delicate negotiations taking place in the background, or if he did, he left them out. Which was it?
We cannot know for certain, but the only reasonable answer for either the writer leaving the story out or for Richard keeping the proposal a secret lies in Richard’s reputation. A little later, the writer of the Itinerarium alludes to the problem:
One has to remember that just because Richard was leading the crusaders did not mean that he was supported by all of them. In fact there were French factions – and others – who were seriously adverse to Richard’s strategies, particularly what they saw as his reticence to march directly upon Jerusalem- a true strategist, Richard was hoping to establish a solid base from which to attack the city, rather than attack directly.
A French source tells us that Richard had been overruled in his wish to approach Ascalon, a strategically vital city: whoever controlled Ascalon also controlled access to Egypt, Saladin’s home base. Its significance is evident in that Saladin himself had made it a priority to re-capture Ascalon in 1187 prior to his march on Jerusalem – this tactic was one Richard hoped to emulate, but could not convince the other Christians. They remained focused, inexorably, on relieving the Holy City.
Richard would have been considered even more suspect and likely found himself in danger had the majority of the crusading host discovered that he was offering his sister to a Muslim, rather than fight the infidels courageously for Jerusalem.
And it is here, I believe, that an answer may be found.
I have no doubt that Richard made the proposal, as suggested by two reliable Muslim sources, both very close to Saladin. It is possible that Richard’s closest advisors knew of the proposal and objected, but he mostly ignored them. However, the lack of inclusion in Christian sources such as the Itinerarium, which was unlikely to have been written by someone with the level of access to Richard that Baha al-Din had to Saladin, indicates a lack of widespread knowledge of the proposal. It is quite reasonable that there would have been a lot of detailed negotiation taking place which a member of the general crusading force would not know about, but which Saladin’s personal secretary would. An every-day crusader would also be more aware of the threats to Richard’s reputation that his close relationship with al-Adil caused.
The Muslim sources go into more depth about the gifts and offer a more detailed timeline than the Christian sources, and are generally better informed about the relationship between Richard and al-Adil. Richard was a bold strategist, and his life shows numerous examples of the willingness to make extreme choices in order to get what he wanted – he took part in several rebellions against his own father, beginning in his teenage years; he alienated the king of France by refusing to marry his sister and choosing another wife; he regularly led his armies into battle even when his life was in serious danger.
So, I do not see it as uncharacteristic for him to have made a proposal, almost off-the-cuff, just to see what kind of reaction he would get. But he would have been aware of the danger involved: his strategies were often questioned, he was frequently ill while in the East, and his kingdom was in serious peril during his absence. His reputation was not so strong that it could have suffered the kind of serious outrage which would have arisen had a French crusader heard of the proposal.
Muslim sources tell us what happened, but the details in the Christian sources actually hint more clearly at why the incident was omitted, or kept secret – it had to be.
As for the incident being implausible, I personally am not surprised by anything Richard did – he was bold, intelligent, witty, arrogant, and not above extreme negotiation. This time, he was up against an equally skilled strategist who called his bluff.
But Richard had some good luck. The proposal was refused by his own sister, and the counter-proposals that al-Adil convert or wed Richard’s niece, were passed over.
So, Richard never had to face a council of European and French nobles to explain that the Crusade was over because his sister was going to marry a Muslim prince. But it is intriguing to wonder what might have happened if he had…
Thomas Asbridge, ‘Talking to the enemy: the role and purpose of negotiations between Saladin and Richard the Lionheart during the Third Crusade,’ in Journal of Medieval History. ↩︎
This year started strong with the reading, but as it crept on and work got in the way, I found it increasingly more challenging to make the time to read. And yes, of course, if it is important enough you make time, but this year was a lot.
I also found that most of my books were big and heavy, meaning it was often not possible to take them with me on my travels (I am not a Kindle person, I like the physical book – I am a medieval historian after all). Stubbornness prevailed though and as I adjusted to my new lifestyle, time for books returned. I wasn’t able to tackle some of the more serious tomes I had in the pile this year, but they are not forgotten!
1. Never, Ken Follett. The premise of this book is a modern scenario in which the world is on the brink of nuclear war, and there are elements that are frighteningly real. Follett is a master of telling a tale across multiple interwoven storylines, and this book follows that pattern.
I read Never over the winter break and found it to be fascinating and quite eerie. It’s not one of Follett’s best in terms of writing quality, as it seems evident that his editor is just letting him do what he wants. One or two of the storylines don’t seem to really matter as much as others but they are all compelling and intriguing. Certainly I was on the edge of my seat by the end, trying to work out if the world could be saved.
2. Elske, Cynthia Voigt. The fourth in the loosely-connected Kingdom series that started with Jackaroo (see last year’s reading list), Elske is a really interesting tale that is clearly designed for young adults and yet covers some violently mature topics. Elsie is an independent young woman who escaped a potentially violent end and finds herself frequently standing out from society by her unique nature of self-assurance and self-preservation. I’ve written more about Elske and the Kingdom series before.
3. The Daughter of Time, Josephine Tey. I was not really sure what to expect from this book but had been told at times that I should read it. What I found was a really fascinating and quite speedy read that is not medieval in timing but is all about the Middle Ages. The main character is an injured policeman of Scotland Yard, who in his convalescence stumbles across the story of Richard III and the fate of the Princes in the Tower. He is immediately intrigued, and through his exploration of the subject, the historical facts behind the case are slowly revealed. I found this story not only fascinating for its quite anti-establishment assertion of Richard’s innocence but also for the way in which it embodies good historical practice. It could in fact be used as a first-year historian’s guide to how to examine a story – look at the sources, assess those sources, discover their bias and their purpose, and determine their relevancy and potential accuracy. Fascinating both as a mystery and an example of how examination of history should be attempted.
4. Eve, Cat Bohannon. A fascinating read that to some extent many if not all women should read. Strike that, all people. Bohannon answered a lot of questions I have always had about why childbirth is so dangerous – seemingly a biological nonsense – and more. The sections about giving money to women are fascinating, and the matriarchal vs patriarchal societies amongst animals.
The writing style is a bit odd at times, as Bohannan seems to make an effort to shock or surprise, though possibly in an effort to familiarise or normalise certain ideas or terms.
Overall though a phenomenal read, that demonstrates above all why women and men should be studied separately in medicine and science.
5. When Christ and His Saints Slept, Sharon Penman. The civil war between Stephen and Matilda in the 12th century is far less well known than the much later English Civil War, but was no less destructive. Penman starts off with the history-altering wreck of the White Ship in 1120 and carries on through the many battles and tide changes of the war, before resolution in the accession of Henry II.
This is my comfort read, and holds a special place in my life as the book that introduced me to Sharon Penman, an author who would quickly become one of my favourites – as I have written. I also consider this book to be the pinnacle of her writing style: well researched, enthralling, and able to create sympathy for both sides of a brutal war. Even the heroes and heroines are flawed, make decisions you wish you could yell at them for, and often pay the price. Most significantly, this book introduces the characters of Henry FitzEmpress and Eleanor of Aquitaine, about whom so many of Penman’s books are written. For anyone tempted to take Penman’s books into their library, this is a good place to start.
6. Stay With Me, Ayobami Adebayo. Beautifully written and heartbreaking, this book is a testament to a mother’s love, its power and depth. It is fascinating how well she can move back and forth between viewpoints, and yet there is never any questions as to who she is writing in that particular section, her style is so clear.
The book also demonstrates how key communication and trust can be in a marriage or relationship, and the destruction that can rain down when they are missing.
I read this book as part of a concerted effort to read more black authors, and would highly recommend, though it may be triggering to some in its discussions of the struggles around conception.
7. Hearth and Eagle, Anya Seton I have loved Anya Seton ever since reading Katherine and falling in love with her style. This book is even more special as it is based in my home town and is very much a love story to Marblehead, describing in detail its evolution from a fishing village to the wealth-infused sailing mecca it is today. The story follows a young woman as she experiences love, tragedy, and the growth that comes with maturity and experience. Not necessarily a new story in terms of originality, Hesper’s tale means more to me as it takes place in Marblehead where the true love of her life is her house. In the end, she recognises the importance and value of coming home.
8. Ghost Ship and The Burning Chambers, Kate Mosse.
I’m classifying this as one as really these are two books of a series, the second of which I have started but not yet managed to finish.
Mosse is an author I can go back and forth over, but I really enjoyed The Ghost Ship and it made me want to go back and read the whole series about these women. I loved the historical take on what is often considered the more modern concept of gender fluidity, and her take on love crossing boundaries. The main character, Louise, felt very real and authentic, struggling against the gender norms of her time; there are so many powerful women in this story.
I am not sure that the publisher’s official synopsis pays enough credit to the first 200 or so pages of the book, about women finding their way in a world not meant for them to succeed on their own – but I look forward to reading more.
