Snowdrop searching in Kircudbright

I’m sure this year everybody has had enough of snow. Snowdrops on the other hand are very pretty and don’t bring the country to a stand still. February marks the beginning of the snowdrop festival in Scotland, and many attractions celebrate the bloom of this tiny white flower by opening their garden gates to the public.

Broughton House, in the small fishing town of Kirkcudbright is one of a number of places to celebrate the snowdrop. The tiny garden has a small number of the wintery flower in it, as well as a fat, one eyed cat called Oscar.

I have to say that unfortunately, festival was over selling it a bit; however, Kirkcudbright is a very sweet and quaint little place.

The alley way that leads to Broughton House’s garden also leads to a small harbour where a number of small boats bob around in the water. The landscape for a part is picture perfect, but a slight move to the right unveils an area that is a little less picturesque.

The town itself, once the small number of school children have dispersed is quiet, but not dull. Around every corner there seems to be another alleyway, often leading to somebody’s home.

Although I have to say I was disappointed at the lack of snowdrops, the two hours I spent wandering around Kirkcudbright were not wasted.

Day 1- “Each great adventure starts with one wrong turn"

“You ready? You don’t look ready!” I’m not exactly sure how I don’t look ready, but I am. I am ready for this adventure up to Skye. Within six hours we will be right up in the Scottish Highlands and beyond. Or so I thought…

As soon as we’re on the motorway, Dean spots a sign for Drumlanrig Castle. He’s got a bit of a thing for castles I think. So, off we go in search of the castle, Tom the sat nav apparently doesn’t approve of this, shouting “Turn around as soon as possible!” We don’t listen.

We pass a sign saying the castle is closed, but hey, what the hell we’ll have a look at it anyway, that’s ok. We drive around the area for a bit, looking out for the castle, and reach the edge of a small town…ok, we must have gone the wrong way, no problem, we’ll go the other way. Except we can’t find it in that direction either! Where is this castle? “Castle closed? Castle gone! I am gunna drive around here until I find this castle! I don’t care; I want to see the castle!”

We never found Drumlanrig Castle; we drove through Wanlockhead, Scotland’s highest village, we followed a red road around the countryside, we spent two hours driving around looking, but we never found it.

Its ok Dean says, “Every great adventure starts with one wrong turn!” That’s fine with me, I’m happy to just take in the scenery, not in any rush to get anywhere.

We pull into a tiny petrol station in Muirkirk where you can get any sandwich filling, as long as you like it with mayo and chicken. Luckily I do.

Driving along I notice how much Scotland looks exactly like the side of a shortbread tin, it’s as if the scenery has been painted on to the world. Apparently Tom doesn’t share this view and seems to have death wish, “Make a sharp right!” That would take us into the central reservation! Once again we ignore him.

We stop at a place called Pitlochry, where salmon are known to pass through, jumping out of the water, however today there is not a salmon in sight and Dean’s promise to catch me one with his teeth like a bear is unfulfilled.

The air is so clean and fresh, I can see my breath. It’s like walking around in a freezer. But the view makes it worth the cold; the trees are reflected on the water, all orange and green- the trees, not the water.


After eight hours of driving, we finally make it to the Kyleakin on the Isle of Skye. Dean is so excited that we have made it, but shocked that the YHA that he was so looking forward to staying in no longer exists that he mounts the curb!

We book into Saucy Marys Backpackers and start drinking. The bathroom in the hostel bar has that familiar hostel smell. If you have never stayed in a backpackers, well it smells like damp and mould.


Unfortunately, a couple who are sitting at the same table as us don’t exactly get Dean’s sense of humour and quickly turn their backs to us. It could also be the socks and thongs (flip flops) look that Dean is sporting, “Chicks dig it” he assures me. We are told that later there will be a guy playing guitar, “It’ll be Crowded House” says Dean.

Across the road is King Haakans where a band from Edinburgh is playing. Unfortunately the combination of their own songs and the David and Goliath fight on TV means that they are mostly playing to themselves.

We head back over to our hostel, and walk in to the bar where the guy is playing ‘Take the weather with you’…by Crowded House…“I told you!” the next hour is spent with Dean shouting requests and singing along, loudly, with the guitar man.

12.30am is bedtime. I don’t sleep much that night. Dean has threatened to engage in behaviour known to take place in hostel dorms…hosing…or in other words pissing on people while they are asleep. I am the only other person in the dorm and not wanting to experience this, I am on alert but manage about two or three hours sleep eventually.