Last year in December, struggling to think of a post, I decided to pull together and share some of my favourite pictures from the past year; many o them I have not shared before, or have only done briefly in an Instagram story. It struck me that this might be a nice tradition to start.
Throughout the year, wherever I am and no matter how tired I am, taking pictures of the beauty around me keeps me inspired. 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. They are, for the most part, entirely unedited except for some cropping.
When I was young and growing up in Massachusetts, every autumn we would go apple picking, and the apple of choice was McIntosh. So, I grew up eating them in pies, applesauce, and of course straight off the tree. They are seldom found in Scotland though, and so when I found these at House of Bruar, I was overjoyed.
We visited House of Bruar on a cold January afternoon, and we left in time to drive home mostly in daylight, with the hilltops frosty. I love winter and this picture reminds me of that lovely day in Perthshire.
St Andrews is one of the most photogenic places on earth, and I used to get up early just to catch the sunrise here. Fortunately, in January, the early part is not required.
We had very little snow this past winter, but on visiting Loch Leven we discovered a dusting had made it inland. I loved this hill half-hidden by cloud.
The winter months are by far the best for night sky, if only because it gets so very dark. Nonetheless, this picture was taken in the middle of an unlit field and shows the rather extreme light pollution here in Fife.
I decided to show off my new camera case patch with this posed picture on my walk along Tentsmuir. Love how it turned out.
Dundee is not always thought of as the prettiest city, but on this day walking from Tayport to the bridge, we caught the river in stillness as the tide turned. I love the reflections.
I have 100s of versions of this view, but this is one of my favourites, with frost just touching the flowering gorse on a grey and silver morning.
Sunrise over a frosty field. Does it get better?
I did this walk every day in lockdown, and it is still the best way to start off any day.
In March we drove up to Ballachulish for a long weekend, and stopped at the Loch Ba viewpoint. The loch is behind me, but this view of the sun fighting through the clouds was just as impressive.
Our favourite snack spot in Glencoe since our first weekend away in 2009. Great coffee and an even better view.
On our first morning, the cold night had left a heavy frost over everything, and there is nothing I love more than white mountains against a crystal blue sky. Also shows our hotel’s excellent location.
Frosty mountains are definitely one of my things…I can’t not take a picture. Just as my other half.
On a clear night, we drove to Loch Achtriochtan in Glencoe to try to get some excellent star pictures. A full moon rising and the busy road made for far too much light pollution, but I like this picture anyway, especially as that isn’t the sun setting behind the hills – that light is just from the moon.
April blossoms, stunning colour contrast.
I spent my childhood playing on this island in Marblehead, long before it was cleared or with a bench to enjoy the view. Still, it brings back so many fond memories to see it.
One of my favourite views in Marblehead, overlapping Colonial houses and rocky gardens. The old town in a nutshell.
Old North Bridge in Concord MA, the location of the shot heard round the world.
Mostly I just love reflections.
May was the month in which I really focussed on my fitness and in making a dent in my Coastal Path plans. The weather cooperated most of the time, but not always, like this rainy day when I walked from Newport to Balmerino. It is Scotland after all. No one would believe me if it was always sunny.
That said, most of my walk WAS sunny. Cellardyke harbour on this Saturday morning was calm and quiet, and just the epitome of the East Neuk.
I love a good flower against the sun picture. Had you noticed?
The walk into Crail is simply stunning, and when I completed this section the poppies were just blooming. The town is in the background, but the stunning red was the subject for this picture.
San Antonio in June. Whose idea was that?
Taken relatively early in the day, this picture shows the heat that would come.
I fell in love with the Riverwalk in, and I have plenty of daytime pictures. But this one shows what is clearly an old building, just as the evening begins. So much promise of the night’s entertainment to be had!
While I was visiting my father in Puerto Rico, we climbed a mountain. We hiked up through the cloudy mist, and never quite came out above it. It doesn’t matter if you get rained on here, and I like the mysterious feel.
Flowers and castle ruins.
I did several more chunks of the Coastal Path in July, and there was no shortage of these small yellow beauties.
I also visited London, where the roses were in full bloom around St Paul’s Cathedral. I can’t miss a rose.
Durham Cathedral and Castle from the train. The sun was setting and the medieval stones glowed orange and yellow. Breath-taking.
Most towns in the East Neuk have small gardens planted in or around a fishing dinghy, like this one. One of the many echoes in this area of New England.
Who doesn’t enjoy a photobomb by a seagull? Well, I sure do.
Sea roses are a special kind of delicate, and remind me of summers on Cape Cod. This picture could be taken on either side of the Atlantic (though it was of course in Fife, near Kinghorn)
It was such a dry summer in Scotland that the leaves started to turn an orange-brown even in late August. Super calm water, and you can just see St Andrews in the distance.
Summer late light. I cannot resist.
One cool evening in early September, four of us trooped out to West Sands to see if we could catch the Aurora. We did.
Plane views are a big thing with the amount of travel I do now. The flight into San Francisco included these fantastic vistas of the mountains of eastern California and western Nevada.
Pure Americana, in the perfectly mid-west town of Columbus, Ohio.
Another plane view!
I have visited and enjoyed many cities, and would happily live in many of them. But none will ever surpass Boston (even with a cloud obscuring downtown).
A misty late September morning – five minutes later this had cleared. Silver and grey again, just beautiful.
To me, this picture is the epitome of Florida: palms, beach grapes, a pool and a hotel. I loved even this small hotel view.
Travelling in Connecticut in October reminded me why New England is famed for its autumn. I’ve even written a post about it. I stopped the car briefly coming out of a parking lot to take this – gorgeous.
Autumn colour in Perthshire. Always gold and orange, even in a dry year like this one.
I absolutely fell in love with this view of the sun rising over Mexico City’s distant mountain barrier. They were never as clear as before the sun rose, and an hour later were obscured by haze.
I was fascinated by these mountains, peeking out of the otherwise civilised centre of Mexico.
My one coastal path walk in November was on a cloudy windy day, with the sun fighting through. I loved this view with crashing grey waves and some blue sky.
A heavy frost on my morning walk. I took so many plant pictures this morning…
Full moon rising – just managed to catch it before it disappeared into the clouds again.
Rising sun in Marblehead on the shortest day of the year, taken across a partially frozen Redd’s Pond. Gorgeous morning to be out and about.
