REABAG MOUNTAIN, SUTHERLAND COUNTY, SCOTLAND - We had just passed the Allt nan Uamh, or bone caves, where some of the earliest inhabitants of this wind-swept and isolated Highland country made their home. The hiking book warned that the trail was a bit eroded from here to the top of Breabag, a rocky gray plateau that rises above the heather and the scattered lakes like a humpback whale.
We soon learned, as we would on a score of hikes and hillwalks through Scotland and Ireland, that "eroded" is a mere euphemism: Like the ancients who lived here and the deer stalkers and sheep who tread the hills now, you make your own way, without comforting trail blazes or cleared paths.
We followed the steep uphill course of a stream brimming with waterfalls. The hardened ground soon gave way to a mattress-like peat bog that gave every soggy step an extra spring, which is fine with the proper waterproof footgear.
After about 90 minutes of trailblazing, we reached the top. The weather, as it would be throughout our week in the Scottish Highlands, was brilliant. The sun sparkled on the lakes and on crumbling castles below. And the view was soul-stirring; not a living thing, save a few sheep, could be seen for hundreds of rocky, haunting miles. In Sutherland County, an area about the size of Delaware at the far northern tip of Scotland, sheep have outnumbered humans 20-to-1 since the notorious "clearances" of the 19th century, which forced many a small farmer to the New World.
We caught our breath, drank in the solitude and headed back down the whale hump for the drive on a one-lane highway back to our home for the night, Dornoch Castle, a renovated 16th-century bishop's residence just north of Inverness on the gentler east coast.
After a meal of the best mushroom soup on earth (but anything tastes delectable after a long day's hike), venison and fresh salmon, we made our way up a curving, dungeon-like stone stair to the friendly pub. There, surrounded by visiting golfers and a crowd of locals, owner Michael Ketchin instructed us in the finer points of single malt scotch.
"Glen Livet?" he sniffed at our first choice. "That's the lowest common denominator. Sort of like your Budweiser." He then gave us a brief history of the six classic malts, each from a different region in Scotland: Cardhu, Dalwhinnie, Lagavulin, Oban, Glenkinchie and fiery Talisker, the volcanic brew distilled on the Isle of Skye. Each night thereafter, we tried something different. After ruling out those that tasted like peat bogs or something from the medicine chest, we settled upon a favorite: that unpronounceable and decidedly unpeaty Bunnahabain (boo nuh ha vin).
We were on a two-week walking and hiking tour of Scotland and Ireland, eager to spend most of the time off the well-worn tourist path and in search of that perfect inn. We were also there to unearth Scottish ancestral roots and to visit rarely seen Irish relatives.
Our journey began in Edinburgh, an ancient university town of hills, monuments and narrow streets that became known as the Athens of the North. The city is dominated by Edinburgh Castle, a squat 11th-century fortress perched on a dormant volcano. It is here that Mary Queen of Scots gave birth to James, who would later become King James I of England.
Touring the castle's great halls and tiny rooms, you can see Mary's private chamber, its leaded-glass window peering to the streets below. Also on display is the famed Stone of Scone, Scotland's coronation stone that was returned by England only recently after hundreds of years in Westminster Abbey.
If you're here in August, book a room early and try to get tickets to one of the many operas, plays, ballets or concerts of the Edinburgh International Festival. (We had no trouble getting last-minute tickets but a terrible time finding a room). Stretch your legs by walking up the monument-studded Calton Hill, where young Alexander Graham Bell hiked.
Next to the hill, you'll find great lodging at Parliament House Hotel and a fine meal at the nearby Cafe 1812. If you're in search of your roots, go to the General Register Office, across from Waverly Station, which holds old parish records before 1855 and marriage and death certificates after 1855. Unfortunately, we found six James Bowmans who would have fit the ancestral bill. We gave up the search; we had hills to hike.
