Barbara and Tom: Wednesday, May 22

The last B&B was the best. Plenty of power plugs, comfortable beds, affable but not intrusive host, breakfast served by a cadre of helpers (and we didn't have to decide the night before what we'd be in the mood for), within walking distance of many places to eat and services to use, and a not uncomfortable suitcase-rolling distance from the train station.

Aviemore, or at least the part that we could see, was pretty modern. There were very few oldish-looking structures. Most seemed to be "in the style of." More importantly, we had a very good dinner in a nondescript but friendly restaurant and a rollicking choice of whiskies at another, more atmospheric hotel.

We had a hilarious time trying two whiskies: Smokehead and Monkey Shoulder. Smokehead was like drinking the stuff you put on meat to make it taste smoky, only with alcohol. Kathy and I actually liked it, but it was probably made as a novelty whisky. Monkey Shoulder, which we drank with trepidation, was fairly harmless and inoffensive tasting. The bartender made faces when I ordered these drinks. (No tip for you, buddy!)

We also had Abelour 10, Craggenmore, and Balvenie. Jessica tidily arranged the five drinks in alphabetical order, so we could taste and compare. After drunkenly passing the drinks around every which way, we were totally confused about what was what, except for the Abelour and Smokehead (who could be confused about that?). We decided that Craggenmore and Balvenie tasted remarkably similar, good but similar.

Here is how Tom, Patty, and I almost wound up in train jail.

Yesterday (Tuesday), Tom and Matt thought they'd get a jump on things by buying the train tickets for five of us to leave today (Wednesday). (Jessica already had a ticket.) The clerk mistakenly punched in yesterday's date, instead of today's. I'm still not sure if he realized he had done it or whether someone brought it to his attention or if no one mentioned it to him. Nevertheless, no correction was made. We collectively figured that since the ticket was purchased after all the trains for the day had already left, there wouldn't be a problem with boarding a train one day after the ticket's date.

Wrong.

We all got on the train without a problem. Matt and Kathy exited at Perth to make a connection to Glasgow, from which they are leaving tomorrow morning. The rest of us rode uneventfully to Edingburgh. Unfortunately, to exit Edinburgh station, you had to pass the ticket through a machine to open a gate, like most subways in the U.S. None of our tickets would open the gate, except for Jessica's. It hadn't been part of the pack that Matt and Tom bought.

"This is the wrong date," the ticket guard said. Tom patiently explained what had happened. Much conferring and suspicious eyeing of Patty, Tom, and me, who all tried to look innocent in extremis. We must see the boss man in the office to the left. The boss man said, "This is the wrong date."

Fortunately, Tom had his receipt, showed the boss man that we couldn't possibly have used the ticket yesterday, because it was purchased after the last train had left. The boss man glared at us. We began to look less innocent. (You know how that goes.) Maybe we were guilty of something? Finally, the boss man called ahead to the gate to let us through. Without further incident, except getting slightly flummoxed looking for our hotel, Edinburgh welcomed us into her open arms and promptly rained, hailed, and blew great gusty drafts on us. We are determined to love this city anyway.

As to the fate of Matt and Kathy, we must wait until Portland to hear what happened when they tried to put their tickets into the machine.

Except for bad luck, Patty has had no luck at all with getting to see a castle on this trip. Ballindaloch Castle was closed for a private event the day she took off from hiking, especially to see the castle. Hollyrood Castle, where Mary Queen of Scots was sequestered, was first on our list as tourists today. Patty was so excited. The palace, of course, was closed. Some high mucky-muck is visiting and using the palace. Pretty inconsiderate, I say.

I reverently entered Cadenhead's Whisky Shop. It is a shoebox of a store with a gigantic chalkboard that has an enormous list of whiskies. I felt like Oliver Twist, "Please, sir, may I have a whisky?" I don't really have room for it, but, oh, well. Maybe I could leave behind my walking sticks, rainpants, busted rainjacket, sunscreen (ha, ha, what a joke), and Luna bars.

We wandered around trying to find the "close" that led back to our hotel. Many of the narrow alleyways dot the Royal Mile, aka High Street. They magically seem to disappear between the buildings. Eventually, after several tries, we found the right one.

After a reunion with Jessica, who is staying elsewhere, we ate at the tiny World's End Pub. We had a hilarious time, especially with sneaking looks at two older gents who sat stone-faced throughout the pounding eclectic selection of music (pop to oldies to techno to rap).

Tomorrow Edinburgh Castle better be open for Patty, or I'm afraid she may stay another week or two or three and wander the country looking for an open castle.

Oh, how I miss the abundance of power plugs at Ravenscraig Inn at my hotel tonight.

At the cute Aviemore station. Unfortunately, we weren't taking the even cuter steam engine that you can barely glimpse through the windows of the building in the background. That train only runs through two or three towns.