Sunday 9
October 2005
Chutes And Ladders I walk into the arrivals lounge at Glasgow
Airport to find Ron and Bobby waiting for me. Bobby is holding a small, neatly
printed sign that reads MR TATTIE HEID . They landed two hours ahead of me, and
have spent much of that time trying to locate Ron s luggage, which has declined
to arrive. We have two nights in Edinburgh, and presume that will be plenty of
time for the airline to find the errant bag and deliver it.
We set out
for Falkirk to see the Falkirk Wheel, a modern engineering marvel. It replaces a
flight of locks connecting two canals separated by an escarpment, not unlike the
Niagara Escarpment, albeit considerably milder. These canals, like any other
ones built in Europe or North America in the early nineteenth century, were a
vital means of transport before the advent of railroads, but are now used for
pleasure boating. The flight of locks took the better part of a day to traverse,
and the Wheel takes fifteen minutes to make the same transit. I ve seen the lift
locks at Peterborough, Ontario, on the Trent-Severn Canal, and it s an
interesting comparison; the two achieve the same goal in different
ways.
After inspecting this very recent work of man, designed to ease
transport over a geographic obstacle, we visit a nearby site known as Rough
Castle, which is actually a remnant of the 1,800-year-old Antonine Wall and an
attendant Roman fort, which were built to impede, or at least regulate, traffic
over the same territory. The wall was built and maintained for only about twenty
years in the mid 2nd century, and again very briefly at the start of the 3rd.
There is nothing left here but a good length of ditch and bits of earthworks,
and the wall was built mainly of turf, anyway; so it is not as dramatic a site
as Hadrian s Wall in Northumberland. But I am actually pleasantly surprised by what
there is to see, and the impression it gives.
We next intend to visit the
Abbey and Palace at Dunfermline. We are forced to detour via Stirling and Alloa
by roadworks in the vicinity of Kincardine Bridge. We stop for lunch at a small
hotel along the A907, at which point we hit the jetlag wall. We decide to skip
Dunfermline and get to our hotel in Edinburgh as soon as possible. At least, by
coming this way, we get to cross the Forth Road Bridge and view the 19th century
engineering marvel of the Forth Rail Bridge.
We arrive in due time at our
hotel in the Georgian New Town, on the north side of Calton Hill, and promptly
crash.
We get up in time to have dinner at the Standing Order, a
Wetherspoon s pub in a marvelous old bank building on George Street. They pour a
decent pint of Deuchars IPA here, and serve passable food fairly quickly. We
don t want to waste time; we are headed for the Bow Bar.
The Bow sits
just to the south of the Royal Mile, just above the Grassmarket. It s a small
but handsome room, without the distractions of television, music, or fruit
machines, and pretty much embodies everything I think a pub ought to be. Nothing
fancy, just the necessities. There are eight real ales on, but I must admit that
the only one I care about is Timothy Taylor s Landlord, a Yorkshire bitter that
is quite possibly my favorite beer in the whole world. And there are about 125
bottles of malts, not the largest selection in town, perhaps, but enough to
keep one busy. Over the next two evenings, I will sample an OB Clynelish, a
14-year-old Glenrothes Provenance from a sherry cask, a Scapa 12, an Ardbeg Very
Young, and fabulous Cadenheads bottlings of Clynelish, Ardbeg, and
Laphroaig.
We have gotten out a bit late, and the Bow closes at
11:00. But the Standing Order is open until 1:00, and we take full advantage!
We ll be sorry tomorrow.
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