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.

Carlisle: Tourist in my "home town"

Walking into town, I can here a drum beat. In front of me a crowd has formed. A man taps his feet to the rhythm, children dance and a woman with small blue hand prints over her eyes sets down a pink blanket and pulls out more face paints.

I continue through the busy town centre and see the Guildhall Museum. After two years of living here, this is the first time I have noticed it, tucked away next to an Italian restaurant. Inside I explore the small rooms, learning about the city’s history. The floor creaks under my feet as I move around the space that housed merchants, butchers and shoemakers.

Back outside people are enjoying the rare autumn sunshine, sipping coffee and reading the paper.

I follow the signs to the cathedral and the city becomes almost far away as birds sing, interrupting the peaceful silence of the cathedral grounds yellow and orange with leaves littering the floor. Again I see people enjoying the sunshine, giving the city a small town feel.

Across the cobbled street and under the subway leads me to the castle, a landmark I have walked past a hundred times and never wanted to see. But today I am a tourist and need to explore.


I pay my fee and climb the stone steps to a room where music familiar to a medieval banquet plays. The floor creaks as I wander around the castle, a sound familiar in many of the city’s tourist attractions.

I follow the steps down stairs to the dungeon, but after about five seconds my fear of the dark gets the better of me and I have to leave, walking quickly out into the open air, glad that things have moved on from the days of being held captive and that being considered normal behaviour.

After some time spent exploring the castle, learning about it as a fortress back in the day and the fact that Richard the third had once stayed there (alright for some) I return to the city.

Down one of the many lanes I find Ruby Blue Vintage. Inside it’s like stepping back in time. Music from days gone by plays and I’m surrounded by clothes and accessories I would have once found in my mum’s or even my Nan’s wardrobe. Vintage brooches sit alongside beautiful chunky cameras that don’t come with a screen on the back. Magic.

I leave, stepping outside, back into Treasury Court spying a milkshake bar. It’s funny how I’ve never noticed this before, and tempted as I am to try one of their hundreds of flavours, sadly I have no change. Maybe next time I think as I carry on back in to the crazy buzzing city, it’s quite a shock really after so much peace and quiet.

Now that I’m back in the modern world, I trek down to Shelter, probably my favourite charity shop and spot one of those beautiful old fashioned cameras. I can’t resist having a look, but the assistant doesn’t seem to be familiar with customers asking questions and her face looks blank as I ask her how it works.

Out of nowhere, a man appears and talks me step by step through how to use this almost antique piece of equipment. I can see why people are so keen on the new lightweight cameras that are so popular now as the camera in my hand is almost brick like and I wonder how I will ever hold it still enough to take a picture. But I’m sold, I have to have it. And all of a sudden, my camera guide has disappeared again.

My day as a tourist is over and I snap back into a resident leaving my sight seeing head behind me. Carlisle may not have a great reputation but the quirky mix of history, culture and modern day life actually make for quite a good day out.