We only had the car until 1:00, so Lauren and I got up at dawn to spend the most possible time in the park. We were both sleepy, but we assured each other we’d catch up on sleep on the thirty-hour train ride home. For today, it was time to explore the mountains!

Our target for the day was the Trail of the Cedars and Avalanche Lake. They’re two of the more popular hikes in the park, and we’d had quite a few people recommend them to us. We hoped that by going early in the morning, we could avoid the worst of the crowds.

It was 51 degrees when we started our hike. Chilly! We put on all our layers and headed out. The sun was just peeking over the mountains, and we could see the rays kissing the tops of trees and filtering to the forest below. As usual, it was a beautiful hike.

When we got back to Avalanche Lake, the views were absolutely amazing (are you over me saying how amazing all these views are?? I’m over my inability to properly describe them to you). Because this is a popular hike, we saw plenty of other hikers even early in the morning. When we finally got to Avalanche Lake, we sat on a log to drink some water, eat a snack, and enjoy the tranquility of the scene.

Enter “The Yelling Family.”

The Yelling Family came out of the woods behind us, and everyone seemed pretty unhappy. Here’s what I remember of their conversation. Names have been changed to protect their anonymity (and also because I don’t remember their names).

Kid 1: Where are my oreos?! I WANT OREOS!

Dad: We can’t have oreos until later.

Mom: I said they could have oreos!

Dad: We get oreos at the BOTTOM of the mountain, not the top. Here kids, have some granola.

Kids: *Grumpily crunch granola*

Mom: Smile for a picture, kids!

Dad: THEY’RE EATING! Gosh, Sheila, can’t you even give them a BREAK TO EAT?!?

Mom: They can stop eating for ONE SECOND, Gary!! KIDS, SMILE!

Kid 2: I can’t stop eating for one second!

Mom: SMILE!!!!!!!!!

*click* *happy family photo*

Kid 1: CLARA! STOP DROPPING YOUR GRANOLA ON THE GROUND!!!!

Kid 2: I’LL PICK IT UP LATER, OKAY?! GOSH!!!

I have to admit, it did change the ambiance a little bit to have The Yelling Family around. It kind of seemed like they hated each other, but I’m sure the mom’s instagram full of happy family photos (“SMILE, DANG IT!!!!!”) makes it look like they’re having a great time. #blessed

Lauren and I decided to walk around the lake a little ways to try to distance ourselves from The Yelling Family. We found this really cool rock to climb up and pose on, and we smiled without yelling at each other to smile. The lake was much more tranquil once we were on that side.

After our morning hike, we had time to check one or two waterfalls on our way out. Then we had to head back to town to return the car. *tear*

When we returned our car, a funny older lady was there to get it. We remembered her from our pickup because she’d arrived while we were waiting, looked at the mess of plexiglass someone had been using to attempt to build COVID barriers, and said, “Whoa. How’d all this go tits up??” It’s a phrase neither Lauren nor I had ever heard, but it made us laugh.

The lady asked how we planned to get back to town. We said we planned to walk (it was only a mile and a half). She offered to give us a ride for free. YAY!!! Rides are hard to come by in Whitefish, Montana, free or otherwise.

While on our way to town, Lauren asked the lady how long she’d lived in Whitefish. The lady gave a sigh and answered in a gloomy voice that reminded me of Eeyore from Winnie-the-Pooh: “I was born here… I’m going to die here… but I suppose there are worse places to die.”

Whoa. The chipper attitude in the car just went tits up.

The lady pointed out her dad’s house when we drove by it. “There he is,” she said, pointing to a gnarled old man sitting in a chair and staring at his garden. Since she’d clearly been around Whitefish for a minute, we asked her where we should eat lunch. She dropped us off at The Buffalo and said that’s where all the locals eat. It didn’t look like much from the outside, but the best places never do, do they? We had a DELICIOUS lunch and huckleberry shakes for dessert.

We went back to our room for a nap (we’d only gotten four hours of sleep, remember?), then we went back downtown to wander and finish up some souvenir shopping.

For dinner, we went to Casey’s and ate at their rooftop bar. This was the first day they’d opened up after being closed for COVID, so everyone was really happy to be there. We’re so lucky that we got to see it. The panoramic views of the mountains were breathtaking (again), and we split some bison sliders and chicken tacos. Yum.

A major point of discussion during dinner was the waiter with the mullet. The thing is, we both agreed that this guy looked good with a mullet, like maybe that’s how mullets were designed to look back in the eighties when they were cool. His neon eighties-style sunglasses and high tops really added to the look. But…but… an attractive guy with a MULLET? Was it possible?? We had to text a variety of people for their opinions on this. We texted our sisters, I texted Rex…there was quite a buzz going about this mullet. In the end, we hypothesized that this is what happened:

Mullet Guy, one year ago: “I’m so great with the ladies.”

Mullet Guy’s Friend: “Oh yeah? Think you could still be a lady killer if you had a MULLET??”

Mullet Guy: “Hold my beer.”

So really he’s just trying to prove a point. Do you think it’s working?

After the sun set over the mountains, we got our check and got ready to go. Then we heard the bartender call last call – what kind of bar closes at 9:00 PM, I ask you?

A bar in Whitefish, I guess.

Back in the room, I typed up a blog post and we got ready to leave. Time to catch a train home bright and early tomorrow. We’re not ready to go, but we’re thankful everything has gone so well!

Yesterday was the day we finally got our wheels. Whoo hoo! We were only able to get a rental car for 24 hours (a hazard of COVID, which apparently caused Montana to be low on cars (?), and also a hazard of planning a week in advance instead of the recommended six months). We chose to pick up the car around lunch time, that way we could have a whole afternoon/evening of one day and a morning of the next in the park. Before we got our car, we decided to spend the morning checking out the Whitefish City Beach. I counted on Lauren to navigate us walking through town, since she claims to be “so good at maps.” Instead, she took us two miles out of our way, on a walk by the river. Turns out Bear Grylls has a Kryptonite when it comes to navigating a city. She’s better off in the wilderness. Luckily, we eventually made it to the beach and had a great time swimming!

After swimming, we had a quick snack of huckleberry pie (thanks for the great recommendation, Aunt Eileen!), got our car, and finally headed into the park. In my last update, I was struggling to come up with proper adjectives to describe the scenery out here. Today, there is no struggle. Why? Because there ARE NO WORDS for the amazingness of Glacier National Park. You could throw a whole dictionary of words at these mountains, and they would fall pitifully short. Here are some pictures, which – as always – aren’t going to be as good as the real thing. Please come see it for yourself – you won’t regret it.

As we were driving along the Going To the Sun Road with Lauren in the driver’s seat, I was busy trying to pick my jaw up off the ground while looking at scenery when Lauren noticed some hitchhikers. The following is an approximate recreation of the ensuing conversation:

Lauren: Ooooo! Hitchhikers! Let’s pick them up.

Me: Are you insane? We are not picking up hitchhikers.

