Exactly the Same and Totally Different

Unlike my usual musings about food and travel, today I want to share a trip down memory lane…on skates. I played in the Virginia Tech Ice Hockey alumni game last weekend, and it was an experience that triggered some great memories for me (along with a few bruises).

It’s amazing what the Tech program has become, especially in light of its very humble beginnings. The team was started in 1984 with a few flyers tacked to bulletin boards around campus. There were also a couple of short articles in the Tech newspaper, the Collegiate Times, mostly intended as an appeal for players. A classmate from Boston, Dave Keery, was the visionary.

I was on Tech’s inaugural team, and it was a great group of guys with a decent skill level. We had a lot of fun, in spite of the fact that our games were late at night and an hour’s drive from campus–pretty much guaranteeing that the only people watching would be on our bench. But it was a heart and soul group of kids who really loved the game.

Our home games were at the LancerLot in Vinton (a Roanoke suburb) against the likes of Liberty, W&L, and Roanoke College. In those first years, there were just a handful of nearby colleges with teams—mostly schools with lacrosse programs that drew students from the northeast.

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The LancerLot in Vinton, where we played in 1984-86 (and where the team still plays)

We took a few road trips, too, including a memorable one to the University of Tennessee. That trip was college budget travel at its finest; we fueled ourselves on camp stove hot dogs before sleeping on the floor of a friend’s fraternity house. We also brought back souvenirs in the form of oddly patterned bruises from the chain link fence at the Ice Chalet, the dusty old rink in Knoxville.

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Team photo from 1987, compliments of Dave Keery

Not everything gets better with age, but Tech’s hockey club certainly has. Today’s team bears little resemblance to the ragtag bunch that skated in those first years. They (we?) now play in the Atlantic Coast Conference Hockey League against pretty stiff competition and they’ve won several championships. They also have a full-time coach with some highly skilled players, and are one of the strongest programs in the mid-south.

I came away very impressed with this year’s team–as both players and people. Those guys certainly had game, but they also showed a lot of class with the old-timers. They were curious about our stories, they took it easy on us in the corners, and they involved us in the play even when we routinely mishandled the puck (well, at least when I did). Thankfully, there was no checking, although I did accidentally crack helmets with one of the current players (it actually felt good to make a little contact, even by mistake).

For obvious reasons, jumping on the ice with the current players was a big leap over the boards for me. But it was great just to be on that sheet of ice again, some 35 years later. That rink is a place where I made great memories and lifelong friendships, and the current players seem to be doing the same thing now.

Just before the game started, I got a text from my friend Lara (also a Tech grad). She wished me luck…and then she followed with “I love that story about when you were like 24 and accidentally joined an over 50 league and checked someone. I hope that’s not you today.” Like so many of the best experiences in life, things in that moment were at once exactly the same and totally different.

More Bottle, Less Beer

Belize has a lot of coastline, and a lot of beaches–and we learned on our visit that it also has a lot of beer. But Belize is decidedly not the land of craft IPAs, as almost all of the beer here is much lighter (except perhaps one newcomer, Hobbs). For the most part, tap handles in local bars tell a singular story–about Belikin, the national beer (think Budweiser, but with an accent).

Belikin offers several different brews, and all are light and relatively low-alcohol—perfect for enjoying on the beach and/or in the heat.

Belikin is a Mayan word that means “Land Facing the Sea,” and some say that it’s the origin of the name Belize–although we also heard that Belize means “muddy waters” in the Maya language. That story seems more plausible than a country named after a beer (although Souzz’s favorite beer, Oberon, would be a great name for a country, just sayin’).

Beer in Belize is served with a napkin artfully wrapped around the neck of the bottle–like a drinkable version of Woody from Toy Story. The napkin seems like a nice little piece of flair, but it’s there so that you have something to wipe the rust from the cap away from the mouth of the bottle.

The majority of glass bottles in Belize are washed and re-used, so drinking beer here means you are basically sharing a bottle–and hopefully it wasn’t with that guy at the next table last night that was eating ceviche like it was a bowl of soup…which made me want to have three more Belikins.

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There are other brews, although most are from Belikin’s brewery or at least are a similar style.

In stores, beer is sold as singles and each beer generally runs about two dollars (US), although bars sell “six packs” in buckets on ice (for about $15 dollars US, hard to pass up). And when a server brings you a bucket of beer, it feels like there’s some purpose to the activity of beer drinking. With that in mind, we’ve accomplished a lot on our trip.