And finally, to wrap up…
This is my absolute favourite picture I took all year; I’ve shared it before, but I want to share it again – the snow, the light through the clouds, the still loch. And the memories it evokes, of a lovely weekend away hiking and enjoying late winter in the Highlands.
Loch Leven and Glencoe, Scottish Highlands
I hope you have enjoyed this photographic trip through my year! Have you checked out my online shop yet?
Autumn and winter compete as my favourite seasons of the year, both for photography and life in general. There are few things that make me happier than a snowstorm and snow scape (see my post about Marblehead in snow). That said, the colours of autumn are just stunning, be they orange, red, gold, or anything in between. This year in particular, I had two trips that reminded me of the spectacular nature of autumn on both sides of the Atlantic; and I am lucky enough to call both regions home – or very close to it.
As I have written about before, Pitlochry is a special place for us, and one to which we return regularly. Our first weekend away in November many years ago allowed us to catch the very end of the autumn colour, but this year we chose to take a day trip on my weekend at home, and we caught some gorgeous golds and yellows (despite the often overcast weather). My favourite point on the drive, which I have mentioned before, is just as you turn a corner on the A9, and on this trip we could see just the start of the colour.
In Pitlochry, we parked at the edge of town and meandered our way through the crowds (yes, even a small town in Perthshire has crowds), then down to Loch Faskally and the famous Pitlochry dam, where there is a fish ladder and excellent views in both directions. We crossed the dam and walked a short way around the loch, where we could look back on the trees still in sunshine.
The standard walking loop in Pitlochry goes across the dam and then down the far side of the river, past the Festival Theatre. This theatre reminds me very much of the North Shore Music Theatre which I visited frequently while growing up, for its eclectic shows and unique nature. I have never actually attended a show here, but some day soon…
Not far beyond the theatre, the street passes by some stone cottages on one side and an inn on the other, then walkers must pay close attention not to miss the narrow entrance to the turn-off across the pedestrian suspension bridge. From this bridge, the view looking back towards the dam and the river is fantastic.
Once across the bridge, walkers can continue up through the town or take a sharp left to follow the riverbank back towards the dam and its visitor centre. We chose this route as there were several families ahead of us moving at the pace of the accompanying toddlers, and we wished to go back up to the overlook of the loch, below. Side note, the visitor center is relatively new (opened less than 10 years ago), and offers a great café, small gift shop, and clean restrooms.
The sun on this day just would not cooperate and show off the yellows and oranges the way I wanted, but I think you can get a hint of what we saw.
After a quick lunch in Pitlochry, we headed back to the car to drive up to Killiecrankie, which is only a few miles north.
The walk here is famous for stunning colour, but apparently everyone else had heard that too – there was not a place to park, and so we drove a bit further north to Blair Atholl. Immediately upon crossing the bridge into the town, there is a small car park where we stopped and found a walk along the riverbank.
Finally, here the sun came out in honest and I was able to capture a bit more of what we saw in person, brightness that really isn’t as visible in the above, overcast pictures.
We thought very briefly about going all the way to House of Bruar, but decided it would likely be even busier than Pitlochry, so not appealing. The drive home boasted one more impressive view, looking up at Kinnoull Hill near Perth, from the A9. There was a hint of what once had been (or may be on a less dry autumn).
The rumour on TV was that this year had been so dry, that all of the famous New England colour would be muted. It may be that further north this was the case, but on my drive from Boston to Greenwich, CT and back again, I saw some of the most amazing colour I can remember in many years. Now, granted, this was only my second autumn visit to New England in 20 years, but I found myself in awe over the beauty and vivacity of the leaves. There was one colour, which I do not seem to have managed to capture, that was an almost fluorescent pink-orange that you would not be blamed for thinking could not appear in nature – I was desperate to capture this colour, but it seemed only to exist on the side of the highway, where I could not stop. Nonetheless, I managed a few lovely views and took some short breaks while driving to stretch out my back and enjoy the scenery.
My first stop was at a rest area heading south, about halfway between Sturbridge, Massachusetts and Hartford, Connecticut. I did not expect it, but the small information cabin included a back porch looking over the river below, lined by some stunning maples.
The next morning I found myself favoured by traffic and so 40 minutes early for an appointment, making it possible for me to take a short detour down a tree-lined road to a pond. The reflection of the trees on the calm water was stunning, and there was a small brook meandering past the road.
My final day in Connecticut was dominated by the long drive from New Canaan to Marblehead, through downtown Boston as going through Salem is not an option in October (as I was reminded frequently). This was looking to be around 4 hours, so I planned to stop twice along the way – my back was starting to show the wear and tear of a busy few weeks in the car.
My second and final stop was just outside Sturbridge, Massachusetts, where there was a short mile-long walk around a pond – the perfect opportunity to stretch legs/back, and take a walk in the woods. Sure enough, while once again I was stymied in finding many bright colours, I found the golden hues everywhere, and it was a beautiful afternoon.
The light shining through the yellow trees against white birch bark reminded me of a scene in House of Flying Daggers, a film known for its imagery perhaps more than its story.
I am forever grateful to myself for taking this interlude, as what should have been two more hours in the car turned into three as I hit the Friday afternoon traffic through Boston. That was a long drive.
I am forever grateful, though, for a job that allows me to experience this kind of journey at a time of year when I could not visit for so long. I hope that I may be back next year.
Finally, while this visit to Dunkeld did not take place this year, I have been wanting to post these pictures for some time and was looking for the right time. Several years ago, as I recovered from my second bout of Covid, the other half suggested a day trip as I was no longer testing positive and had been confined to the house for two weeks. Dunkeld is a beautiful village in Perthshire – one of many – even closer than Pitlochry, boasting a medieval cathedral and some lovely homes.
On the day in question, we arrived just after lunch and walked through the village to the cathedral, then down to the river where you can walk along the bank back towards the main bridge.
While it was later in the season, there was still a touch of yellow and gold, particularly in what I think are beech trees. As we approached the bridge, the sun was glinting off the river between the mostly-empty branches of the trees, and I took about 10 pictures of the leaves. These are the better ones.
The day was growing clearer, and so we climbed up to the bridge and across, to take in the view from both sides. In one direction is the village, spread along the riverbank and the hills.
In the other direction is the river and – just visible through the trees – the tower of the cathedral. Covid exhaustion meant that I was not really up for a long walk, and so we headed back towards the car via a coffee shop on the main street.
On the day we visited, there was a perfect Scottish mist hanging on the treetops, though the hints of red and orange are still visible between the green pines.
