to grow flowers in the
desert, but I can live and
breathe and see the sun
in Wintertime...”
— Stuart Adamson, 1983
“Olga, tie your shoes, man. And tie ‘em tight!” Steve sternly warned as he a patted my head. “Don’t want you trippin’ and fallin’ if that thing comes after us.”
“Okay.” I annoyingly replied.
I was the typical 8 year old kid who disliked taking orders from older siblings — especially from one known for pulling portentous pranks. So, you can probably sympathize with my reluctance to listen to my older brother Steven. But during the Summer of ‘79, while scouting out potential clubhouse space in the deepest reaches of a looming Landover, Maryland forest — I could tell he was serious this time. I’d never seen him look like this.
He was scared to death. That devilish, dimple laden grin he’d usually display right before a sneaky trick was far from gone. And the faces of my other brother Carlos, our cousin Travis, and two good friends from our Lansdowne Village neighborhood were as white as newly washed sheets.
This little fright fest didn’t help with my shoe-tying matter. The strings frequently fumbled from my fingers like slimy worms from a fisherman’s hands. Carlos took notice and quickly assisted. While most confessed to sensing a nearby presence, I quietly panned each direction of the sultrily dense forest, but nothing was in plain sight or sound. Then seconds after Carlos finished up the last lace, what seemed to be a crunch from a large foot cracking a grounded branch echoed from beyond.
Everyone froze, until Steve, who acted as neighborhood platoon captain, yelled, “He’s coming! He’s coming!! Run for your lives!!!” Then like frightened church mice, we scattered into different directions. I stayed close to my brothers. They were older and had longer legs. But I was the fastest 8 year old on the block, so I easily kept up. I ran as fast as I could and never looked back until we were safe on our front door steps.
“D-d-did ya’ll see him!?!” I breathlessly confounded.
“Nope! I didn’t look back!” Carlos nervously chattered as Steve anxiously chimed, “me, too. But I heard him!”
After a few minutes inside to rest our feet, wet our throats, and hear Mama yell about tracking mud on the carpet, we met back up with cousin Travis and the other neighborhood kids. Like us, they also confessed to being too afraid to look back. And though no one saw anything, to this date, I still wonder if one of us had looked back for just a split second — just maybe one of us might have caught a glimpse of what is considered to be D.C.’s most renowned urban legend known as The Bunny Man.
Originating in the year 1970 from two bizarre incidents that occurred in Fairfax County, Virginia, but spread throughout the Washington D.C. area, there are many variations to The Bunny Man story. Most cases involve a giant man wearing a white fluffy bunny costume attacking people with an axe. Stranger claims have been sightings of an actual man-rabbit hybrid.
However, with the exception of a little known 2011 z-movie, unless you were around during the early 70s to mid 80s, nowadays the legend itself has been nearly forgotten. But when perusing wildlife, I make it a point to warn my nephews and nieces or other friends who weren’t in the area during that time. Unfortunately, I’ve found that after describing The Bunny Man’s appearance, folks tend to chuckle and assume I am making it all up for giggles.
In recent times, in a Balkan country approximately 5,000 miles away from Landover, next to the myth behind the Rhodope’s ever-popular Devil’s Throat Cave and an impressive reputation for being the original birthplace of the vampire legend — which recently include newly discovered corpses from the Middle Ages with iron rods shoved through their chests — after 3 years of living in Bulgaria, I have yet to come across any modern day urban legends still frightening folks around town. In Fact, the second I mention vampires originating in the Sunflower Capital, natives tend to smirk or smile about it. I guess, like with the case of The Bunny Man, scary urban legends only lasts for so long before the fear dies down and becomes a joke.
However, during February of 2012, after bestowing Sarah, my girl from the north country, with a dreamy kind of birthday gift of a long awaited journey to Scotland, a country known for having the world’s oldest and most popular urban legend, I learned rather quickly that, no matter how much time has passed by, a true titillating tale never cease to terrify.
In the next few paragraphs find out why, as I detail exciting stories from the brave and fearless Castle Hunter’s biggest hunt to date, while exploring amazing Scottish cities and towns such as Edinburgh, Dunfermline, Inverness, Linlithgow, Glamis, Sterling, Pitlochry, Loch Ness, and many more along with an extra bonus stop through Frankfurt, Germany — during the Big Country Castle Quest . . .
