Scotland Diaries: Glasgow Karaoke

Thursday, August 22

Soundtrack: “I Wish I was Sober” Frightened Rabbit

Itinerary:

  • surviving the night in a ghost-ridden castle
  • breakfast
  • horseback riding!
  • Clydeside Distillery tour
  • karaoke in Glasgow

Dalkeith
In the middle of the night, I had to pee. Not wanting to turn on a light and wake up my roommate Anita, I made my slow, careful way down the stairs of our suite towards the bathroom. At the bottom of the stairs, a mirror hung on the wall. GODDAMNIT. If I’m already in a scaredy-cat mood, as one might be when staying in an allegedly haunted castle, there’s nothing that scares me more than a freakin’ mirror in a dark room. I tried to not look directly into it, avoiding any chances of seeing the ghost of Mary behind me. I’m not sure what I would’ve done had I seen anything–maybe blurt out “So what do you think of Saoirse Ronan?” then dive back into the bed and cower beneath the covers. Thankfully, I made it to the bathroom and back unscathed, and was able to fall back asleep.

In the morning, the four of us met up for continental breakfast; no one reported any ghostly encounters though some had had a rough night of restless sleep. We’d been going hard nonstop this whole trip so far, and exhaustion was catching up.

BUT! It turned out that there was a stable nearby, and they had availability to take us out on an hour-long trail ride. So far on the trip, our only major disappointment had been missing out on riding in the Highlands, so this was our chance to make it up.  We checked out of the castle and drove a few short miles to nearby Lasswade Riding Centre.

besties

Amongst our group, we had a mix of experienced riders and beginners, and the folks at the stable matched us up with appropriate horses. I was put on a dappled gray named Oscar, and we got along swimmingly. Our guide took us on an ambling trail across a river, then through a scenic meadow and a wooded park. At one point, we rode on the road (on the left side!! I was all geeked out about that), and did some light trotting. I love going on trail rides in Europe because they use English saddles, so I get to brush up on my posting skills from junior high. Everyone did a good job, and nobody died!

Our horses: Hugo, Tom, Oscar, Lucy

After an hour on the trail, our inner thigh muscles/allergies were fully awakened. We stopped for some Benadryl and Doritos, then got on the road to Glasgow, our final home base.

Glasgow
We had booked an Airbnb in Finnieston (the Logan Square of Glasgow), and our first destination, the Clydeside Distillery, was an easy 5-minute walk away, which was fortuitous because our legs were fried. We had signed up for a tour and tasting. Our guide was informative and the facility was located in a scenic spot right on the river, but let’s be real, the reason anyone tours a distillery is for the tasting. The Clydeside is so new that they can’t serve their own brand yet–since they opened in 2018, their premier whisky is still aging. But, we got to sample some whiskys provided from distillery friends of the brand, and if you are knowledgable about your spirits, you can even try to guess what they are Blind Date-style (though our guide swore she’ll never confirm nor deny a guess). We grabbed some bites in their cafe, and I enjoyed a dram with my coffee.

After resting/napping/reading for the rest of the afternoon, we geared up for some Glasgow nightlife. We grabbed dinner from an excellent seafood place called Crabshakk within walking distance from our flat, then went in search of karaoke.

From that point on, the night became a blur. I sang “Party in the USA” at the first bar and was pleasantly surprised when a woman stood up and yelled “Yeah Miley!!” and everyone began dancing (Glasgow is Team Miley, y’all). After getting in a few songs, the host stopped taking new slips so we moved on to the second karaoke bar, where things got even more hazy. Rounds of St. Mungo lager were purchased. Shots were shot. A fog machine overtook the karaoke stage.

who knows, honestly

We let the night take us on a real journey. We danced, sang, went in search of late night pizza, then settled for McDonald’s. I challenged a Scottish man to a pushup contest in the street. We met a squad of Glaswegian college cheerleaders and one of them did a backflip for us. Sometime around 3 a.m., Adrienne flagged us down a taxi and we poured ourselves into the backseat. Everyone did a good job, and nobody died!

 

 

Iceland Diaries: OMG! Ponies!