This is one of my favourite pictures of Dunkeld, and the grassy area you can just see on the left side is where the cathedral grounds meet the river.
There is nothing particularly thought-inducing about this post, but I wanted to share my appreciation for autumn in both of the places I have lived. New England colour is world-famous, and deservedly so, but Scotland – along with many other countries – produces its own autumnal glory. It may not be as dramatic, but it is beautiful.
As anyone who read my September Stories post may be aware, I was lucky enough recently to visit the San Francisco Bay area for work. I had one day off while I was there, and I was determined to visit Muir Woods, which I recalled as the absolute stand-out of a family trip to San Francisco in 1995 – so yeah, it’s been a while.
What I was not excited about was the drive – winding narrow roads, steep drop-offs, and lots of traffic. So, I did some investigating and discovered that the there was a shuttle that picks up travellers at Larkspur Landing Ferry Terminal, north of the city (and quite close to the infamous San Quentin prison!). There is plenty of parking, and it was a relatively easy drive on a Saturday morning. I did have to book my tickets both to and from the park in advance, but they provided recommendations on timing, and parking at the park is bookable in advance, too (it is in fact required that you do so).
This option is highly recommended – the coach is very comfortable and was quiet when I arrived. I was told that it was off-season so I could board an earlier bus than I had booked (I am never not early, unless I am really late), and while the nearby restrooms were actually port-a-potties, they were surprisingly clean.
As we started off, I enjoyed just staring out the window and watching the communities pass by as we wound up into the mountains – very quickly I was more than a little relieved not to have to manage the curves. I can do these in Scotland, in my own car, but this was a bit different. Plus it meant I could actually enjoy the drive, and the views. I am always impressed, in California, how housing is constructed absolutely everywhere, no matter how steep the hill. The neighbourhoods we wound through on our way to Muir Woods included some truly spectacular homes with large yards around them, and I saw more than a few enviable tree houses.
After about 30 minutes, we arrived at the park, and I realised that though the shuttle was quiet, the park was not. I know that it was not high season yet there was definitely a good number of people on the paths, and this was one of the reasons I eventually deviated from my original plan to stick to the three bridges. But I get ahead of myself (so unlike me).
The weather as we piled out of the coach was cloudy, with the all-pervasive Bay Area fog sitting at the tree-tops, casting the highest branches with a grey tinge. The coach ticket included entrance to the park, where I received a map of the trails – I took a short moment to peruse before heading through the main gateway.
I had decided, due to the weather, that I would not do the ‘long’ loop, just walk out to Bridge 3 before coming back; the Medium loop goes up one side of the river and down the other, which is what the majority of visitors seemed to be doing, and there are several bridges that you can cross-cross on your way. I intended to take a side-trip up through Cathedral Grove, but then return on the yellow trail.
Trails of Muir Woods, scanned from the leaflet I received upon arrival
I started off by crossing Bridge 1 but soon found myself walking against the main traffic, with almost everyone else coming back towards the entrance. So, at Bridge 2 I crossed back over to join the more socially accepted direction (not something I would normally bother about, but some of the wooden paths were narrow and I was tired of getting annoyed looks).
It is a beautiful walking route, with some fallen trees that show the decades and centuries of rings, glimpses of the river, and a forest floor carpeted in mosses, saplings, and clover.
It took me less time than I had imagined to reach Bridge 3, and enter Cathedral Grove, which the sign stated was set aside as:
A quiet refuge to protect its natural soundscape in an incredibly noisy world. The soundscape is vital to animals for hunting and foraging, courtship and mating, nurturing young, and avoiding predators. By walking quietly, we experience the natural sounds of a living, ancient forest.
I have to admit to finding the other visitors a little less considerate of the soundscape than I would have liked, but it is almost to be expected when visitors were so many. The experience of walking through Cathedral Grove, silent or not, was extraordinary. At every turn I found myself wanting to capture a new view, even if it was often difficult to avoid other visitors. In the video at the end of this post I made an effort not to record other people, which meant many of the clips are shorter than I would have liked.
Within Cathedral Grove is a plaque memorialising the 1945 delegation from around the world that met in San Francisco to establish the United Nations. They visited Muir Woods on 19 May of that year to honour the memory of President Franklin Roosevelt, who had recently passed away. President Roosevelt was a strong supporter of national parks, good forestry practices and the sustainable development of natural resources, as tools to maintain lasting peace around the world, particularly after the destruction wrought by World War II.
Moving out of Cathedral Grove as I approached Bridge 4, it seemed a natural choice not to turn back but to extend my walk by heading up the Hillside trail. The sun was beginning to come out, burning through the fog and filtering down through the branches to create bright patches of green. The Hillside path, which started off with a steep rise away from the river, eventually turned to run parallel the lower path, weaving in and out of the hills with a few gentle ups and downs.
Beyond the first few hundred feet of incline it was not a particularly difficult trail, and was absolutely beautiful. It also allowed me the opporunity to be, on occasion, alone with the trees – a special kind of peace and quiet.
This was absolutely the best way to enjoy the forest, and after in time descending back to the river level, I took a short detour back up through Cathedral grove – to catch it in the sunlight. Finally, I returned to the ‘far’ side of the river to make sure I got the famous Muir Woods picture, inside a redwood. I had tried a few selfies along the way though none worked particularly well, and I finally gave in to request help from a very kind couple, for whom I reciprocated a picture.
There are a few spots along the Hillside trail and other walking paths where you can get a picture inside a redwood, but this was the one that was least busy – at some there were queues of groups waiting for pictures. It was also very close to the Bicentennial tree, which – as it is likely impossible to read the sign – was commemorated in 1976 as having begun its life 200 years before. ‘As this redwood tree began its life, across the continent, a revolution occurred which transformed 13 colonies into the United States of America’.
A tree as old as the country, a tribute to the success of both, really. And quite phenomenally tall…check out the video below to see it in all its glory.
I had walked speedily enough that I reached the café and gift shop a bit ahead of the lunch rush, and was so happy to find a massive turkey sandwich and iced tea to enjoy. As there was no phone service in the park (I think I got a bar or two at the café but nothing useful), I read my book while I ate, then indulged myself in a long – and costly – browse through the gift shop. I particularly enjoyed a set of carved wooden figures of bears and trees, several of which came home with me as gifts. Also some beautiful artistic postcards of the park which I could not bring myself to actually send. The shop here is expectedly over-priced, but for a trip like this I really did not care and was willing to go a bit overboard – who knew if or when I might return?
