Scotland Days 5 & 6: Edinburgh and Robert the Bruce

September 29, 2024October 6, 2024 / mariezhuikov / 13 Comments

*A cute train planter at the Huntly train station.*

We departed the village of Gardenstown in a drizzle, boarding a bus for Banff with water squishing out of our shoes. In Banff, we caught a cab to the train station in Huntly. We had learned from our lesson the previous day and booked the cab in advance. The train arrived on time. We spent the relaxing ride reading and playing cards.

Schlepping my suitcase around while using a hiking pole for my broken ankle wasn’t easy, but my ankle, despite its deep purple, green, and sickly yellow hues, was no longer swollen and it felt pretty good. About five hours later, we arrived in Edinburgh.

Our destination for the next six nights was the Angel’s Share Hotel. I chose it because it was only six blocks away from the station (so we could walk there) and because I liked the name. If you’re a whisky drinker, you probably know that it’s named for the small amount of whisky that evaporates while it ages in a cask. It’s thought that the angels drink it, and thus get their share. The hotel’s bar and restaurant offer a wide range of whiskies and each room features large images of famous Scots. The singer Lulu Kennedy-Cairns graced our room. She’s best known for her song, “To Sir, With Love.” She looks like Olivia Newton-John.

After settling in our room, we popped down to the restaurant for a meal. The restaurant and bar are combined. The place was packed, and a soccer game was on (England vs. Sweden), plus a birthday or two were being celebrated. The decibel level was high! We assumed the crowd would be rooting for England, since it is geographically closer to Scotland, but they seemed to be cheering Sweden. I guess that even when it comes to sports, old grudges and rivalries die hard in Scotland.

*Edinburgh Castle as seen during our walk from the train station.*

Staying at the Angel’s Share ended up being a superb experience. It’s in a great location for walking to Edinburgh Castle, the Royale Mile, and many, many wonderful restaurants. We ate at a different place almost every day and never had a bad meal. Most were only a few blocks away. The rooms were quiet, and I loved the ambiance of the lobby with its dark wood paneling and fireplace.

We rose early the next day for a tour I’d been eagerly awaiting for months: sites connected with my great-grandfather to the 21^st power and first king of Scotland, Robert the Bruce, including Broomhall House, the current home of the Bruce Family.

I was most excited about Broomhall House. It only recently opened for tours, which are led by Charles Bruce. I had contacted Broomhall directly through their website inquiring about a tour over six months before our trip but I never heard anything back from them. Then I contacted a tour company that listed Broomhall on its website as a tour option. I did not hear back from them, either. A few months before our trip, I tried the company again and they said they were all booked. By this time, I’d made arrangements for a different tour with Tartan Viking Tours (an Outlander tour. More on this in a later post) I contacted them and asked if I could “build a private tour” with them that included Broomhall. They said they could do it, which delighted me to no end. Later, they told me the private tour would cost $1,500. This gave us pause, but not for long. We figured this was a once-in-a-lifetime experience and that it would save us having to return some other time to do it, so we said “Yes!”

Calum was our guide. Sporting full Scottish regalia, he picked us up at our hotel in a van. Our first stop really didn’t have anything to do with “The Bruce,” but I had wanted to see it because I love Scottish myths and the images I’d seen of this attraction. Besides, The Kelpies were on the way to the other things we wanted to see.

The Kelpies are two giant horse heads surrounded by a moat of water. In Scottish myth, kelpies are shape-shifting water spirits that lure humans to their deaths by drowning. They were built by Andy Scott and unveiled in 2014. The Kelpies have royal names: Duke and Baron. We saw more of Scott’s smaller sculptures in the middle of round abouts along the way. Also, Minnesota just got one of his giant sculptures in the form of a loon in St. Paul. It was just put in place last week!

Our next stop was Stirling Castle. If you only have time to visit one castle in Scotland, I suggest this one. We liked it because it just seemed like a castle should be. Built on a volcanic crag, the castle has a great hall, a palace with impressive bedrooms, a chapel, pretty gardens, and great views of the surrounding landscape including the Wallace Monument. Live actors worked in several of the rooms. One thing I learned was that the impressive bedrooms were mostly for show. Castle royalty actually slept in smaller, more modest rooms off the showy bedrooms.

*The Robert the Bruce statue at Stirling Castle*

Throughout his reign Robert the Bruce was known for destroying castles. He did this so that they couldn’t fall into the hands of the British. He also never settled in one place long himself to avoid being killed. Stirling Castle was one of The Bruce’s castle casualties, but it was rebuilt later. Even so, The Bruce is honored with a statue outside of it. While we were admiring the statue, Calum and his kilt created quite a stir among a group of Asian tourists. They were so excited, they were taking photos of his back! I mentioned this to Calum, who graciously posed for some full-frontal photos with the group. 😊

Next was the Wallace Monument. Although it was built to honor William Wallace, a heroic Scottish warrior, Robert the Bruce is honored in it, as well. A spiral staircase leads to the top of the monument. Several floors on the way up offer exhibits (and a rest from stair climbing). I learned that climbing spiral staircases with a hiking pole and a broken ankle is tricky. We encountered MANY spiral staircases during this tour and others, but in case you were worried, I’m happy to say, I emerged unscathed.

*Wallace Monument as seen from Stirling Castle*

Our next site offered a much stronger connection to The Bruce. Dunfermline Abbey is where Robert the Bruce was buried. Actually, his alabaster tomb was destroyed during the reformation in the 1500s, but his body (along with alabaster fragments) was found in 1818 when the abbey was being renovated. His new tomb is done in the Scottish royal colors of red and yellow/gold. A wooden pulpit was built directly over it, so it’s as if the minister is channeling the king during his/her sermons! The abbey is still in use.

*Robert the Bruce’s grave in Dunfermline Abbey.*

The whole structure honors the former king. As we walked toward it, Russ noticed the words “King Robert The Bruce” are spelled out at the top of the abbey’s square spire. Before his body was reinterred, five plaster casts were taken of his skull. One was on display at the abbey. Another one is in Broomhall. For me, this was perhaps the most moving of all the places we visited. Something about the silence and the reverence impacted me.