North to the Highlands
We rented a car and began our journey north to the isolated Highlands. On the way, we stopped at two towns steeped in Scottish history: Bannockburn and Stirling. At each intersection and traffic circle, we would chant "left, left, left" to remind ourselves to drive on the "wrong" side of the road.
At the field in Bannockburn, Robert the Bruce defeated the overwhelming forces of England's King Edward II and won back the Scottish throne. Take a stroll along the broad field and meandering river and visit the small museum here that details the fight.
A few miles north, the countryside opens to a wide valley, and the impressive Stirling Castle, a fortress set on a 250-foot basalt rock, comes into view. William Wallace, made famous by Mel Gibson in the movie, "Braveheart," defeated Edward I's army here in a brilliant tactical victory at Stirling Bridge that included coaxing his enemy's cavalry into the marshy ground: They were soon slaughtered by Scottish broadswords. Wallace's own massive sword is on display in the monument bearing his name, a Gothic spire built in the Victorian era that is reached by a pleasant forest trail.
From here, we headed directly north to the Highlands. The western Highlands and the Isle of Skye are among the most rugged, quirky and beautiful landscapes anywhere. Much of it is protected as part or the National Nature Reserve. After a stop at a cozy teahouse outside Ullapool for "filled rolls" of ham, cheese and butter, we left for the day's hike up Stac Pollaidh (stac polly), a wild, reddish sandstone peak rising out of nowhere. The top is weathered and cracked and resembles shattered fingers. But because its strange shape makes it one of the most popular hikes in the area and because the day was gorgeous, more cars and tourists were gathered at the base than we'd seen, or wanted to, in the Highlands. So we went one mountain beyond.
Stopping just down the road across from the shinbone-shaped Loch Lurgainn, we parked our car on the deserted road and began walking straight up the side of Cul Beag (cool bayh), climbing outcroppings hand-over-hand and following meandering animal tracks. Out of breath and legs aching, we deemed the view from the top well worth the physical pain: an unbroken, 360-degree view of lakes, Cul More to the north and, directly south, the massive Stac Pollaidh. And only the wind as company.
After the hike and several guzzles of water, we drove south to the Kyle of Lachalsh and the new bridge to the Isle of Skye. As the sun began to set over the island, we drove north for an hour, past the eerie, 160-foot rock pinnacle known as Old Man Stoer, and pulled into what was to become our favorite place to stay - Flodigarry Country House Hotel - and the most exotic hike.
Exhausted from the climb and the drive and late for dinner, we were graciously ushered into the closed Water Horse Restaurant and seated directly in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Slowly, an enormous full moon, dusky and a cool orange, emerged on the horizon over the expanse of Staffin Bay. The staff, equally enchanted and lingering over the moonlight, brought us a "taster" of traditional Scottish haggis - bits of chopped sheep lung, liver and offal mixed with oats and spices and boiled in a sheep stomach. It tasted surprisingly good, like spicy hamburger, served with the usual tatties (potatoes) and neeps (mashed turnips).
In the morning, another glorious, sunny day, the Quiraing beckoned. This strange and mystical rocky butte rises hugely just behind the country house. The Quiraing is a 1,000-foot thick slab of solidified lava, covered with mossy green, that broke away in the last Ice Age and began slipping into the sea. The
four-mile hike is an easy one, the slope is gentle, and the well-worn path winds through lush meadows, steep, rocky cliffs and weird lava shapes called the Table, the Needles and the Prison. We had a picnic lunch up near the top, with views of the ocean to the north, west and east. The walk back over the top, which few hikers do, is another trailblazing experience among bleating sheep.
Scotland in the mist
The next day's hike was more like the Scotland we expected, rainy, misty, clouded over and wet. We drove south to the Cuillins, a majestic chain of sharp-peaked black and red mountains. We had chosen the perfect hike for a wet day: the fairy pools and Coire na Creiche, a wide basin at the base of the Cuillins cut by the River Brittle. As it spills down the basin, the river becomes an amazing series of waterfalls and rocky, green, glacial pools and swirls. Even on nice days, hikers get wet here.