9. The Paleontologist, Luke Dumas Whatever I expected this book to be about, it really was not. The writing starts of a bit clunky, I’d say, but eventually settles into a better rhythm. The story is a satisfying if a bit weird mystery, and Dumas seems to be uncertain at times if he is writing a fantasy or a mystery – the main character’s descent into madness is quite abrupt. An interesting attempt to explore the morality behind the practice of palaeontology and what the field owes to its subjects.
10. Hood, Stephen Lawhead. I have always half intended to do a bit of work on the story of Robin Hood, but it is such a massive topic it can be intimidating. This book is one of many attempting to re-imagine the story, this time moving the tale from the standard Midlands Nottingham to medieval Wales. It’s an interesting take, though slow in places and at times a bit distracting – as any reimagining of a well-known story can be – as you try to work out which characters are which from the classic tale.
I did find it a powerful view into early medieval Wales and its fight to remain independent, a fight that would continue for 100s of years; certainly placing a young outlaw in this world makes as much sense as the time of Prince John.
I am not sure if I will read the rest of the trilogy at this point, but if so will most definitely report.
Honourable mention for this year goes to:
The first three books of Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series. The fact that I have watched the TV show has made it harder to read the later books, as I can see why large portions were shortened or cut out. The books contain a lot more detail and their pace is much slower, but the story is of course richer for that detail. There are times when I quite actively dislike Claire, and like on screen the story can be brutal. I may try to skip ahead a few books so that I can read the story before watching the final season.
The Goodwife of Bath, by Karen Brooks, which I have almost finished and am thoroughly enjoying. I look forward to writing about it.
The Mistletoe and Sword, by Anya Seton – I tried to re-read as much Seton as I could this year after really enjoying a few of her books, and this one has always been quite low on my list. It includes a relatively standard view of the Roman occupation of Britain – Romans are brutal and lack appreciation for the locals, a good parallel to most of the history of the British empire – and of the Druids as mysterious and maligned. Takes place against the background of Boudicca’s revolt.
And finally, a sneak peak into next year – here is the pile of books I received for Christmas/birthday gifts! It is a bit less intense than last year’s collection, yet equally appreciated!
(I have started reading The 1619 Project and am fascinated – I cannot wait to dive back in after the holidays)
I have endless, unrepentant, unflinching affection for Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol. Anyone who read last year’s post on Christmas movies will have a feel for this, but I wanted to dive deeper. I love the language, the story, and the memories that the tale evokes. It has been part of my Christmas tradition for as long as I can remember. We read the story, watched adaptations on TV, went to the play, and had a series of Christmas ornaments depicting the characters. I cannot imagine a time wherein I did not know the story, and was not able to quote at least the first two pages by heart. But I get ahead of myself.
Dickens is considered a master for a reason – the richness of his prose draws one into the scene inexorably, painting a picture so clear that there is no question as to what he is envisioning. His descriptions of Victorian London are, like in many of his works, of a city that is grimy, cruel, icy cold and full of hard people living hard lives. The poverty is palpable, in both the streets and the small house of Bob Cratchit, often with an ugliness that is different from what we see today. But amongst that hardness is beauty – the goodness of Christmas, of people caring for one another and creating joy so that we cannot entirely sink into despair. Even when brutal, his writing is beautiful – his similes and metaphors unique, concise, and often humorous.
The ancient tower of a church, whose gruff old bell was always peeping slyly down at Scrooge out of a Gothic window in the wall, became invisible, and struck the hours and quarters in the clouds, with tremulous vibrations afterwards as if its teeth were chattering in its frozen head up there.
Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol, Stave One.
Perhaps most of all, I love his ability to forget the formality of writing and to speak to us as equals, as if we are in the room with him. He seeks confirmation from us as to the wisdom of a simile (what is there particularly dead about a doornail?), and ensures that we understand the significance of his choices. He wants us to know that he spent a great deal of time clarifying Marley’s deceased state because it is vital.
There is no doubt that Marley was dead. This must be distinctly understood or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate. If we were not perfectly convinced that Hamlet’s father died before the play began, there would be nothing more remarkable in his taking a stroll at night, in an easterly wind, upon his own ramparts than there would be in any other middle-aged gentleman rashly turning out after dark in a breezy spot – say St Paul’s churchyard for instance – literally to astonish his son’s weak mind.
Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol, Stave One.
Every scene that we are taken to as the ghosts draw Scrooge through memories of his life is spectacularly vivid: an abandoned run-down school room, Bob Cratchit’s small house house, his nephew’s more opulent parlor, Fezziwig’s Christmas party – one of the scenes which every adaptation insists upon including, probably due to the sheer pervasive joy.
Dickens’ style of long, almost run-on sentences works particularly well in scenes like this, where the breathless nature of the structure helps to understand the breathless excitement of the story. Who would not want to attend a party like this one, lit by candles and firelight, full of dancing and punch and the most gracious host one can imagine?
One of John Leech’s original illustrations.
Dickens chooses his words carefully, constructs them perfectly, with in depth descriptions that pull us into the world and make us feel that we are walking beside Scrooge on his journeys.
The story
It is not just the richness of the writing that I love – it is also the value of the story. It is more than just a wealthy, miserly man learning to give back; rather, it is also a tale of self-reflection. Few are as capable of harshly judging a person as that person himself or herself – throughout Stave (Chapter) One, it is evident that Scrooge knows perfectly well that people do not like him. He is happy with this, prefers it that way. It is only once he sees the impact he has had on others, the tragedies of his own life and the potential tragedies of those around him, that he can reflect back upon himself and realise he does not wish to be this way. He has made his own choices in life, he owns them, and decides to change his ways. It is a heroic and not easy thing to do. In his confrontation with the final spirit it is clear that just a desire to change may not be enough to save him, even has he beings to stammer his life-altering promise, that is also begging for another chance.
Now of course, Scrooge was faced early on with the threat of eternal damnation that Marley’s ghost revealed, but this was not enough to scare him. Not even when, in one of the more stark scenes of the story, he is forced to see other spirits desperately wishing that they could help a poor woman.
Below are two of the original illustrations that were published with the tale, by John Leech.
Instead, it is the terrifying figure of the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come, showing Scrooge how little the world will miss him, that really completes his repentance. He has been softened by the joy of the families he has seen, the love they show one another, by the Spirits of Christmas Past and Present. The horror of seeing his own grave is the ultimate in self-reflection. But I am not really here for an analysis of the story.
Why I love it
The quality of writing and the quality of the tale are only part of my affection for this story. It stems also, and perhaps primarily, from familiarity and memory. My father read the story to me, word for word, one stave each night, every Christmas for at least ten years. It is so ingrained in me that even when reading it silently (which I find hard to do), I can hear his voice and intonation, the way he would drop his voice half an octave when reading Scrooge’s dialogue and make the words more gravelly, or lighten the tone when reading Fred’s words (I suppose I should be relieved that he never attempted an accept). He read to me often when I was young, and would pause to explain words or phrases he thought I might not understand. In grade school, I surprised my class with my dramatic memorisation and performance of the first few pages of the tale for recitation day. I had always chosen a slightly different passage than my classmates – I preferred Lewis Carroll poems or Robert Louis Stevenson’s A Child’s Garden of Verses rather than something like the Gettysburg Address or Dr Seuss – and was generally shy. This piece of work which I knew so well and felt every word almost won me the class prize of reciting before the school, but not quite. I remember the moment well, decades later, and the confidence that the prose instilled in me.
Adaptations
I will fully admit that I have not watched every adaptation of A Christmas Carol, not in the least because there are just so many out there – more than 100 according to Wikipedia. Many older actors have attempted the role of Scrooge and can do the early staves well, the almost comic greed and cruelty. But the role also requires a softening, a growing humanity, which is both tragic and comic. And, I grow cross when there is no respect for the original prose – much of the dialogue can be pulled directly from the page, and I have always been a purist. I like when adaptations respect the source (perhaps I may write about my feelings on Jane Austen another time). And this source is sacrosanct.
There are two adaptations to which I return annually, as I wrote in last year’s post on Christmas movies.
The first is Mickey’s Christmas Carol. It is very short but contains all the original characters and despite the drastically fast visitation by the final spirit gives a good feel for the story. Plus, Scrooge McDuck is excellent. This is the first adaptation I ever watched, and Christmas just doesn’t feel right if I haven’t had a 20-minute window to see it. I have particular affection for the way the three Christmas spirits are portrayed, and for Donald Duck as Scrooge’s incorrigibly cheerful nephew.
The second is The Muppet Christmas Carol. The puppets work quite well somehow and the musical numbers are both hilarious and impossibly catchy. The highlight is of course Sir Michael Caine’s absolute straight-faced portrayal of Scrooge. He could have been in a film with only human actors and have played the role no differently – and so it works. He is delightful to the end, and there is careful attention to maintaining quite a bit of the original prose and dialogue.