Then came the piece de resistance: Broomhall House! Calum had never been there, so he had to look it up on his mapping app. As we drove up to it, I noticed signs for a restaurant and hotel. The research I’d done on Broomhall had not mentioned anything like that. Curious.

We hopped out of the van and went to the reception desk. Calum said, “We’re here for the tour.” The receptionist looked at him blankly. Uh oh. As it turned out, we were at Broomhall Castle, not Broomhall House.

After discovering the error, we sped back in the proper direction. This time, the place we approached looked much more like what I was expecting. We stayed in the van while Calum knocked on the door. A woman came out from a different door, and they chatted. She looked worried and took up her phone. Uh oh. Eventually, both of them approached the van.

The gist of it was that we were not expected. My heart bottomed out right there but I tried to keep it together. The woman who was speaking with us was Antonia Bruce, Charles’s sister. She had tried calling Charles, but he wasn’t picking up. She was willing to go into the house with us but she wasn’t really up on giving tours and besides, she was taking care of her parents, 100-year-old Lord Elgin (Andrew Bruce) and Victoria.

Antonia was verra verra nice. We apologized for interrupting her and said we’d try to come back another day. We had two days open on our itinerary and hoped that one of them would work. Somewhere there had been a communications breakdown. (Hint: it wasn’t on the tour company’s side.) I was hugely disappointed but realized that shit happens. I was just glad we were staying longer and might have time to for the situation to be rectified.

So, with fingers crossed, we drove away.

Did months of planning go down the drain? Did we just throw away a bunch of money? Did we ever get to tour Broomhall? Tune into the next exciting installment!

If you enjoy my blog, you’ll love my book! Meander North showcases 51 of the best stories from this blog about my quirky life in northern Minnesota and my writerly pursuits. It earned a silver Midwest Book Award for nature writing and was published by Nodin Press in Minneapolis. It is available for $19.95 through their distributor at this link.

Scotland: Days 3 & 4, Gardenstown and Banff

September 24, 2024 / mariezhuikov / 9 Comments

After breaking my ankle during a hike from Gardenstown, we laid low the next day. I sat in the window seat, watching boats and the tide come in and go out of the harbor with ankle iced and elevated. “Losing” a day of adventures was frustrating, especially after losing a day in Ireland due to our flight getting canceled. But I really had no choice but to be sensible. Sigh.

Gulls were nesting on the slate roofs in the nearby courtyard, squawking loudly and bringing food to their half-grown babies. With their calls in the background, I boned up on my Scottish genealogy in preparation for our meeting with a distant cousin at Broomhall House near Edinburgh. I mentioned in one of my posts about Ireland that, according to some less-distant cousins, I’m related to Robert the Bruce, the first king of Scotland. He was my great-grandfather to the 21^st power. Someday I plan to get a genetics test to prove this, but I hadn’t had time or opportunity to do that just yet.

*A reconstruction of Robert the Bruce’s face. Image courtesy of the BBC.*

As I perused the genealogical chart, I was impressed by some of the sir names that popped up, including Stuart and Wallace. Apparently, our cab driver the other day might be a Stuart relative of mine! No wonder we became buddies so quickly. Also, there were six Barons of Clackmannan in my line. Thanks to some internet searches, I discovered that the barons lived in a tower and mansion in the town of Clackmannan and that the tower still stands. I thought it would be great to go there some day and filed that in the back of my mind. It wasn’t too far away from Broomhall House. Hmmmm.

The next day we decided to brave a bus trip to Banff, the nearest large town, to take in some of the sights. The bus stop was nearby, and it ran every hour or so, so it looked very convenient. And it was! Hobbling to the stop with my hiking pole, we caught the bus. Our goal was to wander around Banff for a while, then catch a taxi in the afternoon to Huntley and the Glendronach Distillery, one of our favorite brands of whisky.

We were dropped off in the central town square of Banff. Mind you, this is the original Banff that Banff, Canada, is named for, or so the locals say. (I checked, and Banff Canada was named by the president of the Canadian Pacific Railway who grew up in Banff, Scotland.) An internet search told me that a local mansion called Duff House was open for tours. The walk wasn’t too far, so off we (I) hobbled.

The building was designed in the 18^th century by Scottish architect William Adam for the local lord. However, before the interior was finished, work on the house stopped due to cost overruns. Apparently, the local lord’s (William Duff) plans were larger than his wallet. A court case ensued, which found in favor of the architect. Unfortunately, he died before the case was finished and never collected his payment. The lord was so disappointed by the whole thing, he never spent a night in the house and its completion was left to his heirs. During its life, the house has served many uses, including a hotel, sanatorium, and POW camp. If you’re interested in more history about the house, visit this site.

*The dining room in Duff House, with a crooked candelabra.*

The house is several stories tall. Rather than have a woman with a broken ankle hobble up and down stairways, the tour guides led me to elevators between floors, something I was thankful for! We enjoyed viewing the notable paintings and relics in the mansion.

By then, it was lunch time, so we walked back to the town square to a café we noticed earlier. Sated, we went back to the town square to see if we could connect with a cab. There are five cab companies serving Banff. Much to our dismay, we discovered that all of them were booked and there was no way we could make our distillery tour reservation time. We planned to leave for Edinburgh the next day, so we were out of luck for a tour later. We discovered the hard way that we should have made advance reservations with a cab. We learned that many school children in the area use cabs to get to and from school and that’s why none were available for us.

What was really lovely is that a woman who was walking by noted our plight and tried to help us. She even went across the street to a travel agent and asked his advice. Unfortunately, his advice was to spend time in the café where we had just had lunch and get a cab later. That wasn’t going to work for several reasons. So, we made the best of it and walked to the harbor to see more of the town.

