Scotland Ventured, Scotland Gained

We’re back! Stay tuned for upcoming posts on things like driving stories, travel tips, restaurant, lodging and attraction reviews, Outlander tour ideas, whiskey (whisky) sampling results, favorite close-ups and vistas, Gaelic language lessons, pleasant surprises, and oodles of images from two weeks spent exploring the land of Scots and so much more.

Alba gu brath!

Re-posted “Five-Phrase Friday (16): Alphas and Omegas”

Here is a re-post of my list of first and last lines from my 4 NaNoWriMo novels. National Novel Writing Month approaches. Get ready to write!

This year would have given me a fifth line so that I’d have one to share from each novel I’ve drafted. Although I “rebelled” by not writing a novel this November for NaNoWri…

Source: Five-Phrase Friday (16): Alphas and Omegas

Linlithgow Palace, a.k.a. Wentworth Prison

A labyrinthine ruin on a promontory overlooking beautiful Linlithgow Loch and Peel (royal park), Linlithgow Palace stands proudly within the town of Linlithgow, west of Edinburgh. The palace served both as the site of Mary Queen of Scots’ birthplace and of filming for Outlander STARZ’s Wentworth Prison exterior and corridors in episodes 115 and 116.

Linlithgow, pronounced like Glasgow with a long “o” sound, means “loch in the damp hollow” in Gaelic. For apt description, more places in Scotland should probably bear the same name.

With four towers and accompanying spiral stone staircases, straight steps up and down to various corridors, hidden nooks, prisoner pits, larger chambers pitch black at mid-day, and overlooking terraces to the interior, Linlithgow Palace feels like a kind of jungle gym for older kids and energetic adults. But that’s not all it has to offer.

Isolated corner courtyards, numerous royal chambers, a great hall with adjoining kitchen, a chapel, an elaborate central courtyard fountain, a small accompanying museum, and a visitor centre gift shop nearly complete the picture.

On our first day while staying in Edinburgh, we consulted our Outlander day-tour guide about the time needed to explore Hopetoun House (the Duke of Sandringham residence in episode 109: 2+ hours) and Linlithgow Palace (about an hour). She also said she preferred the latter, so we chose the ruins over the polished stately home and were glad we did.

Linlithgow Palace is significantly larger and more complex than other ruined castles like Doune and Blackness, which we saw on the Outlander tour, and there’s a good historical reason for that: 6 centuries of Scottish and British royal residence, strategic military use, and general admiration.*

The earliest recorded royal occupation of the palace was by King David I in 1143. Destroyed by fire in 1424, the medieval palace was aggressively rebuilt by James I, becoming the grand royal house of the Stewart court. Developed and remodeled over the centuries by different kings, the palace owes most of its current shape to the 15th-century efforts of James IV.

In 1746, the fire that sealed the fate of the palace occurred three months before the Battle of Culloden, which ended Jacobite hopes for restoring the Stewarts to Britain’s throne. Linlithgow Palace has remained uninhabited ever since but was placed in State care as of 1853, and is now a Historic Scotland property. This site is one of only two places we visited where I purchased a book about it. The other was Culloden Battlefield.

Both places piqued my interest with their prominent use in the original story (Culloden) of Outlander and in the TV adaptation’s series 1 filming (Linlithgow  for Wentworth Prison exterior and corridors). My respect and wonder have only grown from seeing them up close and first hand. Much more later from this blog about Culloden.

Below are some corridor shots of locations in the palace I’m guessing found use during filming of episodes 115, “Wentworth Prison,” and 116, “To Ransom a Man’s Soul,” the darkest times in series 1 for our heroes Claire Fraser and especially Jamie Fraser.

Rooks and pigeons roost willy-nilly undisturbed and are the new kings and queens of the palace. But the available notches, ledges, sheltered stalls, window frames, crumbled walls, and even window seats far outnumber the birds occupying them when the public’s around.

Views from the northwest tower, housing Queen Margaret’s Bower (the sheltered tower room up the stairs shown below), reward those who brave the spiralling climb. Visiting Linlithgow Palace on our last full day in Scotland was well worth the extra trip from Glasgow, even in steady rain.

* My source for the historical information was Linlithgow Palace: The Official Souvenir Guide, published by Historic Environment Scotland.

For more information about Linlithgow Palace, its long and fascinating history, its connection to Outlander, or about other Historic Scotland properties, start with:

To learn about dining, accommodation, and other things to do in the surrounding town of Linlithgow, see the links provided at the Linlithgow page of

For a list and brief descriptions of (mostly) season 1 Outlander filming and book-related sites, as well as our plans leading up to the trip, go to Five-Phrase Friday (38): Scotland. Upcoming posts will offer thoughts and advice about Outlander tours and different aspects of travel in Scotland. 

Here’s what I’ve covered so far:

Exploring British profanity | Notes from the U.K.

