#spey valley

[geofflewriter]

Kia Ora days 17 and 18: Darting about and Sounding Off

Kia Ora days 17 and 18: Darting about and Sounding Off

Queenstown has been sunny and sparkling. After a joyful day in the woods we caught a coach to the Dart River at Glenorchy. Glenorchy is a small township that nestles in Maori land. It is surrounded by a few farms and a lot of film sets. We were shown stills from, inevitably the Tolkien franchise and Wolverine as well as adverts for Coors beer and Milka chocolate and then pointed out the tree or…

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#bradshaw sound #coronation peak #crooked arm sound #dart river #deep cove #doubtful sound #glenorchy #lake manapouri #milford sound #New Zealand #sand flies #secretary island #spey valley #te anau #wilmot pass

[usafphantom2]

The story of the RAF Phantom who "asked" for refueling in flight of a KC-130 from Argentina

Fernando Valduga By Fernando Valduga 20/08/2023 - 15:13 in History, Military

The F-4 Phantom formed an important part of the Royal Air Force (RAF) combat aircraft force for more than twenty years and provided the British service with one of the most capable attack fighters in the world. Once, a crew of an RAF Phantom, as a joke, asked for fuel from an Argentine Air Force KC-130 flying over the Falklands.

Two versions of the Phantom with a Rolls Royce Spey engine went into service in the Royal Air Force. The FG1 (the version also used by the Royal Navy) in the role of interceptor and the FGR2 in the ground attack and in the tactical reconnaissance role in Germany.

From 1977, all the Phantoms of the British Royal Air Force were used ALMOST exclusively as interceptor fighters in the airspace of the United Kingdom.

The following story titled "Surprise" appeared in Richard Pike's book, "Phantom Boys Volume 2".

"With the potential, as they say, to shoot in the foot, there was irony and surprise in the situation. But there it was, an important day, a day of new beginnings, a day of 1993 that was recorded in many diaries. When the colonel himself entered the crew room - a colonel who turned out to be big, mustachioed, exuberant - a sudden silence fell on the room. When squadron leader Archie Liggat, as commanding officer of Squadron 234, a unit of tactical weapons and advanced training in the RAF Valley in Anglesey, stepped forward, shook the colonel's hand and said: "May I introduce some of my employees and students, sir..." And as Archie went through the subtleties, he was aware that each move of his was under the scrutiny "Good weather, isn't it?" routines, he felt, deep down, the pressure of secondary agendas. Perhaps he fed thoughts that, despite the demonstration of joviality, the colonel could be hard, petty and selfish - not that Archie had anything against the subject personally, only that, given the circumstances, it was difficult not to feel more than a little confused by the process. And few would argue that the procedures were, to say the least, quite unusual.

It was three years earlier, on a day in October 1990, when Archie was a Phantom pilot based in the Falkland Islands, that the scenario was set up for the remarkable reunion that would take place, totally by chance, during the colonel's visit to Valley. On the one hand, it was by chance that Archie, along with his colleagues, was on rapid reaction alert service (QRA) on that specific day in the Falklands. The men were prepared to react, if necessary, while waiting in a special crew room next to a hangar with two fully armed Phantom FGR2s. On the day in question, Archie and his colleagues were informed of a special request from the Argentine government regarding a large section of Antarctic ice, part of the renowned Wilkins ice shelf, which detached and was adrift in the South Atlantic seas. The Wilkins ice shelf, evidently stable for most of the 20th century, began to fragment. Concerned about the effects of global warming, scientific researchers from Argentina were eager to make detailed observations of the air.

As the aircraft to be used for these observations, a Lockheed C-130 Hercules operated by the Argentine Air Force (Fuerza Aerea Argentina or FAA), had limited range, the Argentines requested permission to fly over the Falkland Inner Conservation and Management Zone (FICZ). As this would be the first flight of this type by an FAA aircraft after the 1982 war, the subject was controversial. However, the UK government agreed to the flight on the condition that the C-130, when crossing the FICZ, was accompanied by two RAF Phantoms. To deal with language difficulties, Spanish-speaking air traffic controllers would be available at the Phantom base at RAF Mount Pleasant in East Falkland.

This is how the two QRA Phantoms took off that spring day in the Falklands to intercept, identify and escort the Argentine aircraft. The plan worked as planned and did not take long for Archie, as a pilot of the first QRA aircraft, to maintain the training on the left side of the C-130. When in position, he noticed that the Argentine aircraft, in addition to camouflage insignia and paint, was similar to the RAF C-130s of flight 1312 based at Mount Pleasant. The latter was modified to offer an in-flight refueling facility that the Phantoms occasionally used. While Archie and his navigator made a sentry on the left side of the Argentine, the other Phantom pilot maneuvered judiciously while his navigator took pictures. The Phantom crews did not make radio contact with the Argentine opposing numbers, although some polite nods occurred from time to time. With the C-130's cruising speed of less than 300 knots, the progress through the FICZ seemed, after a while, slow - in fact, strangely slow, actually tedious to the point that Archie started to get quite bored.

Possibly, at that point, Archie's thoughts may have wandered in different directions, including, perhaps, mental images of home, of his birthplace in Grantown-on-Spey, in the Scottish Highlands ... Suddenly, Archie had an idea; an idea he discussed with his navigator, which seemed quite amused with the absurd proposition. During the training, they discovered that the escorted aircraft was one of the two FAA KC-130s, a type of Hercules based on the U.S. Marine Corps variant used for in-flight refueling. Archie decided to accelerate his two levers to reposition the Phantom; he wanted to be fully visible to the Argentine cockpit crew. He then lowered his left hand of the two levers to the fuel panel below. With his eyes still watching Hercules, Archie's fingers carefully groped the switch of the in-flight refueling probe. The distinct shape of this switch was promptly identified. Now, when he operated the switch, Archie and his navigator heard the typical thuds and noises that indicated the movement of his flight refueling probe. When the device, normally leveled with the fuselage by the cockpit, left its housing, the movement signaled a standard silent procedural message interpreted by the aviators as: "I would like some fuel, please!"

The response of the Hercules cockpit crew was immediate: the heads of both pilots turned to look at their escort. Meanwhile, several other crew members, with interrogative facial expressions, began to crowd against the side windows. The replica could be imagined:

“They're crazy!”

"How can we deal with these people?"

“They must be stressed!”

"It's a stratagem."

"No, it's just a joke. Let's play together. With this, one of the Hercules men smiled at the Phantom crew and made a positive sign. Thus encouraged, Archie maneuvered backwards to adopt the standard "waiting" position of replenishment. After a moment or two, to his astonishment, Hercules' refueling basket took a slight turn before starting to emerge from the hose drum unit. As the fuel line slowly stretched, Archie followed her back and began to move to a refueling position. At this juncture, however, the captain of Hercules must have decided that the prank had already gone too far: the hose bumped until it stopped, stopped and then was quickly rolled back into his accommodation. Archie has now eased his levers forward to resume his previous position in the Hercules cockpit. When he was there, he briefly lowered the oxygen mask to make an exaggeratedly taciturn expression. The reaction of Hercules' crew was intriguing: even more faces appeared on the side windows, all with wide smiles. Some shook their heads from side to side and shook their fingers as if they were a mischievous student.

Meanwhile, the captain of Hercules raised his cup of coffee in greeting, a sign that Archie interpreted as "no resentment". He therefore retracted his refueling probe and maintained a slightly broader formation as if indicating: 'Okay. It's agreed!' For the next hour, Archie maintained this position as the formation flew on the planned course that took the aircraft directly over the Mount Pleasant airfield and then towards the eastern limit of the FICZ. When there, Archie complied with the internationally agreed signal 'you are free to proceed' before giving a cheerful nod and moving sharply to the left as he headed back to Mount Pleasant.