We also stopped at The Market Arms Pub, which is rated the best in Banff. A bunch of guys were sitting at the bar. We grabbed a nearby table and had a pint while we waited for our bus ride back to Gardenstown. After about an hour, and older bespectacled gentleman turned to us and said, “Aye, do ye know who Mellors is then?”

It took me a beat to place the name, but I was soon able to tell him that Mellors was the gamekeeper in “Lady Chatterley’s Lover.” He said something about the other guys at the bar being too young to know who Mellors was. I told him it was one of my favorite books, and he agreed that it was beautifully written. That was the extent of our conversation. Where else in the world would a person in a bar ask you about a D. H. Lawrence book? I feel like something like this could have only happened in Scotland! This conversation made up for missing our distillery tour and is just one reason why I love this country.

We caught the bus back to Gardenstown. Everyone on the bus was very friendly, both coming and going, and seemed to know each other. One man even tried to give us advice on where to sit. His advice would have separated me from Russ, however. I told him that just wasn’t happening. He huffed in a way that said, “Suit yourself. I tried!” As with my previous trip, I was so impressed by the community spirit of this area of Scotland and the helpfulness of the people. They’ve got their noses all up in your business, but they mean well by it.

We capped off our night with another meal at the Garden Arms Hotel. I had langoustine nuggets (they’re a kind of shrimp also known as Norwegian lobster) and tiramisu for dessert. They were superb! We spent the rest of the evening at our AirBnB in front of the fire sipping scotch. The next day, our destination was Edinburgh, by train.

Scotland and the Moray Coast, More Taxi Driver Wisdom, and a Broken Ankle

September 21, 2024September 23, 2024 / mariezhuikov / 15 Comments

*Gardenstown, Scotland, at low tide. To the left is Crovie.*

Now, we’re continuing Russ’s and my epic trip to Ireland and Scotland. After spending a week in Ireland we flew to Aberdeen, Scotland. Our goal was Gardenstown, a coastal fishing village next door to where I stayed in Scotland eight years ago when I visited Crovie. I wanted to spend more time there and show it to Russ. I chose Gardenstown over Crovie because we weren’t renting a car this time and we wanted to be closer to a grocery store. Gardenstown sports a couple of convenience stores and “The Wee Shoppie,” a grocery store that offers a great selection of food despite being “wee.”

The cab ride from the Aberdeen Airport to Gardenstown was pricey (around $100) but to us it was worth it. By using cabs and public transport throughout our trip, we saved money versus renting a car. Our plans didn’t always work out due to unforeseen circumstances but overall, it went pretty slick. We also didn’t have the stress involved with navigating Ireland and Scotland’s narrow, winding roads where the locals drive very fast. Another reason was because the last time I was in Scotland, I had a car crash on my way to the airport in Edinburgh. (Read that saga here.) Gardenstown can also be reached by bus, but the ride is long, and we didn’t want to spend that much time getting to our destination.

Besides, if we rented a car or took a bus, we wouldn’t be privy to more taxi driver wisdom! On our ride we learned that Elvis is of Scottish descent. (Our driver had visited Graceland and brought the appropriate color tartan to lay at his grave.) We also learned that “You can always be sure of your mother, but not so much your father,” when it comes to ancestry. I suppose in many cases, that’s true! Our driver said he identified with his mother’s Stuart Clan for this reason.

*The Robert the Bruce statue in Aberdeen. Photo credit: Duncan McDowall/Art UK.*

This got us into a conversation about my link to Robert the Bruce, first king of Scotland. Our driver told us that there’s a statue of The Bruce in Aberdeen. It shows the king on a horse, holding papers in his outstretched, upraised hand. The charter is a declaration he signed in 1319 that gave the city his lands (Forest of Stocket) in appreciation for their support of him. This charter also resulted in the creation of the Aberdeen’s Common Good Fund, which is still used for community projects today. It stands outside the revamped Marischal College, the City Council’s headquarters. I’ve seen a lot of photos of Robert the Bruce statues, but this one was new to me. Our driver’s Stuart Clan supported Robert the Bruce, so we were like best buds after that conversation!

*Our Gardenstown AirBnB* was in the building on the left, the side with the white bay window.

He dropped us off at our Gardenstown AirBnB, which featured a full kitchen, fireplace, and views of the harbor. It was a little tricky to find, since it required a walk up a narrow set of stairs, but if you read the access instructions thoroughly, you should have an easier time than we did! We also had trouble accessing the lock box but a quick call to our gracious host fixed that problem.

*The view out our bedroom window on a rainy Scottish day.*

We dropped off our luggage and then made the short walk to the Wee Shoppie. We were famished from not having any lunch. While we shopped, fog rolled in from the North Sea and a drizzle began. It was perfect weather to cook a hearty pasta meal.

The next day, after the rain stopped, we hiked to Crovie. The rental cottage where I stayed before (Crovie #13) was still there. Crovie is also an historic fishing village, formed during the clearances when the British drove the Scots off their lands after the Battle of Culloden. It’s so picturesque, as you can no doubt tell from the images that go along with this post. Both Gardenstown and Crovie are on the Moray Coast, which is in northeast Scotland and spans from Fraserburgh to Inverness, a hundred miles along the coast.

We stopped back in Gardenstown for lunch and then hiked the opposite direction along the beach and up to the graveyard and ruins of an old church on a hill. The trail had suffered from some erosion since I was last on it, but we managed to get up the hill fine. Once we were atop it and nearing the church, however, I let down my guard. I rolled my right ankle, heard an ominous “snap,” and fell to the ground.

Two years ago, I broke that ankle (also hearing a snap) during a kickboxing workout. I have high arches, so am prone to this type of injury. Luckily, I just broke off the very tip of my tibia on the outside of my ankle bone that time and did not need surgery or a cast.

*A scene from our hike to the church ruins.*

When I heard the snap this time, I immediately knew I had rebroken the same spot. Thankfully, I was able to stand and walk. With the help of one of Russ’s hiking poles I hobbled to the church and sat on a bench while Russ explored. I kept my ankle elevated, but already it began to resemble a goose egg.