(A problem when disagreeing with the person driving is, well, they’re driving. Lauren pulled off to the side of the road and waved the people over).

Me: Are you kidding? What is wrong with you? We’re gonna get murdered.

Lauren: No we’re not! They look nice and completely normal. Plus, they NEED A RIDE. We can’t just leave them on the side of the road. *waves them over again*

Me: Ack! This is a terrible idea. We are not picking these people up.

Lauren: *rolls down window* Where are you headed?

Potential Murderers: Logan Pass?

Lauren: That’s EXACTLY where we’re going! Hop in!

Me: *facepalm*

These new friends of ours, Kaitlin and Jese, said that they were on their honeymoon. LIKELY STORY. I said, “Ooooo! I love weddings! Do you have any pictures from yours?” I said this because…

1. Legit. I love weddings. I wanted to see all the pics.
2. If they are “on their honeymoon” and had no wedding pics, it was time to reach for the bear spray.

Turns out, I think they were actually on their honeymoon. They showed beautiful pics of their wedding in Arkansas, where they got married next to the fourth largest tree in the state (weird, I know). Apparently this tree owns the property surrounding it, and no humans can own the tree because it has its own land? The whole thing was a little hippy dippy, but we didn’t end up murdered. No thanks to Lauren.

After dropping off Kaitlin and Jese at Logan Pass, we met a motorcycle gang on their way to a motorcycle rally in South Dakota. One of the guys had a giant stuffed gorilla on the back of his bike, and the gorilla’s name was “Clyde the Motorcycle Monkey.” Clyde has his own instagram and everything, so you can feel free to follow his cross-country travels. I thought Clyde was all cool and fun, but Bear Grylls had to come in and shatter the illusion. As soon as the motorcycle gang left, Lauren said, “I don’t mean to be rude…but do they realize that Clyde’s not even a monkey?”

“What do you mean?” I asked. “Of course he’s a monkey.”

“Gorillas are apes,” Lauren said, like this was oh-so-obvious. “Monkeys have tails. Apes and monkeys are in different families, so technically Clyde is an ape.”

“Clyde the Motorcycle Ape” doesn’t sound nearly as cool as “Clyde the Motorcycle Monkey,” so I had to rescue the situation. I told Lauren that it’s 2020, after all, and I support Clyde’s decision to identify as a monkey. She needs to be a little less closed-minded.

I’m not sure that’s how science works, but I tried.

From Logan Pass, we hiked the Highline Trail. This was the most scenic trail of the whole day, where a dramatic person might say something like, “THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL I AM GOING TO DIE. I CANNOT HANDLE IT.” (Not saying I said that. That’s just what a dramatic person might say. *nervous laugh*). There was a rope to hold onto on the edge, and when Lauren said, “Don’t look down,” I should have listened. The straight drop from the narrow ridge where we were hiking was more than a little disconcerting, but I focused on watching my step and trying not to fall (read: die). In the event that I did look over the edge, my stomach did that weird flippy thing where it threatens to jump out of my body.

After surviving the Highline Trail at Logan Pass, we continued driving the Going to the Sun Road. We pulled off to take a picture at St. Mary’s overlook, and we saw a hiker coming from the trail. She told us that about a mile down the trail, there were some beautiful waterfalls. We decided to check it out. “People are jumping off the bridge by the falls,” she said with raised eyebrows, showing she clearly didn’t approve of such shenanigans. “But the falls are definitely worth seeing.”

We grabbed our packs and geared up for the hike. “I’m totally jumping off that bridge,” I said to Lauren as soon as we were out of earshot of the lady.

“Seriously?” Lauren’s eyes grew wide. I had managed to shock Bear Grylls.

“No,” I said. “Not seriously. But if I say it enough times, I might talk myself into it.” Because that’s how psychology works, obviously. Ask anyone.

After a beautiful mile of hiking through a ghost forest (a fire stripped many of the trees in 2015), we got within view of St. Mary Falls. Sure enough, there was a small group of guys encouraging their fellow dude bros to jump off the bridge and into the icy blue glacial waters 25-30 ft below.

As we got down to the falls, a lanky guy about our age walked over to the bridge wearing nothing but his board shorts and his man bun. He climbed over the edge, and I held my breath. He looked into the water, took two deep breaths, and then jumped.

When Millennial Man Bun came out of the water and was clearly NOT DEAD, a hot mix of FOMO and YOLO churned in my stomach. “I’m doing that,” I said to Lauren. “For real this time.” I started looking around for a place to put my pack. Forget the fact that I had no swimsuit and would have to hike back in wet clothes…how many times in your life do you have the chance to jump into the base of a glacial waterfall? Not many, that’s for sure.

“Seriously?” Lauren asked again, but she could tell I was serious this time. “Fine,” she said. “Then I’m doing it too. Because I can’t be the person who comes home as the weenie who wouldn’t jump off the bridge.”

I went over to the side boulders and took off my hiking boots and socks. Was I really going to do this? Well, I’d just declared I was going to, so there wasn’t any going back.

Of the two of us, I had to jump first since, after all, this whole thing was my idea (let’s review – Lauren tried to get us brutally murdered, but I only tried to get us dashed to bits on some waterfall rocks. Not as bad, right? RIGHT?? Okay. Someone stop us from traveling together anymore). I climbed over the wooden edge of the bridge and watched the bright turquoise water swirl angrily below me. This was simultaneously the worst and best idea ever. I held my breath and then let it out again. I yelled to Lauren, who was recording from shore, and said, “I need a countdown!”

Lauren and the dude bros counted down for me. 5! 4! 3! 2!…..1!

I jumped.

There was that terrifying moment, hurtling through the air toward the water, when I knew there was no going back. I was about to be plunged into this glacial river. Then, with a splash, the icy water enveloped me. It was COLD COLD COLD, but so very worth it. I popped up smiling and started swimming toward shore. The current pulled me a little ways down river, but I got out eventually and felt quite victorious. If I was tech savvy, I would post the video here. Since I’m not, here’s a still that Lauren took while I was swimming toward shore.

Not to be outdone, Lauren jumped after I did. I got a video of her too, and we were both oh-so-glad that we did it. The sun dried us quickly, and we were ready to hike back to the main road.

On our hike back, we were walking alone (with our bear bell, of course). A deer popped out on the trail ahead of us, and she seemed completely nonplussed by humans. We walked with her, maybe twenty yards back, for quite a while. She seemed to enjoy the trail, and she’d stop every now and again to eat a flower. It was kinda strange, hiking with a deer, but I didn’t hate it!

Back on the main road, we headed into late evening. Most tourists started leaving the park, and it was like we had the entire thing to ourselves. We stopped for a picnic dinner out at a lake, and I was freaking out that we would run into a bear. After all, dusk is prime time for bears, and bears have to drink somewhere, right? Luckily, no bears. Just the best picnic scenery in history. We sat on the log pictured here and enjoyed our sandwiches.

Driving back toward town, we took in some beautiful views of the sun setting over the mountains.