A pressed post

Not long ago, someone in an online conversation said that as she gets older she has less “inclination to tolerate the presence of cockwombles.” The presence of what? The cockwomble in question was …

Source: Exploring British profanity | Notes from the U.K.

The Paps of Jura

As part of our somewhat impromptu, personalized tour of Argyll, we got to see boobs–big ones. The Paps of Jura to be precise. Jura is an island of the Inner Hebrides, off the west coast of Scotland, north of Islay and south of Skye, its southern half on a line west of Glasgow. These prominent breasts on Jura make for a nice focal point in a photograph across the sound on a sunny day.

Paps is a Scots term, and the Gaelic is ciochan, pronounced something like KEE uh khen. The singular form is cioch. See the following resources for more about the term and its accurate spelling (with accent mark on the i) and pronunciation (for the fricative ch):

Am Faclair Beag (The Wee Dictionary, which is anything but) – ciochan

The Unofficial Guide to Pronouncing Scottish Gaelic – a down-to-earth bit of fun that breaks things down helpfully. See the explanation for “ch” pronunciation under “Broad Consonants.”

Scotland has other ciochan as well, such as the Paps of Glencoe. Lots of paps in Scotland.

Scottish Color: A Photo Essay

From my trip photo collection, sample the colors and textures of Scotland.

Stirling Castle and environs is one of the most colorful places on Scottish soil. From the castle’s view of varied shades of green hills and darker trees, to rows of gray houses below and its flagged, green terraces above flower gardens, to the sumptuous tapestries, royal bedroom furniture, majestic banners, interactive kids’ exhibits, period re-enactors, to paintings and fabrics on wall, floor, and ceiling, this historic seat of power is well worth more than one visit. And don’t forget the Wallace National Monument on the next tree-covered hill to the northeast.

Besides being uniquely spectacular in mountain majesty, Glencoe is Glen Colorful. Most striking to me in contrast to shorter deciduous-covered hills of the Ohio Valley and the sharper, starker, browner Rocky Mountains in the States are the blankets of green that cover the slopes of many of these ancient peaks in the Scottish Highlands. It’s my kind of green mountain.

Some leafy trees sprinkle about them, creep up their sedimentary seams where the water rushes to the bottom. But some later-installed conifers in Argyll, the Cairngorms, and periodically up the Great Glen impose themselves like patches of black-on-black tartan made too small for its wearer. Forestry efforts compete with natural beauty. The most prized evergreens are the Caledonian forests of Scots pine, now mere remnants in the country.

All over Scotland, with a high average rainfall, green is the go-to background color. Lichens, mosses, grasses and ferns are just a few of the non-arboreal results of this pervasive canvas. Princes Street Gardens in Edinburgh and the plethora of green spaces in Glasgow, which means “dear green place” from the (correction) “green hollow” in Gaelic, attest to green’s primacy in Scotland.

Red is another dominant hue in both wild and domestic Scotland. Red deer, red squirrels, Highland cows, some spray-painted sheep, and various burgundy, rust, and orange and yellow flora mingle with the greens. Ferns fade into bracken with the fall, and heather pops magenta-purple and then fizzles grey into autumn across the country’s vast moors and storied glens. Sandstone is the other big red. The Beauly Priory is a breathtaking example of ruins made largely of red sandstone.

Lilac purples add magic to the greens and reds in both sun and shade, not just with the plentiful heather but with foxgloves, gems in cultivated gardens, and of course, the national flower, the thistle. But many flowers and plants retain their bright colors well into winter, re-blooming periodically, and the typical temperate-zone transition from green summer into red, yellow, orange, and brown fall happens in Scotland, too.

Sheep are everywhere, like the grass they munch, and you probably know what that looks like. The flocks power the long-standing textile industry of wool and tweed in Scotland. Tartan long ago sported muted tones that blended with the natural landscape. After having been banned by the Crown following the Jacobites’ defeat at the 1746 Battle of Culloden, tartan’s revival in the late 1800s brought with it a flashier spectrum. Today, even women and girls can benefit from the plentiful choices in feminine shades among the clan-based plaids available at tourist shopping hot spots.

The waters of life in the land of Scots range from root-beer rapids of brown and foam along the walking paths at Carie Forest near Loch Rannoch, Perthshire, to the golden gamut of whiskies forged in distilleries from the islands to the northern Highlands, to the deep-sea and turquoise blues of clear-sky-reflecting burns, rivers, firths, bays, and lochs. Modern Scotland has done its best with drinking water bottled from mountain sources, and then its worst in the hopelessly sugary, bubble-gum-flavored orange soda that is the national drink, Irn Bru.

The British tea tradition also persists, alive and well in both city and countryside. A venture to Glasgow’s Willow Tea Room, designed by the celebrated Charles Rennie Mackintosh, gave my husband good Kenyan black tea and me some aromatic Jasmine green tea, neatly cut finger sandwiches, and a gluten-free chocolate brownie topped with clotted cream. I finished all of my teapot’s worth with pleasure, and I’m not even much of a tea drinker.