Our last stop in Scotland was Glencoe on the border of the southern Highlands and the gently forested Argyll lake region. Here, Ben Nevis, which at about 4,400 feet is the highest peak in all Britain, rises above the almost lunar glens, rocky waterfalls, rivers, alpine plants, burns, straths and munros. Here, too, in 1692 the Campbell clan brutally massacred the MacDonalds after enjoying their hospitality for 12 days. It has since been called the "Glen of the Weeping."
We pulled into a parking lot where a bagpipe played mournful tunes, and we began walking down toward the Meeting of Three Waters. After crossing the River Coe, we began a steep ascent, literally inches from a waterfall that flows down the middle fork of the Three Sisters mountains. At the top, we were rewarded with a lonely wander through the springy, peaty bogs of the Lost Valley.
We made our way back to the country house where we were staying that night, Ardanaiseig, on Kilchrenan by Taynuilt. But in the tiny village of Kilchrenan, the friendly voices and warm lights of the local pub, The Rest, seemed inviting.
Over pints of McEwan's real Scottish ale and Tennent's Lager, the locals were heatedly arguing whether Scotland should vote to become independent or remain part of Great Britain. The lively debate lasted until midnight, at which time we found ourselves promptly locked out of the proper Ardanaiseig House: We were lucky to find a kitchen window to crawl through.
Although it is an 1834 manor house on a lovely spot overlooking Loch Awe, we were less than impressed with the stay. The staff was gruff and stuffy, and managed to continually give us the only table in the dining room with a view of the wall, even when other lake-view tables were empty. Not worth the money.
Scenes from Ireland
To cross into Ireland for the second half of our journey, we took the super-fast Stena Voyager from Stranraer to Belfast. The locals were friendly, and the downtown area was vibrant with quaint old pubs and first-rate restaurants. Try the Crown Bar, a Victorian haunt with gas lamps and wooden booths with closing doors. Nearby Fibber Magee's has great local and traditional "fiddle dee dee" bands. Set aside the dinner hour for Arthur's, a cozy restaurant just down the street that is a favorite of former Sen. George Mitchell, now a mediator in the contentious Northern Ireland peace talks.
While in Belfast, hire a cabby to take you through Falls and Shankhill roads and the working-class neighborhoods of the warring Catholic and Protestant factions, with their militant murals and sidewalks painted with vibrant political slogans. Well-fortified police barracks and a Berlin Wall-like boundary separate them. It is both fascinating and depressing.
Leaving Belfast, we head northwest toward Donegal, Ireland's rugged and Gaelic-speaking northwest coast. Both Northern Ireland and the southern Republic have a number of long hiking trails, called "ways," that meander for hundreds of miles along old coach routes. Organized treks take hikers around many of the ways like the Ulster Way, the Kerry Way and the Dingle Way, taking a few days and stopping at pre-arranged country houses or B&Bs.;
In Donegal, we chose a walk along the beaches and craggy outcroppings near Dunfanaghy out to Hornhead, a barren plateau that juts into the ocean. This is the land where St. Columba converted the early inhabitants to Christianity. Their stone monoliths carved with birds or labyrinthine swirls still rise from the valleys. Stop in any of the small towns and share a pint of Guinness with the locals, who might set aside their Gaelic conversation or put down their fiddle to talk with a Yank. We stayed the night in a small but lovely spot in the Gaeltacht, called Gortahork, where Ann Sweeney runs a small B&B; in her home and makes a fine Irish soda bread.
One of the most scenic spots in the region is Glencolumbkille, where the country road climbs through Glengesh Pass and down into a wide bowl that ends at the blue water's edge. Continuing south, we drove through the mist-shrouded Connemara
Mountains - many climbers make a pilgrimage of the holy Croagh Patrick mountain here - and chased the sun to the end of the peninsula. We arrived at Cleggan, a charming fishing village and found lodging at Cnoc Breac, which affords breathtaking views of the crashing Atlantic.