By the time I had finished lunch and my browsing I decided it was time to head back towards the shuttle, and I was lucky enough to wait only about 10 minutes for the next one. Again, I also managed to get on an earlier shuttle than I had scheduled and so arrived back at my car by about 1pm. It was a glorious sunny day and I hoped to be able to get a view of the Golden Gate Bridge on my drive south, but the car parks were so busy that I had to give up.
As I drove back to my hotel, I could not help but feel envious of the more ‘local’ people who were visiting Muir Woods, clearly there not as tourists but for exercise – there were joggers, more intense distance hikers, fitness groups, and walkers. While there are apparently even more impressive redwood forests furhter up the coast, I was so happy to be able to visit Muir Woods again, putting new memories to those echoed by an old magnet on my mum’s fridge from the 1995 trip. Yes, I could have spent the day exploring the city, but for me, the woods were the right choice. They usually are.
Hence my new laptop sticker:
As a side note, I was sorry to see, upon checking the website while writing this post, that Muir Woods has been closed as of 21 October 2025 due to the lapse in funding caused by the government shutdown. It is a sad thought that people might be missing their once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to explore this beautiful National Monument.
For anyone who works in education, September is an unavoidably busy month, and this September was no exception. I hope you will accept this post as a solid explanation of why it has been the only one in some time – the weeks have gotten away from me. Not in the least because as now has become standard for me, September is travelling-for-work month. I was fortunate enough to see some truly spectacular sights in my just over two weeks away, from the Golden Gate Bridge to the redwoods of Muir Woods and the streets of a new city or two. I also managed some fantastic ‘out of the plane window’ views, and even a glimpse of the northern lights, all topped off by a beautiful early-morning return to Edinburgh flying across Fife, with the sun rising in the east. So, here is a glimpse into my busy and exciting month of September.
The Northern Lights – a glimpse of magic while still in Scotland
I am fortunate to have friends and an other half more than willing to go out at 9.30pm to stand on the dark beach of West Sands and look for stars, the rising moon or, in this case, the Aurora Borealis. The alert app I use had been red a few times this summer, but usually only in the middle of the night or while the sky was still light (not, of course, mutually exclusive in Scotland in summer), so I was excited when there were rumours of two good nights in early September. My fellow night sky aficionados and I headed out as the last light in the sky was fading, and we were lucky enough to catch a bit of green and purple through our lenses – not visible to the naked eye, but still fantastic, with colours not normally seen in the night sky. This made for an excellent start to the month, and an excellent opportunity to play with night settings on my new camera.
I try, before disappearing for a few weeks, to connect with friends I may not see much, and we enjoyed a lovely end of summer evening at the local pub, with a pint or two down by the river. It was truly the end of summer, for while I left Scotland with temperatures still hovering at no-jacket levels, by the time I returned autumn had well and truly landed. Edinburgh was 4℃ when I arrived (around 40℉).
A quick jaunt to England
Before departing for the US, I first had a quick overnight trip down to Manchester to attend a training session. I will spare you the absurdities of UK train travel, which works well a good portion of the time but when it goes wrong goes spectacularly wrong. Suffice it to say, it was helpful to have knowledge of the trains and very little luggage as my original train was cancelled and I was forced to very quickly change plans. I arrived about 3 hours later than planned, but the next day’s return journey went very smoothly. Train journeys in the UK – particularly long ones – are a wonderful opportunity to get a good feel for the countryside and I have been known to just stare out the window for the whole trip between Durham and Edinburgh.
Manchester required a different route than I was used to, passing through – amongst other places – Lancaster, a northern city I have always wanted to explore. We were held up for a short time just at the edge of the city, at sunset, allowing me to capture these lovely views.
I had hoped to add a few tidbits here about Manchester as well, but I really did not spend enough time there to get a feel; I arrived late, spent all day in the conference centre, and left after a short walk. I was delighted to discover a Dunkin Donuts near to Piccadilly, but did not have the time to pop in. Definitely a city I would like to have more time to explore.
Across the pond…and beyond
Two days after my training journey to Manchester, I woke up well before dawn (3.30am if you must know, who says travel is all glitz and glamor?) to get the airport bus. I tend to request window seats on flights, as they can be more helpful if you want to try to sleep (something I am still quite rubbish at). A happy coincidence is that you also occasionally get the most fantastic views. The second leg of my flight was from Atlanta to San Francisco, and as we got to about one hour out of SFO, I took a peek out the window. For anyone who has not had a chance to fly over the western US, I’d highly recommend aiming for a window seat if you can, as I was greeted by the spectacular sights of stark desert and treeless ridges of mountains. The setting sun cast an orange light over the hills at the far edge of San Francisco Bay, and it was one of the more amazing flights I’ve had in some time.
The following day, I met a friend for lunch at the New England Lobster Market, which did seem a touch absurd but also perfect as we had met in high school. I took a short detour walk along the coastline near my hotel, with views over the bay and the airport which is situated, similarly to Boston, essentially in the water.
Jet lag heading west is, in my opinion, easier than heading east and I was up early to visit my first school in a neighbourhood where the omnipresent San Francisco mist was just lifting as the sun rose.
The following morning, I woke up to a bit of a surprise: I had parked my car under a tree at the hotel thinking that it might keep some sun off. It did, but it also encouraged the invasion by a colony of ants. I opened the car door to find them all over the rubber lining, on the dashboard, in the cup holders, and – though I didn’t realise it right away – in the boot/trunk where I had stashed my materials for the day.
Cursing the less-than-clean interior of my newly collected car, I wiped everything down with some grapefruit-scented face wipes I had once picked up in an airport; they were just astringent enough to do the job well, though for the rest of the week I would find rogue ants scrambling across the dashboard.
Having dealt with this infestation I headed off for a school on the north side of the city, requiring a drive through the Presidio park – one of the better drives of my life, winding through stands of pine and cypress trees and beautiful homes, finally emerging to a large parking area alongside the Main Parade Lawn. Have arrived a bit early, I decided that I would walk down to the park briefly before my appointment.
The Presidio is a park and formerly – as the name indicates – US Army post that is now part of the Golden Gate National Park. The area where I parked was newly renovated, with pristine grass and pathways, all very clean and with phenomenal views of the Golden Gate Bridge, out into the bay to Alcatraz island, as well as back towards the sloping city centre. Even carrying all of my materials I managed to get a few good pictures, which I then had to re-take after my appointment once the sun had completely emerged from the clouds. It was a breath-taking way to start my week in the Bay Area.
