The Millstone at Cairn O'Mohr

Truthfully, I have no idea. None. However, here I am walking alone at the back of pack (as per norm) and I round the corner to find Kelly waiting for me. Dear Kelly, always there when I need her. I'd been taking photos and fallen behind and she espied this millstone propped up in the corner of a falling down soon to be dead building. I'd have missed it, being in the hurry I was. Our party was out of sight, but I snapped a couple of quick shots of this nonetheless then we hurried on to catch up. The Cairn O'Mohr winery is on this mazy piece of land that is spotted with little buildings & farm equipment, most of which seems to no longer have a purpose. Frankly, once the rest of them were out of sight, they were truely away. We wandered and wandered, but eventually did find them inside the cask building (multi-hued, plastic casks at that). I meant to ask our dear addle-pated guide/owner about that millstone, but failed to remember to do so. Thus, it is a mystery. Wastrel On! (Listening to Bus Stop by Government Mule (cover of a Holly's song))

CAIRN O’MOHR

CAIRN O’MOHR AWARD WINNING SCOTTISH FRUIT WINES ARE MADE FROM THE BERRIES, FLOWERS AND LEAVES THAT GROW NEAR ERROL IN PERTHSHIRE, SCOTLAND BY THE GILLIES FAMILY. That's what it says on their website, and I can attestify to it's truth. What can be said about the Cairn O'Mohr winery that cannot be summed up in a single word? That word would be odd, and encompasses neatly without prejudice or belittling everything about this precocious winery in Errol, Scotland. From the charmingly eccentric couple to the outlandish surroundings and garish colours, odd seems to fit the bill nicely. But mostly, odd describes the wine; and here's where I MUST protest that odd is in way a deregotory term, just one that indicates we've stepped outside the norm. Or, at least, my own comfortable norm. I'm a wine-drinker. I have been a wine-drinker for 'lo many a year now. However, I'd not until this day tried a wine that used anything other than grape as it's source. At Cairn O'Mohr, they grow no grapes, they instead make wine out of the various natural resources they have to hand. Rhubarb, heather, elderberry, grass, oakleaves &c. Odd? Yes. Delightful? Most definitely. I must say that both the Rhubarb wine (with it's decadently sinful label) and the Autumn Oak Leaf (with it's delightfully simple label) were excellent wines. These are not snob wines, I hasten to add. Do not buy this wine & expect to put it back and re-sell it fifteen years down the road, I expect you would be disappointed. Buy it & drink it now, while it's in its youthful prime. And, should you ever find yourself in Perthshire then find your way to Errol and visit this odd winery. Well worth your time. Wastrel On! (Listening to: Madness by Zee)

Blair Athol Distillery

Blair Athol Distillery is in striking contrast to Edradour. Neither small, nor quaint, Blair Athol caters very much to the tourist aspect that surrounds all of Pitlochery. Now this is not to say it wasn't an enjoyable tour, au contrare, it was, and quite. Unlike our previous guide, however, this particular young man seemed to be doing it from rote rather than love; it very obviously was just a summer job for him. However, despite our guide's obvious diffidence, he did impart some knowledge to each of us on the tour. One fact that escaped me as I was back taking photos (you weren't supposed to photograph the interious, thus my hanging back) was that you should not stick your head inside a vat during the fermentation process. Therefore when I did exactly that upon catching up, I damn near fell over & I'm absolutely positive I burned my sinus passages. Shite that hurt! After the tour, we retired to the tasting room where each of us had a finger or two of several diffrent whiskeys. Until the last one, I didn't care for them. The last one (I don't recall the name, but I'm sure George or Missie would) was actually exceptional, but didn't come from that distillery. It was from a sister distillery that is part of the Arthur Bell & Sons Scotch conglomerate. The distillery itself, as you can see is beautiful. Well-cared for, it sits just outside the picturesque town of Pitlochrie at the gateway to the Higlands of Scotland. Should you find yourself in the area, it's well worth the stop! Wastrel On! (Listening to: Hark the Herald Angels Sing by Johnny Cash)

Edradour Distillery Gift Shop

The whole experience of Edradour was so charming & peaceful that I needed to write about it a little more. The experience started in a gathering spot where we wedged ourselves in amongst some stinky German folks (a German tourist bus had arrived just moments before us. And it's not that all Germans are stinky mind you...I'm guessing this batch had come straight here from Germany with no rest-stop). So, after a brief history of the distillery & scotch-making in general, we split into two groups. The first group (mostly the Germans) went and took the tour. The second group, us, went to the tasting room where we were offered a few fingers worth of the Edradour spirit while we watched a "commercial" extolling the virtues of being the smallest distillery in Scotland. Very nice, very professional but a bit over the top. I mean, we were already there weren't we? Was there any reason to regail us with that? Marita Beth & numerous others didn't finish their scotch, so I drank it for them. No reason to waste it, eh? Now, onto the tour. The tour itself lasted only about 40 minutes and took us through each step of the process. Because of largneess of the groups, the tour was considerably less personal than I believe it might have been otherwise. However, we had a very knowledgeable, engaging guide who instructed us about many of the varying aspects of spirit-making. This photo is of the gift shop looking up the hill to the tasting room. As you can see, it's not all buildings and equipment. Much of the foreground belongs to a typically beautiful garden. A true delight. Drink Edradour Single-Malt. Wastrel On! (Listening to: Surfing With a Spoon by Midnight Oil)