Lastly, it’s worth noting that Belikin is served in bottles that are smaller than those in the US, a little more than nine ounces. We didn’t notice at first because the weight of the glass gives you the sense that you’re holding a “regular” bottle of beer…but the end of the beer comes more quickly (and isn’t that always the way?).

As for the bottle size, there’s apparently a running joke here: “Belikin – more bottle, less beer.” That seems about right…or, as they say in Belize, “Yaaa, man!”

Stone Woman

Yesterday in Belize we visited Xunantunich, a Maya archeological site near the Guatemala border (about three hours drive from our AirBnb in Placencia). Humans have been at this site going back at least to 3000 B.C., and the structures date to around 700 A.D. Most of the excavation at Xunantunich occurred between 1890 and 1960, but archeologists are still discovering things—including a previously untouched burial chamber that was found in 2016.

 

While historians have no idea what this site was called in ancient times, the modern name of Xunantunich means “Stone Woman.” It gets its name from a ghost that was first reported in 1892. A local hunter said he had encountered a woman dressed completely in white with fire-red glowing eyes at the base of a pyramid-shaped structure called “El Castillo” (The Castle). As the legend goes, she ascended the stairs and disappeared into a stone wall.

 

Versions of that story have been repeated many times since, most recently by a tour group from Canada that claimed to have seen her just after sundown. Some believers think that she formerly lived within the city in ancient times, while others think that she was a human sacrifice victim that re-lives her last moments time and time again.

Ghost stories aside, Xunantunich is a World Heritage site–and for good reason. There are six courtyards and more than 26 structures across about a square mile. El Castillo, at the heart of the old city, is the second tallest man-made structure in Belize at 150 feet. Adventurous visitors (including us) can climb to the top through a series of steps, with wild exposure that is not for the faint of heart. Apparently three tourists have fallen here in the past few years, “but they had nothing more than broken legs,” a local told us cheerfully (if not reassuringly).

 

There is great significance in how Xunantunich is laid out against the “axis mundi,” which is the intersection of the two cardinal lines of the old city. And all of the features (stairs, openings, etc.) are prime numbers. The Mayans were quite good with geometry and math, among other things.

We didn’t see any ghosts, but we still enjoyed our time walking through the courtyards and climbing the three main structures. It’s easy to see why this location was chosen by the Mayans, as there are commanding views in all directions.

 

I’m not sure I believe in the Stone Woman, although Souzz does sometimes have fire-red eyes and occasionally disappears—but usually just into the beer tent.

 

Elegantly Simple

Snorkeling and cooking may be an odd pairing, but odd pairings have never stopped us before. So with odd pairings (and snorkeling) in mind, we headed out of Placencia in southern Belize by boat to Lark Caye, and then hit a reef at Bugel Caye on the way back. Placencia Eagle Ray Tours was our outfitter of choice–and Rene and Dido knew their stuff, and also seemed to genuinely enjoy their work. Lark Caye was only about a 40 minute boat ride from Placencia, so it set up well for our trip.

Souzz and I had never been snorkeling before, so we had a few things to learn. For starters, it’s important to sense when waves are overtopping your snorkel and you are getting ready to inhale saltwater…and a few gulps of saltwater is its own kind of motivation to figure that out. There are also a some dangers to be aware of–coral that can sting, jellyfish that “would ruin your whole day,” the occasional stingray, and of course sunburn–so it’s not a “check your brain at the door” kind of activity.

But once we got going, there were amazing colors of coral and fish, a whole world below us that I had never really thought much about before. I can totally see how people get into snorkeling and diving, and we are already plotting our next trip.

We followed our time snorkeling with some beach time and then we went to a cooking class in town that we set up through a company called Taste Belize. Chef Radiance generously shared her home with us and together we made a conch dish with rice, peppers, and zucchini.

In addition to our lovely conversation with Chef Radiance–which touched on a range of topics that included Belize’s independence from Great Britain in 1981, changes brought by tourism, Hurricane Iris, traditional Mayan cooking, and Anthony Bourdain–we learned a lot about how to prepare Belizian cuisine. We squeezed out coconut milk from the pulp (very hands-on), enjoyed cooking with traditionally made coconut oil (a much different taste than what you get at a store in the US), and learned about a new (to us) Belizian spice/condiment called recado.