Our mountain goat sightings for the day totaled nine mountain goats, including five that were chillaxing in this parking lot.

It took us a few hours to wind over all the switchbacks, get to the front of the park, and finally head back to the hotel. By the time we were got close to home, we were hungry again. We decided to split a pizza, which we did in our hotel room while screening Lauren’s future husband prospects on match.com. It was a girls’ night at its finest. Our middle school versions of ourselves would be very pleased with how this friendship turned out, I think.

Then, after midnight, it was finally time for bed. We had to be up again at 5:30 this morning, which is why there was no time for blogging last night. Too much adventuring meant writing had to take a break. All in all, though, it was a fantastic day. I wish I could bottle it and drink it on those days when life is hard. At least I’ll have the pictures to help me remember it!

When I was a child, my parents taught me to never take candy from strangers. They never mentioned what to do if a stranger pops out from some bushes in the mountains and offers you sketchy-looking berries that he swears aren’t poisonous.

Would you have eaten the berries? Do you think Lauren and I did?

Let’s rewind.

Lauren and I woke up this morning in our faaaaabulous hotel room. It has an upstairs bed and a downstairs one – check it out!

Okay, you don’t care about our room. I get it. Do you care about our picnic breakfast? Continental breakfast is being served COVID-style, which means we place an order and the nice old lady packs us a breakfast in a lunch box, like she’s our mom wishing us luck on our day ahead. There were picnic tables outside to use, and they were beautiful. Have you ever had eggs packed in a lunch box for you? I have.

After breakfast, we walked over to the chair lifts. They were right near our hotel. We rode a chair lift to the top of the mountain, and then we hiked seven miles of trails to get to the bottom. “Beautiful” is an insufficient adjective for these views. “Stunning” comes closer. “Tranquilizing” sounds sort of violent, but they were tranquilizing. When you look out at mountains like that, you feel small in the very best way. All of your problems are there at the bottom of the mountain, but none of them are able to make it up to that altitude. Up there, it’s just…peaceful.

Toward the beginning of the trip, Lauren saw a berry and said, “Hey look, I think those berries are probably edible!”

I responded somewhere along the lines of, “Whatever, Bear Grylls. We’re not eating berries on a ‘probably.’ I am not carrying you down this mountain to the ER.” Lauren sighed because I am such a fun killer, and she pointed us on the trail to Flower Point. We proceeded without eating berries.

I mentioned that we might not see too many wildflowers at Flower Point, because aren’t wildflowers mostly blooming in spring and early summer? Lauren responded with, “Well, most flowers in the aster family are August and September bloomers.”

Isn’t the Aster family the really rich family that sank on the Titanic? But I think that was spelled “Astor.” Either way, since I didn’t know what flowers belonged to the aster family, I mostly pictured a field full of 1912 first-class ghosts. Turns out, that’s not what Lauren meant.

Flower Point did indeed contain many, many flowers. Predictably, they belonged to the aster family. It was gorgeous.

For a good portion of the hike, we didn’t see any other people. It was weird to feel like we had the whole mountain to ourselves. It also made me nervous that we would run into a bear, especially when we saw a small animal dead in the trail (I think it was a pika?). Like, PREDATORS ARE HERE! BEWARE!

As we got nearer to the bottom of the trail, we looked up and saw a couple guys with their families, and all of them were rustling around in the bushes. (Let me clarify – my thought process upon seeing people was mostly, “AH! BEAR! FREAK OUT! Oh, just a regular guy. Don’t panic.”). We asked what they were doing, and they said they were harvesting huckleberries. They come up to Whitefish every year to pick huckleberries, and they were holding plastic containers like the ones I use to pick berries at home. One of the guys held the container out to us, offering some of his treasure.

Of course, they were the same berries that Lauren said looked edible.

We each tried a berry. I felt a little like a Disney princess, where a huntsman comes out of the woods and offers creepy poisoned fruit. “So sweet, dearie…just take one bite.” So it wouldn’t have been surprising at all to find myself in a hundred year sleep after this, but turns out the berries were really good. Lauren and I hopped up in the bushes and picked some for ourselves. Yum!

When we got to the bottom of the mountain, we regrouped for a little while in our room and then took a shuttle into town to explore. We had a great time looking in little shops, and we had dinner at a Mexican place. While there, Lauren decided to name her future son Robbie Falcon. That needs to be in writing here so she remembers it later.

After a great dinner, we were exhausted. Over 25,000 steps today for me! We attempted to order an Uber to take us back up the mountain since the shuttles don’t run after 6:00.

There were no Ubers.

We tried Lyft.

There were no Lyfts.

We tried taxi services.

They didn’t answer.

Apparently the very few people in Whitefish who like to drive people around were not available on Monday nights, so Lauren and I sat outside of a sushi place on a bench and tried to figure out what to do. Our conversation was punctuated with interruptions where we had to say things like, “No, we didn’t order any sushi.” “No, we’re not Julia, and we’re not looking for the wasabi.” “No, we’re not waiting for an order, we’re just sitting here STRANDED IN TINY TOWN MONTANA AND WILL NO ONE HELP US??!” Lauren suggested we hitchhike. I suggested that hitchhiking is how people end up on Dateline.

After struggling to find a way to get back up the mountain to our hotel, we did what any intelligent, resourceful young women in this position would do:

We decided to drown our sorrows at the nearest bar.

The nearest bar was called the Bulldog Bar, a dive where the walls were decorated in Bulldogs. Pretty cool! Things don’t seem nearly as dire when you’re drinking a beer with a couple hundred bulldogs.

Finally, around an hour after we started trying, we found a taxi guy who was willing to come get us. Hoory!! J.C. saves the day! (That’s the taxi guy’s name, by the way – J.C. I was not alluding to Jesus Christ. Though I guess Jesus provided the taxi, so… *shrugs* He saved the day too.).

Now we’re finally back in the hotel room, and we’re making battle plans for our hikes tomorrow. I can’t wait to see what happens next!

As I type this, I’m lying on a fluffy white comforter in the upstairs portion of our fantastic hotel room. We finally made it to Whitefish! To be honest, the thirty hours on a train went by really fast. I already miss Terrance, our sleeper car butler guy. I haven’t had many any butlers in my life, but he was for sure the best one ever.

This morning we started out with a stop in Minot, North Dakota. We had a while at the stop, so Lauren and I got out to explore the town. It had a very cool, small-town America vibe.

We went to the most Lauren-centric coffee shop I have ever seen. There were plants EVERYWHERE. It was like ordering coffee in a jungle. Lauren commented on their use of an old mattress as a planter, saying that it was a good idea and maybe she’ll do that with her old mattress. Joanna Gaines from Fixer Upper most likely would not approve, but is Joanna as committed to recycling as Lauren? I THINK NOT. Lauren ordered a cinnamon coffee, and I got a blackberry lime lemonade. It reminded me of the blackberry bushes back home.