We strolled half a mile along the dirt road into town for a fine fish dinner at Oliver's. Afterward, the sky was starry, but moonless and ink black, so dark we couldn't find the road, let alone our B&B.; For 20 minutes we ambled about, trying to figure out which of the twinkling houselights on the hillside was ours. We finally located the long driveway and learned a valuable lesson: When walking in the remote Irish countryside, carry a flashlight.
Hiking in west country
For hikers in Ireland, there is nothing quite like the west country. Any part of it. Ben Bulben, where poet W. B. Yeats lies buried, the 12 Bens, or mountains, in Connemara, and the Dingle and Kerry peninsulas are crisscrossed with hundreds of miles of hiking trails, some better marked than others. Just south of Galway, we stopped to walk in the mist along the famed Cliffs of Moher. Although it is a heavily touristed site, few venture along the length of the sheer cliffs, which drop dizzily to the sea below.
We made Cork and the coastal town of Kinsale our headquarters for the southern part of the trip, more to be near relatives and to explore Beal na Blath, the Mouth of Flowers, where Irish patriot Michael Collins was assassinated in the Irish Civil War of the 1920s. Off the beaten hiking path and also near relatives, a finger of rocky, wind-swept land between Bantry and Dunmannus Bays where Brigid's grandfather grew up, was the perfect spot for our last hike.
After tea with cousins at their Ahakista farm and a stop at the old homesite, just over the steep Goat's Path rising from the village of Kilchrohane, we walked along part of the Sheep's Head Way, one of the newer trails dedicated in recent years by Irish President Mary Robinson. The trail, 55 miles from start to finish, wound along the peninsula, high above the rocks, moors and crashing waves to Sheep's Head, which seemed the end of the earth. Hikers in the area say the walk reminds them of lines from Seamus Heaney's poem, "The Peninsula": "...now you will uncode all landscapes/ By this: things founded clean on their own shapes, water and ground in their extremity."
In Dublin, we sat in the drawing room of the grand old Shelbourne Hotel, just off St. Stephen's Green, where Collins and his comrades wrote the Irish Constitution. We feasted on buttery scones, heavy cream and strawberry jam, washing them down with fine Irish tea. But there was something about the crisp employees, the fine linens, silver tea service and the well-fed afternoon crowd that left us nostalgic for the untamed edges of ** these hauntingly beautiful lands.
Flipping through the hiking books and survey maps, we were drawn once again to the rocky Irish coast of Donegal, Sheep's Head Way and the mystical Scottish Highlands. The roads not traveled; the trails not taken. So many hikes. So little time.
AN IDEAL DAY
7 a.m. Wake up to a full Scottish breakfast at Flodigarry Country House Hotel on the northernmost reaches of the fabled Isle of Skye. Gaze out over the Sound of Raasay and onto the Scottish mainland as you dig into oatmeal, eggs, sausage, kippers and home-made scones laden with marmalade.
8 a.m. Stroll around the wind-swept grounds and visit the cottage of Flora MacDonald, a national heroine who helped spirit Bonnie Prince Charles "across the Sea to Skye" following the Battle of Culloden in 1746. The pretender to the throne hid out on the island.
9 a.m. Have Flodigarry pack you a lunch and head off to hike the Quiraing, which looms above the guest house and seems too steep and unreachable for a hike. Drive 10 minutes south and watch for signs on the right-hand side of the road.
9:30 a.m. Hike along the well-marked trails and take in this surreal scenery of rock outcroppings and peaks that include the Prison, the Needle and the Table. The 4.5-mile hike takes about three hours. Enjoy the scenery and have lunch along the heights.
1 p.m. Drive north past Flodigarry and along the northern coast of Skye, through Kilmaluag and down through Uig, taking in the breathtaking coastal scenery. Stop at any one of these towns and explore; leave time for afternoon tea in one of the many inns.
4 p.m. Visit the Talisker distillery, located in the center of Skye, where they make a fiery single-malt scotch called "volcanic."