After landing, Archie and the other crew members were duly informed by intelligence officers who asked adequately intelligent questions. As usual, there were forms to fill out, documents to sign, do this and that to ensure a satisfactory bureaucratic progression, but in a short time, in the hustle and bustle of a hectic life, the incident began to retreat to the back of Archie's mind. In fact, three years passed before memory was awakened, three years during which he moved from Leuchars to the 74º Squadron at the RAF Wattisham in Suffolk, where, among other functions, he was the acrobatic exhibition pilot of the Phantom - the last type in the RAF. In the fall of 1992, coinciding with the transition from RAF Wattisham to the Army Air Corps, he was assigned to the RAF Valley as commanding officer of the 234º Squadron, a training unit whose motto 'ignem mortemque despuimus' may have instilled a sense of admiration in the student body. (especially when they learned the meaning - 'we

***

Perhaps this motto was also appropriate when issues related to Argentina arose, although, as it has been about ten years since the Falklands War, efforts were underway to normalize relations. As part of this process, a new Argentine air attaché was appointed, a colonel who was being introduced to staff at several Royal Air Force stations throughout the country, including RAF Valley. With the choice of Squadron 234 as one of the units to be visited, on the day in question employees and students lined up to receive their important guest. To greet the colonel, the officers' cafeteria had provided tea with adequate tea cups, cutlery, fine cookies, sandwiches, buttoons and everything.

When the colonel finally arrived, he turned out to be a great man, of an exuberant nature, who seemed to go well with a mustache that could have made the legendary 'Biggles' proud. To accompany the colonel, elegantly uniformed members of the aeronautical attaché's team were accompanied by a group of senior officers of the Royal Air Force. In contrast, Archie and his men wore their normal day-to-day flight suits. When Archie made the appropriate presentations, he was relieved to see that the colonel was an affable guy who talked freely with everyone present. Perhaps it was even more surprising, therefore, when the colonel suddenly stopped talking to look, stunned, at a badge he had just seen in Archie's flying costume. The badge, innocuous enough for Archie to think, revealed the achievement of 1,000 hours of flight in a Phantom.

"Have you ever been to the Falklands?" asked the colonel. An embarrassed silence came down over the room.

“Yes, sir. On several occasions," Archie said, "although we called the islands something else." He looked nervously around the room. Some of the top officers of the Royal Air Force made an ugly face in disapproval.

"On several occasions?"

“Yes. I was assigned to fly in Phantoms.

"Interesting," said the colonel. After a break, he continued: "In fact, I flew there myself."

"You?"

“In fact. That's... in a way.

"Sir?"

“It must have been about three years ago. I was aboard a C-130 that was allowed to fly over the Falklands — the first FAA aircraft to do so since the war. We had to be escorted by two Phantoms, one of whom pretended to need in-flight refueling from our C-130." The colonel laughed and continued: "It was all a joke, of course. But he broke the ice, so to speak, and the captain of the C-130 was willing to play together to a certain extent."

Immediately, Archie waved to one of his students, whispered a message that made the student run to come back after a moment or two with Archie's logbook. Sneaking hurriedly, Archie found a specific page with a loosely inserted photograph. He extracted the photograph and showed it to the colonel whose face, while studying the photo, seemed at first shocked, then confused, amused and surprised. "Is this you...?" said the colonel. "Yes, sir. I was on duty that day - I was the Phantom pilot who pretended to need refueling in flight."

“My God...” The colonel stared at Archie and then, in a spontaneous act, patted him on the shoulder, shook his hand vigorously and grabbed him in a bear hug. Now, in a growing spirit of munificence, the colonel rummaged through his pocket to take out a leather bag that contained a medal from the Argentine aviation academy. Without further ado, the colonel solemnly fixed the medal on Archie's flying costume before, with his mustache bristled with pride, took a step back and greeted our gallant protagonist.

With this, the conversation in the room resumed while poor Archie, while struggling to recover from the momentary vertigo induced by such extravagance, was relieved to see that the group of senior officers of the Royal Air Force now seemed a little less sad. Maybe Archie felt a little dizzy, taken by surprise by the bizarre and unplanned experience. Was it, however, totally unplanned? Reflecting, Archie concluded that the colonel seemed, in some way, pre-prepared. If not, why carry such a medal anyway? Certainly not at the chance of finding some random individual who instantly needed one?

Finally, when the colonel and his group made mention of leaving, he approached Archie to shake his hand warmly. “Goodbye, my friend. Please pay a visit to the Argentine air academy one day, huh?"

“Thank you, sir. That would be... Archie suddenly noticed the way the colonel was looking at him. When the colonel nodded and turned to leave, Archie got the clear impression that he knew all the time who Archie was. He could never be sure, of course, and as he watched the Argentine officer and his entourage leave, Archie realized that all that strange episode would have to remain one of life's little surprises.

Merely illustrative images

Source: The Aviation Geek Club

Tags: Military AviationFAA - Fuerza Aerea Argentina/Força Aérea ArgentinaFalklands/Malvinas WarHISTORYRAF - Royal Air Force/Royal Air Force

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Fernando Valduga

Fernando Valduga

Aviation photographer and pilot since 1992, has participated in several events and air operations, such as Cruzex, AirVenture, Daytona Airshow and FIDAE. He has works published in specialized aviation magazines in Brazil and abroad. Uses Canon equipment during his photographic work around the world of aviation.

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[whiskyblog]

Speyburn Whisky 15 y.o.

The Speyburn distillery in the Spey Valley between Rothes and Elgin was built in 1897 in Victorian style and has retained its delightful charm ever since. Speyburn is one of the smallest distilleries in Scotland. It is known for its mild, fruity Speyside single malt.

#Speyburn #Whisky #Bonn #WhiskyCloud #Germany

[mobilephonetechnology]

(2023-12-10 image ©nationalparks) The UKG want to have 100% 4G coverage over the UK. With this it opens doors for many applications. But a pre-requisite is that there are people to take advantage. So most people will agree that we need 4G in places where we live or travel through. But that still leaves a number of wild areas - especially in Scotland - which may not satisfy either of the criteria above . Should these be included so that visitors have access to 4G. Many of these wild places have visitors who may wish to use maps on their phone as well as using the phone for emergency use. The former can usually be met but downloading maps prior to the journey. The latter would perhaps be catered for with satellite comms. Currently there are a number of applications for masts in wild remote areas in Scotland and there have been a few raised eyebrows as to why this is needed as well as more forceful comments.

The issue is not such a hot topic in England as it is more heavily populated and the most remote place in England is 2.4 miles from a road, albeit a minor road.

But there could be IoT needs for these wild areas even though no people live there. For example, in modelling river levels and floods readings of river levels in the whole river catchment area will be useful. The residents of the lower spey valley, prone to flooding will be grafeful for this advanced modelling. These IoT devices need 4G (well 2G) mobile connectivity to work.

So yes we need 4G over the whole of the UK, even remote places.

#mobilephonetechnology

[laresearchette]

Tuesday, October 25, 2022 Canadian TV Listings (Times Eastern)

WHERE CAN I FIND THOSE PREMIERES? THE BOULET BROTHERS' DRAGULA: TITANS (Shudder)

NEW TO AMAZON PRIME CANADA/CBC GEM/CRAVE TV/DISNEY + STAR/NETFLIX CANADA:

NETFLIX CANADA BARBIE EPIC ROAD TRIP FORTUNE FEIMSTER: GOOD FORTUNE GUILLERMO DEL TORO’S CABINET OF CURIOSITIES

NHL HOCKEY (SN) 7:00pm: Stars vs. Bruins (TSN2) 7:00pm: Wild vs. Habs (SN1/SNWest) 9:00pm: Penguins vs. Flames

NBA BASKETBALL (TSN/TSN3/TSN4/TSN5) 7:30pm: Mavericks vs. Pelicans (SN Now) 8:00pm: Clippers vs. Thunder (TSN/TSN5) 10:00pm: Warriors vs. Suns

THIS HOUR HAS 22 MINUTES (CBC) 8:00pm

KARENA AND KASEY'S FOREIGN FLAVOURS (APTN) 8:00pm: Karena and Kasey land in Santiago and are shown how Chilean cuisine is moving forward.

MARY MAKES IT EASY (CTV Life) 8:00pm:  Making checkered tablecloth magic with Mary's recipes for Italian-American restaurant night.

STRAYS (CBC) 8:30pm:  A text mishap derails Shannon's Gran-Paws shelter visit; Kristian is forced to un-book a special day off.

DINE YOUR SIGN (CTV Life) 8:30pm: Chef Siobhan Detkavich is cooking for Leo.

MOOSEMEAT & MARMALADE (APTN) 8:30pm: Art and Dan meet up with experienced fishing guides, Mandi and Gil McDowell, to learn about spey casting. A visit to the Skeena Valley Farmers Market yields a bounty of freeze-dried wild mushrooms.