Edradour Distillery

Established in 1825, Edradour Distillery is Scotland's smallest distillery and charmingly relies on that aspect. Almost as if they refuse to grow, they wear that badge proudly claiming that their single-malt (is there any other kind?) is still hand-made using the same techniques established 150 years ago. Apparently, the distillery still uses much of the original equipment and still only produces 12 casks of scotch-whiskey per week. An astonishly small amount, truly. I'd been introduced to Edradour by Lynette & BJ many years ago and it was a treat to have the rare opportunity to visit the distillery. Getting there was nearly as enjoyable as Edradour sits in one of the most magnificently beautiful regions in Scotland...indeed in the world. It lies at the end of a very small track that is perilous enough to navigate when you haven't been to a scotch sampling. I'm just thankful that the bus-driver for the German tourist group that was there declined to partake. The bus itself was wider than the road, imagine if the driver were drink-driving, too. I shudder to think. The photo is very nearly all of the distillery. In fact with the exception of the gift shop out of view to the left, and the cask storage facility behind the building to the right, it is the distillery. As they claim, "small!" Wastrel On! (Listening to: Hot Shot by Karen Young)

The Glory Hole

Caithness Glass is an amazing place. A tourist trap, a museum, a gift shop, a restaurant & a workshop all rolled into one structure in Perth, Scotland. Although I, personally, wasn't overly interested in going there a batch of us did so nonetheless. And all because our dear friend Shannon Morgan (of Girl Glass) has been instructing Ginger, Marita Beth and several other "baby gaffers" in the fine art of glass-blowing. So, of course we had to stop at one of the largest glass blowing plants in Europe. And I'm glad we did. Caithness Glass has this workshop environment where there are 10 or so workers creating pieces at any given time. It's huge! And, like the faire environment, the spectators can be right there next to the worker as the item is being created. There is also an upper balcony allowing for a slightly different perspective of the same arena. This photo is of a piece being inserted back into the "glory hole" to be heated back to a working temperature. Ginger, Marita Beth, Larry & Denise could have stayed and watched all day. I'm a little more ADD than that and fear that after the second piece had been created I moved on. I took a quick tour through the giftshop, bought a book, then went and sat down in the restaurant and had a beer (big surprise there, eh?). It wasn't too long after that that the rest of the party showed up & we left. But, we left with glass in hand and a newly engendered respect for the craft. Long may hand-made traditions survive. Wastrel On! (Listening to: Learn to Fly by The Foo Fighters)

On the Stairs

Now imagine: You've had a shit day. Your best friends have become, in your mind, a dose of vinegar and you don't relish spending any more time with them. However, because they're your friends you force yourself to do so. Then this scene shows up. Any "forcing" that needed to be done falls to the floor as you bask in the velvet-clad glow of three of your most precious gifts in the world. These three ladies, Marita Beth, Kelly & Denise somehow made the day ok, just by being where they were when they were. My goddess how could it be any better. Dressed in beautiful, long velvet dresses they sit gathered together on the rich red carpet of our lodging and look as though they intend to solve all the world's problems with a glance. My day suddenly got better. Wastrel On! (Listening To: Gershwin: Rhapsody in Blue, Concerto in F by the Cincinnati Pops)

Footbridge to nowhere

Whilst out roaming the woods behind New Milne, I stumbled, almost literally onto this footbridge. The bridge goes nowhere. It's just there. I s'pose at one time it had to go from somewhere to somewhere, but as you can see it's not in the best of shape. Being alone in this area and having told noone I was headed there, I certainly didn't feel like trying my luck on it. Just what I needed in my beleagured state of mind was to fall through a dilapidated wooden bridge into a sluice pond. Right. Wastrel On! (Listening to: Disco Inferno by the Tramps)

Sluice

The old mill house, in the woods behind New Milne House was right next door to this beautiful little waterfall. I say little, but the photo is actually quite deceiving. The sluice gate was (rusted) open & the water was rushing through in vast volumes and down a 20-25 foot sluice to dump into this receiving pool. The water then babbled it's way through the woods to run down the side yard of New Milne. Majestic and just what I needed to take my mind off the days events. It was therapeutic in a naturalistic way. When you are feeling blue, go listen to the sound of and watch the beauty of a waterfall. Wastrel On! (Listening To: God, Pt. 2 by U2)

