By Kyle Roberts
It was my grandmother’s dream to go.
Affectionately known as “Mimi,” my maternal grandmother was a dedicated historian and educator in her life. And she loved that her maiden name Kyle had Scottish roots, derived from Caol in Gaelic, meaning the small channel of water connecting two lochs. She’d sing the Scottish folk song “The Bonnie Banks o’ Loch Lomond” to us, proudly displayed her “coat of arms,” and she admirably tried to research how far back the Kyle clan would have gone.
Thankfully, she went herself in the early 2000’s, and her memory has walked with me this past week as our family has embarked on our greatest trek yet: to Edinburgh, the proud capitol city nestled in the Lowlands of Scotland.
Following what we called “Day Zero,” where we slayed the jet lag dragon, our first real day was a Rabbie’s 12-hour bus tour that would cover 350 miles of Scotland, with stops in a couple of towns in the Highlands and Loch Ness. We boarded a very spacious 16-passenger van with Nik and Nathan, our guides for the day and a very nice family from Montana, among a few others.
We traveled for nearly an hour in the lowlands, dreaming of the different sleepy towns where one day we could possibly retire, or at worst, own a summer home (emphasis on the dreaming).
At one point, Nik told us to prepare ourselves as we neared the border from the lowlands to the highlands. “It’s resplendent,” he said in his thick accent. The countryside driving out of Edinburgh was already stunning, so what more could one possibly expect to see just through the border?
Mercy.
Erupting from almost nowhere were the steepest mountains, deepest glens, and beautiful blue water I’ve laid eyes on. Awestruck once again by God’s creation, my heart leapt into my throat taking everything in. For hours at seemingly every turn, we’d see more and more breathtaking views through mist, fog, and spots of rain.
Golden fields of wheat. Purpling blooms of heather– early this year given the heat. Sheep dotting the rolling hills for miles. Norwegian pines, with their majestic trunks and darkened needles.
At the midway point, we boarded a ferry on Loch Ness for an hour. A simple ride on the lake, we watched a sonar and hoped beyond hope we’d get a look at the monster.
Sadly, the only one we found was some leftover jet lag.
After rounding through Pitlochry, we made a stop to see some highland coos, legendary bovine with hair that makes me jealous.
Near the end of the tour, I asked Nik if he ever gets tired of taking the tours.
“Never, mate,” Nik said. “Every day, I see something new.”
It was an amazing first real day of our trip. And soon, we’ll see the bonnie banks of Loch Lomond.
Mimi’s memory, thankfully, will join us.
O ye’ll tak’ the high road, and I’ll tak’ the low road,
And I’ll be in Scotland afore ye,
But me and my true love will never meet again,
On the bonnie, bonnie banks o’ Loch Lomond.