Recado is a deep red-colored paste made from seeds of the achiote tree (which is native to the tropics). We smeared the conch meat with it before cooking, which gave it a bit of color and also a bit of a nutty and peppery flavor. For our dish, we also used lime, salt, turmeric, Italian spices, garlic powder, and hot sauce.

There were lots of flavors going on in Chef Radiance’s kitchen, but yet everything seemed elegantly simple.

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Aaaah, yes, elegantly simple. Snorkeling and traditional dinners are both elegantly simple in their own way, and they are two more things that are helping us fall more in love with Belize with every passing day.

Panti Rippas

Souzz and I had so much fun in Scotland and the Faroes this summer that we decided we needed another trip abroad this year. With limited vacation time, we had to look for a place that was “relatively” close. We considered Canada and Mexico, but we wanted to go a little further afield.

Enter Belize, a country of 375,000 that is just 1600 miles away–which is closer to us than Las Vegas. Further enticing us was the promise of warm weather, 240 miles of coastline, Mayan ruins, barrier reefs, and a very interesting culture. And as if all of that wasn’t enough, there’s a coconut rum-based drink in Belize called a Panti Rippa.

We arrived in Belize City this afternoon and took a short 25 minute flight in a Cessna Caravan to the village of Placencia (which would have been about four hours by road, wow). Placencia has a population of about 3500, a blossoming adventure travel scene, and a friendly small town feel.

We’re staying at a lovely Airbnb right on the beach, and first impressions are pretty great. There’s a nice breeze, the town is lively and welcoming, and the ocean is delightfully clear and warm.

Tomorrow we head out snorkeling and then have a cooking class in the evening. As we settle into the mellow pace here, our plan seems a little ambitious–especially now that I’m into my second Panti Rippa.

History, and a Nice Menu

I’ve long had an interest in the history of Shenandoah National Park, just a few hours west of us–and this past weekend we found a way to get up close and personal. On a last minute whim, we decided to take a quick overnight trip to Doyles River Cabin. The cabin was built by the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) in 1936–the same year that the Park was established–and is now managed as a rental property by the Potomac Appalachian Trail Club (PATC).

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As you probably know, the CCC was created during the Depression as a way to provide employment, housing, and food to young men that were facing grim job prospects. CCC “enrollees” were paid roughly $30/month to built roads and bridges and cabins and more. They built a lot of structures still standing in the park (many of the original structures were removed when settlers were forced out by the state of Virginia to create the park; more on that here).

The CCC did a lot of work across the country. In addition to roads and bridges and cabins, they also planted trees, built flood and erosion control projects, erected fire towers, stocked trout—basically did whatever they could to improve the infrastructure of our country.

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The CCC built this enclosure to the spring just below Doyles River Cabin

More than three million young men enrolled in the CCC, including some that later went on to great notoriety–like baseball Hall of Famer Stan Musial and Air Force test pilot Chuck Yeager (I’m imagining fireside chats about curveballs at the speed of sound).

Doyles River Cabin is a primitive (no power or water) one-room structure, but it is sturdy and accommodating and in a great location. It also has a lovely covered porch and a beautiful view. PATC has done a nice job maintaining it, and we were thrilled that it was available on short notice.

The hike to the cabin is just a half mile from Skyline Drive. And with such an easy hike, we figured we could carry some fancy food (shocking for us, I know). We brought a small cooler bag full of our dinner, along with some frozen water bottles to keep things cold (figuring we could drink/dump the water before heading home). We did most of the food prep ahead of time, including cracking and freezing some scrambled eggs (for Sunday breakfast) in a Nalgene bottle.

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We dropped our food and overnight gear at the cabin and then headed down trail another mile or so to Doyles River Falls (very pretty, despite the low-flow conditions). We shared the trail with a bunch of friendly folks, and saw quite a bit of bear scat. The black bear population is growing in the park, although we weren’t lucky enough to see one on this trip.

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After our hike, we spent time lounging around the cabin and soaking in the view.

For dinner, we fried up some trout (just as the CCC might have done), made our favorite frybake French potato dish, Potato Gratin Savoyard (probably not what the CCC would have done), and enjoyed steamed mussels (definitely not what the CCC would have done).

As we cooked dinner, we admired the stonework and hand hewn logs that make up the cabin, as well as the beautiful view of the night sky. It’s pretty amazing to think that Doyles River Cabin has been providing cozy nights under the moonlight for 80+ years. The cabin looks fantastic for its age–which apparently is only a compliment if you are talking about a cabin (ask me how I know).