COMEDY NIGHT WITH RICK MERCER (CBC) 9:00pm

MEAN MUMS (APTN) 9:00pm: To reach their fundraising goal, the Junior Fundraising Committee accepts corporate sponsorship, however the price may be too great.

HEAD HIGH (APTN) 10:00pm: The O'Kane family comes together to remember their fallen friend and Mana gives an emotional speech; Aria is disheartened to discover that Nico might have his eye on someone else; Tai learns that his gut instinct about Imogen was right.

OUR 2 MOMS (TLC Canada) 10:00pm (SERIES PREMIERE):   Newly engaged, Whitney and DeeDee juggle raising seven kids and planning their dream wedding.

THE TOYS THAT BUILT AMERICA (History Canada) 10:00pm (SEASON PREMIERE):  After passing on the biggest deal in toy industry history, Mattel President Ray Wagner finds himself a step behind former colleague-turned-rival Bernie Loomis.

#cdntv #cancon #canadian tv #canadian tv listings #this hour has 22 minutes #karena and kasey's foreign flavours #mary makes it easy #strays #dine your sign #moosemeat & marmalade #comedy night with rick mercer #mean mums #head high #nhl hockey #nba basketball

[paolobrand]

Breathtaking beauty in abundance is to be found when playing golf at Spey Valley, with heather, pine, birch, broom and gorse galore, all set to a lovely backdrop of the Cairngorms. A region with much to offer for all ⛳️🌲⛰ #speyvalley #golfclub #golf #aviemore #speyvalleygolf #golfclub #golfaddicts #golfporn #cairngorms #highlands #cairngormsnationalpark #scotland #hame #staycation #scotland2022 (at Aviemore) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cg61u-9DSAJ/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#speyvalley #golfclub #golf #aviemore #speyvalleygolf #golfaddicts #golfporn #cairngorms #highlands #cairngormsnationalpark #scotland #hame #staycation #scotland2022

[senior70appendix]

Celebration of the Life of Jenny Phillips

I am going to set the tone by quoting an anonymous poem, to which I have taken the liberty of giving my own Title. 

On Grieving - Choosing the Low Road or the High Road 

You can shed tears that she is gone,

Or you can smile because she lived.

You can close your eyes and pray that she will come back,

Or you can open your eyes and see all that she has left.

Your heart can be empty because you can’t see her,

Or you can be full of the love you shared.

You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday,

Or you can be happy today because of yesterday.

You can remember only that she is gone,

Or you can cherish her memory and let it live on.

You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back,

Or you can do what she would want,

Smile, open your eyes, love and go on.

Let us today choose the High road and celebrate the fact that Jenny’s life touched so many other lives in ways that will long be remembered by them.

 (I now hand over the celebration to Pastor Matthew.)

(following special music by Kevin and Katy)

Jenny - A Life Remembered

A eulogy (from eulogia, Classical Greek, eu for "well" or "true", logia for "words" or "text", together for "praise") that is a speech or writing in praise of a person.

Jennifer Mary Phillips, née Spy.

Spy! Let me explain that first. Jenny was a descendant of the MacDonald Clan of Glencoe. On February 13th, 1692, the Campbell Clan, being hosted at the time, turned on their hosts and massacred men, women and children. But, the story goes, a nursemaid managed to rescue a baby and carry him over the hills and down into the valley of the Spey River. To protect him, his name was changed to Spey. Somewhere in the family history one branch of the family removed the e and became Spy. Jenny’s dad, a senior civil surveyor with British Railways was the only Spy in the London Telephone directory. So my girlfriend and I backpacked on the continent with her passport reading “Jennifer M. Spy”. “ess, pay, egrecht! C’est tout” said the puzzled customs officer looking at this long legged young woman. British laws never seem to be repealed, so when she married me, she was no longer in fear of being killed by a Redcoat soldier.

———

It may seem an odd place to start, but let me begin on April 10th, 1952, my 10th birthday. Planned was a visit to a roller skating rink that afternoon. My mother cycled off that morning to get her hair done at the village shop. I waved. I never saw her again. She was hit by a car, fell on her head and I was told very much later that she had died a week or more later, still in a coma. Children of 10 were shielded from such things as death and funerals in those days. The concept of closure did not apply to children. 

In a village only a few miles away, a little 8 year old girl, called Jennifer Spy, cried inexplicably about the little boy who was now motherless, the only son of her family doctor, though she had never met him. Her mother recalled that odd event quite vividly. 

Jenny was a “surprise”, born 11 years after her brother and a very different person from him. He had been on mandatory military service in Aden and had got used to the offshore life of a young sailor of those days. Returning home, he repeatedly abused his little sister between the ages of 9 and 11, at which point he got married, and had two daughters and a son of his own. (We can only guess what happened there.) Threatened with goodness knows what if she told, she remained silent and traumatized, a deep scar which she would carry and would reverberate through the rest of her life. She never told her parents. When news of her brother’s death reached her many years later, her single comment was “Good Riddance”. So, full of caring and compassion as she was, what she would have liked to do to any child molester would have blanched even a medieval master torturer. 

When 13, Jenny, dissatisfied with her own church youth group, came hesitantly, at the invitation of a friend, to visit the Young People’s Fellowship of the Congregational church of which the Phillips family were members. She was shy, quiet and withdrawn but joined the group. I was 15, a chronically depressed (but children did not suffer depression in those days), acne faced, and morose teenager with an almost permanent frown. For some extraordinary reason, Jenny took me on as her project. I owe her an unpayable debt for very gradually winkling me out of my self built shell and giving me a reason to live. At the same time I gave her a purpose and a reason to try to emerge from her own trauma. I think we knew even then that we were soulmates and meant to be together. 

While many find it hard to believe, she was the classic introvert, very content to be on her own, in silence, reading or doing one of her many creative hobbies. An analyst would likely have concluded that she learned to extrovert while a teen, as a form of self defence. And she did it well, two rather different people in one. With a sizeable streak of unpredictability, often perplexing to others, I can assure you that as her partner in life, there were few dull moments. As we often noted, we were incompatible in many ways, but complementary and supplementary to each other in ways that we made work.

Jenny’s parents wished for their young daughter to have private dancing lessons, but she needed a partner. She shyly asked if I would be her partner. We were an ideal match. Over the next year or so, we took our Bronze, Silver and Gold medal exams in Ballroom, Latin American and Olde Time dancing, finally achieving a Gold Bar in Ballroom. Dancing at that level requires a high degree of unspoken communication which came in very useful in other areas of our lives. 

I went from Grammar School to Technical College to take courses in Geology which was not part of High School Curricula. Field Trips were a key part of the courses and I asked if my girlfriend could come too. Unencumbered by lawyers and third party liabilities, she came on nearly every Saturday excursion.

Story. We were in a pit in the sticky blue London Clay, looking for shark’s teeth, bivalves and other fossils. Our instructor, Doug, had just said that one rare fossil was a small crab, but he had never found one. A call from Jenny. “Do you mean like this one?” Doug looked at the crab in her hand, threw his hammer to the ground in half pretended frustration. He had been in the pit many times, yet this long legged young woman, not even a member of the class, had found the star fossil. Jenny’s attention to detail was remarkable. She noticed things totally missed by others and could have made a career of proofreading documents (other than mine) should she have wished to. 

At the Technical College I was elected to the Entertainments Committee and my girlfriend Jenny, though not at the College, nonetheless was coopted soon after. We ran some fairly large scale events and organized a Rag Week each year during which a large sum was collected for charities. (I ended up in a police wagon twice in a week, but that is another story. Not charged, just scolded and given a cup of tea.)

Story. At one event I was MC and introducing the numbers for Acker Bilk, the clarinetist, and his band, the year before he became internationally famous for “Stranger on the Shore”. Apparently, Jenny and some girls had been debating what Acker Bilk’s signature goatee would feel like, so at one point, between numbers, my girlfriend climbed onto the stage, walked up to him and asked to feel his goatee. He complied, and with a microphone right beside him, the entire assembly heard her say, “Oh that is really silky smooth”. Roars of applause, of course.

Some have said we were an adventurous couple. Jenny certainly was, but often I followed a little apprehensively. 

