Scotland. Was. Beautiful.

I’m writing this post from a train traveling through the Scottish and English countryside while I head back to London from the Cairngorms National Park. Anticipating the drunken stupor of my American roommates who had just recently arrived in a diverse metropolis, this weekend I struck out on my own to the Scottish Highlands after spotting a rather large spot of green on the map. I had no idea whether this was a major tourist attraction or not, but after spending an entire day hiking through a national park accompanied only by elderly Scots, I think it’s safe to say that the Cairngorms National Park has not seen many Americans this year. At least not the part that I visited, but I couldn’t have planned this holiday more perfectly if I had tried. I took an easyJet flight out of Luton Airport on Friday night, a cab to the hotel, and sacked out at the Huntly Arms Hotel in Aboyne, Scotland. The reason I did this was because it was cheap, but Aboyne was peaceful and stunningly beautiful. The next morning I took a bus to Braemar through the Scottish countryside, while elderly people got on and off the bus and greeted the busdriver like an old friend. I chose to go to Braemar because it looked like it was at roughly the center of the Cairngorms National Park and I could easily get there by bus. I had no idea, when I made the decision to stop there that Braemar has trails which pass by the site of the 1715 Jacobite uprising, Braemar Castle, and trenches intact from World War II. This is all on top of being the home of Robert Louis Stevenson during the summer that he wrote Treasure Island. Needless to say, I probably hiked about 14ish miles through all but one of six marked trails in the area of Braemar, greeting and smiling at every person that passed me by. Everyone is friendly in the Highlands. When I finally called it quits, the sun was setting, and I still had about two miles to the village center from the trail that I had set out on at six in the evening, overconfident in my ability to finish before dark. Since every restaurant was closed at eight o’clock, I went to the grocers and bought potato chips and spam which I devoured cold as I shivered at the bus stop. Who says gluten free has to healthy?

            I swear that the Scottish countryside is one of the most beautiful places a pair of eyes can alight on. As I ride the train to London, I can see the coast on the right side of me. To the left I see only rolling hills and green fields, golden ones spread with bales of hay. The cottages that dot the horizon seem from a fairytale, the pastures punctuated with herds of sheep and cows. Rivaled only by it’s counterpart in Colorado, the sky above us is a clear blue, big, fluffy clouds suspended in space.  Someone pinch me. Instead of rambling on, I’ll let you see a few choice bits in the pictures below.