Returning to my hotel that evening, I was looking forward to the second half of the take-away meal I had bought the night before. I had, when leaving that morning, asked reception if housekeeping could look at the fridge in my room as it seemed to be very cold, and I had searched as much as I could for a dial. Having been assured it would be dealt with, I came home and noticed that the fridge door was ajar – a bit extreme I thought, but I figured housekeeping had done it on purpose. Not so much. Instead, I quickly realised that the temperature was as cold as ever and instead one of the cans of seltzer water I was storing had exploded, spreading now-melting shrapnel around the interior of the fridge and my room floor. My dinner was frozen solid, and the remaining cans of seltzer were slush, with one more can so badly deformed that it was clearly not far from also exploding. Excellent. Clean-up and new dinner required.
I spent the rest of the week covering as much of the Bay Area as I could, driving more than 500 miles up and down around the bay, before finally reaching Friday afternoon. This was the day I was changing hotels, and I had been invited to dinner at the home of my friend’s parents – as mentioned above, this was one of my best friends from high school who I had not seen in almost 20 years, but we had always been lucky enough to enjoy one of those friendships that years do not alter. We fell into conversation immediately and spent time reminiscing as well as catching up on what the intervening years had held – or at least scratching the surface.
Prior to meeting her for dinner, I had decided to spend an hour exploring the city a bit. So, upon leaving my car and luggage safely in my new hotel, I ventured onto the BART train – not that different really to Boston’s MBTA though perhaps newer – and stepped out at Embarcadero station. Here, I was only steps away from the Ferry Building Marketplace, and so I headed for the tall clock tower and, once across the busy Embarcadero street, turned left to follow the coast.
I walked along the many piers of San Francisco from Pier 1, past some that were used for cruises, some for day trips, some for fishing, and much more I am sure. As I walked, Coit tower became more and more prominent, before I eventually made my way around to the far side, having essentially done a wide arc.
The further I walked, the busier the sidewalk became, and gradually I reached the tourist centre of Fisherman’s Wharf. I took a short walk out through the arcade-style shops and cafés before cutting through to the most important part of the wharf: the sea lions. It was incredibly busy, but I managed to fight my way to the edge of the railing to get a few pictures of the incredibly loud sea lions, as well as the view back towards the city.
While this is not a place I wanted to spend an enormous amount of time, I felt like I couldn’t miss it, and I am glad I forced myself to brave the crowds. And it was only another ten minutes or so to the real goal of this walk, one of the only places I remembered clearly from my last trip to San Francisco about 30 years ago – Ghirardelli Square.
Sure enough, the sign was very clear from a distance, sitting high up above the red brick industrial buildings so typical of the 19th century. I approached from below, and paused to watch for a minute or two as tourists walked up the rainbow-painted steps to enter the square proper.
I’m not really sure what I expected, but the area was a touch underwhelming, so I made a quick stop at the chocolate shop to pick up some gifts before finding a bus to take me back towards the centre of the city. The whole walk was about 2.5 miles, so I felt like I had earned my dinner.
The following day was my day off, so I arranged to visit Muir Woods, the redwood forest just north of the city, and the other clear memory from the 1990s. I will have to write a separate post about that trip as it was absolutely breath-taking – I definitely recommend making the effort to visit if you are in the area. And, as I learned, you can get a shuttle from the Sausalito area, meaning that you do not have to brave the winding roads yourself.
I tried to get a good picture of the Golden Gate Bridge on my way back, but as it was a beautiful Saturday, all of the parking lots were completely packed. So, I managed only a short stop along Baker Beach to enjoy the coastline. It’s quite stunning here, stark and mostly treeless with hills dropping right into the ocean in a way that reminded me a touch of Scotland.
A wrong turn meant that I was also able to make a quick stop for another view back towards the city, which is stunning in its varying height and skyline. The stop allowed me to turn around, and head (finally) in the right direction after fully confusing my Google maps route.
On Sunday, I attended an event that meant I had one last chance to enjoy the weird and wonderful architecture that San Francisco is known for. (Back when we visited in the 90s, I was planning to be an architect, how times have changed, and I dragged my mother all over the city in search of the areas I wanted to see).
Specifically, I walked up Fulton Street from the University of San Francisco to Alamo Square, which is a lovely park at the peak of a hill with amazing views over the city centre. This was also the location, I knew, of the houses filmed at the start of the credits for Full House, the San Francisco-based TV show I had grown up watching. I could not resist taking a quick look. Fellow Millennials will recognise it, I am sure…
Fog was still sitting over the taller city buildings as I walked through the park, and it struck me as just such a typical San Francisco view. Fulton Street was fascinating, as so many homes have intricate carvings on their fronts and around the windows, and I found myself taking pictures of many of them.
The Bay Area – beyond San Francisco
There is plenty more to the Bay Area than just the city itself, of course, and on one of my last nights, I attended an event in Lafayette, which is closer to Berkeley but inland. As usual I was early, and so I pulled in at a local park, where I took a short walk up a hill. A steep, short walk. The mountains here reminded me more of what I saw in Southern California, though there was far more residential spread here.
Not home time yet!
It had been a busy 10 days or so in the Bay Area with more than 700 miles under my belt, but my trip wasn’t quite over. Instead, I was attending a conference in Columbus, Ohio, a city of which I really had no idea what to expect. It turned out to be a really pleasant mid-west city, clean and central with plenty of good restaurants and bars in close proximity to the convention centre. Parks and the residential neighbourhood where we stayed in an Air B&B were easy to walk to, and I can see why it would be a good spot for a large convention.
We also discovered, close by, the North Market, a large industrial space that has been turned into an indoor food market slightly reminiscent of Quincy Market in Boston. However, it was far less expensive and not as busy, meaning that you could take your time in deciding on pasta, salad, Asian food, and bakery items (plus a lot more I am sure that I didn’t see).
Like in Boston, this market offers seats on the upper level, meaning that you can enjoy your meal while looking down at the patrons and shops, which I really enjoyed. Absolutely worth investigating if you are ever in Columbus! As I said, I really didn’t have any expectation of the city but the residential areas reminded me a touch of parts of South Bend, while downtown could have been almost any small city in the US. Pleasantly every-city, very mid-west and just generally a nice place.