I pondered our predicament. We were on a hillside in the middle of nowhere. We didn’t know it then, but there were no clinics in Gardenstown. There was no way I was going back down the eroded trail. I knew there was a cart path out to the paved road that led back to Gardenstown. It would be a longer walk, but a smoother one. We could call for emergency help, but that seemed excessive since I could still walk, and the fracture probably wasn’t that bad.

Once Russ returned, we decided we would walk the road back to town. Of course, at that point, it began to rain. There’s nothing like hobbling through the rain with a broken ankle. Even walking on the smooth road was taking our lives in our hands, however. I’ve mentioned that the roads are narrow and winding. They also have blind curves, small shoulders, and are lined with hedges, which make it hard to get out of the way of vehicles. At one point, a farm tractor pulling a trailer roared around a corner, narrowly missing us. We thought we were goners! The driver probably pegged us as crazy.

*Me looking out the bay window the day before I broke my ankle.*

After two soggy and slow miles, we began the steep descent into Gardenstown, which is built on a hillside. We stopped at a gas station along the way, hoping they’d have an ace bandage in stock, but no luck. Once we made it back to our AirBnB, bedraggled and cold, I sat on the couch while Russ went to the Wee Shoppie for a bag of frozen peas to place on my swelling.

During his trip, he noticed an ankle brace in a window of an osteopath’s shop. The shop was closed but had open hours the next day and a phone number for appointments. We called and left a message. The next day the lady osteopath called us back and was able to work me in between her other appointments.

Alas, the ankle brace box in her window was just for show. It was empty. But she had an expired ace bandage that she offered me for free. I never knew that ace bandages expired. Even so, it seemed to work just fine, and it made me feel much more supported when I walked. Thank you, osteopath lady!

Through internet searches, we learned there was a clinic in the nearby village of Banff, but I really didn’t want to spend hours of our vacation getting medical care, especially since I was getting around okay.

In need of pampering, Russ and I visited the Garden Arms hotel that night for supper. I had a haggis/black pudding burger with bacon. Nothing like a bit of suet and lamb heart to make things right!

Next: Laying low in Gardenstown and a visit to Banff

*View of the Gardenstown Harbor from our AirBnB.*

Sapelo Island Salt Marsh

September 14, 2024 / mariezhuikov / 9 Comments

Lime-green trees, water weeds
surround the marble-white egret.
Chocolate-brown muck lines the shore.
The sun glows like a lighthouse.

The bird hunches
springs
off the log
hot, humid
into flight.

This bird eats gray fish, brown bugs,
tiny translucent shrimp.
How does it grow them into
the snowy feathers
of an angel?

Savannah, Georgia, and Sapelo Island

September 9, 2024September 9, 2024 / mariezhuikov / 9 Comments

I meandered down to Savannah for a work trip last month. I’d visited the city once before, but that was a long time ago, and I didn’t stay long. I must say I enjoyed spending four days in this southern gothic berg, even though most of the time I was in an air-conditioned hotel listening to presentations.

When I did get outdoors, I loved walking along the Savannah River down historic cobblestone streets. Live oaks draped with Spanish moss lined the route and historical sites seemed to emerge around every corner.

One morning, I managed to take a guided trolley tour around the city. It was one of those tours where you can hop on and off to explore the sights more closely. The trollies run every 20 minutes, which makes exploring very convenient. (Note: There are two trolley companies, so make sure you’re at the correct stop to board!)

I’d heard that Forsyth Park was picturesque, so I hopped off there and meandered around. The park offers wide sidewalks, those wonderful live oaks, and a large fountain. Near the fountain, a sidewalk trumpeter played a mellow tune. Even so, children walking by danced and hopped around to the music.

For the hungry, there’s a restaurant (Collins Quarter) in the park that offers takeout and sit-down dinners. People were lounging outside, dining under umbrellas on the patio of the Greek Revival building. I wasn’t hungry but didn’t want to pass up such a quaint place, so I ordered an iced spiced lavender mocha (decaf) from their takeout window. It was divine! The drink contained espresso, Condor chocolate, cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, and lavender. I would rate it as one of the best mochas I’ve ever had. I sipped this purple cinnamon flower elixir as I walked to the trolley stop. It made the short wait more enjoyable.

Besides the mocha, another thing that impressed me about Savannah was the way they remember the different ethnic groups that helped found the city. About a tenth of the original settlers were Irish, so a Celtic cross stood in the park by my hotel. On the trolley ride, the driver pointed out a marker honoring Scottish Highlanders. Since I was just in Ireland and Scotland, this warmed the cockles of my heart and made me feel at home.

Once I was back near my hotel it was lunchtime. I decided to check out The Pirate’s House Restaurant. The building was first opened in 1753 as an inn for seafarers and then, as its website says, it “fast became a meeting place for pirates and sailors from the Seven Seas.” The building fell into disuse after World War II, but has been restored and is now considered a house museum.

I ordered the soup, salad, and sandwich, which featured she crab soup and a chicken salad croissant. Delish! As I ate, I realized that the building, with its uneven floors and clapboard siding, had a familiar feel – like I’d been there before. As I read about the restaurant’s history on my placemat, it struck me. I’d imagined this place while reading the book, “Treasure Island,” by Robert Louis Stevenson! Stevenson had visited Savannah and the house was thought to be his inspiration for the inn where Captain Flint died, uttering his last words: “Darby M’Graw, fetch aft the rum.”

*The Sapelo Island National Estuarine Research Reserve Visitor Center on the mainland.*

The next day was field trip day for my conference. I had selected a trip to Sapelo Island off the Georgia coast. The island is a National Estuarine Research Reserve, part of the same national network dedicated to environmental research, education, and stewardship that the coworkers in my office back home work for. As you may recall, I’m an isleophile (I love islands!), so that, combined with the whole Reserve thing, is why I chose this particular field trip.