Friday, Feb. 17

Kurt woke up at 8 a.m. and quietly got dressed in our dark room before heading out. He and a few other of our friends had plans to rent a car and visit a geothermal plant (they are enginerds) and hike to the Hot River. I slept in a little bit longer, falling into the rhythm of the late Icelandic sunrise. I had my own itinerary for the day, and I was looking forward to a solo adventure.

First, I met Lauren and Charlie for coffee and croissants at Reykjavík Roasters. They had a little bit of time to hang out before catching their Flybus to the airport. The mugs at the coffee shop were some of the tiniest ones yet, but the servings were bottomless so I got a few refills. It took this trip for me to realize that my coffee addiction has reached Gilmore Girl levels. Lauren and Charlie told me a little more about their horseback riding excursion a few days earlier, as I had booked a ride at the same stable for the afternoon. They had done some galloping during their trail ride, and Lauren’s horse, Harpa, tripped while going down a river bed and tossed Lauren to the ground. “But don’t worry, it’s a fun time!” they both said. OK then.

I boarded the shuttle bus to the stables at the hotel near our Airbnb. I was the first one in the bus. The driver greeted me warmly and then asked me if I had any juicy gossip. Next, we picked up a man and woman from their hotel, who were best friends on vacation from Boston. They had arrived in Reykjavík at 6 a.m. that morning, got a few hours of sleep, and were heading out on their first excursion. The man got out his phone and started scrolling through news, saying “Ugh let’s see what Trump’s done since we left the States.”

OMG! Ponies!

We arrived at the stable, about 30 minutes outside of Reykjavík, and met the rest of our group. The stablehands sized us up with their eyes one by one, then handed us a one-piece rubber suit to put on over our clothes. The suits were bulky and cumbersome, but they would keep us warm and dry in the rain and through river crossings.

After putting on our suits, boots, gloves, and helmets, we watched the stablehands bring horses into the paddock. I had been looking forward to getting close to Icelandic horses the entire trip. They’re adorable with their shaggy coats and short, stout frames. The breed is incredibly pure; no other horses are allowed into Iceland, and once an Iceland horse leaves the country, it can never be brought back in. The animals in the paddock were feisty and spirited, whinnying, nipping at each other, and rearing up in small acts of dominance. The guy from Boston nudged his friend and said “That one horse looks really agitated. I want you to get that one.”

The trail leader, a thin blond woman with a no-nonsense demeanor, went down the line and asked each of us how much riding experience we had. Everyone said that they’d done a few trail rides before, “but not in a few years.” I took riding lessons through junior high and used to jump, but it’s been literally decades. After I replied to her question, she pointed to a brown horse by the fence and said “You take Harpa.” Of course.

Harpa and me, BFFs

We mounted up on our horses, then followed another young, blond woman who was the assistant guide (everyone in Iceland looks vaguely like Margot Robbie, and no, it doesn’t give you a complex, like, at all). The horses followed each other, nose to tail, out of the paddock and along the gravel road to the trail. Harpa liked to be right up front, behind or next to the leader. As we began our trail ride, muscle memory of my old riding lessons came back. I relaxed in the saddle, letting my hips swing with the horse’s movement. Our guide brought her horse to a trot, and the rest of us followed suit. I looked forward to doing some cantering in the rolling farmland hills.

Unfortunately, we never worked our way up to anything more than a trot. About 40 minutes into the 2-hour ride, Margot Robbie #2 paused the train, told us to wait, and then dismounted and walked towards the back of the group. Up at the front, I couldn’t see what was going on behind me. A few minutes later, she returned on her horse, leading a riderless horse by his reins. What happened his rider? I wondered. Then I recognized the horse as belonging to Margot Robbie #1. Our guide led us down the road a bit further, then told us to stop and dismount to give our horses a little break. Once I climbed down off Harpa, I saw Margot Robbie #1 walking on the ground while holding the bridle of another horse. The rider had apparently been having some control issues.