Story: Morocco, 1962. (What were our parents thinking!) We were on a bus, held together with wire and rope, bouncing down the rough road from Meknes, across the Atlas Mts to Ksar es Souk, a small hamlet on the edge of the Sahara Desert. With a packsack each, we were the only non Arabic faces on the bus, chickens dangling from the luggage rack, in the heat of the day. Everyone on a bus shares what they have with others and we had a supply of grapes on hand, obligated to eat whatever the heavily robed people around us passed to us. Jenny chatted (well, simple French) to a Monsieur Bengigi, who told us the single hotel was poor and invited us to stay at his house. We did. We were to sleep in the cool basement with the two manservants. But Jenny’s packsack mysteriously ended up in Monsieur Bengigi’s room. Jenny retrieved it. It somehow ended up there again and she retrieved it. In the end Monsieur Bengigi graciously took the hint. But the two manservants were just delighted. They got to see the English girl in her underwear and their boss did not. On reflection all kinds of things could have happened to us on that Moroccan adventure. Postcards were the only communication with home and we had no specific itinerary. We might simply have not been heard from again.

As a schoolgirl, her ADD was not recognized and she was repeatedly told that she was a poor student, which she came to believe. When I went off to university, she enrolled at the Leatherhead Secretarial School, where, almost to her surprise, she excelled. The school head sent her for an interview before graduation, and as her first job she was appointed secretary to the Remembrancer to the Lord Mayor of London, at Guildhall in the City. The remembrancer is responsible for ensuring that every ceremonial detail built up over the centuries was adhered to to the letter. The key event was the Annual Lord Mayor’s Banquet at Guildhall, attended always by the Queen and Prince Philip. Miss Spy, dressed in a gorgeous evening gown, attended these as one of many staff setting every detail in place. 

Story: At one of these, having completed her duties, she waited, backed into an antechamber doorway in the main corridor, to watch the Queen arrive. At the set time for the arrival of the royal couple, the door Jenny was leaning against was opened and she fell backwards, only to be caught by a strong pair of arms that lifted her back on her feet. She turned to find the Queen and Prince Philip laughing, quickly curtsied and said “Your Majesty”. Prince Philip said “Don’t worry my dear, we arrived a little early and caught them all out.” They then walked out into the corridor, guards snapping to attention. And that is how Jenny met the Queen and Prince Philip before any of the waiting toffs did.

With now separated lives to some degree, we did have other boyfriends and girlfriends. Jenny joined a Ukrainian Dance Group in London and, though I never saw it, performed in full costume with the dance group. A fellow assistant at the Guildhall, gay, a state that was precarious in those days, invited her to join him and his partner on a date and that began a long and fun relationship, she flanked by two handsome men and treated like a lady and they suitably disguising their relationship. They painted the town red together. One of her other boyfriends, more serious in intent, had a magnificent soprano voice and serenaded her from the lawn beneath her home window. I had nothing to compete with that. Sigh. Meantime, my university girlfriend was also a Jenny. Warning. Never have two girlfriends with the same name. To this day, I can hear my grandfather saying on the phone “Well, which are you, Jenny S or Jenny C.” OMG, I’m in trouble now. 

We married on September 11th 1965. Jenny arranged the whole thing, crossing traditional boundaries and ignoring the even then flourishing wedding industry. I was on the Isle of Man busy with research towards my PhD. As a result, I heard her say that she would “love, honour and cherish me” with no mention of that “obey” word. Big mistake, though come to think of it she wouldn’t have obeyed me anyway. She did take suggestions. 

She spent the summer of 1966 as my field assistant, surveying, SCUBA diving and joining me in my habitual all over tan. We rented, for 5 pounds a week, an old building on the shore, once the location of the landing of the telephone cable from the mainland. Water from a standpipe a field away, toilet anywhere below mean tide level, ancient propane gas stove, one hurricane lamp and a lumpy mattress on the floor. We made our own crab hooks and a lobster pot and roamed the shore at low tide. 

With the status of “PhD pending”, I applied to universities all over Britain only to receive the reply “3 to 5 yrs experience required”. My supervisor, himself moving to Canada, suggested getting experience abroad. Much against my English upbringing I wrote to Canadian and American universities touting my abilities. A new university, Lakehead, offered me an interview in a hotel in London, and was the first to offer me a job, “Lecturer” at $8,300 a year. My advisor said “Take it. You can move later.”. We were en route to Canada, at least for a few years. 

Emigrating is adventurous enough but we did rather add a certain style to it. All that we owned was packed in the hold of the Manchester Exporter when it caught fire 200 miles off Ireland and limped back to Liverpool, its holds partially filled with sea water to quench the fire. After a 27 hr Greyhound Bus journey from Montreal to Port Arthur we were greeted with a telegram. “Regret, all is lost”. We had arrived for our new life each holding a suitcase. It could have been a disaster to our young marriage. Instead it bonded us further. “We can do this.”

Jenny had long legs (the only reason I asked her to marry me, I claim) and arrived at LU to find she wore the shortest skirts by far, Port Arthur fashions lagging behind the UK. Many years later people recalled her short skirts and black and white Mod dresses. “Two inches below C level” was the Brit expression. 

Kevin was born in July 1968, six weeks premature (but surely nothing to do with portaging a canoe the previous weekend). Our earliest photo is of Jenny feeding him in the hospital where he spent the first two weeks of his life. 

Warned not to have another baby unless she risked not walking again, we, as Jenny put it, consulted the Eaton’s Catalogue, and Jacqui joined the family as a tiny baby. Adoption in those days was an uncomplicated process, though during our 6 month “probation” Jenny lived in concern, needlessly, about having her taken back.

Jenny became the classic stay at home Mum, a financial possibility in those days. She never regretted having been there when the kids came home from school. She was moderately strict, with established boundaries and consequences of overstep made perfectly clear. We must have done something right, for both our kids grew up to be responsible, nice adults with long term marriages, despite our total lack of training at child rearing and without the assistance and advice of nearby grandmothers. 

We very nearly came apart at the nine year point, one arena of our marriage not going at all well, as can be imagined. So, we sat down and both wrote a list of Pros and Cons and rank ordered them. What we had together far outweighed the Cons. We looked at each other and said “We can do this.” And we did. A long marriage built upon friendship, companionship and trust. 56 years! (As my Dad noted it depended how one said that. I inherit my sense of humour from him. I am entirely his fault.)

It was a long process, but I gradually persuaded Jenny that she had far more ability than she had so often been told. I babysat while she apprehensively enrolled in her first evening course at LU. She loved it and that began 14 yrs of evening courses, taking a wide range of courses that happened to be available in the evenings. Ironically, that is the kind of education universities were first established for. With her BA General degree (no Major) I often described her as “She’s the one who is educated, I’m simply piled higher and deeper.” Our kids dubbed her “Curious George” and her thirst for finding out new things and trying new things never wavered. I often referred to her as “The Oracle” and depended on her for her special love of words and etymology. “What word would you use to ….” “Ah, that’s just right, thank you.”

Among the many creative skills she had was that of acting. She took the lead role as Hedder Gabler in Cambrian’s production of Ibsen’s difficult play and in a lighter production of Ring Around the Moon. But her starring role was as Queen Elizabeth the 1st in costumed concert productions of the Consortium Aurora Borealis. First appearing as a comely Lady in Waiting in the court of King Henry the 8th, she took the regal role of Queen Elizabeth the 1st in her stride, a number of times. At one concert, she delivered, wholly from memory, the famed Speech to the Troops at Tilbury, initially delivered on 9 August 1588 to the land forces assembled at Tilbury in Essex in preparation for repelling the expected invasion by the Spanish Armada. As she ended, there were those amazing few moments of utter silence before thunderous applause. 

Story: The occasion was the Mayor’s Annual Luncheon, not long after the infamous Mayor Assef had patted the visiting Queen Elizabeth the 2nd on the bum and thanked Prince Philip for bringing his charming wife. We, as Queen Elizabeth 1st and Lord Cecil (one of her close advisors who actually died a natural death), were invited to attend as part of the entertainment. We devised a graceful dance routine that certainly looked historically appropriate, frightfully regal, and with me with a white handkerchief fluttering in my hand. Later, Mayor Jack Masters invited the Queen to cut the huge cake. But, her voluminous skirts were such that she could not get close enough to the table. Jenny haughtily announced, “My man, I command you to cut the cake on my behalf.” Jack took the big knife and stretched across the table to reach the far side of the big slab cake. At which point, improvising as ever, Jenny very obviously looked at his bum, then looked at the audience, and, folding her fan, gave his bum a smart tap. The inference was so obvious. The audience broke up and Jack could not stop laughing. Jenny’s face remained regal and unsmiling. She had taken just revenge.