Coming home, but not quite…a long layover in Boston
My trip home from Columbus included a long layover in Boston, which I had intended as an opportunity hopefully to see my mum. For various reasons this did not come to pass, but I enjoyed my flight in on a beautiful clear morning, and because I had more than enough time, I took the elevator to the top of the airport parking structure to take in the view of the city. It was emotionally hard to be so close and not have a chance to explore or visit home, but it still felt good to be in Boston, even briefly. The international terminal was nice and quiet during the day, so I was able to get some work done and enjoy some peace after three days of conference busy-ness.
Coming home, but really this time.
My flight from Boston to Edinburgh was delightfully quiet, or at least it was at the back of the plane where I was sitting – I in fact managed two seats to myself, which were unfortunately just a touch too small to allow me to properly spread out and sleep. I find the night flights hard anyway, as we landed in Edinburgh around the time I would be looking to go to sleep, so could not make myself doze off before. I tried, but no luck – instead I watched a few old movies and was awake to realise, about 30 minutes out, that we were flying towards the rising sun. For the third time, I had a fantastic view from the window seat as the plane approached Edinburgh from the west, passing the city of Stirling (it’s impossible not to recognise that dramatic bend in the river), then Loch Leven (the castle is just a bit too small to see), and finally the coastline of Fife.
It was a very pleasant welcome home!
I’ll leave you with two last images of San Francisco, one the panoramic view taken from the Presidio park, and the other this view of the Waymo taxis that were quite frequent. No, I did not take one, though for a Scotland-based girl, even the multiple Uber Teslas were an adventure of their own.
Overall a very busy month, and a time to explore two parts of the US I had never seen, or not as an adult. I felt I only scratched the very surface of San Fransisco but I know I am likely to be back; it is a quirky, funky city that is like few others. It tumbles over hills that in snow-based climates could not be built on in the same way, and offers a different fascinating view every time you turn a corner or cross a street. I look forward to my next visit!
As for October, it will be another busy month, and I imagine it will be one for the record books in terms of miles driven, but I am excited to see where more new cities will take me. I’ll be sure to keep you updated, when I can find some spare moments…
A short time ago, I was fortunate enough to be sent to a work conference in the US. I was excited to go to San Antonio, where I have family, until the relatively quick realization that the south of Texas in June is not a particularly welcoming place for those of us used to temperate summer weather. In fact, a quick check of the weather website showed temperatures of 37 Celsius (about 100°F). As I said in a joke to my office mates, now I have a real sense for why my San Antonio family leave in the summer, to escape the heat!
So, I packed my bags to prepare for heat and away I went – I had been to San Antonio many years ago in the early 90s, and all I could really remember was Sea World and a riverbank where we had a picnic lunch. A riverbank well outside the city centre, I should clarify.
I landed in San Antonio after a long journey from the UK and hopped in a taxi. As we drove through the city, I found myself very aware of the other, more sober reason that I had been looking forward to a re-visit, and that was that my cousin who grew up there and was very close to me in age had passed away 18 years ago in a road traffic accident. We had not been in touch for years before he passed, and I have always regretted not being able to know him as an adult; I felt his presence, or more accurately his absence, very keenly for most of my visit.
The morning after my arrival, I woke early – as I always do on day 1 travelling west – and decided it was a good time to go out for a walk through the city, as it was still early and not yet as hot as it would become. Even so, the temperature outside the hotel made me gasp, and I realised I would need to quickly adjust my walking speed from Scottish stride to a slower amble.
8am in San Antonio
My first goal was that most Texan of locales – the Alamo. I knew it was only about ten minutes on foot from my hotel, and so I set out along West Houston Street. As expected on a Sunday morning, the streets were quiet and peaceful, though the aura of impending heat was in the air.
It was a pretty much straight shot down the one street to reach the Alamo, and I passed more than a few purely San Antonio sites: La Panandería, a popular bakery already with along queue outside; the Buckhorn cafe, including the Texas Ranger Museum; one of the original Walgreen Drug Stores from 1901…
…and perhaps most importantly, my first introduction to the River Walk, which I loved immediately, with its lush foliage and the tantalizing glimpses of another world you get as you walk along the main streets. More on this to come.
The Alamo plaza area itself was surrounded by construction, including work being done on a building where there were enormous scaffolds holding up the historical frontispiece of a building that was otherwise torn down – a scene familiar from Edinburgh, where listed buildings are being renovated. The Alamo is probably one of the most famous spots in the world for being considerably smaller than one might expect – so much so in fact that I imagine most visitors are prepared to be under-whelmed.
The approach from East Houston Street passed first the construction, and then turned right along the Alamo Plaza. The stone stockade is still in place, with barred windows facing the foot traffic.
I admit that I did not spend a lot of time at the Alamo, as I only had a day to explore and I did not want to go inside the building itself. Still, its a majestic spot that recalls the Spanish architecture that still dominates most of the city; and of course, there is a great statue of Davey Crockett just by the entrance, looking over the site.
As one would expect, there are plenty of shops near the Alamo to indulge any need for souvenirs, but my favourite was that of a local artist Alejandra Martinez Hernandez, whose style includes lots of bright colours and florals, and scenes of south Texas.
As the heat was increasing swiftly, I decided that it was time to pick up the trolley tour I had researched, which left from nearby the plaza – Old Town Trolley Tours. It wasn’t inexpensive, but was worth the cost!
I was fortunate enough to just catch a trolley about to leave. As with many trolley tours, the driver provides information as they weave through the traffic, and my driver – Elaine – was incredibly knowledgeable about the city, its history, and so much more. She kept asking if I wanted to get off at particular stops, as I was the only one on the tour at times, but I said to her, this is what I want from the day: I just want to sit and see the city and enjoy it all. Which I did!
Starting just by the River Walk, the tour passed by Casa Rio, the oldest restaurant on the River Walk, then continued out of the city centre past The Pearl, the former brewery of San Antonio – I felt a strong draw to this area, doubtless due to the German brewer roots in my own family. We did a large loop out through the edges of the city, passing by UT San Antonio, the Zoo, the Botanical Garden and some of the large parks.
I learned about the San Antonio Street Art Initiative, which grants local artists permission to paint murals on walls, the columns of the underpasses, and so much more. It is truly extraordinary, and beautiful.