Finally, this year I decided to widen my experience and so settled down to watch what is in fact yet another Disney production of the story – the 2009 Robert Zemeckis film ‘starring’ Jim Carrey as Scrooge and several of the spirits.
I was prepared to be annoyed and dislike it, as I tend to be less of a fan of Carrey’s more recent work (the Grinch for example). However, I was pleasantly surprised by several aspects of the film, not least how close it sticks to the book and its inclusion of several scenes that are frequently omitted, such as all the bells in the house ringing prior to Marley’s arrival, meeting Scrooge’s young sister, the gradual aging of the Ghost of Christmas Present, and the couple who owed Scrooge money but were relieved by his death.
The dialogue is generally a direct quote of the text, and it is clear that Zemeckis has true affection and respect for the story.
Likewise though, there were some parts that I did have some issue with. Firstly, I am not certain the director could make up his mind who the audience is – some scenes seemed aimed at children, but others were very adult (the twins Ignorance and Want, a concept probably beyond children and visuals quite frightening for youngsters). I found myself distracted by the animation, trying to see the original actors in the faces on screen, though the latter faded in time.
Overall I found a lack of subtlety, even in a book that does not particularly deal in subtlety. Dramatic scenes were overdone in a way that is typical of Disney shows for children – Marley was creepy, disgusting, and scary but not necessarily unsettling; the many ghosts of former misers were a bit over the top; on several occasions Scrooge is shooting through the sky, falling, or being dragged or chased through London, which seems to detract from the truth that this is all, really, in his head. The film rushed through the Fezziwig ball scene, but provided one of the most touching and accurate breakup with Belle scenes that I have watched.
Perhaps most annoyingly for me, I found the portrayal of the Ghost of Christmas present generally just…wrong. It may be that it was Carrey in yet another character – Gary Oldman, who played Cratchit, might have been a better choice – but I found his laugh to be more sinister than jolly, and I prefer the more forgetful, simple-minded versions of the Muppet and Mickey adaptations. The spirit’s death in particular was upsetting, as we watched him dissolve to a skeleton and then blow away – I am not sure what the point of this is, when in the book he just vanishes, leaving Scrooge alone in the darkness, with the final spirit approaching. That sudden, drastic change is jarring and unnerving it itself. Personally I would have been happy to cut that scene shorter and spend more time at the ball, though I realise it is less integral to the story.
I did find it intriguing that Zemeckis used the Mickey version’s idea of having Scrooge falling into a grave, where a fiery coffin waits for him, with his final speech proclaiming to keep Christmas in his heart stammered out as he clings to a root. This is certainly more dramatic, but I always miss the idea of Scrooge fighting with the spirit to have it, “dwindle down into a bedpost.”
Finally, I felt that overall, Scrooge’s giddiness upon awaking and his whole changed demeanour was well done. I was distracted by it being Jim Carrey, as he always has a touch of the Mask mania about him, but the book is followed more closely with Scrooge meeting Cratchit at the office the next day, which I enjoyed. This allowed Scrooge to go to his nephew’s house for dinner, and there is a moment of hesitation, of fear that he will not be accepted, and I think that is important to see.
Anyway. I have waffled on about this version at length partly because I had put off watching it for so long, and partly because it is so clear in my mind. I think, in fact, that it would be a very good option for children to watch to get a feel for the story (perhaps not too young though, as it is scary in places – I have a new appreciation of what is scary after terrifying my niece with Lady and the Tramp). I found the animation jarring but I understand that this style allowed Zemeckis to create the world with an authenticity that would otherwise be incredibly expensive. It is interesting to realise that all three versions were released by Disney, though in very different eras (1983, 1992, 2009) and with very different production teams. I look forward to, in time, exploring non-Disney adaptations. Above all, I really loved Gary Oldman’s Bob Cratchit, and the fact that he was able to narrate at the end, finishing of course with Tiny Tim’s observation, “God bless us, every one!”
Post script
It was suggested that I attempt to write about why A Christmas Carol is still relevant today though it was published nearly 200 years ago. I feel that Disney’s continued funding of new adaptations, and the continued popularity of plays and musicals of the story really make that suggestion moot. There is no need to analyse why it is still a popular story; it speaks for itself.
At the end of my Thailand trip, I spent three days in the northern city of Chiang Mai. I had perhaps less idea of what to expect from Chiang Mai than I had of Bangkok, but I was excited to see what it might hold, and the fight was a leisurely 1 hour, leaving at a reasonably mid-morning time of day.
Thai Airways was very pleasant – if the planes were on the older side – with impeccably polite staff and a good snack of a Thai tea-flavoured milk bun, gloriously soft and a touch sweet. I had only discovered the deliciousness that is Thai tea the day before at an event – a new favourite.
I looked out the plane window as they announced we were 15 minutes from landing and realised that the air was much clearer than it had been in Bangkok, and I could see mountains not far off. It reminded me, in some ways, of Puerto Rico; flat land leading to verdant mountains, foliage and similar houses. But then, in the distance, I noticed something rising from the ridge of the mountain. I wasn’t sure what it was – a radio tower perhaps? Then we got closer and closer, and the form of a person was evident – a gold one. Not a radio tower, but a temple, with an enormous statue that stood out against the trees. Nearby, another one. I started to smile.
Sure enough, it took me no time at all to fall in love with Chiang Mai. I’m not sure if it was the similarity in size to many cities I love closer to home – the population is 1.2 million, not far off Edinburgh, greater Boston, or Leeds – allowing for a metropolitan feel that is still far less hectic than big cities like Bangkok, London and New York. Or perhaps it was that combined with the sheer beauty of the city, and of its history, so evident on almost any street corner.
The airport is on the small side, the way I remember Edinburgh being twenty-five years ago, and it was easy to arrange a Grab to my hotel. I was considerably more awake for this airport transfer than I had been in Bangkok, and so I happily stared out the window at the city that was both modern in its bundles of wires, concrete structures, and many cars, but also historic in its moat, temples, and detailed adornment to shrines and the simplest light posts and garden walls.
Chiang Mai, as I learned, is the second-largest city in Thailand, though the portion I visited felt considerably smaller – I clearly missed quite a bit. It was founded in 1296, and fortified with a town wall – some of which still exists – as well as the almost square moat. I confess myself to being quite ignorant of Thai history, but learned that this area of northern Thailand was part of the Lan Na Kingdom for what in Euro-centric terms is considered the Middle Ages and early modern period. Chiang Mai became capital of Lan Na under its first king, Mangrai (c. 1238 – 1311).
My hotel, which was absolutely beautiful, was in the Nimman area, a bit north and west of the moat, immediately across from several large shopping centres. The hotel rooftop, which I discovered on my first night, provided a view over the city in every direction and towards the mountains.
The evening was still warm but a gentle breeze kept the temperature very comfortable, and the hotel staff were happy to bring me a gin and tonic. It was the perfect way to end my day, as you will see.
On my first day in Chiang Mai, my work meetings finished in time to allow me to explore. I started off in the centre of the square old city and walked up one of the main roads towards the bridge I had determined to cross. The walk passed by a series of temples from which I could hear chanting, as well as numerous shops. The ubiquitous Thai mopeds were everywhere, and while the heat was intense, it was just comfortable enough to allow for a gentle walk. This would not be possible, I later discovered, in the more modern parts of city where the sidewalk frequently disappeared completely.
Upon reaching the city moat, I decided first to turn right and walk a short distance along to a footbridge rather than cross the car bridge. In no time at all, I came across my first proper temple – Wat Rajamontean. I did not go inside, as I could hear an active service of some kind. As you can see below, there was a set of steps leading up from the street and framed with dragons and figures of all kinds. Just along the road was Wat Khan Khama, and this excellent set of gilded horse statues.
It was frustrating for me as a historian, not to be able to learn more about the temples as I visited/passed them, but the informational plaques were of course in Thai. I have since done a bit of research which indicates that this region was a hub for keeping horses, hence the row of sculptures above. It also appears that ‘Rajamontean’ denotes ‘royal monastery’ and that the Wat contains an impressive library.
My primary goal for this walk was Wat Lok Moli. While it is not known exactly when the temple was built (the foundation in fact a great mystery), it was mentioned in charters by the mid-14th century. The two structures, the chedi (the taller pointed structure) and the vihara (assembly hall, in the foreground) were both commissioned in the first half of the sixteenth century, and the ashes of some of the royal dynasty were placed here.
To access it, I had to cross the city moat, with the ideal spot being this beautiful footbridge. Not just beautiful though it was also treacherous, with several holes – covered in chicken wire – looking down at the water. I would not have crossed had not seen someone else on it a moment before, thought I did pass an older Thai man as I reached the far side, who grinned toothlessly at me and warned me to be careful.
On the far side of the moat was a busy street but I managed to find a pedestrian crossing – not the easiest task – and scampered across with a few other tourists. A brick wall marks the enclosure, and the entrance to the Wat is through a splendid arch, guarded by a red statue.
