Spring in Cambridge

River Etive, Scotland

A few more photos...

Water water everywhere and not a 'yak to sink

We're not in Cambridge anymore (well we weren't a month ago when we took this photo). We're up in Scotland, walking along the banks of a class 5 river looking at the waterfalls and I'm thinking that my kayak is something like 5,000 miles away in a basement in Salt Lake City, Utah.

Back in Cambridge, the river Cam is a little flatter, a little more sedate, and you don't need hiking boots to hike along the bank.

(I used to do a lot of hillwalking on the west coast of Scotland. The River Etive is near Glencoe a little south of Fort William.)

Holy Trinity, Dunoon

After a couple of days in Glasgow visiting Anne and wandering old favorites, we set off for an afternoon ferry to Dunoon, on the north side of the River Clyde, to visit a friend with new digs: church, cemetery and rectory all on a promontory looking out onto the river with a reservoir and forest behind her. Pretty special spot.

Our visit was short, an overnight with dinner at Loch Fyne Oyster Bar in Cairndow about a 35 minutes drive from Dunoon. Loch Fyne is where my mail order fish comes from. So, that coupled with the fantastic location should make for a glorious evening, but after a meal there, I felt let down. The food just doesn't hold its own and I suspect it's because the chef isn't cooking his or her choices but a prescribed menu. Ho hum, at least the company was good.

After a good night sleep in the rectory, we awoke to sunshine and good coffee. (It helps to have an American making it!) The sunshine and views drove me to wander to each window. Each holding its own special gift, but one stood out from the rest where a deer with the start of its fuzzy antlers was having breakfast. It looked at me and unimpressed went back to eating. Of course, that reduced me to five-year-old antics, running to get Alastair and camera. Citified, for certain. Didn't manage the camera, but it was a good preface to heading further north.

Trailer: Spring... coming soon.

We all know that when we wash our cars or have our windows cleaned, it will rain the next day. Well, apparently, we should know that when one installs a clothes line, it will undoubtedly storm.

Fifteen minutes after I put out the inaugural load of towels, our warm weather headed south literally, as winds from Greenland swept down bringing hail and snow. I haven't used the clothes line since; Alastair has, but I think it was under protest. Our glimpse of Spring is gone, instead Winter is back. Yesterday, I spent my time at the gym staring out at blizzard conditions, white out and horizontal snow. In an hour we had a good blanket of the stuff. It didn't last, never seems to here. The sun shines through the storms pretty regularly. This morning, there's a crust of frost on everything. Hopefully, all that green showing last week got the message and hunkered down before it's too late.



So, here I am left with little evidence outside of the 70s I relished last week. Instead, I'm finding comfort and color in a few branches of cherry blossoms I brought inside. These should carry me through until the time changes Sunday and it warms up again.