Not just anyone can visit the island. No roads lead to it—you have to take a ferry. Also, you need to be invited by the Reserve or one of the residents of the small island community of Hog Hammock. Many of the residents in Hog Hammock are Gullah—descendants of former slaves with their own unique culture.

A few days earlier, our conference had kicked off with a stirring performance by Gullah ring shouters. They shuffled in a counterclockwise circle while singing, dancing, clapping, and stomping. Ring shouting is an African tradition that the slaves brought with them and is still part of the Gullah worship services. Hog Hammock is one of the last remaining Gullah communities in the U.S., and is under threat due to land development and zoning.

We boarded the ferry and traveled through the salt marshes to the island, where a flock of terns greeted us, sitting on the dock railings. Our first stop was the Reserve office where one of their naturalists oriented us to the island. Then we traipsed outdoors for a service project. The thirty of us weeded a native plant garden and transplanted live oaks into larger pots. The oaks were being grown to help rehab a former airstrip on the island. The island used to be owned by tobacco magnate, R. J. Reynolds. He built a mansion there (which sports a bowling alley and tennis courts and is now available for rent to large groups), a dairy barn and outbuildings. He wanted his compound on the island to be self-sufficient.

After the trees were all transplanted, we headed to the dock to collect some tiny salt marsh critters to bring back to the office lab and look at under microscopes. We found crabs, small fish, and barnacles.

*A beach on Sapelo Island. I loved how natural it was.*

After eating lunch under a shelter at the beach, our next stop was the University of Georgia Marine Research Institute. After Reynolds died, his widow donated the dairy barn compound to the university for that purpose. Students spend the summer on the island conducting research projects, and we saw several in progress.

*The marine research institute on Sapelo Island.*

A film screening studio is one surprising thing that Mr. Reynolds built into the dairy barn. Apparently, he had many friends in Hollywood who would fly out to the island to screen movies. He even had two extra-wide chairs built to accommodate his heftier movie mogul friends. We sat in the room and watched a movie about the research institute. But I must admit I was distracted by wondering if any famous movies were screened in that remote barn.

Another surprising decorative feature at the institute was an outdoor fountain that features cement turkeys. Yes, you heard me, turkeys. Why? Conflicting stories abound. Some say it was R. J. Reynold’s idea. Others say it was his wife’s idea. It’s certainly not something you see every day, especially at a marine institute. When I first noticed the fountain from a distance, I assumed the turkeys, with their fanned-out tails, were large scallops or oysters. Huh.

Our last stop was the Sapelo Island Light Station. But on our way, we drove through Hog Hammock and were able to see where the ring shouter performers lived. The homes are very modest but some Gullah are selling their land to mainlanders who want to build larger homes, which would drive up property taxes.

The lighthouse is a red and white striped affair that rises 80 feet into the saltmarsh air. A tiny museum in a building alongside it offers bits of history and memorabilia. Others on our tour climbed the tower for the view from the top. I opted out. This northern lady was pretty sapped by the southern heat by then. Climbing a spiral staircase in a tower without air conditioning just didn’t appeal to me at that point.

Then it was back to the ferry for us and a long bus ride back to Savannah. I felt privileged to have the opportunity for this special trip to the island and to learn more about Georgia’s environment and culture. It was fun to give back a bit, too, by transplanting those baby live oaks.

*Savannah’s “Waving Girl” statue at night, waving hello (or is it goodbye?) to my blog readers and ships that pass on the Savannah River.*

The Making of a Minnesotan at the State Fair

September 3, 2024September 3, 2024 / mariezhuikov / 15 Comments

*The Great Big Wheel at the Minnesota State Fair*

I am interrupting my U.K. meander to cover some exciting developments since we returned home. I’ll resume with our trip to Scotland in a few posts.

My husband Russ has lived in Minnesota for 23 years, raised two children here, trekked the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness, biked gravel roads, sailed Lake Superior’s North Shore, cross-country skied, and snowboarded. He also volunteers his medical expertise for the local ski patrol. About five years ago, he married a Minnesotan: me. But when people hear that he’s originally from New England, they call him a Yankee.

Thanks to our recent meander to the Minnesota State Fair, I can correct that misconception now. Despite all his time in Minnesota, Russ had never been to the fair. I was aghast at hearing this and decided it’s the one last quest he needed to do to call himself a real Minnesotan.

So, we went last week with a busload of other people arranged through our local community education organization. If we had been traveling on our own, we might have picked a different day because the heat index was 103 degrees!

We survived traipsing around the fairgrounds with the help of plenty of lemonade, water, and root beer floats. The merry-go-round is my favorite ride at the fair. Even though I’m in my 60s, I had to go on it. Russ was a good sport and accompanied me. I think he had fun! We wanted to have new experiences on other rides, as well. We hopped aboard the Great Big Wheel (think Ferris wheel) and the Space Tower (think Space Needle).

*Russ makes a rare blog appearance, riding on the merry-go-round and being a good sport about it!*

Then it was lunchtime. Russ sated his hunger at the Hamline Methodist Church Dining Hall. My extended family goes to that church and has a long history of volunteering in the hall for the fair. Russ had ham loaf with corn and a corn muffin. I carried in my Spam burger with cheese from an outside vendor. I do have a fondness for Spam and usually use it during camping trips once or twice a year, but why not the state fair, too?

As we were dining, I noticed that NY Times bestselling Minnesota author William Kent Krueger was at the head of the serving line, taking food orders. He attends that church and was a friend of my aunt who also worshipped there. I’ve met him a few times over the years. I caught Ken’s eye and gave him a wave. He waved back!! He’s such a great guy, and his books are pretty darn good, too.

After lunch, we wandered over to the animal barns. In the horse barn, huge draft horses were getting prepped for the afternoon competition. Percherons, Clydesdales and Belgians stood docilely still outside their stalls while people groomed them. They’re about twice the height of a regular horse. We watched in awe as two women stood on tall stools to brush a Percheron’s black coat and braid its tail. I’m not sure I would want to stand behind those powerful legs and haunches and fiddle around with a horse’s tail! Another person worked on its hooves.