Through the arch, one was confronted immediately with the splendour of two massive elephant statues, and the intricately carved face of the temple, flanked by white dragons.
I did take off my shoes and make my way into the temple, but as there were some monks speaking to followers, I felt awkward staying and did not want to take a picture within the temple – the same reticence I feel taking pictures of active churches, though I usually get past that…
Around the back of the temple was more carving, each panel a story of history or religious tale – I assume.
From here I moved back towards the chedi – commissioned in 1527 – in front of which was a display of beautiful coloured lanterns.
I walked around the whole Chedi and found that there were different statues on each side, plus some more shrines. If there is one thing that struck me about this temple it really was its intricacy and detail; the carving was exquisite, and each part of the complex had its own story. There were countless smaller shrines, carvings and statues to see, as well as the more open compound itself. Though it was busy with tourists, everyone was more or less quiet and respectful of the active religious site.
These happy statues just made my day.
The temperature and my excitement meant that by this point, my phone was actually starting to overheat; it was time to put it in my bag, away from my body heat, and head back to the hotel. I had the route planned out, but learned before long that my idea of ‘I’ll just walk up that road’ was not as simple in Chiang Mai.
To start with, I crossed back to the moat side of the road, where there was a path along the water. Growing tree routes had forced some of the tiles to buckle upwards, meaning the walk took some attention, but the trees meant shade, which I craved. I recall thinking that in a European city there would be a fence along the water, but not here, and around the corner, the street level rose enough that there was a drop of perhaps a foot or two from the path to the moat.
The corner, which I reached after 5-10 minutes of trying to resist taking pictures of the moat, is called Hua Lin corner. It is the location of a former aqueduct, bringing water from the Huai Kaeo brook over the moat and into the city. Today, there is a small garden and some seats where one can rest briefly, and look across the water at the remains of the city wall and bastion.
I had planned, at this corner, to cross the road and head north-west towards my hotel. Unfortunately, there was no pedestrian crossing and the traffic was coming far too quickly to try a Bostonian mad dash. I should mention that the driving in Thailand is nothing short of terrifying – the cars and mopeds are right at the edge of the road, so when you are a pedestrian they come within inches, or closer, of clipping you. The ring road that runs around the moat is several lanes in either direction, with cars speeding confidently along. So, I turned left along the moat and figured I would find a place before too long to cross. I was incorrect.
It was the better part of ten minutes that I walked along, enjoying the water lillies that were omnipresent in this part of the moat, and getting warmer as I went – and thirstier. I had water with me but it was almost hot enough to make tea after my hour or so walking around, and I was watching Google maps trying to work out a different route back to my hotel than I had planned. The further I walked – in the wrong direction – the longer I would spend in the sun and heat, in a city where most people clearly did not walk. So I did the next most sensible thing.
I gave up.
There was eventually a pedestrian crossing which allowed me to get across to the far side of the road, and I turned back the way I had come, only to discover that the sidewalk vanished. There was absolutely no safety in walking along the road, but there was a haven where I could wait in the cool, drink some iced tea, and call for a Grab – Starbucks!
I am not proud of reverting to an American stereotype, but it certainly worked. Half an hour later, I was back in my hotel enjoying a shower and two bottles of nice chilled water.
My final exploration of Chiang Mai was investigating One Nimman, the shopping centre across from the hotel. It reminded me slightly of Quincy Market in Boston in terms of architecture, and the shops were perfectly touristy, just what I needed to round out my Thailand gifts for home. The central square was a large open air street food market, while around the edges of the complex were a series of craft stalls. Clearly a high-end market area, One Nimman also offered plenty of health-related shops where wellness was a priority – massage, facials, and much more.
It was a fleeting time in Chiang Mai, but I have determined I will go back – with my proper camera and a plan to visit the mountain temples and the elephant sanctuary. So much still to see! The people were very friendly and while there are certainly western tourists present, there were plenty of more local visitors as well, providing a really pleasant atmosphere. I feel like I have only scratched the surface of what there is to see here. But, it was the end of a long month of travel and I was ready to head back home, flying Chiang Mai to Bangkok to Doha to the UK.
It was the middle of the night when I passed through Doha, but I was happy to have a travelling companion who I had met in Bangkok, worked in the same field, and had the same flights booked home. Together we were determined to see the famed indoor tropical garden of Hamad International Airport, Orchard. So we walked for what felt like hours but was about 20 minutes, and were delighted to find ourselves entirely un-disappointed. Orchard is not particularly large but it is markedly cooler than anywhere else, with the foliage providing a fresh feel to the air, and a palpable sense of relaxation. Particularly in the middle of the night, it was so relaxing to stroll along the paths and find a place to sit and relax. If anyone is passing through and have the time, I would absolutely recommend making the detour to see this indoor wonder.
Words cannot express how fortunate I feel to have been able to take this trip, and experience a part of the world I had never seen before. It has opened up my travel horizons much further, and I hope that the next time I return it is either not for work, or I can take more time to enjoy it. And that I am a bit less asleep…
Finally, I leave you with my favourite picture from Thailand, a combination of modern and medieval that I just love:
If you want to see more of the river boat cruise and a bit of Chiang Mai, check out this short video:
In October, I was fortunate enough to have the opportunity to visit Thailand for work. It was a gruelling 10 days, but I was able to see a bit of the two cities I was based in: Bangkok and Chiang Mai. In fact, I saw just enough to make me want to return with a lot more time to explore! And, I took part in a few once-in-a-lifetime experiences. Thailand had never been particularly high up my list of places to visit, but this trip taught me that almost any location can surprise you.
Disclaimer: if you’re looking for a post full of tourist information, this won’t be it – but it is a taster, a glimpse, of what I hope will be more to come.
To start with, Bangkok. I flew via Doha on Qatar Airways, and found the process quite straight-forward. I had a work visa which the customs official was happy with, and after a long wait for luggage I was greeted by a very kind man who took me to a waiting airport transfer. I used Grab (South-East Asia’s Uber) for most of my travel, but to and from the airport opted for a hotel ‘limo’ which was a bit more expensive but very comfortable. The car was air-conditioned and provided free bottles of water, and I had no intention of trying to drive in Bangkok.
Edinburgh’s three Forth bridges
Almost from the start I found myself enjoying Bangkok even more than I expected. I loved the odd jumble of modern architecture alongside old temples, very much an Asian feel but with some European influence. Here is the one picture I managed to take from the car ride:
I arrived in my hotel after 20 or so hours of travel during which I had not slept. All the hotel staff in Thailand are very solicitous and kind, informing me upon my arrival that there would shortly be an emergency text in the hotel. They assured me that I did not need to evacuate, but that it would be loud. Excellent news when I was desperate for a nap. Fortunately my room was lovely, with a huge walk-in shower that reminded me of those one finds a lot in Puerto Rico – more of a square stone chamber than a shower, with glorious hot water. I managed a quick shower before the alerts began – certainly loud, in a mix of Thai and English, and continuing for about 10 minutes. In this time, I managed to snap a few pictures of the view from my room and the window at the end of the hall, downed one of the several bottles of water they provide in the room, and climbed into bed.
Throughout my stay I found myself fascinated by the view across the city – the combination of architectural styles and open green areas, as well as the BTS sky train cutting through the buildings.
Side note on the sky train – is is incredibly efficient and easy to use, and once I tagged along with a colleague on one ride was confident doing it myself. When Grab taxis were occasionally hard to find or would leave you stuck in endless Bangkok traffic, the train was a speedy alternative. BTS stations in the city centre are raised at least one level above the street and often have small shops that sell snacks, as well as a direct entrance into the nearest hotel, mall, or public building. Very efficient and safe.
As I explored the city over the next few days, travelling to and from work events, it was so interesting to see spectacular views, like the on from the St Regis hotel where we had an event, to a small side-street lined with mopeds and shops. In front of many buildings, both hotels, shops and even auto mechanics were often stunningly intricate shrines, gilded and carved.
Close to my hotel were an incredibly well-stocked pharmacy – I managed to pick up some extra Vitamin C and Zinc tablets upon which I rely when travelling – and a 7-Eleven that offered the usual snacks, drinks, and some toiletry items as well as toasties and sandwiches which they would warm up for you. Most of the snacks were almost entirely labelled in Thai, but I managed to work out a few flavours and picked up some goodies to bring home for the other half. On one long night, a cheese toastie from this 7-Eleven was my slightly pathetic but incredibly tasty dinner.
Another spectacular part of the trip was of course the food (cheese toast included). I was travelling with a colleague to take part in a massive educational fair, located in one of Bangkok’s many convention centres, the Siam Paragon. The Paragon is also a mall – one of the fanciest malls I have ever seen, with floor after floor of ultra-modern shops. Some were tech-based with adjacent pods for people to record social media segments, others were high-end retailers like Gucci, Prada, Balenciaga and so forth. After one quick wander through, I realised it would definitely not be the spot for souvenirs!