There’s something rewarding about finding an adventure close to home—and even more so when it includes a bit of history and a nice menu. And we have the mussels to prove it.

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Friendly, Curious, and Beautiful

We are headed out of the Faroe Islands today, are back to Scotland for a quick overnight in Edinburgh before heading back to the USA tomorrow.

We capped off our trip yesterday with a ferry out to the island of Nolsoy, about a 20 minute ride from the capital in Torshavn, where we hiked around the town and explored a bit. Later we visited a church in Sandavágur before enjoying a nice meal at a restaurant called Arrstova (“House By the Brook”) on Torshavn harbor. Arrstova is in a wooden building built in the 1600s, but the menu is decidedly modern (my favorite was the lamb tartare, and the multi-course meal was the best of our trip by far).

As is true with any adventure, we didn’t know what to expect here…even more so because we didn’t know a single person that had visited the Faroes (well, at least nobody that we had asked). What we found was a rich history and stunning natural beauty, along with more than enough tourist-oriented services and a lot of great people.

While there is not a lot of lodging (and just a handful of campgrounds), the choices are growing through new construction and through services like AirBnb. We really enjoyed our AirBnb house, and our host was super-helpful and responsive.

There’s a Faroese proverb that nobody lives in the Faroes for practical reasons. I’m not even sure what that means, but I can say that we’ve encountered people that are welcoming, curious, and eager to share their culture. And what a fabulous culture it is, with a deep respect for the past, optimism for the future, understandable pride, and a friendly approach to outsiders.

The Faroese are also very trusting. Nobody pays attention to locking anything here, the honor system is everywhere, fancy bikes are out leaning against fences and buildings in town, and the Faroese version of a key swap is to leave the door unlocked and the key on the table.

People are also very active and fit, and many of them were pushing baby strollers up trails that we thought were challenging ourselves. And pretty much every dog in the country is a black and white border collie (ok, so I’m not sure what that has to do with culture, but it does stand out).

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This was our new friend Fram

Topics of conversation with the locals have spanned a huge range, including politics, energy independence, education, and the economics of tunnel building (important stuff when you live in a mountainous country made up of 18 islands).

A quick example of the differences in culture: many of the rental cars are emblazoned with huge rental car logos, which would probably alert drivers in the US to pass at the first chance and maybe give you a “hand signal” if you weren’t up to standard. In contrast, a local in the Faroes told us that he saw the logos as encouraging folks to be more understanding when a tourist drives erratically (like us), too slowly (we did), or seems lost (we were, even though there’s basically one main road through the islands).

IMG_3415Based on our experiences, tourists are greeted with patience, whether fumbling for the right coins to pay, puzzling over a road or trail sign, mangling the pronunciation of a place name, or queueing in the wrong place (not that we ever did any of that, at least not in writing).

There is explosive growth on the islands right now, and people seem realistic about what tourism might mean for their country–both good and bad. For example, the introduction of new visitor fees—some with credit card enabled turnstiles–at the more popular attractions is something that the country seems to be struggling with (a lot of people were talking about it). Coming from the pay-as-you-go culture of the US, it all seemed fair to us–but I’m not sure how it would feel to pay for a hike if I were local.

It says something that the people made such an impression on us, as we don’t speak Faroese–but English is commonly spoken here. And the people were friendly, were interested in our story, and live in a beautiful country. That’s a nice combination for a wayward traveler.

You can’t understand a place in four days, but the Faroes–and their people–showed itself as a world destination. And just as nobody lives in the Faroes for practical reasons, it isn’t the most practical destination from the US. But as we get closer to wheels up, we are already talking about our next visit.

Ruins and Cows

Yesterday in the Faroes we started with a visit to the historic village of Kirkjubøur, about twenty minutes drive from the capital of Torshavn. Kirkjubøur is generally considered the country’s most historically important site, with structures that go back to medieval times. We visited ruins of 14th-century Magnus Cathedral along with a beautiful 13th-century church, Olavskirkjan, and Kirkjubøargarður, an 11th century farmhouse.

Kirkjubøargarður may be the oldest wooden structure in the world that is still occupied—and the same family, the Paturrsons, has lived there for 17 generations. How a wooden structure can last a thousand years is beyond me, especially as I have a fence back home that’s falling apart after a few seasons.