Back at New Milne

A full day at Stirling and we return to New Milne. We have planned this evening a wonderful meal prepared by Larry Giesen with assistance from many of the rest of us. However, I'm still touchy. Miffed. Pissed off even. I, of course realize now, that it was all in my head and mostly a petulant reaction to a non-issue. However, at the time it was enough to fuck my day. So, while everyone else is helping prepare food, or gathered in the living room with glasses of wine, or sherry, or port or even Scotch, I'm wandering the grounds of New Milne. New Milne itself means, in "Auld Scots", the New Mill. And so I believe at one time or another it likely was. I also believe that this little house, which sits on the other side of a burn running through the property, may have been the Mill House workers abode. It, like the remains of the mill hidden behind the wooded wall, is delapidated and perhaps not even worth trying to repair. I wondered around this area espying many a ruin and getting quite muddy in the damp undergrowth until I was pretty sure I'd be right on time for dinner. The solace, the serenity, the constant babbling of the burn & the beer all helped get me into a better, if not entirely pleasant, mood. Wastrel On! (Listening To: Serenade Number 13 in G Major by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart)

The Portcullis Hotel

The Portcullis Pub & Hotel was originally built in 1797 as a boys school. The Portcullis stands on the site of a previous school where, it is rumoured, King James the VI of Scotland was educated. The previous building was destroyed when the school became too small for the occupants. For a short while the Argyll & Sutherland Higlanders used the location as a Military Store as it is very conveniently located between Stirling Castle and the Argyll Lodging. Beautifully renovated in the 1990's, it is now a fully operational pub, restraunt & hotel. The photo is of the bar area with 2 unknown patrons and a barmaid. You can make out the Portcullis Hotel name on the mirror just above the head of one of the patrons at the bar. Marita Beth, Ginger & myself settled into a pint or two as I blathered on about mistrust and miscommunicaton. I finally, with their help, managed to work myself out of the tizzy I'd been in was prepared to join in whatever else was going on, but not real interested in being overly social. Times change, and at the time I felt helpless and out of control. It's all better now. Wastrel On! Listening To(Into the Tower by Devotchka)

Inside the Argyll Lodging

Peurile petulance led me to wandering this maginicent town house alone. So, although I wasn't bothered by anyone, and never really had to wait for someone to move so I could take a photo, I didn't get to "share the experience" or the grandeur with anyone. There were lots of times on this trip where this was an issue. Self-imposed & self-inflicted, but an issue nonetheless real for me. This beautiful room is but one example of the fineness of the Argyll Lodging. Should you ever find yourself in Stirling, don't miss the opportunity to visit this place. It's truly marvelous. Of course, you'll have to pass by the fabulous Portcullis Restraunt & Pub on the way there...but you can always go back. Arsenal won their game last night against Reading in the Carling Cup, so another round advanced while Chelsea languishes having squandered that particular silverware hope to Wigan. Fabulous, that! Back to work, I go. Wastrel On! (Listening to: Kaiserwalzer Op. 437 by Johann Strauss as performed by an unknown orchestra)

Argyll's Lodging

Argyll's Lodging was included in the admission price to Stirling Castle. An extant 17th century town house, it sits just down the hill from Stirling Castle and is probably the finest example of a 17th century dwelling in all of Scotland. The photo is of the screen wall that protected the dwelling from the churlish street people and provided a sense of privacy and propriety. The unfortuanate placing of the steel rail detracts from the beauty of the entrance as do the large(ish) purple signs in the courtyard. Glistening on the ground of the courtyard can be seen the rain with which we had been dealing since arriving in Stirling. It was to continue for many more hours. At this point of the day, any excuse was a good excuse to get off by myself, so I essentially saw the house cum lodging by myself. When I finally emerged, it was to a gathering of my friends complaining slash worrying about my disappearance. Whatever. Wastrel On! (Listening to Riders on the Storm by The Doors)

Stirling Castle Statue

The Palace (royal residence) is strewn with statuary around its entire exterior. This particular statue faces the inner courtyard and overlooks the Great Hall. The Palace is the building currently undergoing renovation and it was closed to the public while we were there. I wonder if they will coat the outside with the same golden hue that the Great Hall received. How grand that would be. Wastrel On! (Listening To: Can't Forget You by Gloria Estefan)

Marita Beth at Stirling

Still at Stirling Castle. There's nothing overtly special about this photo or this memory except for the fact that that's my wife in the doorway. Leaning back & looking up at some architerctural feature or another. I snapped the photo quickly without her knowledge. Those are my favourite photos when I can catch the subject in the midst of some something without their knowledge. Candids. Wastrel On! (Listening To: Bedlam Boys by The Reelies)