But on the bottom level of the mall, which we eventually reached after making our way down numerous escalators, was a spectacular food court, bigger than any I have ever seen. It had American staples like Burger King and Pizza Hut but also every selection of Asian cuisine one could wish for, often specialised to one or two dishes.
After a long day it was a touch intimidating, but we managed to find a restaurant that would allow us to sit away from the crowds a bit. While it may be unimaginative, I ordered pad thai, which I love, as well as deep-fried basil calamari and a blueberry smoothie. To the last bite and sip, it was phenomenal. A similar meal in the UK would have cost probably four to five times as much, and never could have been as good.
By far the most memorable time I spent in Bangkok was on an evening river cruise arranged by one of the companies we worked with. Leaving from River City in Bangkok, the cruise offered open-air dining (yes, mosquito and other biting pest repellent was recommended), live music, and an exhibition of traditional Thai dance as we cruised up the river, under bridges and past temples and the Grand Palace. Very memorable (see the below video) were two bridges through which we passed that were so low – or the water was so high – that we were asked to stay seated to avoid injury. Sure enough, the boat JUST squeaked under, with a foot or two to spare.
It was stunningly beautiful at night, and provided views both of the modern Bangkok skyline but also its past, with the historic buildings lit up at night. The trip was incredibly smooth – you would hardly know you were on water – and I spent most of it completely in awe.
After the cruise, some of us were invited for one last cocktail at the rooftop bar of a colleague’s hotel – it is quite common for events such as these for many institutions to have representatives present, and there is an excellent community of people who travel together, support, work, and relax a bit together when time allows.
Though I suffer from a fear of heights and the view required me to walk up quite close to the edge of the building – a shoulder-height glass panel was all that separated us from plunging to the ground below – I admitted the view was worth the racing heart:
In fact, this night was one of my favourite times in Bangkok. I was reliably informed by a colleague who had been in Thailand frequently that the park one can see on the left of the photo has ponds with alligators in them – a good reason not to walk home.
The view from the nearby BTS station was equally excellent, if a bit less challenging for the acrophobic amongst us.
There is so much I did not have time to do in Bangkok, like visit the Grand Palace, get a proper Thai massage, walk through the parks, visit some of the markets, and actually see the temples up close. But, I was not there on holiday, and for a work trip I saw a great deal and got a feel for the city, just enough to make me want to see a lot more.
Not a small part of my lack of adventurous nature came down to jet lag – I had travelled back to the UK from California only a few days before I flew to Bangkok, and my first week there was one of the more exhausting of my life. I could not sleep at night, but my body definitely wanted to sleep around mid-afternoon, a problem for work events. The humidity and heat did not really help. By the end of my first week I was starting to adjust, in time for my next adventure to Chiang Mai – the topic of my next post!
If you want to see more of the river boat cruise and a bit of Chiang Mai, check out this short video:
I have been wracking my brain for days on what next to write about, but my creative juices are running a touch low after weeks – months – of work travel. Finally I thought of this post – throughout the year, wherever I am and no matter how tired I am, taking pictures of the beauty around me has kept me centred. And so in this post, I would like to share with you MY favourite pictures that I have taken this year, and a bit of why they are special to me.
This picture was taken on one of my favourite days all year, when I got up early after a snowstorm to wander Marblehead as the sun rose. I wrote a whole post about this day – so serene and stunning, it remains one of the best days of the year.
Boston coffee at its best. Most people are Dunkin’ people or Starbucks people. Whether they are next to each other or across the street, they almost always offer you the chance to choose between them, in Boston anyway.
Me? Cold brew Dunkin’, even in the depths of winter.
Next Stop Wonderland was a movie, and when I started riding the subways regularly in the 90s, was still announced by the driver. So, usually was, ‘Nexxop, Wondaland’
I love this picture of the light glistening off ice starting to drip from the tree branches as the sun began to warm the world after a day and night of snow. I sat under this tree watching for some time, until I was dripped on.
February started as a month of new beginnings, with a new job for me. This picture was taken at the end of a day in week three, as the sun set down Perth Road. Hard to beat a good winter sunset.
Speaking of sunsets, here’s another, one of my favourite nearby views including the old rail bridge and the River Eden.
And to counter the previous two, a sunrise – specifically the sun rising over St Andrews, a view I have captured 100s of times but never tire of, especially on a golden morning like this one. February was a rough month for us, but mornings like this one helped.
One Saturday in March I took a late morning walk on East Sands, and it was a gorgeous sunny day at low tide. It is hard not to love this view of St Andrews.
My morning walks in spring are often joined by the local small family of deer. I like to think that they get used to me and are less afraid of the woman in a purple coat who is always taking pictures.
The deer on this morning were so completely un-bothered by me.
Most of April was consumed with work, but I did my best to get out for an evening stroll whenever I could. I loved this one daffodil standing up against the setting sun.
Early in May, I took myself on a solo adventure to Castle Campbell. This stunning blue sky against the Ochils just filled me with joy.
Out of work for the month of May, I found myself free to have the occasional Friday evening pint at our local haunt. What a spectacular evening view. Though I do have a thing for bridges.
A hiking trip in support of the Step Count Challenge took some friends and I to the Hermitage, in Perthshire. It does not get much more fairytale-perfect.
Another day trip found me in Kenmore; I just cannot take enough pictures of this bridge, but this one with the distant loch and mountains peeking through is one of my favourites.
We also travelled south to visit friends for Eurovision weekend. As always when we visit Romsey, we went on a long walk through the medieval parts of the town, where the gardens are always stunning. Many happy memories.
Driving back from Oban, we enjoyed a day of almost perfect weather. We stopped at the Stalker View café and this perfect view awaited us. I love the hint of rhododendron in the corner.
While I have hundreds of pictures of this view, this one reminds me of a very special day – the end of final exams celebration for a student I worked with for years. She fought long and hard to get to this day, and I was so proud to see her soaking wet and grinning. (a St Andrews tradition)
We had a near perfect day in Oban when we first arrived – stunning blue sky and bright sun. This picture seems to cover it all – the monument on the hill, the harbour and the distillery and high street.
I positively fell in love with the rock-lined sandy beaches of Mull. How could you not?
This was our lunch view, looking over clear water with bobbing sailboats reminiscent of the Caribbean. But on Iona. Reminds me of a peaceful and moving day on the ancient isle.
June in Scotland is all about flowers. These lightly pink blossoms line the streets and woodland paths, and I love them.
One day in June, I sat in my in-laws’ garden and took pictures of the birds. Their garden is always full of feeders and birds of every kind, and this photo in particular is in memory of my father-in-law.
July was the first month of travel with my new job, and I found that I really loved the city of Toronto. This picture seemed to encompass both the old and new feels of the city.
The V&A Museum in Dundee held a fascinating exhibit on kimono, both old styles and new. It was beautifully presented, and I loved this mirrored display.
The pinnacle of summer in St Andrews is the Lammas Market. Held on the last weekend before kids return to school, a fun fair fills the streets of the town in an event that is somehow both very modern and incredibly ancient in feel. I have always been fascinated by the juxtaposition of old stone buildings and bright garish rides.
I travelled a lot in September, starting off with a trip home – I had not been home in September in many years and I almost forgot how beautiful late summer in New England can be. Almost. And of course this view is one of the best in Marblehead.
This was also my first 9/11 in the US since 2001. It was incredibly moving for me to be in a school on that day and learn how the teachers were ensuring the next generation remembered the day with the same poignancy as those who lived through it.
One evening, I drove from Houston to Dallas. It was a great drive and I loved this totally deserted rest area where I stopped for a short break. No question I was in Texas.
In the otherwise rather standard hotel I stayed in, they offered Texas-shaped waffles on a Sunday morning. The epitome of Texas and the US. Made me so very happy.
I love a good churchyard, and this one in Dunvegan on Skye was both old and beautifully kept.
Sunset on Skye. Seldom gets better, and this will always remind me of the little cottage in which we stayed, overlooking the fields and water.
On this stunning clear night, I stood outside with my camera for almost an hour playing with settings until I managed to get them just right. Sheep in the nearby field were baaing their impatience with me, but otherwise it was totally silent and peaceful. Heaven.
It is always nice when the sky is blue, but the Highlands lend themselves just as well to clouds and partial sun. I loved this view of rocks, loch, hills and ocean beyond.
That said, the day we started our drive home was sunny and gorgeous, so I could not resist a stop at Sligachan Bridge, which had been overcast on our last visit. I pride myself on staying dry while managing this under-the-bridge picture of the distant Cuillins.
October was an another busy month of travel, including my first ever visit to Southern California. This picture, taken out of my hotel window on my first night in CA, was a precursor to a really great – if busy – trip.
I found myself drawn to the Californian mountains. They were rugged like the Highlands but dry in their starkness. And stunning in the evening light.