I guess it was the blend of artistic atmosphere, my first real experience of tea time, and a well-chosen tea. Making it more memorable was an inchworm Jason discovered on his jacket from recent outdoor adventures. In and out of sight, we kept him alive till I dropped him accidentally on the stairway as we left. His ultimate fate is a mystery.

It was also in Glasgow that we learned about the Glasgow Boys group of artists and the Scottish colourists featured in Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum. Influences from French Impressionists to “Whistler’s Mother,” and of course Scottish landscapes, informed their work over the years. There are life waters, watercolours, and water horses in Scotland. Modern architecture like the Kelpies, at the Helix car park and recreation center near Falkirk, celebrates the country’s artistic and industrial traditions, while one white and one black horse graze at the site of the Culloden Battlefield.

Wild bird coloring is not all that different from home. The British robin redbreast is a distinctly different species from our American robin, a rounder, more petite orange-breasted songbird with a song that sounds prettier to my untrained ear than that of the omnipresent States-side version. I knew about that difference before landing in Scotland, but I was surprised to see the dapper-looking pheasant hanging around the farm bird feeders at the breakfast windows of our luxury B&B near Inverness.

Not quite ring-necked, this male turns out to be the common pheasant of the UK, introduced to Roman Britain as a game bird from Asia. His aristocratic associations befitted our romantic, up-scale portion of the trip, evidenced by the rich red and white furnishings amidst the dark four posts of the bed and the crystalline bed-side dimmer lamps. They even gave us complimentary Ferrero Rocher truffles and a crystal of sherry and two champagne glasses.

There’s a variety of local color in soccer jerseys on display at the National Museum of Scottish Football at Hampden Park, Glasgow, home of the Queen’s Park Rangers and the Scottish National Team. But some of the most colorful parts of Scotland are still its people. The dialects, sensibilities, hotel and B&B personnel, street performers, musicians including guitarists, accordianists, bagpipers, and fiddlers, cab drivers, store cashiers, theatre players, tourism workers from receptionists to historical figure actors, mostly courteous drivers we encountered, and everyday people were always, for better or worse, innocuous, pleasant, and helpful. Good for us tourists, certainly.

Whites, blacks, and greys in the buildings, ruins, and stone monuments pulled us back in time to the mysteries of archaeological evolution. That is, the presence alone of chambered cairns and standing stone circles fascinates, but it’s even more interesting to learn of the layers of change their shapes represent, the multiple peoples and purposes that swept through a given place, obscuring the earlier inhabitants and users, muddling the picture of a Pict or a Scot or an Angle or a Roman. The clues keep bubbling to the surface in diverse ways, and their hunt can become an obsession, and a literary inspiration in the cases of authors such as Diana Gabaldon of the Outlander series.

Whether you’re one for science or for literature, which Gabaldon and I both are, the romance of the past is real, palpable, just as the puzzles, if not the ghosts, left by the remnants beckon the solvers forward. Ruins, especially religious ones even to this agnostic, possess the most affecting beauty of all historic buildings, and the monoliths are at least figuratively magnetic. Ruins speak in a steady voice of struggle, violence, survival, and death. They show the creativity, innovation, reverence, passions, sorrows, and daily subsistence of peoples long gone, and sometimes they demonstrate long periods of thriving, the revival of resilient groups, and the diligence of those dedicated to preserving history and memory.

At the Clava Cairns, I touched some of the piled stones as I walked into the center of one chambered cairn, but semi-unconsciously, I avoided touching the split standing stones. The stones at this site are said to have inspired Gabaldon’s invention of Craigh na Dun, the central plot mechanism–strange and terrifying–of the entire Outlander saga. The ubiquitous nature of stone and stonework in Scotland adds an indescribable charm to visiting this old country when one’s own is so young by contrast, but the stories they inspired are what sent me there.


The Writers’ Museum, Edinburgh

There’s no generalizing Scotland, and yet the tourist tends heavily toward equating places with their people. In the end, they are inextricable, multi-dimensional, many-layered and intriguing enough to merit repeat exploration.

Besides, I just love to hear Scots speak, even if I don’t understand them the first time, or, in the case of Glaswegians, the second or third. Although I’ve seen a lot, I hope I’ll get another chance to practice listening in Scotland.

All photos copyright C.L. Tangenberg






Morning Fog, Loch Long, Arrochar

The view after breakfast from the delightful Seabank B&B, a placid, misty sea loch and sleepy mountains. Loch Long meets the sea to the south through the Firth of Clyde, found west of Glasgow (with its River Clyde), and sits a stone’s throw west of Loch Lomond in the Trossachs National Park, Argyll & Bute, in the Southern Highlands of Scotland. Arrochar is a small town at the northern tip of the loch. The peak of Ben Arthur, also known as “the Cobbler,” is just visible on the left behind this nearest ridge.


image by C.L. Tangenberg, September 22, 2016