Cool.
Well, as work drew to a close on the Friday, I started habitually spinning my pen around my fingers and staring at the clock on the computer willing it to tick faster, the whole ordeal akin to a Britney Spears video. Oh baby, baby.......
The whistle went off, "Ya ba daba doo" I screamed and I slid down a dinosaurs back and onto the tube. It was Renee's birthday so we went out for drinks at a few bars along the river Thames, central city styles. It was actually a really nice setting, with all the fairy lights etc in the trees and the hustle and bustle of people walking by. I got Renee tickets to 'Jersey Boys' a stage show centered around the story of Frankie Vallie and the Four Seasons for her birthday.
And that's all I got her.
No stupid vouchers this time.
We hit the drinking fairly hard and caught the last train home so we could wake up early and prep for our big trip.
Kel, Clint (Renee's visiting friends), Renee and I decided to hire a car from Heathrow airport to allow for an easy getaway from the city, and the feds.
Just joking about the feds.
But seriously.
The lady at the counter handed us the keys to a car I had never heard of and pointed us in the general direction of where it was parked. Well, I had never seen a more ugly car. The Vauxhall Zafira, what a machine. It was a station wagon because they obviously thought we would be sleeping in it, the height of it would rival the Petronas Towers and the sleek lines of the body seemed to echo disaster.
"We cant have this" I exclaimed in a rather authoritative, yet casual manner. How does that work, you ask. Beats me.
"Lets get it changed"
The dude came out with the keys and we argued with him, saying that we wouldn't be able to park the car in any regulation parking spaces, instead we would have to find a local airport and rent a hangar for the night. He grumbled something and went back into the building. We mosied on over to a brand new Peugeot 308, a sexy looking beast with rims, 5.1 surround sound and a steering wheel. Our man came out saying he had no keys for that car and instead we would have to make do with a new Mercedes.
"We can do that" we said and piled into the Merc with remarkable efficiency.
"I shouldnt be doing this" I thought I heard him mutter.
"What?" I said.
"Nothing" he replied rather quickly and scurried off. I stared him off with slit eyes.
Now don't get me wrong, this Merc wasn't the SLK supercar you all might think we got given. Oh no. Far from it actually. It was still a four door but a hatchback model with slow pickup and weak bumpers. Still, it was miles better than the Zafira, so I led the charge by pulling a quick doughie and peeling out of the car park with people behind me shaking pitchforks and lighting makeshift torches.
We got onto the 4 lane motorway alright and then found out we were going the wrong way. 'Pullin' a 'U'ey' was out of the question so we drove for a couple of miles before eventually finding a turnoff. I drove most of the way from London to Birmingham, then we swapped drivers all the way up until reaching Glasgow for the night. It was an epic 8 hour drive but necessary to complete in one day to save us mucking around and missing out on things for the rest of the trip. It was a great drive actually, as it was basically motorway the whole way.
"Whats the speed limit round here?" I asked, and Clint shrugged his shoulders.
"Just go as fast as everyone else"
"Dude, I'm doing 100 mph!"
We were screaming along at 160 kph (easy conversion between imperial and metric) and it still seemed as if cars were passing us. I pegged it back to 90mph and cruised most of the way at that speed. We were constantly doing sums in our head to find out how fast we were going in kph until we realised the dashboard had a digital odometer telling us the whole time.
We stayed in the "accommodation of the trip" in Glasgow; cheap and private and clean. It was a wee beauty. We caught a taxi ride into town and had pizza along the main strip. Glasgow wasn't much to look at. The guy at the hostel said that the only thing to do in Glasgow was to eat and drink, so we did both. The next morning we parked up in the centre of the city and had a quick look around, buying a cheap rugby ball while we were at it.
Verdict - Glasgow = average
We peeled back onto the motorway and hooned past Lake Lomond to our destination for the day; the quaint little town of Inverary. Editors Note: 'Peeled' means embarked, and 'hooned' refers to casually cruising in a motor vehicle.
Due to poor planning, we had only booked one night of accommodation prior to the trip, that being that first night in Glasgow. We arrived in Inverary and hunted out a place to stay where we could also park the silver beast. The local student hostel took us in with open arms and a bear hug. The town was quaint, set alongside the coast of one of Scotland's inlets, and we had a feed at the only pub before heading to a nearby corner store and buying some chocolate and Irn Bru.
Thats right - IRN BRU
Pronounced "Iron Brew", this drink is the number one beverage in the whole of Scotland, outselling Coke/Pepsi thus making Scotland the only country in the world to accomplish that feat.
It tasted shit house.
I mixed it with Vodka, and would have preferred the vodka served straight, or even with Mountain Dew. It tasted like a mix between Fanta and Creaming Soda.
The next morning we hopped in the car again (Oh don't get me wrong - we basically hopped in the car every day for a quick 4 hour drive). We drove around the isles of south west Scotland, stopping in Crinan for a quick sightsee. It boasts a manmade loch that would rival most European countries for sheer size. It was fairly cool and we had a quick slice of lemon (ummmmm) ..... slice before moving on.
Through the nice town of Oban, where we stopped to get the supermarket lunchtime meal deal, and then off to Fort William.
Or so we thought.
"Are we going the right way Renee" I pondered.
"I dunno" was the reply.
I found this incredibly hard to believe, as she was the one holding the map. The environment seemed to be speaking more of mountains and valleys instead of the coastal road I had imagined.