DAYS AFTER SURVIVING THE SNOWIEST winter in Balkan history, and hours before catching an early morning train to Plovdiv Airport, Sarah and I found ourselves gearing up for another travel adventure. This time to Scotland and Germany, a trip that oddly had us on a pre-adventure packing light in hopes to avoid paying an extra 50 euro at the check point. You see, Ryanair, a low budget Irish airline, has a strict carry-on rule they firmly stand by: 1 carry item with a 10 pound weight limit.
Now, if you’d recall Blog-O-Daria’s third season opener that was apply titled Write About Love to describe my adoration for Germany, it’s rather apropos that a small portion of this season’s opener continue with that sentiment. And on that note, even though I was still enamored with Germany after a second visit, due to 2012’s historical cold snap that spread throughout most of Europe, after two days in Frankfurt am Main, I wanted to get the hell out as fast as I could. The place was colder than liquid nitrogen!
The instant we felt the frigid temperatures, which rivaled that of Minnesota — the coldest place I’d ever endured, Sarah and I knew we’d be spending a lot of time doing indoor activities. So, after checking into our accommodation, a groovy little hostel located in the baby red light section of Frankfurt with a most spectacular view of the financial district, we hit up numerous coffee shops, museums, and malls to buy warm threads — occasionally darting outdoors for quick glimpses of many of Frankfurt’s iconic tourist attractions, like the Deutsche Bank Twin Towers, the goliath Frankfurt Cathedral, and the Hauptwache, the city’s most famous plaza — where we ate a yummy lunch at the historical Guard House.
In my most humble opinion, travel blogs about museums, malls, or coffee shops tend to bore. And more importantly, they don't quite fit into the typical Blog-O-Daria scheme. So, unfortunately, this part of the story will end here. My deepest apologies to the Frankfurt am Main fans hoping for a bigger portion. If you want a detailed story of my time in Germany, please refer back to Episode 23.
"If you could feel
How I must feel
The winds of quiet change.
If you could see
What I must see
Still hidden in the rain.
But when the thunder rolls
And you take my hand
And be with me in wonderland."
— Stuart Adamson, 1983
Our accommodation in Edinburgh was at the ironic medieval themed Castle Rock Hostel, located next door to one of Edinburgh’s top tourist attractions of the same name, a 12th century fortress dominating the skyline from atop of the volcanic Castle Rock. So, without a single hunt involved, Edinburgh Castle became our first score of the Big Country Castle Quest. Though a top favorite for the birthday girl, in my opinion the fortress had a cluttered feel that wasn’t quite pleasing to the eye.
Speaking of pleasing, Edinburgh, in general, was one of the most beautiful and fascinating cities I’d ever laid my baby browns on. Its gothic styled architecture, mixed with a constant overcast, gave the city a mysterious and charming edge unlike any I’d ever seen. That said, the place was a visual artist’s dream and during our numerous walks through the city, I easily snapped over a 1,000 pictures along the way.
If you came prepared with my book of fine traveling, turn to the page where I state that "the people of a country are the most important aspect of truly enjoying a country." This might help you understand why one of the main reasons we had such a fab time was due to the Scots being some of the most friendliest people I’d ever come across since Ireland and Germany.
Oh, and I hope you didn't think I forgot about the most iconic subject matter of the Blog-O-Daria series. Because I didn't. With the exception of much attention outside the bigger cities like Edinburgh, my ever-so-present celebrity status was pretty mediocre in Scotland. There was a sizable number of not only Blacks, but other people of color and mixed marriages in general.
Taking its position as my number one favorite highlight of Edinburgh, though not officially a castle, since it resembled one, I’m going to count Holyrood Palace as the second score on the Big Country Castle Quest. Officially the residence of the Monarch of the United Kingdom in Scotland, Queen Elizabeth II spends one week in residence at Holyrood at the beginning of each Summer. Having said that, our timing was perfect! Since the palace was open to the public during Wintertime, we took a self-guided tour through its exquisite interior.
Our last day in Edinburgh turned out to be Sarah’s actual birth day. Having our full of indoor activities in Frankfurt, with the exception of a scary haunted house tour, lunch with some cool exchange students at The Elephant House — the birthplace of the Harry Potter series, and a shopping spree at HMV, the last great CD/DVD chain still standing and the place which nearly costs me an extra 50 euro during the flight back home, if not for Sarah smuggling the goods inside her lightly packed luggage — we avoided all museums, malls and coffee shops, and stayed outdoors for more sightseeing.