While at the coffee shop, we ran into our train friends. This is Lauren with Becca, the B in “PB&J.” These three friends (Pam, Becca, and Janie) have been traveling together for a lot of years, and they bring their whole families. There was a group of twelve of them on the train. It gave me high hopes for future of the birthday weekend crew.

On our walk back to the train, we met Dave. He was an older guy wearing an orange pheasant hat, and he loved Minot:

“Aw, we here are just a bunch of old retired farmers. Go up to 80% of these houses around this town, and you can walk right in. No locks on these doors! Just the kind of people we are around here.”

I asked about his pheasant hat, and he responded with, “Well of COURSE I go pheasant hunting! Nothing else to do around here! I go grouse hunting too. Plenty of them around.” This made me the tiniest bit glad Rex wasn’t with us, or I worried I might find myself moving to Minot, North Dakota.

After a hearty “ALL ABOARD!” from Terrance, the train was off again.

We passed through the most beautiful sunflower fields, but I couldn’t get a good picture. Blast! Rex’s fancy pants camera surely would have been able to work some magic. Instead, I’m cheating and stole this picture of North Dakota sunflowers from Google images so you can get the idea.

Lauren and I spent a chunk of the day working on our “work.” I drafted my novel, and Lauren worked on her knitting. We both got quite a bit done.

We’d take breaks every once in a while to walk around. Here’s Lauren looking cute. This should obviously be her match.com profile picture, right??

Dinner was in the dining car again, where Lauren made a startling discovery. “Christine,” she marveled. “This plastic cup is a #5 recyclable, and clear plastic is almost always #1. But this black plate,” she held up the plate, “is a #1 recyclable, and black plastic is almost always #5. It’s like they completely switched!”

AMAZING. WOW!!! I tried to look astonished. Never mind the fact that I didn’t even know there were five types of recyclable plastic until today (or more than five? I still don’t know). I guess I’ll leave the recycling expertise to Lauren and her planter mattress.

Not only was dinner amazing because of the food and exotic plastics, but also the views were beautiful. We were finally in the mountains!

After dinner, we hung out with the PB&J crew for a little bit in the observation car. Here’s the whole group! We’re facebook friends now, so the whole thing is pretty official. Except we’re not friends with Bob, because he doesn’t like social media and all that “hashbang Twitter stuff.”

We made it to Whitefish station just as the sun was setting. It’s a really cute station. There are only like three Uber guys in all of Whitefish, so we had to wait about twenty minutes to catch a ride. No worries – we spent more time chatting with PB&J. Lauren explained the craziness about the plastics in the dining car. I’m not sure if they were properly amazed.

I’ll give you some more pictures of our hotel tomorrow, but I’m tired out after our long journey. It feels like we’ve already had so much fun, and we only just now got to where we were going. See you tomorrow!

Next week is my last week of summer vacation, and this has been the strangest summer on record. I expected to be updating this blog from Italy and from China this summer, but alas – COVID had other plans. So I settled in for a summer in Michigan, where I could enjoy bonfires, walking dogs, and the slower pace of life at home. I almost made it all the way through summer without leaving Michigan…but I couldn’t quite do it.

The tipping point was when my school put out a statement that all teachers are grounded – we can’t fly anywhere, or we’ll be quarantined and unable to work for fourteen days upon our return. It made me feel kind of claustrophobic. No travel at all – at ALL – until at least June 2021?! Eeeeep!

Luckily, not all travel is done on planes. This is why I find myself zipping across the country with my friend Lauren on an Amtrak train, somewhere in field-country Wisconsin, on my way to Glacier National Park.

The idea came to me as summer school came to a close, and the idea of spending another few weeks home alone while Rex worked all day was daunting and discouraging. On a whim, I texted my friend Lauren and asked if she wanted to go out West. Like, immediately.

Lauren’s nickname is “Bear Grylls,” named for the British survival guy, so she was the ideal friend to invite on my spontaneous adventure. She has a masters degree in Environmental Science, and she used to work at the Grand Canyon. She’s the type of person that you could drop in the woods with nothing but dental floss and a ruler, and she’d be running a small sustainable farm by the time rescue arrived.

To my surprise, she texted back right away that she was in. We initially set our sights on the Grand Canyon, since she knows it so well, but Arizona is looking awfully Covid-y. That’s when we switched to Montana and Glacier National Park, because neither of us have been there, and the bears outnumber the Covid patients in Montana.

With Montana as our destination, Lauren said she was excited – that she would bring her bear spray and her homemade granola. Not joking. She really said that. Classic Lauren.

Planning the trip went into hyperdrive, as we only had around a week from the day I texted her and the day we targeted leaving. She had to get the time off of work, and I checked with my work to make sure that train travel wouldn’t get me quarantined. When both of our works said we were clear, that was it – we booked our tickets! This was probably the quickest I’ve ever thrown a trip together…we’re practically making it up as we go. But so far, it’s awesome.

Last night when I was packing, I texted Lauren to ask if she was going to hike in jeans or leggings. She texted back that she was going to hike in specialty hiking shorts and hiking pants. Oh. I was supposed to have specialty hiking pants?! I suddenly felt like I was headed to space without a space suit. Who knew I needed specialty pants!? Well. We’re not all Bear Grylls, so I won’t be hiking in specialty pants. That’s for a planned-ahead trip, which this is not. Hopefully the bears won’t be too offended.

When Lauren picked me up to head to the station today, I saw that she packed for our week-long trip in a small backpack that she got when she worked at North Face (because of course she worked at North Face). She also had a tiny day pack from REI, but both could probably be personal items on a plane. How did she do that? And as she ticked through the things she packed (headlamp, rain gear, hiking boots, bug spray, sunscreen, map of the stars…), I started thinking we should change her name to Mary Poppins instead of Bear Grylls because of her magic bag that holds way more than it should.

I also felt like I’m a little in over my head here. I asked Bear Grylls to go on a hiking trip – what was I thinking? It’s like I was looking for a tee ball friend and ended up playing with Derek Jeter. Oh well. At least if we get lost, she can lead us back to civilization with moss and her star map.

We got a sleeper car for the train ride out, so even though the ride is thirty hours long, we have our own room! It’s got two beds – a top one that folds down, and a bottom one that’s formed when we fold down the cozy chairs we’re using. There’s a picture window where we can watch the scenery roll by, just like we’re pioneers on the Oregon Trail (except traveling at 100 mph and skipping the dysentery).

Because we got a sleeper car, we got to access the business class lounge in Union Station. I’ve never been in a business class lounge before! I feel like those fancy lounges are the adult equivalent of the teachers’ lounge. Remember in elementary school when you would walk by the teachers’ lounge and think, “Ooooooo! What a magical place…Wish I was allowed in there.” I mean, really, my degree in teaching was basically just to fulfill a lifelong dream of finding out what’s in the teachers’ lounge.