We both got in trouble from time to time because of our British sense of humour, particularly a play on words or the “double entendre”.  We blamed it entirely on our upbringing. We held a pot luck and our neighbour arrived at the back door, oven gloves holding a hot tray. “You should feel my hot buns” she said as she came in. Tempting, but really not plausible in the circumstances.

We seem to have had the bad habit of picking up “Sorta Daughters”, all three of which are with us today. For various reasons, they came to live with us for a year or two until their lives straightened out enough to move on. And, all these years later they still often refer to us as Mum and Dad. I suppose the most obvious is Mabel, who came to Canada age 15. I recall well, the odd looks in the grocery store as Mabel called out across the aisles “Mum, should we get some of these.” On one occasion, unable to resist, I looked directly at one puzzled woman and said seriously “It must have been the delivery man.” On the birth of her first son she rang us. “Mum, Dad, you have a black grandchild”. Zephaniah, 20 months, with us today, is our third.

Initially attracted by the field of Social Work, Jenny completed her HBSW at LU, but quickly decided that it was not quite for her. I was granted a 6 month sabbatical to do research and write papers in the Winter of 1999. In a bold move Jenny wrote to the head of the Pastoral Care program at the huge Breckenridge hospital in Austen, Texas, asking if she could apply for a 4 month Chaplaincy Internship, a very forward looking and respected program. She was admitted. I then wrote to the University of Texas asking if I could come to do research and writing on campus, no office required. I received a magic card titled “Visiting Scholar”, a card with which I could enter any of their 15 libraries, use the student union facilities and even hang my coat in the Geology Department if needed. In appalling weather, we abandoned Kevin and Jacqui, technically old enough to fend for themselves, and drove down to Austen, Texas. After a short hotel stay, we had an unfurnished apartment, rented basic furniture, signed out paintings from the Austen Public Library and set up a temporary home. 

The internship was a very thorough and gruelling one, and she found herself chaplain to the Adult ER and to the Children’s Emergency Ward, meeting helicopters landing on the roof, present in operating rooms and at the side of people dying. She was partnered with an Oblate Brother, Patrick, close to our son’s age, whom she referred to as her “Priestling”.  Several years later on a visit to see her Mum in the UK, she flew to Rome and stayed at the Oblate Residence in the Vatican where Patrick was now studying. One day he asked her to join him at Mass in St. Peter’s Basilica.  She was going to sit while he went forward, but he motioned her to join him and so, though not Roman Catholic, she took Communion and, as Patrick commented afterwards, apparently said all the responses at Mass. Some things are not easily explained. We expect Patrick to be Pope one day.

Returning to Thunder Bay, she became the first Chaplain at the Cancer Centre, then attached to the Port Arthur Hospital campus. She roamed the corridors and wards talking with patients and nurses (who are also in need of pastoral care), meeting with families in the privacy of her office and helping many people die peacefully. 

Ultimately, she left and became a Grief Counsellor for Blake Funeral Chapel. I thought  of it as out of the frying pan into the fire, but as Jenny said, now she was helping families deal with their grief, very different in her view. She retired in 2001 when I did, apparently not ready to keep me in the style to which I was accustomed. 

I am immensely proud of her work as Chaplain and Grief Counsellor. No disrespect intended to chaplains who are are retired clergy, but the Breckenridge internship program taught Jenny to act as a non denominational, all and no faith counsellor. She quietly studied world faiths to gain some understanding of them, ready to talk to anyone. Long after she retired, people would come up to her in the mall or street and thank her. She seemed to have a label above her that read “Compassionate”, for quite often I would find her in earnest conversation with a complete stranger, recognize that she was in counselling mode and wait patiently at a distance until she was finished. 

Story: Told against herself. One of her grief counselling visits was to see a man who had recently lost his long time male partner. During their chat he tearfully told her that he he simply could not bear to look at his partner’s urn and had put it away in the closet. Ever unpredictable, Jenny said, “Well, in the circumstances that seems eminently appropriate.” They both belly laughed uncontrollably. When her client recovered, he said he felt so much better, opened the closet door and placed the urn on the mantle shelf. Well, that is one form of grief counselling!

When the new TB hospital was built, MEMO was given the opportunity of removing unwanted equipment from the Port Arthur and the McKellar Hospitals and sending it to Cuba. Never having learned to say “No” convincingly, we spent two months of one summer inventorying every piece of equipment, assigning individual codes and building a huge Excel spreadsheet for each hospital. It was at times eerie, wandering the silent corridors and exploring the sub basements, crammed with parts and broken bits. It was a huge job, much bigger and more complicated than anyone had realized - analog X-Ray machines, darkrooms, huge steam autoclaves…..But, we did it - together. 

Jenny was proud to be a Rotarian. She was nominated by the Salvation Army member of my Club, who knew her well from her Chairmanship of a Salvation Army committee. The club was all male. She was denied membership without explanation. Denial is usually because the candidate is known to run an unethical business. Her nomination was submitted again. Denied again, but this time the Salvation Army member broke protocol and demanded a full explanation from the Board. They had none. Jenny became the first female member of the Club. A long time member had said to her that he would resign if she was made a member. Jenny replied “What a pity, I’ll miss you.” After attending one District Conference, she was well known.

Long practiced at working together, we were soon appointed Co-Chairs of District 5580 Youth Exchange Program, a volunteer task we did together for 7 years. District 5580 covers North Dakota, Minnesota north of the Twin Cities, part of Michigan and part of NW Ontario. We travelled extensively through this huge area, visiting clubs and conducting Outward Bound interviews of High School candidates thinking of going abroad for a year. We also initiated contacts with our equivalent officers in many countries, seeking to exchange Inbound students, who would be hosted by members of 5580 clubs and study in local high schools. It was a huge task but an immensely rewarding one. A year abroad is life changing and we have many thank you letters from District students and foreign students of many countries telling us how this experience impacted their lives, matured them and opened new opportunities for them. We had only a small office budget, no travel expenses, so we spent many hours and dollars in this work. One year, we brought in students from 29 countries, our record. Jenny was an ideal “den mother”. Of necessity, even then, I remained aloof, leaving the hugging and touching to Jenny.  Of course, once again, the way we operated Youth Exchange would be impossible today. We never went through any security checks. We were asked to do a task and expected to do it well, and within the ethical context of Rotary International. The whole program is now centralized in an entirely different way. 

I retired in December 2001 and Jenny said “We need to leave town and make a clean break.” We took our trailer out to BC for Kevin and Katy’s wedding and then spent several months exploring the west coast, turning inland before reaching San Francisco. At Easter we found ourselves in a primitive campground called “Hole in the Wall”, about 15 km into the Mohave Desert National Preserve. Water, but no sewer or electricity. The staff at the Visitor Centre, said “If you want sewer you can come back as a campground host.”

We applied to the National Park Service, equipped our trailer with a solar panel and for the winter’s of 2003 and 2004 were campground hosts, and a lot more. We operated the Visitor Centre at times, raising and lowering the American flag and learning to fold it in that triangle and not let it touch the ground. We were given one day a week to explore on our own, the more we knew about the huge area the better. We asked whether we could run a field trip on Saturdays, present a powerpoint slide show in the evening and were permitted to. Our supervisor told us that a field trip down the Hole in The Wall Canyon should not be longer than 1 hour and should have a theme. Our theme was “Everything of interest to be seen on the trail” but we did not tell her that. Some Saturdays we would return to the Visitor Centre 2 hours or more later, still answering questions from our group of visitors. Jenny had quickly learned much about the desert floral and faunal assemblages and I focussed on the geology, geomorphology and archaeology. 

We somehow surpassed ourselves and annoyed someone in a head office miles away by completing a plant trail between the campground and visitor centre swiftly and efficiently, a project that head office had been mulling for several years. If asked, Jenny would sum up the NPS as a “bit anal”.

Coincidentally (or otherwise) we volunteered to take part in Earth Day at the school in Needles, the nearest community to which we had been going to for their weekly Rotary meeting. It was quite an experience, and confirmed that I should be teaching adults. The enthusiasm and energy of those three classes we took was exhausting. Recovering in the teacher’s common room afterwards, a lady from the Bureau of Land Management came over and said, “If you ever want to work for us, let me know.” 