As I recently wrote about, one morning I took myself on an adventure to Laguna Beach. I was entirely on my own and knew nothing about where I was going, but had a wonderful morning in the sun. There were so many gorgeous pictures to be had, but this of the palms and sea and sand was my favourite.
Bangkok was a city about which I knew very little. I found myself fascinated by the architecture, the greenery, the heat, and even the BTS sky train. Always crowded, always hot, and often beautiful in the way only a city can be, Bangkok surprised me.
In one of the more surreal nights of this year, colleagues and I were taken on a river boat cruise in Bangkok. The night skyline was even more beautiful, and it was a magical night.
This is one of my favourite picutres of the whole year, encapsulating the elegance of the ancient temple and the bustle of modern Thailand. I completely fell in love with the city of Chiang Mai and hope I can return!
Finally, in November, I returned to New England to finally see the autumn colours (or tail end of them) and do my job in my home town of Boston. The weather was gorgeous, as the area was in drought, and I was there for the full moon. It was a fitting end to a year of lots of travel to new places, and plenty of opportunities for pictures.
Clockwise from top left: Full moon rising over Marblehead harbour, a stunning tree at Worcester Academy, the statue of George Washington looking over the Boston Public Garden, a stunning red Japanese maple in Mt Auburn Cemetery, and Marblehead harbour at night.
I hope you have enjoyed this photographic trip through my year! Have you checked out my online shop yet?
The last month has a been a whirlwind of work – adjusting to my new job and to the travel it requires has taken a toll on me, but as October moves into November I have been able to take time to rest and review. In doing so, this post formed in my mind.
A few weeks past, in the midst of a busy work trip, I was lucky enough to find myself with a free weekend morning. Originally I had big plans for explorations of the Los Angeles area further north, but a week of traffic and driving did me in and I chose a closer option.
I was staying in Santa Ana and had visited Laguna Beach earlier in the week on a school visit; on that occasion it was swathed in thick fog, with buildings and palm trees just peeking out of the mist. There was a proper Pirates of the Caribbean vibe, with Spanish-inspired architecture a common site.
(side note, I was surprised to discover that almost every morning I was in Orange County was overcast or foggy, but apparently that was not unusual for the time of year).
I had not had time to explore during my weekday visit, and so on Sunday I hopped in the car as soon as I got up and headed south. Even the drive is breath-taking, cutting through the California hills that are as stark as parts of the Scottish Highlands, but a very different colour. I had discovered earlier in the week that several California highways pass through the mountains, making me wish beyond anything that California offered the parking spots and pull-over options that you get in the UK and the White Mountains. My GPS took me along Rt 133, which approaches Laguna Beach from the North-East, the last few miles snaking through high ridges (another option takes you along the coast, but this was less direct). There are periodic parking lots along the 133 for hikers and the myriad of trails winding up into the hills.
Making a mental note to return to one of these trails, I headed into town and found a place to park at one of the several public lots, this one covered so that the car would not overheat. It was far from free – $9 for three hours – but I was not planning a long trip and it was a special day, so I was very happy to pay.
From the parking lot off Glenneyre Street I decided first to make my way up-hill to see St Francis by the Sea, a Catholic church apparently listed in the Guinness Book of World Records as the second smallest cathedral in the world. It was a really cute wee spot, but my exploration was curtailed by the fact that I could hear the service taking place inside as I walked by, so I took a few pictures before heading back downhill.
It was a short walk down to the water, passing the local library with very entertaining benches (see below) and several shops that were not yet open though looked appealing.
I reached the beach front in less than five minutes, and it was early enough in the day that the sky was still overcast. The sun was just thinking about peeking through the clouds, with lighter patches promising where it would first defeat the gloom, but in the meantime the cooler temperature allowed several teams of energetic folk to play volleyball in the sand. There was also, to my delight, a small market with local artists and a jewellery-maker who used sea glass in her art. I could not resist picking up a pair of earrings…or two. Behind the fair, the town stretched back towards the hill, which was layered in houses that I can only imagine have spectacular views over the coastline.
The scene by the beach was classic California – a wooden board walk lining the sandy beach with crashing waves where some brave souls were swimming and surfing. A huge range of people walked and sat on benches: young and old, all races and socioeconomic status. There were homeless people with their belongings, dog walkers and people-watchers, families with young children building sandcastles and playing in the surf, a group of young men working to get a jet-ski into the water, tourists like me, and well-muscled and bronzed lifeguards keeping an eye on everyone (yes this is cliché, but evidently for a good reason). We were all kept company by a group of what I think must have been sandpipers, alternately chasing waves and running back up to the dry sand.
I made my way along the beach and up a set of steps that climbed to the top of the cliff and the California Coastal Trail. I was a touch surprised to see the tsunami evacuation route sign, but I suppose only for its novelty – it is not something we have on the East Coast!
The path follows the cliff top for miles, with viewpoints and plenty of side-entertainments in the form of statues, a war memorial, tropical flowers, gorgeous palms and cacti. There is also a spectacular bird rock covered in what looked like cormorant (though may also be brown pelican) just off the coast – the waves crashed around it but never seemed it disrupt its occupants.
At times the path was built out away from the cliff and it was always well-kept, clean and free of any kind of litter. The further I walked, the sunnier it got and the busier the path became with walkers and tourists. I passed plenty of locals out for exercise – many with pets – birdwatchers and a few photoshoots being taken of special events – a wedding and a quinceañera I think – against the spectacular backdrop. Despite being very much in an urban setting, there was plenty of wildlife – mostly avian – to enjoy, and the scent of the sea was refreshing and omnipresent.
Eventually my need for a cold – and caffeinated – drink turned me back towards the town, but not before one last walk along the beach including a small and accidental dip in the waves. Yes, I was too busy filming to notice one coming a bit closer than expected…
The sun on the waves was just too beautiful to ignore, and the view of the town was excellent.
With slightly wet feet, I walked up the pedestrian Forest Ave where there are high-quality restaurants, bistros, and shops. I stopped for a break at a Parisian-style bakery called C’est la Vie – excellent coffee and an enormous pain au chocolat that I enjoyed with my dinner that night.
After a quick stop at a local shop to top up my dinner supplies, I headed back to the car and programmed in one of the ‘staging areas’ along Rt 133 that offers parking for the hiking trails. While it was a bit challenging to turn left across the traffic, I made it there in very little time and managed to pay for parking. In a massive shift of biomes, I found myself now in a desert scrub-type area, with the trail dry dust beneath my feet and the hills rising around me a mix of brown-green and just brown rock or dirt. But, I had sunscreen, water, and determination, so despite the sun beating down mercilessly, I set off on what I promised myself would be a short walk on the Willow Canyon trail. I just wanted a viewpoint, and I figured it could not be TOO far to reach one.
I said to the other half later that it felt very much like the start of a story where someone disappears – a hot sunny day, a hiking trail, and no one to miss me for hours if not days. My imagination ran away with me slightly, partly due to heat, but I was far from alone – I passed people every few minutes, so I knew that even if I were to slip and fall, someone would find me in good time. I also had a phone and full bottle of water, and I had no intention of walking more than a mile.
The trail started flat and in shade of some trees, with lovely rock formations off to the right that looked very TV-California.
In little time it curved off to the right and began to climb – a wide, dusty road that was clearly well-used by hikers, bikers, and horses. My fitness was not at tip-top by any stretch but I could see what I thought was a good place to turn around and see the view, ‘just up ahead’. So, I paused several times and availed myself of plenty of water, and kept pushing – up and up past my first ‘I’ll turn back there’ point, as every time I reached one I could see what looked like a viewpoint just ahead.
In all fairness, I do not think I hiked more than a mile and a half or so, but it was quite steep in places and the mid-day sun was sapping my strength quickly. I had nearly determined to turn around when I finally caught sight of a small sign indicating a viewpoint up ahead. I pushed a bit further and was far from disappointed when the trail swung around sharply to the left, leaving a stunning view across the valley in both directions. Behind were the hills leading towards the coast, and ahead the hills and valleys that eventually flattened out into the populated areas. In the distance, one can just make out what I think must be Rt 73, which I had driven south a few days before.
The hot, sweaty hike was very much worth the view from the top! And despite my knee injury acting up on my way down, I was so happy and proud of myself for the walk. Plus, there was an ice machine back at the hotel for sore joints…
All in all, it was a fantastic morning that allowed me to release some of my work stress and feel like I had a proper California experience. Travelling for work has its ups and downs for sure – it can be lonely, exhausting, jet-lag inducing, and hotels and hotel food can be depressing. But, it can also open the door for experiences like this one, and another I had in Thailand a few weeks later. A subject for my next post!
October has been a whirlwind of work travel and so I have not had time to sit down and write as I hope to do each week. I started this post a few weeks back, when my memory of the walk was fresh, but now have finally been able to finish.
On our recent return to Skye, Dad and I chose a more challenging hike for our first day, and so by day two were looking for something gentle to keep us moving but not over-tire.