*A Percheron being groomed for competition.*

We returned to the arena a few hours later to watch the draft horse wagon-pulling competition in the coliseum. Sixteen teams of six horses competed, trotting in circles around the arena with harnesses jingling, and then showing their prowess at backing up and doing figure eights. Seeing the powerful beasts with rippling muscles high stepping in synch was like watching poetry in motion—mesmerizing.

In the end, all the horse teams lined up in the arena for final judging. It’s not every day you get to see 96 huge horses standing around in front of you. I was particularly impressed by a team of Percherons pulling a red wagon. They seemed more in synch and stepped higher than the other teams. I told Russ my bet was on them to win.

*The draft horse teams lined up for final judging.*

Apparently, I have a previously unknown talent for judging draft horses because in the end, that team won! They took a victory lap and accepted a trophy. They were a team from Minnesota, which made their victory all the sweeter.

We capped off the day with a trip to the department of natural resources fishpond, which sports all sorts of native species, and we took in parts of several music shows. We also ate ice cream and funnel cake and visited “tractor hill.” Unlike my past memories of it, there’s no hill anymore; and it’s more like riding lawn mower land—not so many tractors on display.

By the time we clambered back on the bus, our shirts were drenched with sweat. But we had survived both the heat and the crowds! More to point, Russ had survived his first Minnesota State Fair experience and earned his long-awaited induction into Minnesotahood. Welcome, Russ.

Ireland Day 4, continued: Taxi Driver Wisdom, Molly, and Trinity College Library

August 15, 2024 / mariezhuikov / 14 Comments

*The Gaia art exhibit in Trinity College’s Long Room Library.*

I can’t believe how much Russ and I meandered around Dublin on this day! We certainly felt grateful for our good fitness and working legs. Also, we learned that the buses in Dublin require exact change. You can put extra in, but you won’t get change back.

Taxi Driver Wisdom

The times we took cabs in Dublin, most of the drivers were talkative and friendly, but some weren’t, and that was okay, too. From them, we learned such gems as:

Although Guiness is seen as Irish, it’s actually an English-owned company. But that’s okay because the beer is so good!
Although the Irish band U2 is seen as lead singer Bono’s band, it’s actually the drummer’s band. The drummer is who hired Bono.
Dublin is synonymous with Las Vegas for the British. What happens in Dublin stays in Dublin.
One way to relieve arthritis knee pain is to soak a rag in whiskey and wrap it around your knee.

I have not fact-checked these claims, so take them as you will. We truly enjoyed our conversations with cab drivers both here and later in Scotland.

Molly Malone

In my previous post, Russ and I had just finished visiting the Temple Bar. From there, we walked to Trinity College to fulfill our reservation to enter its famous Long Room and view The Book of Kells. We had plenty of time before we needed to be there, so we took a short side trip through the ever-present drizzle to see the Molly Malone statue.

Molly is a semi-historical, semi-mythical lady commemorated in the song “Cockles and Mussels,” which has become an unofficial Dublin anthem. Molly worked as a fishmonger but also as a working girl. She died in one of the outbreaks of Cholera that regularly used to sweep the city. The statue of Molly and her cart is affectionately nicknamed “The Tart with the Cart” by Dubliners, no doubt due to her highly visible cleavage. About ten years ago, someone got the bright idea that rubbing her aforementioned cleavage would lead to good luck. Now the patina on that part of the statue has been rubbed off and brightened by the hands of hundreds, if not thousands, of people. Currently, there’s been some talk of trying to protect the statue from this practice.

Trinity College

*Shelves that still contain books in the Long Room. It also features busts of many great historical minds — mainly men, but a few token women have recently been included.*

In the heart of Dublin, Trinity College is home to the legendary Book of Kells – a 9^th-century gospel manuscript famous for its illustrations. We reserved the Book of Kells and Old Library experience, but there are also other tour options that interpret the Book of Kells more. We were more interested in seeing the library based on amazing images I’ve seen online and in other’s blogs.

I have to admit the Book of Kells was rather underwhelming, since it’s in a glass case and you can only view a few pages. I guess that’s why they’ve developed the additional tour experiences that offer digital views of more of it.

*The long view of the Long Room, Trinity College.*

The Long Room in the library, however, lived up to the hype! Currently, an art exhibit called “Gaia” is featured in it: a floating illuminated globe of the Earth that looks like it’s in outer space. Ironically, many of the books in the library are off the shelves. They’re being restored (and dusted, I suppose !)

We spent a lot of time in the Long Room, just soaking up the literary silence and beauty of it.

Day 5 found us still in Dublin. Next up: the famine statues, the emigration museum, and Cobblestone Pub.

Ireland – Day 3: An Ancestral Tour

August 3, 2024 / mariezhuikov / 13 Comments

*The town of Armagh and St. Patrick’s Church of Ireland Cathedral as seen from the steps of St. Patrick’s Roman Catholic Cathedral.*

This day was a big deal for us. We’d been working for six months with My Ireland Family Heritage, a small, family-owned company that does genealogy research and tours. This was the day for our tour of the lands of Russ’s ancestors!

Our guide, Ian, picked us up from our hotel in Belfast. Our first stop was the small town of Armagh near where Russ’s ancestors lived. We had requested a visit to St. Patrick’s Cathedral there, but once we reached the town, we were surprised to learn that there are two of them! The oldest one (year 445) is Protestant and the more recent one (1840) is Catholic.

Armagh owes its association with St. Patrick to the old church, which is named St. Patrick’s Church of Ireland Cathedral. It stands on a hill overlooking the town. The hill (Ard Mhacha or Height of Macha) is where the city (Armagh) got its name. Before the church was built, it was a major ritual site and an ancient royal center. The Book of Armagh states that St. Patrick decreed that the Armagh church should have pre-eminence over all other churches and monasteries in Ireland, a position it holds to this day. The present structure was built in 1268 but it has been restored several times due to fires and worship needs.