From 2005 to 2014 we worked as volunteers for the BLM out of Needles. The first year we arrived, they showed us a list of projects that their small underfunded and understaffed office could not handle. “Where would you like to start” we were asked. Well, the Crucifixion Thorn does not, according to the book, grow in California, but they had a report of one perhaps being seen in a wash. We were assigned office space and a 4 wheel drive vehicle, given radio call in codes with San Bernardino Dispatch, and off we went. Three weeks later we had located, GPS’ed, photographed and health assessed 53 Crucifixion Thorn bushes growing down the wash. We set it up as a repeatable survey, to be conducted again at a later date so that the health and future of these rare plants could be assessed. “What would you like to do next?’ 

Staying in a small campground every year we did numerous projects, driving and walking all across the huge Mohave Desert. It was a win win situation. We got to explore the desert and photograph plants, snakes, scorpions etc in a Federal Government vehicle which, in theory, could be located if we did not radio in by 6.00pm (but in the mountains radio contact was often not active). The BLM got well documented research reports, for free, in return. We were asked by someone why we were not armed when out in the desert. Said Jenny, “There is nobody else out there but us.” In fact we did meet a couple of desert dwellers over the years, anti government, anti social people who sought isolation. Very interesting people, though perhaps more than a little crazy. 

Jenny did much of the 4W Driving while I navigated. I wish you could see one of the short videos I took of us driving up narrow canyons, way beyond the point at which I would have stopped, sometimes leaving me wondering how we would ever turn around. More than once we got centred by a big rock, all four wheels off the ground. Jenny leaped out, laughing, to take photos while I leapt out to assess how we might jack ourselves out of this one. One valley we needed to enter was blocked by a huge boulder. Jenny tightened her seat belt so that she could not slide into the passenger seat and drove up the side of the wash such that the truck was at a perilous angle before rounding it successfully. I was out of the truck taking the photo. 

Another time, crossing a large playa (a dry lake bed), Jenny wondered “What would it be like to drive at 60 mph with one’s eyes closed?” She aligned the vehicle, closed her eyes and accelerated. My hand hovered over the wheel ready to steer if necessary. At the 60 mph mark she kept going, the far shore approaching rapidly. “Stop, stop” I urged. Just in time.

Our winters in the south were halted with Jenny’s diagnosis of breast cancer in mid 2014. That winter we added a ground floor extension to the house and, unable to wield a hammer, she acted as researcher and orderer of all the things we needed. She was pronounced cancer free after surgery and breast reconstruction. Her oncologist retired shortly after and she did fall between two stools, failing to obtain regular follow ups as a result. Breast cancer patients are often told that once past the 5 year mark they are safe. Not so. It is not that the doctors are untruthful, but cancer cells can mask themselves as other cells and lurk in the shadows undetected. Jenny would be the first to urge you all, whether female or male, to firmly insist on regular check ups.

A diversion. The number of times I have found myself saying “OMG, I can’t take her anywhere” is legion and the stories numerous. Today, two memorable ones comes to mind.

Story: Driving down to Duluth, Jenny exceeded the speed limit on the divided highway just before the city. A sheriff’s car appeared out of nowhere and pulled us over. A tall, rather handsome young officer approached. “Who owns this vehicle?” “I do” said Jenny. “Who’s your passenger?” “My husband” said Jenny. Clearly surprised that the man of the family did not own the vehicle, the officer proceeded. “Your age, height and weight, Ma’am?” Jenny said “Do I have to tell you?” “Yes” he replied. Jenny gave him her stats and he wrote a ticket. “Do you have any questions, Ma’am?” “Yes” said Jenny, “What’s your age, height and weight?” I had visions of police cells, but without blinking, he replied giving his details. “Thank you” said Jenny, “and very nice too.” We continued our journey.

Story: We were at a cross cultural wedding, half the congregation ebony, half pink. After the ceremony, while people milled around in the lobby before setting off for the reception, Jenny suddenly appeared in the middle, a tall, handsome black man on each arm. At which point she exclaimed loudly “Look, Oreo Cookie”. Everyone laughed. Again, I heard myself say, “OMG, I can’t take her anywhere.” 

On our adventures in China in 2018 and in Vietnam, Cambodia and Thailand in 2019, her painful hip sometimes limited her and she chose to rest rather than see every detail of the places we were visiting. She had both rheumatoid and psoriatic arthritis that was clearly getting worse. In hindsight, the bone cancer was probably already developing. We planned a less taxing trip to South America for 2020, but Covid intervened and, asthmatic and bronchitic since childhood, we went into voluntary isolation and I into a very restricted lifestyle to protect her as much as possible. She was perfectly happy at home. 

In early 2021 her arthritis was much worse and then, in July, her ribs and her back began to be very painful. This was more than arthritis. A CT scan was booked for September 30th, many weeks ahead. We received four changes of date for a follow up at the hospital, the last for October 21st before we would know the results of the scan. 

On October the 12th her pain was so intense that she was taken to emergency. After checking for heart etc, the emergency doctor suggested a CT scan and Jenny told her she had just had one. The doctor went to check her files and returned ashen faced. “You don’t know?” She asked. There, in the file, dated September 30th, was the report stating that her 2014 breast cancer had metastasized to her hip, ribs and spine. To find the out in the ER was shocking. Two days later she had her first appointment in the Cancer Care Centre. 

Our aim was for her to become well enough and less affected by the many side effects of her medications, so that she could enjoy her garden in the summer, but that was not to be. She became increasingly confused, delusional at times, and it seems that her cancer had metastasized to her meningeal fluid, from which every organ can be reached. On the Friday she was Jenny, a bit out of it at times, on Saturday she was unable to communicate at all and on Sunday she transitioned from life to after life. But, her very great wish was achieved. She passed at home, with the view of the Giant, her two dogs on the bed, her small family with her and her soulmate tending to her as promised in our wedding vows. She chose her own moment to leave.

There was much potential life in her yet, but her premonition that she had not long was right. We had hoped for years, but it was eight months only. We had plenty of time to talk so we parted complete. Yes, a great loss, but we started today by deciding to take the High road. She made the best of the baggage she had to carry, she helped and influenced many people, she was a good mother and a loving partner in life. 

A life well lived. A life to celebrate.

————————-

(Back to Pastor Matthew)

July 27th 2020

#celebration of life

[randomestfandoms-ocs]

Vampire Diaries

Name: Abigail White

Story: I Did One Thing Right 

Face claim:  Lily Collins

Love Interest: Elena Gilbert

Series: Vampire Diares

Summary: Abigail White had always known Elena Gilbert.  They were on the cheerleading team together and everything, but they existed in separate bubbles.  Separate worlds, really, since Elena lived in a mundane world while Abigail was a witch, raised in the world of the supernatural.  It wasn’t until the Salvatores started stirring up trouble that Abigail began to pay attention, and soon realized exactly who was at the centre of it all.  Like Elle Woods says, “we girls have to stick together,” and protecting her teammate from psychopathic vampires would hardly be the worst thing she’s ever done.

Name: Allison Parker

Story: Nothing Gold Can Stay 

Face claim: Kiernan Shipka

Series: Legacies

Summary: tbd

Name: Blair Dupont

Story: Sweet Destruction 

Face claim:  Holland Roden

Love Interest: Alaric Saltzman

Series: Vampire Diaries

Summary: With only months until her eighteenth birthday, Blair Dupont thought she had everything figured out. She would graduate with honours and early acceptance to Yale, she would get out of Mystic Falls, and her life would begin. Her plan didn’t account for vampires stalking her pseudo-sister Elena, it didn’t account for learning to fight and kill supernatural creatures, and it definitely didn’t account for the hot new teacher. But Blair has always gone after what she wants, and if the hot teacher happens to also be the best person to teach her about the supernatural world, well, that’s just two birds with one stone then, isn’t it?

Name: Casey Gilbert-White

Story: Young Blood 

Face claim:  Sophie Turner

Series: Legacies

Summary: Many people were surprised that Casey Gilbert-White was one of the first students at the Salvatore Boarding School for the Young and Gifted, and considering her family’s history with the Salvatores - that one of her moms had dated both Salvatore brothers and that her other mom had killed one of them - Casey couldn’t blame them.  But her Aunt Caroline had insisted, and Elena and Abigail had agreed that Casey could benefit from being around other supernatural kids her age.  So Casey went, and she befriended Hope and the Saltzman twins, and she got good grades, and her life was somehow almost normal.  And then Rafael Waithe and Landon Kirby enter the picture, and everything starts to change.