Hehe. Kidding. But you get the idea. I’ve always wanted to go in a business class lounge. This one didn’t disappoint. It was beautiful, with plushy seats and a butler-y guy walking around handing out snacks and drinks (with tongs, of course. Covid safe). We also got to board the train first, and we have our own sleeper car attendant named Terrance. I’m feeling pretty swanky. Unfortunately, we could only afford this level of swank for one way. We’ll be riding with the peasants in coach on the way back. But hey – I’ll enjoy this while I have it! Here’s our pile of books that we’re using to plan this trip on the fly (er…train):

Gotta go – it’s almost time for our dinner reservation in the dining car. We have to put our masks back on – I made us matching train-themed ones with help from my mom (thanks Mom!).

It feels great to be blogging again – talk to you soon. 🙂

Here I am, once again in the airport. I’m definitely not ready to leave, but I’m very thankful for the time we’ve had.

I didn’t plan to blog about yesterday (our travel day to Glasgow). After all, we were just traveling. What is there to say? But then Rex ended up in a kilt and my dad ended up shoplifting, so really a blog post was in order.

The day wasn’t too eventful to start. We ate a wonderful breakfast (Again. Oh how I will miss these breakfasts). Mike drove us to the train station, which was very kind. We hopped on the 10:20 toward Glasgow, and we were off! Traveling away from the North was kind of depressing. The southern part of Scotland is still gorgeous, but nothing beats the Highlands.

When we arrived in Glasgow, we checked in to our hotel and then went to Kelvingrove Park. My dad wanted to play bowls/balls. We asked the lady at the desk if we could rent some equipment, and she asked if we knew how to play. We admitted not really, and I thought for sure she would turn us away. Who wants to lend equipment to people who have no idea what they’re doing? Instead, she gave us the equipment and then walked outside to give us a tutorial. Scottish people are so friendly.

We each had our own bag of balls (cue way too many jokes about ball sacks) and a jack which we threw to know where to aim. It’s a similar game to bocce ball. The bowling green was public and super nice. Parks in America wouldn’t just hand out expensive equipment and then walk away, trusting people to return it. We didn’t have to sign in or anything. Dear Americans – stop stealing stuff. This is why we can’t have nice things.

After bowls, we went to our favorite pizza/foccacia place for lunch. Megan wasn’t working, but I liked the guy who was. He asked where we are from and then said, “Michigan? Don’t you have a really good basketball team in your state? The green one?”

Yes, sir. The green one. We love them. #gogreen

Once lunch was over, it was time for SHOPPING!!! Taking home foreign currency is a little pointless unless you have enough to make it worth converting back to dollars, so we took the rest of our pounds and basically used them like Chuck E. Cheese tickets to see how many prizes we could get. My dad looked at five different stores trying to find the perfect key chain, because that’s what he wanted as a souvenir. I never realized there were such stringent requirements as to what makes a good key chain. Luckily, he eventually found the perfect one. Please compliment it if you ever find yourself in the proximity of his keys.

Back at the beginning of the trip, I convinced Rex to agree to try on a kilt. Fotunately/unfortunately (depending on who you ask), we biked all day every day and the shops here close at 5:00. He hadn’t had the chance to try one on. But today, ladies and gentlemen, the luck ran out! YAY! I also convinced my dad to try one on because Elle requested it. (Me: “Dad, I don’t have that many blog fans. WE NEED TO GIVE THEM WHAT THEY WANT!” Haha.). Here are the men in their tartan finest. My dad chose his based on a clan that I guess we’re distantly related to, and Rex chose his because “green, brown, and orange are hunting colors.”

Please note that one of them is wearing the kilt backwards, though none of us knew it at the time. Can you tell which one?

After kilts, we raided a candy shop. We bought a stupid amount of candy, as candy is a great way to spend a small amount of cash. Then we sat on a park bench, eating candy and drinking Irn Brus, until we all felt sick. We were surrounded by a ridiculous amount of pigeons, which sort of felt like home.

After some research about what was going on in Glasgow that night, I suggested we go to the pub quiz at The Sparkle Horse. Rex looked at me skeptically. “Are you kidding? You want me to go to a place called The Sparkle Horse?” I assured him that the pictures looked nothing like the pink tea room (I already miss that tea room). He reluctantly agreed to go.

We walked back to the hotel first to drop off our things. As my dad was going through his shopping bag, he got really concerned. “Guys,” he said. “I have two key chains. How did I get two key chains?!” He pulled them both out – one was the perfect key chain, and one was the second-perfect key chain. Rex and I just stared at him. “Did you steal that?” I asked.

“No!” He held up his hands defensively. “I swear! I don’t know how it got in there!”

“Likely story,” said Rex. “Is that what you’re going to tell the cops?”

“Maybe when I went to put the key chain back, I thought I hung it up but actually it fell in my bag,” my dad said. Then he sighed. “Can you imagine if I told that story to security? I mean, I wouldn’t even believe me. Ugh.”

He stared at the two key chains. “I’ve never stolen anything in my life. This is bad.” He looked out the window, like maybe some police cars would come squealing around the corner to apprehend him on account of his key chain thievery. They did not.

The store was about a mile away, and it would have been closed by the time my dad got back to return it. So basically, my dad’s bringing stolen goods into America. No one tell customs.

We walked over to The Sparkle Horse just in time to sign up our team for the trivia night. Our team name was The Third Wheelers, which I thought was pretty clever. Here we are, ready to rumble:

There were different question rounds, and the first category was set to be all political questions. The three of us looked at each other, a bit panicked. We know barely anything about Scottish politics. Unbelievably, two thirds of the questions were about American politics. Isn’t that strange?? Rex said, “I feel like America is the preppy, popular kid of the world. No one really likes us, but they still all want to follow what’s going on in our life.”

We still got some wrong, which was a little embarrassing since the questions were about our home country. But come on – do YOU know who the Secretary of Defense was under Gerald Ford? Hmmm??? DO YOU?

Our team did well overall. We got a lot of the answers by working together, but sometimes only one of us knew it. My dad got a golf question about who won the Masters twice in the past nine years (Spieth), I got a bonus point for us when our team was the only one to name Bolivia as one of the world’s largest landlocked countries, and Rex kicked butt in the picture round, which was all bird identifications (I’m not kidding). We wrote our answers on paper and then handed them in for grading, which was fun and pretty old school. We scored in the middle of the pack after four rounds, but by that time we’d finished dinner and were pretty exhausted. We decided not to stay until the end because it would have gone until at least eleven, and we had a plane to catch in the morning.

Our walk back to the hotel was beautiful as the sun set over Glasgow. All good things have to come to an end, but it was good to end on a high note. Thanks for coming along with us. 🙂

At breakfast this morning, my dad tried black pudding. It was, predictably, not great. Our BnB hostess asked why he didn’t finish it, and he admitted he didn’t like it much. When he said he looked up what is in it, she rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “You never look at what’s in it,” she said, like this was an obvious rookie mistake. (I looked it up, by the way. It’s pig blood and fat and…grossness). She said that maybe next time she’ll offer sample tastes, because it’s so wasteful to lose that whole thing of pudding, you know? She held his plate up, now drawing attention from the other people, and my dad agreed that maybe a taster would be a good idea. Meanwhile, I started frantically trying to finish my omelet even though I was completely full. I didn’t want the wasting food lecture!