As we stretched and let our horses nibble at grass, the Margots conferred with each other for a moment, then asked us in their usual brief, all-business manner: “Everyone OK with going fast?” We weren’t sure what they meant: more trotting? or would we move up into a canter? Would we get to try the famous Icelandic fifth gate, the tölt? We never did find out, as a few of the beginner level riders quickly said that they didn’t want go any faster than the trot. Margot #1 nodded crisply, and we mounted back up. Almost immediately, a horse named Sparkles decided that she was over it and took off the wrong way down the trail, despite the panicked shouting of her rider. Two other horses decided to follow for funsies, adding to the rebellion. Margot #1 had to shoot down the road after Sparkles and grab the reins. We got back on the trail. About 20 minutes later, we stopped again because someone fell off while walking. For the rest of the ride, the Margots had to run a tight ship to compensate for our group’s lack of horsemanship skills.

Next time, I’ll sign up for the intermediate group.

I do want to thank Harpa, who was nothing but a dream for me. She did have a tendency to try to kick any other horse who got too close to her rear, but I get that. We reached the horse farm, ending our leisurely afternoon ride. I dismounted, gave Harpa lots of pets and neck rubs, and hung up her bridle, then changed out of my rubber suit. The group of us clambered back into the shuttle bus, smelling horsey, and got dropped off back in the city.

Back at the Airbnb, I showered and dressed. With our group reassembled after everyone got back from their day’s activities, we walked into the city center and ate dinner at Frederiksen Ale House, then stopped into Pablo Discobar solely because of the name. Their signature cocktail involved Cocoa Puffs. We ended up not staying, and decided that the wise decision would be to make it an early night. The next morning, we needed to be up bright and early for our final excursion: the Game of Thrones Tour.

Honeymoon Roadtrip, Day 11: Beer for my Horses

Tuesday, June 10: horseback riding in Glacier

We had our first “relaxing day” in a while, meaning that we didn’t have to wake up until 8 am. We had breakfast in the cabin and then drove back into Glacier for a 2-hour horseback trail ride with Swan Mountain Outfitters. I had been looking forward to this activity for some time, and my excitement grew as we approached the ranch with horses saddled up and lined up along the log fence. We had our quick safety demo and selected helmets, then went to pet the horses while our wranglers prepared. Kurt was assigned the biggest horse on the ranch, named Bonanza, and I was given a chestnut called Chuck. We ended up with a private trail ride, just us and our two wranglers. As we took the meandering path through the woods, I spotted a black bear about 150 yards away. Our wranglers assured us that the horses were used to encountering wildlife on the trail; it only fazes the humans. My Fitbit counted my horse’s steps as my own, as I learned when it suddenly buzzed that I had reached my goal at only 11 am that day.

Chuck and Bonanza

Chuck and Bonanza

After our 2-hour ride was finished, we dismounted onto newly wobbly legs. We tipped our wranglers, pet our horses goodbye, and then went to check out Apgar Village. In the gift shop, we admired the handcrafted pottery. “I like all this stuff,” said Kurt. “Does that mean I’m getting old?” We purchased souvenir t-shirts, stickers, and an elk antler chew toy for the dog.

Mmm, beer...

Mmm, beer…

Flathead Lake Brewing Co.

Flathead Lake Brewing Co.

A day of relaxing means that it was time to finally visit the area breweries. We headed to Big Fork and had lunch and a few pints at Flathead Lake Brewing Co. Afterwards, we continued our pub crawl across the street to the Raven. They didn’t brew their own beer (despite the misleading sign that said “Brew Pub & Grill”) but they made up for it with an amazing view of Flathead Lake.  We sat outside until the ominous sight of storm clouds rolled in, and hightailed it out of there as the staff began to quickly shutter the beer garden.

us at The Raven

us at The Raven

We made our last stop in Whitefish, checking out the Great Northern Brewing Co., home of my new favorite Wild Huckleberry Wheat. At the bar, we were able to watch part of the Spurs/Heat playoff game. It was strange to watch TV and feel looped back into civilization after our previous day of wilderness adventure. Finally, we headed back to the cabin and enjoyed some leftover rhubarb pie from the fridge before calling it a night.

Wildlife sightings: black bear