The solution was to dig out my Isle of Skye walks book, one of a series that I have been collecting. While there are plenty of walking books out there including the Ordinance Survey series – excellent options that tend towards longer trails – I have found these smaller books to be a wealth of knowledge for shorter strolls.
It took us only a few minutes to decide upon the Two Churches walk, an option I had noted for future exploration on our last visit, and helpfully located only about fifteen minutes away.
The Two Churches walk is about 3km long, a relatively flat loop with a combination of well-kept moorland paths, forest trail, and a short section on the roadside. It leaves from a well-signed lay-by with enough parking for between 5-10 vehicles; we found it almost empty, as many of our fellow walkers were clearly locals.
The path starts just to the right of the ruins of St Mary’s Church. It is a well-kept trail with a slow incline. There is a plaque with details about the walk and its route, as well as some of the birds you may see along the way (though we did not). You get nice views back towards the churchyard, with grassland on both sides. On the day we visited it was mostly dry though I imagine it would be muddy at times, and once the path turns rockier a bit further on, it could be slippery in the wet. I would definitely recommend good sneakers or walking boots to traipse through the puddles.
The walk passes through a farm gate, and continues through patches of gorse and other prickly plants. In spring and summer it would be gorgeous and yellow, though I am quite allergic to gorse so was pleased that the blooms had passed. Only a few minutes in, the path enters a light forest, and going through another gate finds you walking through trees and ferns. It reminded me in many ways of trails in the White Mountains, though the flora was slightly different of course. As the path swings around to the left, the deciduous trees turn mostly to pines, and the trail is surrounded by great tall trees, all very straight in the manner of a planned forest. I had learned that on some estates these tall pines were planted for ship-building, but by the time they grew the industry had moved past using wood. Great expanses of pines in the Highlands were therefore left, though the acidity in falling needles meant little could grow beneath. (This information came mostly from a fantastic series I watched years ago called ‘Making Scotland’s Landscape‘ presented by a Scottish professor of Geoscience.)
It is a lovely peaceful walk with not too much up and down – though there are a few climbs and dips to be had – and we passed several sets of joggers and plenty of dog-walkers, showing the path is clearly popular with locals. There is not much to be seen beyond forest in this stretch, though as the path continues to circle around there is one open viewpoint through which the power cable runs, and through which you can see the loch and the house and mountains on the far side.
After the viewpoint you can hear and at times see the road below the path to the right, and as you approach the end of the forested section, we discovered that the local school had designed fairy houses in the trees and rocks. They were a charming combination of modern and very old-fashioned in design, with a little village at the bottom of a small cliff.
As you leave the fairy town behind, you soon come to the second of the two churches, the Duirinish Parish Church, which unlike St Mary’s is still very much in use. Here the path meets the road, and there is a short stretch of shops and buildings. There is an option for a short detour up to a memorial for those lost in battle, and the site overlooks the town and loch with lovely views.
The trail follows the road up and around the corner to the left, returning to the lay-by. At this point, Dad and I decided we still wished to explore the church ruins and the standing stone on the top of the hill. We started in the church, which was likely to have been founded in the Middle Ages due to its alignment, though the parish dates to the post-reformation period. The stone enclosure of the site dates from the 1730s, and the church was the burial site for some Chiefs of Clan MacLeod as well as their hereditary pipers, the MacCrimmons. It is a beautiful ruin with lovely carvings in the nave, trees overlooking the now roof-less church, and graves of varying ages dotted around the property. It reminded me in some way of Old Burial Hill in Marblehead, though again that may just be my affinity for graveyards!
After exploring the church we felt it was still required that we climb to the top of the nearby hill, where the local community had raised a standing stone referred to as the ‘Duirinish Stone’.
I was a touch disappointed to discover that it was modern and not authentically ancient, but not disappointed enough to miss a visit. The stone was raised on the event of the Millennium as a marker in time, and to celebrate the memory of the ancient settlers of the area. It was found on a beach in the south of the island, and it was erected using ancient methods – hand and rope – an impressive feat! So not ancient, but actually authentic.
In order to reach the path, one has to exit the churchyard completely and then follow the edge of the wall until the trail branches off to the left through the grass. It is not a long walk in any way though the top is quite steep and requires a bit of scrambling. There is a detour about half-way up where hikers have clearly discovered a good viewpoint.
The top of the hill is larger than it looks from a distance – and I imagine there is a less steep path than mine – and the views are spectacular. We could see some rain coming in the distance so did not loiter long, but I got my fill of pictures while Dad wandered a bit.
Upon returning to the car, we both felt the need of refreshment after our roughly two-hour walk and exploration of the church and hill. Fortunately, the town has several options for food and we stopped into the Dunvegan Deli and Café, where I had purchased a few extra snacks on our previous visit. The café does not offer lunch but does sell coffee, tea and an impressive array of excellent cakes. The tables overlook the loch, and it was a very pleasant place to sit with a cuppa to relax. It was also the perfect spot to pick up some dinner supplies: pasta, sauce, and a delicious local cheese, plus of course another cake for dessert. Their range of food includes crackers, jams and jellies, Highland honey, cheese and some cured meats, local ale, and much more!
This is a very pleasant walk for a morning or afternoon, long enough to work out sore muscles from the day before but not enough to add to exhaustion. The views of the loch and mountains are lovely, and this could easily be combined with a visit to Dunvegan Castle which is only a mile or two further along the road. And definitely, if you have time, stop into the Dunvegan Café for a snack!
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The stretch of road just south of Fort William leading through Glencoe and across Rannoch Moor is hands down one of my favourite driving routes in the world. No matter the weather, I cannot help but smile at the approach – even on the days when the rain is pouring sideways and the wind is trying to blow the car off the narrow road, as it did on one occasion which felt like driving through a hurricane. In good weather, it is simply breath-taking. In bad weather, it is atmosphere, dramatic, and a touch frightening. Either way, one should only attempt the drive when rested, confident, and possessing a full tank of petrol. Or at least a car that can make it at least 100 miles on the tank it has.
Sometimes the road is relatively clear, but most of the time it is on the crowded side, with visitors, tour busses, delivery lorries and of course locals just trying to make their way from point A to point B all crowding up the narrow highway. If stuck behind a lorry or bus, you can find your speed significantly diminished, and some will take risks to overtake. Needless to say, do this only if you feel comfortable and safe. Otherwise you just have to suck it up and enjoy the scenery – darn.
So here we are, a step-by-step of the drive, stopping at all of my favourite viewpoints.
Part 1: Fort William to Onich – 10 miles
The A82 route from Fort William to Onich is about 10 miles, and hugs the edge of Loch Linnhe. For most of the route, the trees block the view of the water, but there are a few gaps and parking spots where you can pull over – in particular the Linnhe Picnic Area, about 7 miles along, which is a spit of land sticking out into the loch and providing views in both directions.
This stretch of road is winding, no question, with few straight bits. My advice? Pay attention if the signs warn you of a sharp turn.
We have never stopped properly in Onich but it seems a nice little town with a few hotels, guesthouses and B&Bs taking advantage of the proximity of Fort William and Glencoe.
Part 2: Onich to Ballachulish – 4.5 miles
From Onich, it is a simple matter of following the A82 across the Ballachulish Bridge, which spans Loch Leven. Once across you can head straight south towards Oban, and this is also a beautiful drive along the water, but my route will take you left towards Glencoe.
Almost as soon as you turn you will be heading immediately for a distinctive sharp peak called the Pap of Glencoe, and beyond it ridges of mountains leading east. On our first ever long weekend away together, the other half and I found a deal at the Isles of Glencoe Hotel in Ballachulish, which sits on a promontory in the loch. The views are just spectacular, especially at sunset. If you can, pull over at the parking area along the loch just after the hotel, or even turn into the village and get a coffee or snack at Crafts and Things. It was more than 10 years ago that we visited, but the other half still fondly remembers sitting in the April sun, looking over the loch with a cuppa and a tiffin.
You can also take a quick detour left into the Loch Leven viewpoint (above), which as it suggests provides a view down the loch towards the bridge, at this point obscured by islands. Mountains rise in the distance and give you a preview of what is to come. This is also the route to the Glencoe Lochan walks.
Part 3: Ballachulish to Loch Achtriochtan – 5.5 miles
After Ballachulish the road turns inland away from the loch, and enters Glen Coe proper. Only 2 miles along on the right is the Glencoe Visitor Centre, where you can learn about the region and the famous massacre of 1692.
Mountains are rising on both sides of the road and ahead, often a combination of brown-grey scree and stone with lighter green patches of heather and ferns, and darker green foliage. The road here is in relatively good shape with a few potholes, and many drivers slow down both due to the sharp turns and the views. Enjoy the width of the lane while you can!
Another mile or so south, the road swings more sharply east to continue along the glen. Ahead of you the A82 stretches along the valley and then begins to climb, and ahead to the right is Loch Achtriochtan.