*Inside St. Patrick’s Church of Ireland Cathedral*, *Armagh.*

Across the way atop another hill is the other church, St. Patrick’s Roman Catholic Cathedral. It’s the seat of the Catholic Archbishop of Armagh. We could easily see it from the steps of the Protestant church. Of the two, the Catholic one is the fanciest, probably owing to its more modern construction.

*Us at St. Patrick’s Roman Catholic Cathedral, Armagh.*

Russ’s great-great-great grandfather James Henry Thornton lived just outside of Armagh in the small township of Foybeg. He came to Ireland from England with the unenviable job as a tax collector for Lord Lurgan (Charles Brownlow or Baron Lurgan), an Anglo-Irish politician who represented Armagh in the U.K. Parliament.

James Henry was married twice, but we didn’t know the names of either of his wives. James Henry had two sons, James and John, one with each wife. Besides being a tax collector, his occupation is recorded in church records as a farmer. Ian told us that Foybeg is known for the growth and weaving of flax into linen. It was the “cash crop” of the time, much like coffee is for Brazil today. So, he could have been a flax farmer.

His son James eventually moved to Australia. Russ is related to John, who was his great-great grandfather. He is described in family records as at least six feet tall. He loved horses, hunting and good whiskey, but hated work. He always carried a cane and had at least two dogs following him at all times. He was educated to teach school in Northern Ireland.

John married Jane Berry and they had eleven children. One of them was Russ’s great-grandfather, William John Thornton, who went by the name John Jr. After he emigrated to America, he married an Irish woman, Sarah J. Fox. She grew up near Foybeg.

*Ian, our tour guide, outside St. Paul’s Church*.

After lunch, Ian took us to St. Paul’s Church, which was where Sarah’s family worshipped and were buried. We saw lots of graves with familiar family surnames (Fox, Johnston, Berry) but did not come across anything significant. Inside, there was a “new” baptismal font on display. The old one was shoved underneath a spiral staircase. Could that have been used for Sarah Fox or her family?

*The old baptismal font in St. Paul’s Church.*

Our next stop was the Drumcree Church of the Ascension, where we hit the jackpot! This was the church (Church of Ireland denomination) where the Thorntons worshipped and were married/buried. The church is surrounded by cow pastures and apple orchards and even has an apple tree depicted in a stained-glass window.

*The apple tree stained-glass window in Drumcree Church.*

Besides the ancestral connection, Drumcree Church was significant during Ireland’s “troubles.” For several years in the 1990s, this Protestant church drew international attention as the scene of the Drumcree standoffs. Each year, the Protestant Orange Order marched to-and-from a service at the church on the Sunday before the 12^th of July. Residents in the nearby Catholic district prevented the march from continuing through their neighborhood. Thousands of Orangemen and British loyalists gathered at Drumcree and violently tried to force their way through, but were held back by security forces, who built large steel and barbed wire barricades. These yearly “sieges” of Drumcree ended in the early 2000s.

As we strolled around the graveyard, which smelled of manure from the cows nearby, we noticed a broken headstone propped up against the low stone wall that borders the yard. It was the headstone for James Henry Thornton and Mary. Mary must have been James Henry’s second wife! The last line on the tombstone says something about their son James Thornton, who was thought to have lived in Australia. Maybe he returned home to Ireland, eventually? The church member who let us into the building for a tour said that the stone must have been broken in the past, so that’s why it was leaning up against the wall and not over their gravesite. He said they do that instead of just getting rid of the broken ones.

As if discovering this significant gravestone wasn’t enough, our talkative guide Ian next took us to the homesites of Russ’s ancestors. Two out of three weren’t accessible or there was nothing to see but an orchard, but the Thornton homesite was different! We peered down a driveway that led to a modern house. Between the driveway and the house was an old white building with red doors and a rusting metal roof. This was where Russ’s Thornton ancestors lived! It looked more like a shed or a barn now than a home.

*The Thornton Family home in Foybeg Township, Ireland.*

We only had time to take a few photos before Ian wanted to leave. You see, he is a Catholic from the Republic of Ireland to the south. We were in Northern Ireland, which is mostly Protestant. He did not feel comfortable hanging out in rural areas for fear of a confrontation. (People can tell where he’s from by the license plate on the van.)

Once we were back in the van driving away, Russ said a lady had been out in the yard. I would have loved to have had the chance to speak with her to see if she knew anything about the past inhabitants of her place, but I did not see her when I was taking pictures of it. Russ took the geographic coordinates of the location, so perhaps, if we ever return, we will have more time to explore and chat. Russ said that this was his favorite part of the tour.

As the ancestry book that the tour company put together for us says,

What was once a home where children played a hive of activities stands quiet now, a home for spiders and field mice. In the corner of the eves an owl hoots every evening . . . People lived and died in this cottage. Its walls could tell you stories, happy and sad. Children grew up here, some stayed near, and some traveled far and wide to the other side of the world. They packed their memories to start a new life, new beginnings, and new memories, leaving this little cottage to nature.

Russ’s great grandfather, William John Thornton emigrated to the U.S. He settled in Manchester Connecticut and married Sarah. They had four children. At the time of his marriage, William John was employed as a “velvet finisher.” He also worked as a coachman and a laborer later. Unfortunately, William John was an alcoholic. He died in 1917 from freezing to death in a drunken state in a roadside ditch. Sarah lived until a ripe old age, dying in 1964.

Tour over, Ian drove us to Dublin, the site of our next adventures!