Through map analysis, we discovered we had veered of course by a good 100 km that had taken us from the coastal road to the centre of the highlands. It was a welcome detour actually as we passed through some great scenery and stopped off at a mountain range known as 'the 3 sisters' for a quick photo.
We got back to Fort William after an hour and a half trip, which should have taken 25 mins. To be fair, I was looking at the signs in Oban and they did seem to say that there was a portion of that coastal road closed down, so it was probably inevitable.
You would think we would have stopped in Fort William for the night, but we pressed on and drove on over to the Isle of Skye. I had been thinking the whole way driving through Scotland that the landscape reminded me of 2 things; New Zealand and Final Fantasy 8. This was confirmed when we entered Skye. It was stunning, and worth pushing our road time to get there. We were looking to get to the very top of the isle that day but our plans were thwarted by time and the supposed lack of accommodation in the small town of Uig. Instead, we decided to pull up short in an awesome little town called Portree. After parking up and checking out the area we noticed a large number of tourists making regular stops in various hotels and b&b's.
"Oh shit" I am sure we all thought when we discovered that the town was basically booked out for the night. Some places had one bed left but not 4.
"Damn" I thought and flicked through the handy Lonely Planet book that had wedged itself in between a chocolate bar wrapper and the used drink bottle located at my feet. A place in that book seemed to ring out, loud and clear: "Try Mrs Milne", it said "There is no signage or anything but she is a b&b and she will put you up"
"OK guys" I said and directed Clint through a small suburb to her house. It seemed the most random thing but it worked out. We ended up staying at her place for the night and she was fully equipped to take us all in and cook us a feed in the morning. The town really was a little beauty - something mum would like, and after a spot of dinner, we bought tubs of ice cream and drank the night away watching 'Last of the Mohican's' on the 14" TV provided.
Ms Milne informed us of a great wee detour to start our day the next morning, so we took her advice and drove on a road that was comparable to a 4WD dirt track. It was a ripper of a drive though. We pulled up at the tip of the Isle and took photos of the landscape. Further down the track we saw another turn off and we were treated to a huge waterfall that disappeared over the cliffs and into the pounding surf below. We were practically alone out there and it was a welcome change from the busy tourist bullshit that is normally so commonplace nowadays.
That day was a big day of driving and we sped past Loch Ness with blatant disregard for monster hunters. We stopped off in a small town and went into a tourist hotspot to experience a 5-star Loch Ness monster attraction. It was crap. It basically said at the end of it all that most images and so forth that you see of the monster are all made up anyway. Still, we went to the waters edge and looked into the loch to try and catch a glimpse of something whilst we ate a soggy croissant that was a few days old.
We drove on up to Inverness that night (different from Inverary)and stayed in a youth Hostel again. Didn't really have much of a look around apart from the inside of a Pizza Express restaurant, where we bought dinner.
"I'll have a scotch on the rocks, please. Any scotch will do, as long as it's not a blend, of course. single malt, Glen Livet, Glen Galley, perhaps, any glen."
The next day Clint and I decided to throw caution into the wind and allow the girls to drive and navigate us through the highlands to Edinburgh.
We did three separate U-Turns.
That drive was really nice. We went made our way through the Scotch county of Scotland where all the 'Glens' are distilled and through the highest point in Scotland, being the mountain of Ben Nevis. It was champagne driving.
We attempted to get into a castle along the way but found out Prince William was entertaining good ol' Kate Middelton in the estate so we had to move along.
We arrived in Edinburgh late, and quickly made our way from the guest house into the city. It is awesome. What a city. It shat all over Glasgow. We ate near the castle and caught a late bus home.
The next morning, we left our things in the guest house and hooned (ref editor note earlier) off to Stirling to see their castle and the William Wallace Monument. I hit a wall regarding paying for entrance into monuments, so I packed a sad and stayed by the car while Kel and Clint went up to check it out. It is absolutely ridiculous the amount of money they charge to see places that should technically be free.
After Stirling, it was still fairly early (around lunchtime) so I made an executive decision (starring Kurt Russell and Steven Seagal) and drove us all to St Andrews; the birthplace of Golf. It was a little ripper of a town. I jumped the fence onto the golf course and pretended to swing away with an invisible club.
I yelled 'Four' and people ducked.
I can see why it is a pricey course, absolutely immaculate.
On the Friday we stayed in Edinburgh and spent a day visiting the castle, the Scotch whisky experience, and about a million shops so the girls could find some crappy souvenir. It was a great city and not even the rain downpour deterred us.
For the final day, we drove back across the English border and checked out the Angel of the North statue in Newcastle, then along the road that runs parallel to Hadrians Wall; an old Roman wall that used to separate the two countries. We holed up in Manchester for the night and decided to hit the casino for one final blow out. Clint and I stormed the Black Jack tables and both came away with around £75 each. While we were playing, some English dude came over and threw around £50 on one of Clints hands, Clint won, and the guy did it again, walking off with around £200 from 2 minutes work. Lucky bugger.
We drove back to Heathrow early on as we were all fairly buggered by the (supposed) holiday and keen to chill for a bit. All up we drove a little under 3100km. That is nearly the full length of New Zealand, TWICE!
Epic.
Just booked a cheap flight to Sweden for a cheeky weekend to catch up with my mate Richie. He is keen as to put us up for a couple of nights so it is just a weekend thing. The flights were 5 pound each way!
You know it.