6 p.m. Arriving back at Flodigarry, get ready for a plentiful dinner of venison, salmon or, if you're adventurous, the traditional Scottish dish - haggis!
8 p.m. Have a "dram" of scotch in the parlor, read up on Scottish hikes or history. And be lulled to sleep by the repetitive baa of the nearby sheep.
WHEN YOU GO
Getting there: Aer Lingus offers round-trip airfare from Dulles to Shannon, Ireland, stopping at JFK, with rates ranging from $448 to $836. Continental also offers round-trip flights from Dulles and National to Edinburgh with stops in Newark, N.J., and Manchester, England, from $637 to $788. United flies nonstop from Dulles to London and then on to Edinburgh; rates range from $625 to $908.
Getting around: Renting a car is really the best way to explore off-the-beaten pathways. The cost of transporting a car from Scotland to Ireland was astronomical, so we arranged to pick up our car in Edinburgh and drop it off in Stranraer, where we caught the ferry to Belfast. We rented a car in Belfast and drove a loop around Ireland. This was far too much driving in one week, and we wouldn't recommend it.
When to go: These are not called the misty isles or the Emerald Isles for nothing. Both countries are lush and green, dotted with lakes and marshes and bogs. Be prepared for rain and chilly weather any season. But typically the weather is nicest July through mid-September. We traveled in mid-August and were stunned by the glorious, sunny days in Scotland. In Ireland, however, we were rained on just about every day.
Where to stay: Both countries are bristling with hotels, guest houses, bed and breakfasts, quaint cottages, farmhouses and cheap hotels, even in the most out-of-the-way places. We stayed in more upscale country houses in Scotland, where rooms and a full breakfast can cost as much as $200 a night, and went local in Ireland, staying at small, homey B&Bs; for the much more reasonable price of about $35 for two.
Our favorites in Scotland included Parliament House Hotel in Edinburgh, 15 Calton Hill, EH1 3BJ Scotland, UK, phone: 0131 478 4000; approximately $147 for a double room, with breakfast. Dornoch Castle Hotel in Dornoch, Castle Street, Sutherland IV25 3SD Scotland, UK, phone: 01862 81026; about $114 for a double room with breakfast. And Flodigarry Country House in Staffing, on the Isle of Skye, Scotland, 1V51 9HZ, phone: 1470 552 203; we paid about $190 for a double, including a full Scottish breakfast with kippers, porridge and oatcakes, and the astronomical 17] percent Scottish VAT tax.
In Ireland, we loved staying in the Georgian houses near St. Stephen's Green in Dublin; Baggot Court and Latchford's were both centrally located and reasonably priced. In Belfast, we stayed at the Europa, the most bombed and hence, the most renovated hotel in all Ireland. It's centrally located and rates run about $100 a night for a double. Great Victoria Street, Belfast, BT2 7AP, Northern Ireland, phone: 01232 327000.
Where to eat: For simple and inexpensive fare in Edinburgh, you can't really go wrong with any of the pubs along the Royal Mile on High Street, between the castle and Holyrood Palace. Look for the ghost tours and the pub in the house owned by a crazed doctor who inspired Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde. In Dublin, high tea at the Shelbourne is a must, as is a fun evening at any of the new restaurants and pubs in the refurbished Temple Bar area. In the country, the best evening meals are generally at the larger hotels and there are plenty of cozy teahouses. In Ireland, Bewley's is an old reliable standard.
Tips: Beware bad glue jobs on the bottoms of hiking boots or boots without proper ankle supports. Gas in Europe is expensive! Budget accordingly.
Information: Both the Scottish and Irish tourist boards have their own web pages. Try www.holiday.scotland.net. For Ireland, try www.ireland.travel.ie. Both sites give information not only on accommodations, but also on organized or independent walks and hikes in different geographical regions. The Highlands of Scotland Tourist Board can be reached at Grand Plain Road, Aviemore PH22 1PP Scotland, phone: 011 44 1 479 810 363.
Pub Date: 8/30/98