Don’t get me wrong – she was friendly about it, and our hosts are so cool, but my dad was laughing and said he hadn’t gotten a “clean your plate” speech since he was about ten. Good news, though – Archie the Jack Russell Terrier got the rest of the black pudding. He’s the BnB’s “guard dog,” and he’s fun even though he doesn’t like me. Here’s a picture of him:

As soon as breakfast was over, it was time to ride for Queen and country (my dad started saying this days ago – “We ride for Queen and country!” – even though, obviously, this makes no sense in our case). Today was a loop around Loch Tummel. The route description described today’s ride as “moderately undulating,” which we’ve learned is code for “these hills may actually KILL YOU.” They just about moderately undulated my legs off.

The best/worst part about these hills is that not only were they steep and long, they were very winding. I’d be close to the top of a hill, huffing and puffing like the Big Bad Wolf, then I’d turn the corner and realize that the hill didn’t stop at all but rather kept going. It’s probably for the best, because if I’d seen the whole hill at the outset I probably would have given up. One hill went literally for miles. IT. WAS. RIDICULOUS.

At the top of the hill-that-never-ended, we came to a spot called “The Queen’s View.” It’s supposed to be one of the best views in all of Scotland (no wonder it was so high up), and Queen Victoria loved it. She wouldn’t have visited it quite so much if she had to cycle there, let me tell you.

The view was gorgeous. We could see a huge lake that stretched for miles, lots of mountainous hills, etc. The problem with the view is that when you know you have to cycle around that entire lake and conquer every one of those hills, it makes the scenery equal parts impressive and intimidating. The three of us looked at each other nervously, knowing that we had a lot ahead of us.

While at the Queen’s View, we ran into our old friends Dan and Carole (okay, once again, this would be cooler if I’d told you about them before). They’re cyclists from Montana, and we met them a week ago back in Callander. They’ve cycled all over the world. Since we’d be staying in the same city tonight, we agreed to meet up later for dinner.

We could only stall at the Queen’s View for so long, and then it was time to cycle on. The good news about today’s ride is that the views were completely amazing. The bad news is that breathtaking views = breathtaking hills. It was a good ride to end on, because we certainly felt like we worked for it!

At one point, we biked through some remote camp sites. We stopped to eat some snacks and skip rocks. My dad and I took a nap, which I guess has become a sort of routine. It was so peaceful there, and also we were so tired…you can’t really blame us.

After a hilly yet gorgeous ride, we got back to Pitlochry. We had to tackle Bonnet Hill one last time. Our BnB is at the highest part of town, straight up a quarter mile hill. When we finally got to the top, we were elated. We’d done it! The full week of biking, no injuries, bikes in-tact, and my dad’s shoes even stayed on his feet! Barely, but it counts!

YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY! HOORAY FOR US!!!

My dad says he’s probably going to retire his shoes after this trip. I mean, they’ve crossed two countries and worked for thirty-seven years. That’s longer than most human careers. Our BnB owner said she would love the “honor of throwing them in the bin,” but my dad might display them in his man cave at home.

After biking, we all went to our rooms and crashed. I fell onto my bed and fell asleep almost immediately. After an hour of recovery, we made plans for the evening. My dad went golfing with Mike  (one of our hosts). You should have seen my dad – he was so pumped. He said, “If only I could go tell my eighteen-year-old self, playing on Midland High School’s golf team, that one day I’d play in Scotland, I would have said there was no possible way!” Good thing he brought a golf shirt. The camouflage shorts were a little much, but they still let him in. Phew.

Rex and I don’t golf, so we stayed back. Rex said, “You know your dad and Mike are going to talk about American politics…you think we’ll still have a place to stay tonight?” We half expected to come back and find all our things next to the curb.

While my dad golfed, Rex and I decided to check out downtown Pitlochry. We passed by a tea house, and I felt a fizzle of excitement. A tea house would certainly have scones and cream. Rex agreed to go in with me. It was the cutest place, all decorated in pink and teal, and they had gazillions of tea choices.

They served the tea in adorable china cups, and my childhood doll tea parties had totally prepared me for this moment. I served the tea and clinked china cups with Rex, pinkies up. “This is kind of emasculating,” he said. “I’m having tea and cakes in a pink restaurant.”

“It’s not emasculating,” I countered. “There’s a deer on the wall. Very manly.”

He said it was a girly deer. Which okay, maybe it was. But he was a good sport, and I had a phenomenal time. The only thing that could have made it better is if I could have brought my favorite six-year-old, Brielle. I’ve had a few tea parties with her, and she would have appreciated the fabulousness of this tea room. We would have had petit fours and scones and the whole thing would have been EPIC.

Once we were full of tea and scones, we checked out the Pitlochry Dam. The dam itself was interesting (though we used to live fifteen minutes from the Hoover Dam, so we’re familiar with the concept). The best part was the phenomenal views from the dam and from the surrounding trails. I didn’t even want to blink.

We probably could have stayed there forever, but we had a seven o’ clock date with our Montana friends. We met them at Café Scozia, an Italian place, and had a great dinner talking about cycling and about life. They said we’ll always have a place to stay in Missoula (L&L – let’s add that to our road trip!). Then we all went to see Amanda at Scotch Corner, who served up some ice cream for us for the third day in a row (I’m telling you – it’s good ice cream). We finally perfected the ultimate cone: salty caramel ice cream in a chocolate waffle cone and topped with a flake. I would buy you one right this minute if I could.

Now I’m back at the hotel and trying to figure out how we’ll get to Glasgow tomorrow. We have one day left, and then we catch the plane home on Tuesday. I’ll sign off for now because Rex has turned on a cricket game. It’s really intense – lots of people are screaming and such – but neither of us can figure out the rules. Is it a close game? How do you win? What’s the point? If we watch long enough, maybe it will make sense.

I sure will miss seeing these views every day.

We just got back from dinner at a pub where we listed to live music. It was a Scottish version of ska and reggae. It wasn’t the type of music we were expecting from a pub, but it was still fun! Not sure I’ll ever hear “I Shot the Sheriff” quite the same way again.

STOP EVERYTHING. Rex is flipping channels, and we just stumbled upon a special about the royal family’s budget. Did you know Prince Charles gets an allowance of 20 million pounds a year? And every trip on the royal train costs more than a first class ticket around the world? Obviously this is very important viewing. Blogging will have to wait. *puts down laptop*

Okay. I’m back. Today at breakfast, the owner of our BnB said to Rex, “Do lots of people tell you that you look like Bradley Wiggins?”

No, ma’am. Believe it or not, no one has ever said that. Also, who the heck is Bradley Wiggins?

Turns out he’s a pro cyclist who’s won the Tour de France and an Olympic gold and la la la. Basically, a cyclist almost as cool as us (LOL). What do you think? I can see the resemblance.

