Stirling, once the “Gateway to the Highlands”, still houses a rather imposing castle despite the fact that a hideous university and awkward national monument have made their way into the landscape over the past hundred years. Thankfully, nobody forced me to attend the University of Stirling and awkward monuments provide ideal outlets for tourist expression!
Our merry band of four boarded a double-decker bus early this morning and set out on a very memorable day trip. Under the careful supervision of my Scottish friend, we successfully took public transportation across the A91 to the outskirts of Stirling. Convenient for us, the 23 bus stopped right in front of the National Wallace Monument. It must be said that, as fantastic as the monument is, the actual structure is a bit awkward looking. Now, I appreciate Victorian architecture as much as the next person, but this Gothic-style obelisk rising out of the hillside is slightly jarring to the eye. In any case, our group dutifully paid the student entry fee and soon found ourselves at the monument’s base.
Whilst waiting for a dramatic storytelling performance, we decided to stroll around, snap photographs, and enjoy the sweeping panoramic views. Turning a corner, leading to the back of the monument, my friends and I saw a group of people gathered. Assuming we had found fellow audience members, we charged forwards. In the crowd, one man was spreading a strange chalk-like substance over the grass, allowing most of the dust to catch the air and fly away. I assumed this was some sort of preparation for the show, but couldn’t think of what on earth he must be doing. Getting closer, my Scottish friend noticed that a few of the audience members were crying. What a dramatic performance! Then, like a bad sit-com, it hit me. The chalk wasn’t chalk at all, but ashes. We were about to crash a funeral! Mortified, all three of us ran lickety-split back around the corner and tried to stop ourselves from bursting into uncontrollable laughter. Death is no laughing matter, of course, but you have to give us credit for thinking the whole bizarre scene a bit comic. After about five minutes the mourners began to clear out and we bowed our heads out of respect as they passed. Seriously, who chooses to release ashes at the back of the National Wallace Monument!?
However, the dramatic retelling of the Battle of Stirling was worth the wait (and embarrassment!) in the bitter cold. Our actor was just so lively and engaging! He was having such fun playing the part of a soldier in Wallace’s army and, as a byproduct, solidifying the historic material. I soaked up every word. Incidentally, after the performance, we chatted with this chain-mail clad warrior and came to find out that he was the drummer at our ceilidh earlier this month. He didn’t remember us, but did graciously say something to the effect of, “My memory must be failing, because I would have remembered such pretty girls.” Thanks, man!
The National Wallace Monument, also, was worth the 246-step climb to the top. What a view! Moreover, the concepts of ‘windswept’ and ‘weather-beaten’ were brought to whole new levels. No wonder the Scots drink so much whisky to take the edge off of the biting North wind! My kindred-spirit and I took this opportunity to shout “Freedom!” and other Braveheart lines at the top of our lungs. I usually find myself worried about what others think, but today I let my inhibitions go and had a blast. Spiraling our way back down the narrow staircase, our merry quartet decided to venture into the heart of Stirling for a bite to eat and, ultimately, to the castle!
Stirling Castle was the first, genuine fortress I’ve ever been to. A few summers ago I did have the great fortunate to visit Neuschwanstein Castle in Germany – but I would argue that, though beautiful, the fairytale palace of a slightly deranged Bavarian prince doesn’t quite count. Besides, Stirling Castle is actually fortified! Once again, our visit was graced with a proud Scotsman as a tour guide. I love hearing locals discuss their heritage, it’s so exciting! The highlight of the castle for me was the Great Hall. Restorers have produced a replica of what the inside of the Great Hall actually looked like during the time of King James IV. Tapestries adorned the sidelines and hearty fireplaces dotted the walls, leading dramatically up towards two thrones at the head of the hall. Renaissance music was piped through invisible speakers and I could actually see courtiers in their finery dancing an almain. I really appreciated the creative effort to conjure up atmosphere. Kudos to Historic Scotland! I could go on and on about the castle but my genuine comments would be the same: I love old buildings, I love history, and I love Scotland. Leaving the castle with a few postcards and one very discounted journal (£4), I considered myself blessed to interact with times gone by in such a real way.
Riding back on the bus was also magical, with the ghostly galleon moon rising above the purple moor (a shoutout to The Highwayman and my kindred spirit!). Now I’m left with pleasant memories of the day and John Buchan’s Thirty Nine Steps to finish. Tomorrow is looking quite busy with church and the beginning of White Wash Week. Getting a good night’s rest to face the day! Remember, “Fight and you may die. Run, and you'll live - at least a while. And dying in your beds, many years from now, would you be willin' to trade all the days, from this day to that, for one chance, just one chance, to come back here and tell our enemies that they may take our lives, but they'll never take OUR FREEDOM!”
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