The settlement of Kirkjubøur was founded in part because it was a spot that collected a lot of driftwood, which was an incredibly important commodity in a land with almost no trees. We saw a piece of driftwood on the beach during our visit and I caught myself wondering where it’d come from. If only a tree could talk…well, if a tree could talk, it probably wouldn’t be able to get a word in edgewise.

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Before the Reformation, Kirkjubøur was the center of Catholicism across all of Scandinavia, and the Bishop at the time wrote the “Sheep Letter” there in 1298. The Sheep Letter is a Constitution of sorts, and is the oldest surviving document on the islands. Kirkjubøur dwindled after the Reformation, and then was hit by a devastating hurricane in the 1600s. The Cathedral was never finished.

We followed our visit to Kirkjubøur with a drive an hour north to the village of Saksun, where we enjoyed a beautiful (and super-windy) five mile hike out to the ocean and back, passing a huge mountainside waterfall along the way. We had to watch the tides, as parts of the hike are cut off with an incoming tide, but there was good signage to help out a few foreigners.

We were blown away by–and because of–the hike. I know everybody exaggerates wind speeds, but I’m pretty confident that there were sustained winds of 30-40mph and gusts above 50. Even the locals seemed a bit winded.

From there, we drove another half hour up a narrow one-lane road to the village of Tjørnuvík, the northernmost village on the island of Streymoy and a popular destination with surfers (easy to see why, as a powerful surf pounded the beach the entire time we were there). We enjoyed a lovely lunch at the café there, and also looked out over an old Viking burial grounds.

We closed out the day back in Kirkjubøur, where we joined a friendly rancher tending to the Paturrson family cows.

The diversity of experiences that are possible on the 500 square miles of land of the Faroes is remarkable; I’m pretty sure that this was the first day of our lives that started with medieval ruins and ended with feeding cows. (Oh, and we fed ourselves, too, with local salmon, and a nice view at our lovely AirBnB in Hoyvik).

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Well, this is supposed to be mostly a food blog.

A Long Way To Go For A Screen Saver

Souzz and I are into the next leg of our vacation and arrived in the Faroe Islands last night by way of Edinburgh, Scotland (one of a handful of cities that offer direct flights). The Faroes are a collection of 18 islands that are halfway between Iceland and Norway. They are a part of the Kingdom of Denmark, but they are very independent. They have their own government, their own language (Faroese), lots of services/amenities, and a very interesting culture.

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Less than 50,000 people live here, although there are supposedly nearly twice as many sheep. That said, it’s a very modern destination with a lot to offer–dramatic scenery as well as wonderfully friendly people.

As to how we got interested in visiting the Faroes, there’s a famous waterfall here called Múlafossur, and it popped up one day on my dad’s cable TV screensaver (doesn’t everyone get trip ideas from screensavers?).

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The screensaver shot that inspired our trip

When I saw that photo, I asked “Where is that?” As one might expect, my dad hadn’t memorized the screensaver shots; he was more interested in the Georgia Tech football game that we’d paused while we freshened up our drinks. Later, I tried (unsuccessfully) to find the location of the photo through the web. I finally took a picture of the TV screen (after waiting waiting waiting for the same image) and did a reverse photo search with Google.

It’s not the first time I’ve gotten a crazy idea for a trip in an unlikely place (see Pegman Meets Viking) and something tells me it won’t be the last.

We’ve just started our visit to the Faroes, but it’s clear that this is a special place. Cliffs plunge hundreds of feet into the ocean all around, the human history goes back to Vikings more than a thousand years ago, birds are everywhere, the roads and tunnels between islands are an engineering marvel, and the people are fantastic.

For our visit, we are basing out of an AirBnB in Hoyvik, just outside of the capital city of Torshavn. Our AirBnB host Sarah Ann has been super-helpful, and there’s a full kitchen so we have been able to pursue some local dishes. Most everything is imported from Denmark or Iceland, but the stores are full of choices.

As for the food, it’s always interesting to go grocery shopping when you are far away (much as it was in Scotland last week). The main store in Torshavn, called Miklagarður, was very well stocked, but with labels in Faroese that we couldn’t easily translate. A quick example: Toskaflak is what we cooked for dinner tonight. We’re confident that it’s fish…but we have no idea what kind.