Today was a short mileage day (about twenty-five miles), so we had some more time to explore. We started by heading up to Blair Atholl Castle. On our way there, we met an old Scottish couple. They asked us if we were headed to the village market. We decided to take a detour and check it out.

The village market was a small arts/crafts/bakery show inside a church. One table looked particularly busy, so we went to see what was going on. It was a game. For one pound, you could choose five tickets out of a bag. If your ticket number ended in a 0 or 5, it meant you won a prize. You would have to go to the prize table and find the prize that corresponded to your number. Some prizes were cool, and some were super weird. The guy in front of us won a prize, and his number corresponded to a dozen dead roses. He picked up the dead bouquet and handed it to his wife, saying, “Here. Now you can stop complaining about how I never get you flowers.” Haha! She didn’t look super thrilled about it. Then a middle school kid won a bottle of wine, which seemed kind of illegal, but hey – I’m a foreigner, so what do I know?

We decided to play, so we paid a pound and chose some tickets. I won! I got number 465, which corresponded to this funky dog toy set. Hopefully our dogs like them.

We played again, and Rex won some hand soap that is too large to bring back to the USA. Blast! We gave it to a random Scottish man.

After the village market, we headed to the castle. The old Scottish couple told us about a back road that goes through some woods and pops out near the garden, which would allow us to get in to the castle grounds without paying. We wanted to add some mileage to the day anyway, so we checked it out. It was a cool adventure to go rogue from our mapped-out route, but when we got in we felt guilty about not paying and went up front and paid anyway.

The grounds were so beautiful. One part of the woods had trees so huge that there was no possible way we’d get the whole tree into a picture. Here’s the best we could do (my dad’s there for size comparison).

Here are some other garden pics, including an old run-down church:

Next stop after the castle was the Bruar House. We didn’t know what to expect from that at all. Turns out it’s a giant department store (kind of). It’s like an outlet mall, but one company owns every storefront. There’s the women’s clothing store, the men’s clothing store, the housewares store, etc. Like if you split up all sections of Macy’s into separate stores, I guess. It’s tough to explain. It was cool, but it was a bit swanky for us. We got a few snacks and then headed on our way. Rex and I split a sandwich. The flavor they had was “chicken and corn,” which isn’t a type I’ve heard of before. Perhaps a chicken and corn sandwich can be really delicious, but this one was about 60% mayonnaise, 30% chicken, and 10% corn.

I’m exaggerating, kind of. But it wasn’t super. Don’t ask me why I just wrote about it in this blog. Now I’m going to be sixty years old and reading this, thinking, “Oh YEAH. Even though I didn’t want to, now I can remember that bizarre chicken and corn sandwich!” Here, instead let me show you a picture of swanky Scottish fashion. This was a huge poster in the men’s shop.

After lunch, we biked back to Pitlochry (where we’re staying again). We decided to celebrate another successful day with some ice cream. When we walked into the ice cream shop, the woman behind the counter looked at Rex and said, “Hey, you’re that photographer!”

What?

Good thing we recognized her. It was our friend Amanda from two days ago! (This would be a way cooler announcement if I would have told you about Amanda before). When we were in Aberfeldy eating fish as big as your face, she was waiting for her food in the same shop. When she heard we were headed to Pitlochry, she told us to stop by the Scotch Corner shop and tell the person working that Amanda sent us. Although we hadn’t remembered what ice cream shop she told us about, we ended up there by serendipity anyway. It was so fun that she recognized us, and we got pretty hearty servings of ice cream. We finally tried whiskey ice cream, which I do not recommend. It tasted…like creamy whiskey.

Tomorrow is our last day on bikes. Our goal is to make it with no injuries, in-tact bicycles, and with my dad’s shoes still on his feet. If we can hit those three marks for just one more day, we’ll have made it. Wish us luck!

A couple miles into today’s cycle, Rex yelled, “OH MY WORD” and slammed his breaks. The tires skidded in the gravel. A shot of adrenaline hit me as I slowed down to turn around. Was he hurt? Did his chain fall off again? Was he about to crash? What happened?

By the time I jumped off my bike, Rex was already off his and diving for his camera bag. I asked what happened, and he answered with one whisper-yelled word:

“CHUKAR!!”

Wow! What an opportunity! How amazing! To see a real chukar out in the wild! That’s an absolute dream for…some people! Maybe! (EXCEPT WHAT’S A CHUKAR?)

For the record, spell check doesn’t even recognize “chukar” as a real word. I had to Wikipedia this thing to make sure I spelled it right, which I hadn’t. I’d spelled it “chucker,” since that’s how you pronounce it. But spell check doesn’t believe in either word.

I ran up to Rex and followed his rush back to where he was riding. “What’s a chukar?” I whisper yelled back. I was 90% sure that it was a bird, but it could have been the size of a chickadee or an ostrich for all I knew.

“It’s that.” He pointed, gazing at the chukar lovingly, and then darted behind his camera lens. Click click click.

I couldn’t see the chukar. Apparently it moved, because Rex followed it. It went into someone’s yard, and Rex crouched behind a bush to stay out of sight. He creeped his lens around to try to take pictures. In order to get the chukar, he had to aim his lens right at the house.

“You’re such a creeper,” I whispered. “It looks like you’re trying to take pictures through these people’s windows. They’re going to think you’re a stalker, so they’ll call the police. It will be a major plot twist when YOU are the one who ends up arrested in Scotland.”

The picture, apparently, was worth the risk. Click click click.

Rex started explaining about the bird: “They’re sometimes called the red-legged devils. In the US, you can find them in the high mountains of Nevada and Idaho.”

I’m sorry, did I suddenly crash the set of National Geographic?

After the pictures, we zipped up to my dad (who didn’t stop for the photo op – go figure), and Rex told him that he got pictures of a chukar. (“Can you believe it? A chukar.”) My dad said the logical thing to say in this situation:

“A chukar? That’s a bird, right?”

Haha! Poor Rex. No one understands him. I wish I knew more about upland birds, and today I got one step closer. Now I know what a chukar is. They’re pretty cute, too.

This was pretty much the day of upland birds. We saw SO many pheasants. Even when we checked into our BnB for the night, there was a pheasant right outside the window. The scenery and pheasants reminded me of Danny, Champion of the World, for anyone who’s read that.

Today was a very pleasant ride. We rode through some beautiful forests and also some farm land. We saw a lot of sheep and cows. It was so peaceful that I even joined my dad for his traditional afternoon nap.

We stopped in the town of Dunkeld for lunch. My dad found a great lunch deal. It was from a busy deli place, and they had a take-out lunch special. You choose a sandwich, a soup, and a scone for only six pounds and sixty-five pence. What a steal! Although I still don’t know which pence coins are which, so I always choose between standing there squinting at the tiny letters or holding a handful of change to the employee and asking for help.

Anyway, we got these really cute lunch bags that held all of our choices, then we went to a nearby garden area for another picnic.