Name: Clara Mikaelson

Story: Towards Eternity 

Face claim:  Zoey Deutch

Series: Legacies

Summary: Elena Gilbert would never return to Mystic Falls, not after everything that had happened there.  She swore it to herself, she swore it to Klaus, and she swore it to their daughter.  Clara Mikaelson knew that she would never visit her mom’s hometown; knew that she would never see the boarding house where her mom and Uncle Jeremy had once lived; knew that she would never step foot in The Salvatore Boarding School for the Young and Gifted.  She knew it, and she had accepted it.  And then her half sister, Hope, shows up begging for her help in tracking down Landon Kirby and the stolen dagger.

Name: Danika Claire

Story: Double, Double 

Face claim:  Zoey Deutch

Series: The Originals

Summary: tbd

Name: Dianne Saltzman

Story: Unexpected 

Face claim:  Meg Donnelly

Series: Legacies

Summary: tbd

Name: Dominic Forrest

Story: Young Gods 

Face claim:  Tyler Hoechlin

Love Interest: Vanessa Romero

Series: Vampire Diaries & The Originals

Summary: tbd

Name: Elizabeth Knight

Story: Slayer 

Face claim:  Zoey Deutch

Series: Vampire Diaries

Summary: tbd

Name: Elpis Bradbury-Mikaelson

Story: A Place Called Home 

Face claim:  Dylan O’Brien

Love Interest: Lizzie Saltzman

Series: Legacies

Summary: Elpis Bradbury was a Mikaelson through and through. Sure, his mom was actually a witch from the Coven, Aunt Davina’s best friend, and his dad was some one night stand, but the Mikaelsons had raised him and family was always and forever. That’s why Freya, his mother in all but blood, had sent him to the Salvatore School with Hope in the first place. Family stuck together, family looked out for each other, family protected each other. And the cousins had never struggled with that; they’d been best friends long before they left New Orleans. But after the latest recruitment mission, bringing in Rafael Waithe, ends up with a Compulsion-Proof tagalong from their past, always and forever is going to get a hell of a lot harder.

Name: Emmeline Faulkner

Story: Arsonist’s Lullaby 

Face claim:  Madelaine Petsch

Series: Legacies

Summary: tbd

Name: Eudora Donovan

Story: Just A Small Town Girl 

Face claim:  Dove Cameron

Love Interest: Sebastian

Series: Legacies

Summary: Sixteen years ago, after she was turned human, Rebekah Mikaelson left New Orleans for Mystic Falls; left Marvel for Matthew Donovan.  Fifteen years ago, Eudora Donovan was born.  Neither of her parents had really expected her to be a witch; they weren’t sure if the genes would carry on with Rebekah being human.  But they had and, fifteen years later, Dora is ready to start at the Salvatore School for the Young and Gifted with her cousin, and best friend, Hope.  But for all of her plans and excitement, she wasn’t remotely prepared for what was to come.

Name: Eva Gilbert

Story: Valley Of Death 

Face claim:  Caitlin Stasey

Series: Vampire Diaries

Summary: After the devastating loss of her parents, and her sister and her miraculous survival, Eva Gilbert made herself a promise.  No more wallflower, no more hiding in the shadows, no more pretending to be someone she wasn’t.  No, she was going to go after what she wanted, say how she felt, be who she wanted to be.  And the first day of school was the perfect time to start that mission.  At least it would have been, if two psychopath brothers and a line of mysterious doppelgängers hadn’t come into the picture to ruin the lives of the Gilbert twins.

Name: Everly Hamilton

Story: Thanks For The Memories 

Face claim:  Madelaine Petsch

Series: The Originals

Summary: tbd

Name: Gwendolyn Pierce

Story: Valley Of Death 

Face claim:  Caitlin Stasey

Series: Vampire Diaries

Summary: tbd

Name: Hayley Mikaelson

Story: Hail Mary 

Face claim:  Ginny Gardner

Series: Legacies

Summary: tbd

Name: Hazel Mikaelson

Story: Always And Forever 

Face claim:  Kat McNamara

Series: Legacies

Summary: Furious at Klaus for his perceived betrayal - for his hybrid daughter - Genevieve sought revenge in the form of a relationship with his brother, Elijah.  She hadn’t expected her revenge to come with a gift of its own: her daughter.  And when she dies, shortly after giving birth, Elijah takes her in.  Despite the magic involved in her creation, Elijah loves his daughter more than anything.  And despite her mother’s opinion, Hazel loves her cousin Hope more than anything.  Nothing could ever come between them.  Or so they thought, until Hazel started at the Salvatore School for the Young and Gifted.

Name: Juno Mikaelson

Story: The Fate Of All (Is Always Dust) 

Face claim:  Lily James

Series: The Originals

Summary: tbd

Name: Karina Mikaelson

Story: Love Is Not A Victory March 

Face claim:  Adelaide Kane

Love Interest: Klaus Mikaelson

Series: The Originals

Summary: tbd

Name: Karissa Marshall aka Kiana Labonair

Story: Fairytale Lies

Face claim:  Shelley Hennig

Series: Vampire Diaries

Summary: Maybe Karissa Marshall should have been jealous that her twin sister hooked up with her - boyfriend? - fuckbuddy? - part time enemy and part time lover? - with Klaus Mikaelson. And maybe she would have been, if it hadn’t been eight years since the twins had last seen each other. Maybe she would have been, if Hayley hadn’t wound up pregnant. Maybe she would have been, if the entirety of supernatural New Orleans weren’t trying to kill her sister and her unborn niece. But as it was, Karissa had more important things to worry about. Namely, keeping Hayley and the baby alive at any cost, even if it meant working with Elijah Mikaelson. Her complicated relationship with Klaus could wait, preventing a supernatural war couldn’t.

Name: Kit Conrad

Story: Spei Animorumque

Face claim:  Dylan Sprayberry

Love Interest: Hope Mikaelson

Series: Legacies

Summary: Everyone knows that werewolves have to be born from werewolf families. But that didn’t stop Kit Conrad from being the world’s only turned wolf. After being bit by Klaus Mikaelson, the five year old orphan found himself taken in by the Mikaelson family and quickly became best friends with hope. Ten years later, he’s still best friends with her, only now they’re in Mystic Falls instead of New Orleans. And, despite the tragedy that haunts their every step, they’re happy. Until Alaric has to recruit Rafael Waithe to the school and set off a chain reaction that threatens to destroy the happiness they’ve fought so hard to find.

Name: Lilah Salvatore-Forbes

Story: All Is Found 

Face claim:  Halston Sage

Series: Legacies

Summary: tbd

Name: Vanessa Romero

Story: Young Gods

Face claim:  Emeraude Toubia

Love Interest: Dominic Forrest

Series: Vampire Diaries & The Originals

Summary: tbd

Name: Virginia McKellan

Story: Teenage Tragedy 

Face claim:  Natalia Dyer

Love Interest: Jeremy Gilbert

Series: Vampire Diaries

Summary: tbd

Name: Wren Elliot

Story: Where Demons Play 

Face claim:  Madelaine Petsch

Series: Vampire Diaries

Summary: tbd

#randomestfandoms construction #masterlist #vampire diaries oc #the originals oc #legacies oc

[benvironment]

After a break of a month or so it was lovely to be back out with a Ramblers group today and to get that #warmfuzzypostramblersfeeling again :) Badenoch & Strathspey Ramblers are the 53rd Ramblers Scotland group I've walked with since taking up the role of president, which means there is now just one to go before I step down from the position in six weeks' time! I think I might actually do it!! 

And I must admit, I've missed those gorgeous, well-drained Cairngorms pine woodlands since leaving Mar Lodge, so it was lovely to be back amongst the pines today around Dulnain Bridge on Speyside.

Badenoch & Strathspey are a friendly bunch, and their home patch includes the Monadhliath, the high tops of the Cairngorms, the birch and pine woodlands of the Spey Valley from Laggan to beyond Grantown on Spey, beautiful Glen Feshie, and much more besides. Their next walk is Saturday 8th Feb when they'll be walking from Aviemore to Kincraig. Newbies most welcome!

https://badenochandstrathspeyramblers.org.uk/

#Ramblers #Ramblers Scotland #Badenoch & Strathspey Ramblers #Dulnain Bridge #Speyside #Cairngorms #walking

[scotianostra]

Win two nights dinner, bed and breakfast stay for a family of four in the Macdonald Aviemore Hotel until 30 June 2020.