As night approached, we were left with no choice but to celebrate Sarah’s birthday dinner at an unlikely restaurant — Holiday Inn, our accommodation before exploring more cities and towns in Scotland. With absolutely no enthusiasm, we approached the dimly lit, barely opened restaurant of the hotel lobby. The staff, little as there were, glared as though they were thinking, “please go away and let us go home!” My thoughts were, “the food here is going to suck. We’ll be eating left-overs!” Then the magic started when a slender Scottish man approached and greeted us.
His name was Daniel, our waiter for the night. And let me state for the record, he just might be the greatest waiter I’d ever had in my whole life. The minute I whispered, “birthday girl,” he lit up! Then after recommending the best to eat and drink on the menu, which included tasty wine, seafood and various vegetarian dishes, we discovered that Daniel was a fellow traveler. So throughout the night, he shared fascinating stories from Scotland and abroad. His vibe was so entertaining, that it felt as if the the restaurant was fully packed and lively. He made Sarah's birthday quite memorable. She was happier than a little girl with a brand new Malibu Barbie.
“Oh Lord, where did the feeling go?
Oh Lord, I never felt so low.”
— Stuart Adamson, 1983
It was difficult continuing the Quest after having such an easy-going time with Cockatoo. But after Seasoned Sarah purchased a reliable car-map, we finally located the lovely Linlithgow Palace, the third score of our Quest and a sure top 20 contender amongst the greatest castles we’d ever seen. Technically ruins, the palace, which is situated in the town of Linlithgow —15 miles west of Edinburgh, was one of the principal residences of the monarchs of Scotland in the 15th to 16th centuries and later burned out in 1746.
“In a big country dreams stay with you.
Like a lover’s voice, fires the mountainside.
Stay alive . . .”
SCOTLAND IS HOME TO A HOST OF LEGENDARY musicians. Natives like Belle and Sebastian, Average White Band, Simple Minds, Sheena Easton, and the ethereal Cocteau Twins, have each garnered a permanent place on my list of the Greatest Artists Of All Time. But there’s one little known Scottish band who never quite received the acclaim or recognition as the aforementioned. Known as Big Country, the band itself and The Crossing, their 1983 flawless debut, will always remain in my heart and hold a high position on my list of the Greatest Albums You Must Hear Before You Die.
So why attend a concert without Adamson? Well, a recent MOJO magazine article, where original members described the current tour as being more of a tribute to Adamson than a reunion concert, gave me a change of heart. Unfortunately, there was some heavy schedule rearranging on Sarah’s part to make due for the concert. But we both agreed it was well worth it in the end.
With just a day in Dunfermline, hours before Big Country’s triumphant tribute, Sarah and I explored the old town, which I lovingly describe as a baby version of Edinburgh — due to its size and enchantment. Next to the concert and dinner at a yummy Indian restaurant, where they served naan the size of a hubcap, a definite top highlight and must-see of Dunfermline was Dunfermline Abby. The monumental church, probably best known for its memorial nameplate dedicated to Robert The Bruce — King Of Scots, is one of Scotland’s most important cultural sites.
“I wouldn’t want to go home on a night like this.
When I find out that some of the past has been missed.
And the light in the window has burned it’s fuse.
I pull everything inwards, but everything’s loose.”
That said, the fifth castle we hunted down, similar to Van Helsing on a hunt for Dracula’s coffin before sunset, was the sensational Stirling Castle. Perched high in the city of the same name, the castle is one of the largest and most important, both historically and architecturally, in all of Scotland.
with the gods in my eyes.
I will carry you home
while the westerlies sigh."
— Stuart Adamson, 1983
After Inverness and a wild goose chase locating Cawdor Castle, that unfortunately left us empty handed, before hunting down the next castle, we made a quick pitstop in Pitlochry, a charming little Victorian town who owes its success as a tourist resort to Queen Victoria's big visit in 1842. After exploring, we took a well deserved break at a diner and chomped down on some yummy salad and fish and chips. I also ordered a pint of that famous Scottish ale, which tasted like a flat cherry flavored 7 Up. I love you, Scotland — but the ale didn't quite make the cut.
Not too far from Pitlochry, but not close enough to arrive within an hour’s time, was The Edradour, the smallest distillery in Scotland and the place Sarah was most anxious to visit from the start of the Quest. So, without a second to spare, I put the peddle to the metal and arrived 5 minutes before closing time. Assuming Sarah would be turned away, the Scots — again, some of the friendliest people on earth — welcomed her with open arms. And you can best believe my girl from the north country made good use of those 5 minutes.