In time we looped back into the city, and while I enjoyed the tour immensely, I wanted to explore the San Fernando Cathedral, which I had passed briefly earlier in the day. So, I alighted just outside the city courthouse, where I was surprised to see a group of statues labelled ‘Canary Islanders’. This seemed incredibly random to me, and on later research I discovered that this is known as the Founders Monument, honouring 56 Canary Islanders who arrived in San Antonio in March 1731 and established the first civilian government in the area.
Immediately across the busy road from the courthouse is San Fernando Cathedral, the seat of the Archbishop of San Antonio that was built between 1738 and 1750.
The cathedral was founded in 1731 by the Canary Islanders mentioned above, who had come to Texas at the invitation of King Philip V of Spain, and it is the oldest continuously functioning religious community in Texas. The heroes of the Alamo are buried here, and weekend masses are held to this day, as I discovered when I visited; I did not want to take pictures during mass and so came back later in my visit to take the interior views above.
By the time I had explored the cathedral, I realised that I was starting to experience some symptoms of being overly hot and under-hydrated. While I had been sitting still in the trolley, there was a constant gentle warm, dry breeze wafting over me that completely stripped me of energy and hydration. The afternoon sun was incredibly hot, and in the end, to avoid heatstroke I stumbled into a CVS, where I enjoyed their excellent air conditioning and a large bottle of cold water. I do love CVS.
Finally feeling a bit more myself, I decided that it was time to head back to my hotel for a rest. To avoid any more potential heatstroke, I opted to descend the nearest stairs to the River Walk, which I quickly realised was not always the most direct route through the city, but was cooler and much more comfortable. Yes, it is very tourist-focused with its river tours, 100s of dining options and drinking establishments, but it is a great way to get away from the traffic and the heat of the streets.
San Antonio River Walk
The history of the River Walk is heartbreakingly relevant in today’s news, considering the very recent flooding that took place close to the city and the tragic loss of more than 130 people.
Back in 1921, there was another disastrous flood, this time of the San Antonio River, which of course runs through the city centre. More than 50 citizens lost their lives, and so plans were developed for flood control of the river, including an upstream dam (the Olmos dam) and a bypass channel. The bypass channel was disapproved of, and a few years later, a San Antonio native submitted plans for what would become the River Walk – an evolution of the river into the present 2.5-mile River Walk. The key to his plan was not in paving over the proposed bypass, but a series of flood gates and dams that allowed for the bend in the river to be surrounded by commercial development.
While not immediately supported, the plan grew in popularity over the next 10 years and eventually received crucial funding in 1939, enabling the initial construction of walkways, bridges, and plants. Another flood would threaten downtown San Antonio in 1946, but this time the dam and bypass channels minimized damage. Casa Rio, the first River Walk restaurant, was opened in 1946, and the rest was history.
Today, the River Walk is highly commercialized. There are endless options for food and drink, small bars and restaurants, hotels, shops, and of course a narrated river cruise that passes by every few minutes. The foliage and trees are beautiful and well-kept, there are occasional water features and plenty of ducks, as well as picturesque foot bridges, and the buildings are a mix of modern and charmingly historical.
While I certainly did not walk every step of the path, I did find myself trending towards the River Walk whenever I could. I also managed to snag one of the many frozen margarita options (including some in take-away cups) on offer.
On my final night in San Antonio, some colleagues and I had a relaxing dinner sitting on the River Walk and enjoying a light breeze, people watching as tourist families from around the world wandered by. As evening fell, I walked back towards my hotel and was delighted to see the incredibly beautiful street lamp you see in half of the picture above. I had passed it in the daylight, but at night it was even more stunning.
In case y’all could not tell, I really enjoyed San Antonio. Like my home town of Boston, it is a city proud of its history that makes sure it is visible everywhere. Like Edinburgh, it prefers to re-use old buildings rather than construct new ones, and high-rises are limited. There is so much of the city I never got to, only scratched the surface, but I feel like I have a good sense of what else there is from the excellent trolley tour. There is a massive military connection with one of the largest Joint Bases in the US, a strong gastronomic connection as one of the locations of the Culinary Institute of America, it is considered the birthplace of Tex-Mex and the five 18th-century Spanish missions are together classed as a UNESCO World Heritage site.
The city is incredibly artistic, and one of the most diverse in the US, with more than 65% of the population identifying as coming from a Hispanic background. There is fantastic food and drink, plenty to do, and if you can manage the heat, San Antonio is an essential visit. And, now officially my favourite city in Texas.
April has been a month dominated by travel – I was away from home for 3 1/3 weeks, with half of the time spent working and the other half with family for an important family birthday 😉 (IYKYK)
Dallas-Fort Worth
My trip started in the Dallas-Fort Worth region, with a heavier focus on Fort Worth than Dallas. It isn’t always easy to get a good feel for a place when you are bouncing between events, your hotel, and the occasional restaurant, but I think I can say I preferred Fort Worth ever so slightly to Dallas. We had decidedly un-Texan weather for most of that first week, with thunderstorms, wind and rain, temperatures closer to 50℉ than the expected 70+. In fact, the Scottish and Texan weather seemed to swap, as while I shivered in my sandals and non-existent outerwear, Scotland was sunny and warm. Not that I am bitter…
One of the most commonly asked questions when I return from a trip particularly to Texas is ‘what did you eat?!’ or more specifically, ‘did you get barbecue?’ Short answer – yes I got BBQ, twice in fact, as well as plenty of Tex-Mex and some southern-style fried chicken. The food is always a highlight when going to a foreign country, and coming from the North East, I find anything south of New York to be as foreign as Europe 😄
Austin
From Dallas, we drove down to Austin where we finally got the proper Texan weather we were hoping for – sun and heat but not too much heat. On our first day we were fortunate enough to finish about 4pm and so took ourselves down to the river where there is a gorgeous walk, miles long, well-kept and winding through trees and gardens. It was impressively busy, with probably hundreds of Austinites (I googled, this is apparently the correct term) out for a walk, run, or cycle.
The city of Austin is fascinating, both for its position in the US tech world (a second Silicon Valley according to many) and for its variation in green space and architecture. There are plenty of modern sky-scrapers and apartment buildings, but also the occasional older-style house, and rows of older shops, bars and restaurants. I desperately hope that I can go back, as I really feel I only scraped the surface of what Austin has to offer.
Part of that surface was, of course, the famous Terry Black’s BBQ. An informal friendly atmosphere, this restaurant requires you to wait in a queue, and even gives you the option of buying a beer or drink while you wait. Inside you loop past merch (t-shirts, hats, and so much more) and have plenty of time to think about what you want to order. There were more than 10 sides, 5 or 6 meat options, and plenty of drinks.