This morning we spent some time in and around Torshavn, a vibrant town with a fabulous harbor. We really weren’t expecting so much culture here, and I felt sheepish about pre-judging this place (insert your own joke here re sheepish in the Faroes).

And with such a compact geography, we had time this afternoon to visit Múlafossur Waterfall (which inspired the trip) and to hike about five miles to a viewpoint above Sørvágsvatn. With only 500 square miles of land, everything on the road system is totally within reach. For the part of the Faroes on the road system, it’s probably only about an hour end-to-end (there are ferries to a few of the outlying islands).

All in all, we had a great time taking in the culture, hiking in the tree-less terrain, and enjoying the incredible vistas. One is never more than three miles from the ocean here, so it’s not hard to find an interesting view.

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The village of Bøur

It’s easy to see why this place shows up in screen savers…and travel blogs. We are here a few more days, so we are looking forward to more time in a part of the world that isn’t as well known (at least in the US) as it should be!

What’s In A Name?

Wikipedia tells me that the name Ogilvie (also commonly spelled Ogilvy) is well known in Scotland. This has been reinforced a few times during our travels, like when we introduced ourselves to our innkeeper in Nethy Bridge and she responded “aaah, Ogilvie, that’s quite the aristocratic surname (I had to look up the word aristocratic, which means I’m probably not). And then a few days later, while paddling on the River Spey, our new friend Jerry said “Ogilvie? You have your own tartan. There’s some yellow in it, right?”

I’m hundreds of years (probably more) removed from anybody important, but it’s still interesting history. The name Ogilvie originally comes from the Earls of Angus, and it is derived from the Old British word Ocelfa, which means high plain. I’d rather be named for a mountaintop, but I guess high plain is better than some other options. In any case, it’s fun to visit my roots, however distant.

There are several Ogilvie castles in Scotland, and we tried to visit two of them, Airlie and Cortachy. Airlie Castle is a bit more “modern” (it was rebuilt in the late 1800s after it was badly burned in 1640; more on that later). It is often used for weddings,  events, and “lodging.” I’m not very aristocratic, so it was out of my price range for this trip.

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Airlie Castle on a sunny day

Cortachy Castle dates to the 1400s and most recently was the private home of the 13th Earl of Airle, Lord David George Coke Patrick Ogilvy. Lord Ogilvy served as Lord Chamberlain to the Queen, and he is one of the last surviving attendees of the Queen’s Coronation in 1937. His younger brother Angus married Princess Alexandra of Kent in 1963, so there are some interesting connections to the royal family.

I had to laugh as I learned more about Ogilvie/Ogilvy lineage for this trip, as it conjured up memories of a visit to the Ogilvie Mountains in the Yukon a few years back. The Ogilvie Mountains are named for the famous Canadian explorer William Ogilvie (a descendant of the same British family), and I tried hard to find a link to him in my family tree…but I only succeeded in figuring out that I’m related to Scottish horse thieves. I need to be careful with this ancestry stuff.

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Ogilvie Mountains, Yukon Territory, Canada

Horse thieves notwithstanding, I learned a bunch of interesting history as I researched the various castles ahead of our trip. For example, the Ogilvys had a longstanding (hundreds of years) feud with the Campbells, and the Campbells significantly damaged Airlie Castle and set it afire in 1640. There is actually Scottish folk song about it, called the Bonnie Hoose O’ Airlie, written in the 1800s.

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A drawing of Airlie Castle before the fire

As for the present day, we reached out to Lord Ogilvy’s assistant via email (is this a crazy world, or what?), and she told us that Airlie Castle was not open for visits because the Ogilvy family was “currently in residence.” In contrast to Airlie, Cortachy Castle is never open to the public–but a few years back, my sister talked her way onto the property and even met Lord Ogilvy. So we figured we’d ask permission to walk the grounds, and we knew we could at least visit the church and cemetery at Cortachy.

While we weren’t permitted access the grounds of Cortachy Castle, Lord Ogilvy’s assistant generously shared information on how we could get close to it on a neighboring property. So after a little sleuthing/exploring around, that’s what we did. And we had a great time, even on a rainy day when we could only get within a few hundred yards of the castle.

As for the feud with the Campbells, we haven’t encountered any Campbells yet on our trip–but I’m keeping my eyes peeled, and Souzz has been watching my back. And I’m now revisiting my friendship with two close friends back home named Campbell–and I’m also totally giving up soup.