The seventh castle we hunted down like Buffalo Bill hunting bison was another fat disappointment of the Quest. Like Glamis, the beautiful Blair Castle, located near the village of Blair Atholl in Perthshire, was closed for tours during the Winter months. But unlike Glamis, it wasn't set off quite as far from the gated entrance, so we managed to scout out a scenic spot to take a few snapshots for castle hunting record books.
“Pull up your head off the floor,
come up screaming.
Cry out for everything you ever
might have wanted.”
— Stuart Adamson, 1983
DREAMS REALLY DO COME TRUE. And in this case, they did for a 13 year old D.C. kid who dreamt of someday visiting the far away places where his all-time favorite television shows were filmed. But because I’d always assumed The Avengers — a brilliant British spy series from the '60s not to be confused or dare placed on the same level with the Marvel comic's title and block buster film of the same name — was filmed in England, before the Quest, I hadn't a clue I’d be in for the surprise of my life. You see, it all happened while searching for the eighth castle. Just as The Enterprise cruised off into the coast of River Ness on the Scottish Highlands, the scenery started looking all too familiar.
"Wow! These roads remind me of the Avengers!" I pondered.
Sarah, who'd recently become transfixed to the show after supplying her with the complete series remastered on DVD, complied, "You're right. It certainly does."
"But I highly doubt if the show was ever filmed this far north of England." I declared with a bit of uncertainty.
This also explained why the surroundings looked so familiar — they too were used during the show’s car chase scenes. I'd learn later that Eilean was used for another favorite little known spy series called James Bond in the film The World Is Not Enough, and a host of other prominent movies and television shows. And rightly so. Eilean was simply an artist's dream.
Located on a small island in Loch Duich, connected to the mainland by a footbridge lying half a mile from the village of Dornie, Eilean Donan, meaning “island of Donnán”, easily made up for the big disappointments at Glamis and Blair and became, without a doubt, our greatest moment and biggest triumph of the Big Country Castle Quest.
“The fear of life is strong.
We are waiting in the forest
deep and dark behind the wall.
What is hidden in our hearts
Absolves of all worry when
our fate is in the hands
Of a demon or a god.”
— Stuart Adamson, 1983
I'm referring to the mighty Urquhart Castle, the ninth and final castle we hunted down on the Big Country Castle Quest. Though extensively ruined, this rarely discussed gem of the Loch Ness legend, was one of the largest strongholds of medieval Scotland back in the day. And remains an impressive structure, splendidly overlooking the Loch Ness where the majority of the much debated Nessie sightings have occurred.
And strangely, when in the presence of the castle and River Ness, it is rather easy to understand just how one can come to these supposed sightings and conclusions. When gazing out on the river from the grounds of the castle, pondering on its long and mysterious past, blood starts pumping and adrenaline flows. Your eyes helplessly dart around hoping to spot something, anything that could vaguely resemble the monster. And this dynamic was no stranger to a certain blonde someone.
You see, after we explored Urquhart, I was excited to snap a few shots of us next to the legendary river. While reloading fresh batteries into Big Silver, my trusty camera, Sarah anxiously arrived at the out-look point, a few yards ahead of me.
"Aaaaaaahhhhhhh!!!" She screamed.
"W-w-what is it!?!" I yelled.
"I see it! I see the monster!!!" she cried.
With no doubt in my mind that my girl from the north country had actually spotted the creature, I raced down to take a look for myself with high hopes of taking what could be the most critical photograph of all my journeys.
"Where, where?!?" I shouted.
She then replied, "there!! there!!!" and pointed toward a mysterious floating object about a quarter mile away from the look-out point.
As I clutched Big Silver tightly with my index finger readied on the shutter button, I focused my 20/20 baby browns on the mysterious floater. Then within seconds, I realized Sarah was obviously suffering from a bad case of myopia. Off in the distance was a small white-ish flag waving from a pole protruding from the lake. Yeah, I know... River Ness is probably not the best place to display ones' national pride.
Okay, okay. I know what you're thinking. "A Man wearing a bunny suit, killing folks with an axe. That's a real long shot, O." But hey, one can never tell how history will play itself out, right? No, seriously — don't laugh. Just think about it for a second. Now imagine traveling back in time to the Loch Ness River and locating ol' George Spicer, the man who supposedly first spotted Nessie. Imagine showing him a video summary of all the hoopla surrounding the Loch Ness Monster in the last 80 years.
I think he'd be tickled pink. But mostly dazed with disbelief.
Be seeing you.
O