After your meat has been slapped onto your tray – no plates, just paper-covered trays – you need only find a place to sit in a method reminiscent of a high school cafeteria. The meal once you get to it is more than worth it. We had been on a good 4-mile walk in the heat, and felt we had more than earned our delicious dinner.
Another Texas institution that we were required to visit, particularly on our drive, was Buc-ees, the most incredible rest stop I have ever seen. The appeal is multi-faceted: the restrooms are clean and many; there is parking and gas pumps enough for 18-wheelers and plenty of cars; there is an impressive line of soda dispensers in numerous different home-made flavours; and when it comes to shopping, where to begin? They have standard car snacks like crisps, nuts, candy; jerky in numerous flavours; a bakery; a fudge stand; every refrigerated drink you could want; sandwiches; fresh fruit; a pulled-pork BBQ stand; sauces and spices; car supplies like window wash; Buc-cee’s and Texas merch – and so much more I have forgotten.
Of course, I did get a selfie with the Buc-cee statue.
Marblehead
After only two days in Austin I flew up to Boston for a family get-together and week at home. The other half joined me from Scotland, and after the big event took place early in the visit, we had a gloriously relaxed week seeing friends, taking walks, sleeping and reading. It was the holiday we both desperately needed, and the weather was mostly very good.
Concord and Lexington
One small adventure we did take was a visit to the town of Concord, MA. We had originally planned to go later in the week, but the preparations for the 250th anniversary of the Shot Heard Round the World meant that hotel costs skyrocketed. So, we went a bit earlier, taking advantage of how short the drive was (about 50 minutes from Marblehead).
To start with, we visited the Minute Man Visitor Center, where you can pick up the walking trail that leads from Lexington to Concord. We were not quite prepared to do that whole path, but did take a short wander along it through the trees; on either side were well-kept Colonial homes and plenty of informational plaques about important buildings that are now lost.
The museum includes a short video presentation that teaches visitors about the events at Lexington and Concord in April 1775 – definitely worth a watch! Despite my having grown up nearby and being indoctrinated with Revolutionary War history from a young age, I had forgotten more than I realized and it was great to bring it back again. Also to learn – which I’m not sure I had – that the shot was significant not as the first shot of the Revolutionary War, as the British had been shooting at colonists for years. Rather, it was the first time the organized militia shot back. The start of a long rebellion, and one that would spread…
As we could not yet check in to our hotel, we decided to visit the important historical site of the North Bridge, which is where the shot actually took place. There is a finely-restored brick home that serves as the visitor centre and overlooks the Concord river, down to the bridge and Minute Man statue. The path from the visitor centre is well-kept and winds gently down the hill, across the bridge, and back up the far side where it passes the Old Manse. This beautifully rambling colonial building was home to both Ralph Waldo Emerson and Nathaniel Hawthorne at various times; it was not open when we visited.
With our Revolutionary War history refreshed (or in the case of the other half, informed), we headed back into the town to check into our hotel, the Concord Inn. It was a lovely spot, with impeccably-restored colonial features. There are older, more traditional rooms in the inn proper, though we were housed in the more modern addition. While I wasn’t overwhelmingly impressed with the staff, and the room was incredibly warm, we were nonetheless comfortable for a night.
We did take one more walk around the town of Concord, down the Main Street and circling through the neighbourhoods to visit two graveyards. The first was the Old Burying Hill, located just off the Common, and the location of the original meeting house. The second was the more famous Sleepy Hollow Cemetery, where there is an entire section devoted to famous authors of the greater Boston area. Here are buried, amongst others, Henry David Thorough, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Louisa May Alcott, and Ralph Waldo Emerson (who we never did find)
Our afternoon of exploring was brought to a relatively quick halt when dark clouds rushed in quite swiftly, blocking the sun. We made it back to the inn with about five minutes to spare before the heavens opened.
The following morning, we did make a short stop in Lexington before heading back to the north shore.
Back in Marblehead
Finally, we finished the week back in Marblehead meeting friends for dinner and attending Easter Sunday services. As I mentioned on my Instagram post from the day, I am not a particularly religious person, but the music is always emotional. Furthermore, this is the church we attended for most of my childhood and in which I was baptised, so there is always a pleasant feeling to return.
I have written about Marblehead several times, including an entire post on the best views, but I thought that I might include here two views I have not, I believe, included before. The first is taken from the causeway leading out to Gerry Island; this is a small island that is only accessible at low tide (or probably from about half-tide really), and walkers have to be very careful not to be caught. The tide can come in very quickly, and in a matter of minutes you may go from ankle- to knee-deep water. So why the appeal? For me, it is very simple: this was where I played when we lived nearby, and visited Gas House beach regularly. I have a feeling I may write a post just about Gerry so I won’t go into too much detail, but I think it safe to say that the island has a special meaning to most people who lived in this area in the 80s and 90s, at least. The second photo is from the island, looking towards Fort Sewall and Marblehead light.
One last note
There is one last issue about which I wish to write; I have changed my mind several times about whether to address this topic.
For this trip, I was of course travelling in the US, my home country. It is something I have done for both business and pleasure numerous times, but I have to admit that this occasion did hold some heightened anxiety. The news and the internet have been flooded in recent weeks and months with stories about the state of the US border, and the number of visitors who have experienced difficulties upon entering or attempting to enter – phone searches, entry refusals, even imprisonment. I was relatively confident that as a US citizen travelling from Europe for business, I would be in a good place. But academics and those who travel from Europe were also flooding sites with questions: will my phone be searched? Should I have a burner phone, as the posts suggested? Is that worse? Would my partner, with his British passport, experience an additional difficulties? Neither of us use social media for politics (in fact he does not use it at all), but I think if there is one pervasive message of the last few months it is that very few things that we used to take for granted can still be considered in that way.
So, anxiety was high for this trip. But, for the record, neither I nor my partner had any difficulty at all with border control, and in fact had the exact same experience we always had. My flight cancellation and attempt by the airline to send me to Dallas via Portland (Oregon) were less fun, but in the end we both got to the US with relatively little drama. As I mentioned above, I have debated whether I even wanted to address these anxieties in writing, but decided that I found it important to do so. Because I was scared, I was worried, even if I could assert out-loud that I was not.
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!
The Wandering Medievalist 