Just after our picnic, we got a call from our realtor. There was a potential third offer coming in on the house, we needed to get a response back in to buyer 1, and buyer 2 had the official offer on the table that we needed to counter. The time difference had made everything a bit sticky. Ahhhh! Very exciting, but also stressful. You would think it’s easy: if you get multiple offers, just pick the highest number. Turns out it’s more complicated than that.

Rex and I told my dad we had to go figure out our life for a minute, and we called our realtor back on what has now been dubbed “The Medieval Bench of Real Estate.”

The poor buyers had to be thinking, “What the HECK kind of people put their house on the market and leave the country the next day?” Yeah, sorry buyers. That wasn’t the plan, but it’s what happened.

The Dunkeld Cathedral was near the Medieval Bench of Real Estate. We went to check that out. It was built in the thirteenth century, and half of it underwent renovations in 1908. The rest is still in ruins. Highly cool.

After a very dramatic lunch break, we biked onward to Pitlochry. The last five miles absolutely kicked our butts. The craziest hills of the day seemed to pop out of nowhere. Plus, we heard thunder in the distance. If there’s anything to add rocket fuel to a bike ride, it’s hearing thunder. The clouds were closing in, and they started spitting rain. It wasn’t enough to actually be raining, but just enough to say, “Get your butt up that hill before I drench you and/or strike you with lightning.”

Luckily, we made it to Pitlochry. We grabbed some dinner at a swanky Italian place and then got ice cream cones on the way back to the hotel. I almost tried whiskey ice cream – made with real whiskey – but I chickened out. I don’t like whiskey in a glass, so why would I like it in ice cream? No one got it, but now I kind of wish we did. It’s not like we can try that back home.

We’re riding a loop tomorrow and will be back in Pitlochry tomorrow night, so maybe we’ll have a chance then.

Oh, and if you were wondering, we did accept an offer on our house. Papers are now electronically signed. YIPPEE!!!!! That is almost as exciting as seeing a real-life chukar!!

Let’s kick off today’s blog with a little photo segment called “Weird Signs From Scotland.” Here you go!

Attack of the red squirrels! Ruuuuuun!

Grandma wouldn’t have gotten run over by a reindeer if these signs would have been posted.

The rock sign isn’t particularly funny by itself, but it was funny that Rex was accidentally standing right under it. Good thing he was wearing a helmet, I guess.

Clothes for dogs and children in the same store? What?? I mean, it’s not that Penny NEEDS a handmade tweed jacket, but maybe it would make her look more sophisticated.

Let’s be real – pugs aren’t going to look sophisticated. No reason to spend a gazillion pounds on tweed.

Again with the city names. Killin? Dull? Who got the job to name these? There were NO better names?

Okay. That concludes my segment on signs.

Today was another gorgeous day. We left pretty early to try to beat a storm, but the storm didn’t end up rolling in (fine by us). The first half of today’s ride was extremely hilly. Nothing was flat. Up, down, up, down, up, steeper up, up, down. I was thankful for the “Hills and Drills” YouTube cycling workouts I did on my stationary bike back home, because they were helpful today.

We took a break at this cool marina place. Then we found the ruins of an old castle. Who doesn’t love ruins??

The second half of the ride was a lot flatter, which was welcome. We only had one bike disaster today, and it wasn’t ours. There was a Scottish man along our route who had bike trouble. We stopped to help (well, Rex and my dad stopped to help. I do the travel planning, but I know nothing about fixing bikes). The chain was caught in something. They looked at it and looked at it, jiggled some stuff around, and finally my dad said, “You’re probably going to have to force it, but I don’t want to wreck your bike.” The Scotsman didn’t want to do that, so we took the back tire off, jiggled things some more, etc. My dad finally wriggled the chain free (which, honestly, I’m pretty sure he just smashed it like he suggested. We’re all lucky he didn’t break the bike). The Scottish man was very happy. We were glad to pay it forward from when we were rescued a few days ago.

I thought about taking a picture of them working on it, but that would have been super annoying. “Hi, sir! Sorry you’re stranded on the side of the road! Sorry nothing’s working to fix your bike! SMILE!!” Here’s my sneaky picture. My dad is glowing. His shirt might be radioactive by now because he’s been wearing it for every ride.

About three miles before we got to tonight’s city, we passed a wildlife center. They do a lot of paid safaris into the highlands, but walking their Discovery Trail was free. I’m so glad we checked it out – we got to see quite a bit of wildlife! The fawn was my favorite.

We ate lunch at the wildlife center and checked out the shop. Rex had a difficult time narrowing down what he wanted from the many grouse souvenir options. Back at home, it’s nearly impossible to find grouse gifts. In the end, he settled on two mugs for his collection. I got a scarf. My dad got a sandwich.

Fresh off our excitement from the wildlife center, the last few miles flew by. We checked into tonight’s BnB, and then we headed into town to check out Aberfeldy.

As soon as we went to the town center, my dad saw someone with fish and chips. “Look at that!” he said. “That fish is as big as my face! I want fish and chips as big as my face!” For the next hour, he kept saying, “Oh my gosh. I’m so excited for dinner. I’m going to get fish and chips AS BIG AS MY FACE.”

We went hiking on a trail near the city center, which was a lot of fun. We also popped into a couple shops. Finally, we got some takeout food (including the fish as big as my dad’s face) and had a picnic in the park.

We walked the half mile back to our place, then showered and relaxed a while. Our room has this awesome couch that looks out a picture window.

My dad is a little salty about the fact that we have this huge window. His room, which he previously thought was fine, is now “the dungeon” because he says it’s dark and stupid without our window. Haha. He’s been hanging out in here sometimes, but we have plenty of room. We even have a separate office room. I could be writing in there, but the view from the couch is too fabulous.

Our BnB sits above a restaurant, so we went down there to get some dessert. I ordered a delicious pavlova.

Before we left for Scotland, my mom gave me some money to buy everyone a round of drinks on her. I got Italian wine, Rex got Famous Grouse whiskey, and my dad got an apple/raspberry bottle of kid juice. The waitress looked at him like he was a total weirdo, but whatever. The citizens of Aberfeldy should be used to old people being weird – there are street signs warning against them and everything.

Anyway, the drinks were great. Thanks, Mom!

Turns out we had important things to discuss over dessert – Rex and I got an offer on our house (yay!!!!). We had to discuss counter offers, possibly waiting on another offer that should be arriving in the next couple hours, etc. It was kind of stressful.

On the other hand…I was drinking a glass of wine, overlooking the Scottish highlands, and discussing my real estate deal back in America. The whole thing felt quite posh.

(A Scottish woman used the word “posh” in conversation today. Why don’t we use the word posh more often?? I will now start using it all the time. I imagine I’ll sound quite posh.)

Now we’re back on the couch and watching a storm roll in – hours later than it was supposed to, but whatever. It’s pretty fabulous to watch the lightning over the hills.

Keep your fingers crossed for us on the house thing. I’m tired from a long but exciting day…who knows what will happen tomorrow?