Two Island River and Taconite Harbor: Off the Beaten Path

May 25, 2024June 17, 2025 / mariezhuikov / 11 Comments

We’ve been driving up and down Highway 61 on Lake Superior’s North Shore more than usual lately to deliver and retrieve my photos that were on display in Grand Marais. On one trip, I noticed a river that flowed underneath the highway. No sign sported the river’s name. Looking landward as we whizzed past, I spotted a double culvert bridge about a hundred yards away that the river flowed through. Was that a waterfall behind one of the culverts? The scene was intriguing and not one I’d ever seen photographed by established North Shore photographers. I made note of the location and vowed to stop on our next trip.

That “next trip” was last weekend. On our way back to Duluth from Grand Marais, we stopped near the mystery river, which is near Taconite Harbor. The harbor’s a place where mining companies used to load taconite (iron-ore pellets mined and made on Minnesota’s Iron Range) from rail cars into ships bound for steel-making plants in Michigan and Illinois.

We parked our car in a driveway entrance that was blocked by a gate overgrown by saplings. Although the driveway had a fire number on it, that gate obviously hadn’t been opened in years, so we weren’t too worried about blocking access.

We walked across the highway and, as cars rushed past, took a short jaunt to the river. We hopped the guardrail in a likely looking spot and soon found a faint game trail. The trail also could have been made by anglers. We found out later that part of the river is considered an “Aquatic Management Area” allowing angler access by the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources.

*Two Island River, see the culverts upstream?*

It’s spring and we’d had a heavy rain recently, so the shallow river splashed with gusto over reddish-gray rocks. I clambered along the banks, camera in hand, taking photos at spots that offered a good vantage. But I was impatient to get to my goal: the double culvert up the hill, and that waterfall behind it.

Russ went ahead while I took photos. When I caught up to him at the railroad bridge with the culverts, he’d had time to look up the name of the river on his phone. We were looking at Two Island River, a 15-mile waterway. There’s not much info out there about it, but Wikipedia says the river is named for two lake islands near its mouth.

As you can probably tell, there was a waterfall behind the culverts. A very nice one, too. The steep angle of the sun and rising mist from the falls made for some blurry spots in my photos, but I managed to get a few images without amorphous blobs floating around in them.

Waterfall appreciation over, we investigated the railway bridge. Like the driveway gate, the railroad was overgrown with saplings and obviously hadn’t been used in years. Research I did while writing this post uncovered the facts that the railway was named the Cliffs Erie Railroad. The last train operated in 2001, but after that, cleanup trains, which collected leftover chips and pellets from the mines, operated until 2008.

A bustling little town was situated near the Two Island River, probably accessed through that overgrown driveway where we parked. Taconite Harbor, Minnesota, was a mining town built by the Erie Mining Company. In 1957, twenty-two prefabbed homes were trucked into a several block area near the lake. The little community even had a fire hall, community center, playground, and baseball/tennis courts.

It seemed like a 1950s ideal community. Seventy-five children grew up there and probably played along the river’s banks. In the 1970s, families were driven away by noise pollution and health concerns about the taconite dust that blew off the rail cars and from local stockpiles.

The steel industry lull added another blow in the 1980s and by 1988, the last resident had left the little Taconite Harbor town. In 1990, the remaining homes and buildings were packed up and transported away by trucks. Driving past the site, I recall seeing only empty asphalt streets, home foundations and streetlights. Nature has reclaimed much of the area, but town remnants remain. It’s truly a North Shore ghost town.

Russ and I didn’t have time to investigate the town site ourselves, but there are many good images of it on the internet. “Forgotten Minnesota” has some good ones.

*The Cliffs Erie Railroad tracks that cross the Two Island River bridge.*

The history of this area also includes an event that I narrowly escaped. It’s an involved tale so I’ll start from the beginning. In 1957 when the little town of Taconite Harbor was being formed, the mining company also began dumping ash from its nearby coal-fired power plant near the river and the town. I’m not sure it was illegal at the time, but it probably was as time went on. The dumping continued until 1982 and the pile covered 27 acres.

On the morning of July 28, 1993, I drove up the highway in a pale green government car through a heavy rain on my way up to Grand Marais for my job with the Forest Service. Later that day, thanks to the rain and the fact that the mining company had been dumping excess water from a coal stockpile onto the ash heap, the pile became saturated and it liquified in a rare phenomenon called “static liquefaction.”

The heap collapsed and flowed downhill, covering the highway and contaminating the river and Lake Superior. It knocked out an electric substation and buried someone in their car who was traveling on the highway. I can’t find any news reports about the incident now, but as I recall, the person was rescued. I believe another car was partially buried.

All I could think of at the time is that could have been me! Luckily, it wasn’t. And luckily, I already had been planning to stay overnight in Grand Marais because the highway was unpassable and closed until the ash was cleared later the next day when I traveled home.

Russ also recalls hearing about a truck that hit the top of one of the railroad bridges that span the highway at that site. As a result, the bridge spans that cross the highway have been removed, leaving just the tracks and growing saplings on either side.

In short, this is a picturesque area that has had a lot happen to it! Its history of abuse and neglect is probably why the site is not sought-after by more photographers or tourists. That’s too bad. I suppose the mining company still owns the area and they obviously just want to forget about it. The river and the old town site could use some love. The nearby harbor has had some public funds put into it. It’d be nice to see the same for the Two Island River.

Northern Nights and Lights

May 11, 2024 / mariezhuikov / 9 Comments

Thanks to a gargantuan sunspot group 15 times the size of Earth, we on Earth in northern climes were treated to a spectacular aurora borealis display last night.

The evening began with a thunder shower, which led to a picturesque sunset, which was capped off by the northern lights display.

I ran around with my camera, documenting everything at our cabin in northern Minnesota. I had tried before to photograph the sky at night with little luck. But this time, it worked! My camera captured even more colors than were visible to the “naked” eye.

As I wandered on gravel roads in the middle of nowhere with eyes raised to the eternal mystery of the dancing sky, our resident loons began to call. Spring peepers croaked and a distant train whistle blew. We are so fortunate to live in these times, in this place.

Marie's Meanderings

Internet home for Marie Zhuikov: Blogger, Author, Poet, Photographer

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