It can be a very busy and treacherous stretch of road, with drivers going faster than they should and plenty of tour busses and caravans, so I recommend pulling into the Loch Achtriochtan car park. Here you can either pause at the bridge, or cross to make friends with some sheep and approach the waterside. This spot allows you to capture the gorgeous hillsides and loch.
There is also apparently a turn-off around here to view Hagrid’s hut from the Harry Potter films, though I have never done so.
Part 4: Loch Achtriochtan to the Three Sisters viewpoint – 2 miles
Once you have dragged yourself away form the the loch, it is two miles further to the pièce de résistance of this drive – the view of the Three Sisters of Glencoe. Until quite recently, there were several places you could turn off and you were often taking your life in your hands trying to park and find a safe place to get back onto the road. In the last year or two however they have built a proper car park – and another one for tour busses – to allow the many visitors to safely park and explore. There are a few parking spots slightly further up the road too, and there are paths leading down into the valley or up the hillsides.
The Three Sisters of Glencoe is one of the most photographed spots in Scotland and only a visit need tell you why. I have countless pictures from different times of year and I can never decide which one I prefer. Some day soon I hope to do some of the walk down into the valley and across the bridge, though I know I do not have the fitness or skills needed to venture too much further up into the hills at this point. Aonach Eagach Car Park is another good option but often too busy to find a space. It is at the trailhead for the Lost Valley trail and provides a slightly different view of the valley.
Side note: if it seems at this point as if you are just driving a few miles and then stopping again, you’re not wrong, but I promise the stops are worth it. If you get bored, skip one! But if this is your only trip to Scotland, I’d take advantage of them all.
Part 5 – Three Sisters Viewpoint to Meeting of the Three Waters viewpoint – less than 1 mile
Yes, this is a short drive. I had passed it by many times before I made myself actually stop on one beautiful autumn day. The waters are, as it sounds, three separate rivers (Allt Coire Gabhail, Allt Doire-bheith and the River Coe) that meet here at a pool and series of waterfalls, before continuing down the glen towards the lochs.
There is a short climb from the car park that takes you up the rocks and over the waterfall, and the start of the climb is a bit ropey. But, once you have clambered up the hill, you reach a stunning viewpoint that shows you the newly built road, the falls, and the burn heading up into the mountains. There is a pool where I have seen people swimming – brave souls – and of course a trail that follows the burn. I dragged my octogenerian father up to see the view and I think even he was impressed. It is easy to see here the old military road, which was in modern times replaced by the route of the A82.
One point I should make is that in that .7 miles between the two spots, you are driving along a narrow road.
At one point, the highway cuts through the hillside, with solid rock towering on either side, and leaving very little room for error. Not that anyone would err…
It can be a bit harrowing even after several goes, so take it slow and easy.
It is very easy to miss the parking spot for the Meeting of the Three Waters
and this is not an easy place to turn around, so definitely use your Google/Applemaps or whatever Satnav system you prefer to warn you.
Part 6 – Meeting of the Three Waters to the Kingshouse Hotel – 5 miles
Beyond this parking spot are plenty more viewpoints and places where you can pull over, and it’s really about deciding how often you want to stop, and how busy they are. Sometimes there are so many cars parked in a small spot that you really cannot safely get off of the road. Once you have had your fill of waterfalls, you can make a bit of headway as the road opens up a bit with mountains on either side. Eventually the road will hug the edge of Rannoch Moor, and this is where in bad weather you can really start to feel the car being blown about.
The Kingshouse Hotel is a popular stopping place though they are strict about people coming in just for the view. I would love to stay and know friends who were married here during the pandemic – this area is famous for the amazing views of the mountain, Buachaille Etive Mór. You can also take a detour here and drive part of the way down Loch Etive, though as yet I have not done so. Some trip, one day!
Part 7 – Kingshouse Hotel to the Loch Ba viewpoint – 5 miles
Just after the hotel you will pass the turn-off to the Glencoe Ski resort – the trails are evident – and the mountains stay a bit closer on the right though they start to fall away on the left, as the moor creeps closer. This is quintessential Scotland, in my mind – boggy moor with mountains in the distance, countless little burns falling over rocks and carving their way down from hills and across the landscape. Rocks poke through either on their own or in clusters and chunks, covered in lichen and reminding one just how thin the soil is here. There are a few lone trees, but most of the landscape is relatively barren.
The final place that I cannot resist stopping is the Loch Ba viewpoint. There is usually plenty of space to pull over, and it is easy to see coming due to the lump of land that marks the view. Climbing this short hillock allows for 360 views, though it is the one almost due east that I love the most – glistening loch with plenty of small islands, leading away into the wilderness.
Behind you are the peaks of Glencoe, and ahead just the road, leading towards the next hills in the distance. I can understand why some might assess it as stark, but I think it is gorgeous.
Part 8 – Loch Ba viewpoint to Crianlarich – 19 miles
About three miles beyond the Loch Ba viewpoint, you realise how high the road still is when it suddenly, dramatically, begins to fall. There is a sharp descent through an s-bend that can challenge lorries and busses coming the other direction, though there is also a large parking area to pull over in if needed. From here, the road is a bit less dramatic though still stunning, crossing the Loch Tulla bridge and winding its way across the valley floor before climbing again.
One of your last views of the lochs and lowland of the edge of the moor comes at the far side of Loch Tulla, where there is a small parking area, but the views are better in person than in pictures. From here, the A82 is heading almost due south, passing through a number of villages and meeting up with the rail line that runs from Glasgow to Fort William. Bridge of Orchy and Tyndrum stand out as the two larger towns, with Tyndrum in particular possessing several hotels, petrol stations – if you can get in – and the Green Welly stop which has always been so busy that we haven’t been able to get in. For some reason there always seems to be a large gathering of motorcycles here.
Tyndrum is also where the highway branches off towards Oban, and from here south can get busier. The remainder of the drive to Crianlarich is following the River Fillian and its many small tributaries; mountains continue to dominate on both sides though they are slightly less dramatic than further north.
Crianlarich is another smallish town that has become significant for those heading to the Highlands. Firstly, it is where the road branches either to continue south towards Loch Lomond and Glasgow as the A82, or east to Loch Earn and Perth as the A85. Secondly, it is where the rail line divides. As I mentioned in my exploring Scotland by public transport post, the train from Glasgow north can go either to Fort William or Oban, and Crianlarich is where it stops long enough for the train to either split in two, or be re-joined. There is also a significant hiking peak, Ben More, not far from town, and plenty of places to stop for the night.
Part 9 – Crianlarich to Lochearnhead – 16 miles
The 16 miles from Crianlarich to Lochearnhead is highlighted by a bit wider road, and slightly lower mountains, though still offers glimpses of lochs off to the left. Just over half-way is the turn-off to Killin, where one can view the Falls of Dochart. There is also what I will always refer to as my emergency petrol station – on my last drive back with Dad, I misjudged how much petrol we had and could not see a place to stop in Crianlarich, so was running on fumes by the time we reached this spot. I was considering just going into Killin where I knew there was petrol, but this station saved us and allowed us to continue without a detour.
After the emergency petrol station, the road climbs and winds again through what is clearly planned woodland. One of the most dramatic parts of the drive is as this path falls again, with the road hugging the mountainside and a sharp drop on one side. Ahead, though, is Perthshire and in what feels like no time at all, you enter Lochearnhead, and take a left to stay on the A85. While there is not a huge amount here, there is a safe and relatively clean public toilet that can be a godsend if you have not stopped anywhere except viewpoints since Fort William.
Part 10 – Lochearnhead to Crieff – 19 miles
The drive along Loch Earn is beautiful. The loch itself is long and narrow, with plenty of well-to-do houses along the edge and water sports galore: paddleboarding, sailing, swimming and fishing are all advertised. Especially on a sunny day, the glimpses of glistening water through the trees make you want to stop and find a boat of your own.
The drive from one end to the other is about 7 miles, and the town at the far end – St Fillians – is a charming village with plenty of Victorian-era gingerbread-style houses and lovely gardens. After St Fillians, the driving is much more lowland, with farms on either side, sheep fields and stunning stone farmhouses dotted between stands of trees and hills.
Crieff itself is an excellent spot to stop for a snack if you need, or you can push on through towards Perth – another 15 miles. This road offers a more Fife and lowland feel. Fields stretch off into the disttance over rolling hills, and the distant Ochils on the horizon. I have never liked this stretch but I think it’s at least partly because I know I’m heading away from the mountains, and that never ceases to make me a bit sad.
Once you have done the circular drive from Perth to Fort William and back again, you will quickly decide which leg you prefer and where you like to stop. I’m fond of both routes really, though I find myself often preferring the northerly loop as it can be a touch faster, traffic depending. I am looking forward to trying it again…tomorrow!
The Wandering Medievalist 