A family ticket for Spey Valley Cinema.

£50 voucher for Spey Valley Shopping.

Return rail travel.

#Scotland #competition

[craostulpa]

Day 2327: There Was An Attempt At Adventure

So last week I decided on a whim, with a little pushing from Rikki, to go out and do a proper solo hike along the Speyside Way for a few days. I would start on Tuesday and hopefully be back on Saturday. The observant among you will notice that I am writing this post on Thursday.

On Monday we went shopping and bought a whole lot of supplies, including a filter bottle, a gas stove and gas, food, mess tins, etc. I try not to think about how much money I spent, even though everything was on sale, because it gives my broke ass a lot of anxiety. But anyway, the point is, I was fully prepared.

On Tuesday morning, bright and early at 10am, we set off from Garmouth Bridge, heading south. I’m lucky enough to live very close to the mouth of the Spey, so the Speyside Way has always been on my list, and we were all rather excited.

The first half of the day was lovely and flat, and sunny and beautiful. I saw a lizard run into some grass, we weren’t even aware that there were wild lizards in this country, so Faith became excited as you can generally expect whenever some cool nature thing happens. Faith, Rikki and Isla were who kept me company all day, and their guidance certainly came in handy on multiple occasions, and without them I would probably still be out there and in more pain than I am now.

We walked the first 4 miles in 2 hours, which isn’t bad. It was a beautiful stretch and we stopped a few times to rest and take in the scenery. At that point we hit the village that I went to high school in, which was an interesting walk down memory lane (ha). Only Destiny and Axelia are old enough to remember that place, and only Destiny particularly cared, so she briefly showed up to have a chat about it.

At this point, the problem that would plague me for the rest of the day showed up. Our map was wrong. I spent a good 15 minutes trying to find a trail that no longer existed and had to double-back. This was luckily the only time this would happen, but the map would find other ways to spite us.

Another 2 hours of walking through open fields later, I was exhausted and recognised my limit. I don’t exercise a lot, and I wanted to be sensible, so it was time to set up camp once I had rested and found a decent camping spot, which according to the map there was plenty of.

At around this time we met a lovely man hiking in the opposite direction who introduced himself as Jamie. He was an experienced hiker, on Day 9 of his hike across Scotland from west to east, and was very supportive of us going out and testing our limits on our first solo outing. We all have to start somewhere. He gave us good tips about socks, and even repacked our entire bag for us on the side of the road for better weight distribution and more space. We had a mutual rant about “mile-counters”, he told some tales about a trout that was splashing around in the river while he was refilling his water bottle, and then it was time for us to part ways.

There were no nearby campsites. After 3 miles of walking in pain and having frequent breaks to rest my feet I managed to find one, but it had been 4 miles since I had found a water source and I was dangerously low, so I needed to push on down the extremely steep hill. At the bottom of the hill I found a very welcome burn from which to refill my filter bottles.

Instead of climbing back up the hill on my poor aching legs, I decided to push onwards to a lovely little camping spot marked on my map, that was right next to a water source. It would be my last chance before dark, so I was determined to do it.

It also happened to be up another hill, which I really should have seen coming since I was at the bottom of a valley. Luckily, this one wasn’t as steep as turning back would have been, and the previous campsite had been right next to a railway bridge, so I would prefer not being woken up at all hours of the night by speeding trains. I marched on up the hill.

The sun was dipping low and I was sick and tired, Rikki kept pushing me on. Eventually I just collapsed dramatically in the middle of the path, uncaring if any other hikers would see me. After this rest I was filled with a renewed determination to get to this fabled campsite that was just around the corner. Isla put her hand on my shoulder and told me to call it quits, I would be a stiff painful mess tomorrow anyway and wouldn’t get much hiking done at all.

I ignored her and pushed on down the final dirt track before the corner, an RAF Eurofighter randomly picking me out as I went and doing fake attack runs on me, which was pretty cool and a nice motivator. Finally, I turned the corner to my final chance at a campsite.

WARNING: SHOOTING RANGE AHEAD

At which point I had a small angry meltdown and just pulled my tent out and laid it out on the path. I stamped on the first tent peg to sink it into the ground and after an inch it hit solid rock. The second one did the same.

After I lay there in the twilight I decided to finally pack up and text for a lift home. The walk back to the nearest car park was depressing to say the least, but at least Faith made me stop and pet some very large dogs to cheer myself up.

Now that I’ve had a day and a bit to rest and think about it, the trip wasn’t a total waste, I learned a lot thanks to the helpful hiker and my own fuck-ups. My gear all works (from what I used of it), and is all sat there ready for my next attempt. I know my limits, know that I need a better map, and will be more than happy next time if the attempt goes better than this one did.

Thanks Guys.

#Tulpa #tulpamancy #adventure

[moonkillradio]

Repost from @megansmixtape Tune in at 11am today (Sunday) for an archived edition! Megan’s Mixtape - Sundays 11am, Tuesdays 1am, Wednesdays 7pm and Fridays 3pm. All times are UK (GMT) streaming online at Speysound.com and 107.1FM if you’re in the Spey Valley. #megansmixtape #aviemore #speysoundradio #localradio #publicradio #communityradio #punkrock #stonerrock #garagefuzz #rockmusic #eclecticmusic #eclecticmusictaste #badenochandstrathspey #scottishhighlands #scotland #listenonline #streamingonline #radioshow https://www.instagram.com/p/CNzp4pqrdL9/?igshid=14gh4jlx38mdj

#megansmixtape #aviemore #speysoundradio #localradio #publicradio #communityradio #punkrock #stonerrock #garagefuzz #rockmusic #eclecticmusic #eclecticmusictaste #badenochandstrathspey #scottishhighlands #scotland #listenonline #streamingonline #radioshow

[britneyhpva783]

Will umnumzaan Ever Die?

What Knife Are You Carrying? for Dummies

Table of ContentsThe Basic Principles Of Why Are You Carrying A Knife? What Knife Are You Carrying For Protection? - An OverviewWhat Knife Are You Carrying For Protection? - The FactsAn Unbiased View of Which Knife Or Knives Are You Carrying Today?The 9-Minute Rule for Does A Pocket Knife Count As A Weapon?Some Of Does A Pocket Knife Count As A Weapon?

Besides having various kinds of blades, camper knives likewise have numerous tools that could be available in convenient while hanging out in the excellent outdoors: a can opener, scissors, screwdriver, and so on. Likewise called a multi-tool knife. The Swiss Army knife is the most iconic of this kind of swiss army knife. The canoe knife gets its name because it looks sort of like a canoe.

The most common combination is a drop point blade matched with a pen blade. The congress is a timeless slip joint pocket knife that sports 4 blades most typically the spear point, sheepsfoot, coping, and pen blades. Abe Lincoln carried a congress with him back in his rail-splitting days. The congress supposedly got its name https://www.zombiehunters.org/forum/search.php?style=16&st=0&sk=t&sd=d&sr=posts&author_id=40965&start=24 since all the blades form a congress, i.

What Does What Knives You Can Carry Where In The U.s? Mean?

The peanut gets its name from its small size. This knife typically has 2 blades: a clip point and drop point on the exact same end. Back when individuals wrote with quill pens, one needed to create a point on the quill before writing. To facilitate this delicate work, cutlers established specialized pen blades.

In British English, pen knife is the word for any sort of multi-bladed knife or tool. However a traditional pen knife is a small swiss army knife with two blades rotating on opposite ends, with among them being the traditional little pen blade. It has a low profile and doesn't stand out when in your pocket, making it an ideal pocket knife to carry when wearing a match.

The Buzz on Why You Should Always Carry A Pocket Knife?

Its budget friendly price makes it a terrific "beater" knife. Consider it the modern-day peasant knife. Allegedly developed for cowboys and other ranchers, the stockman is an American timeless and consists of 3 blades: clip point, sheepsfoot, and spey. If your grandfather or dad gifted you a pocket knife, opportunities are it was a stockman.

It has two blades that trappers would find convenient while skinning hides: clip point and spey. These two blades hinge on the very same side. While the slip joint knife lowers the possibility of a blade folding back up on you while in usage, it does not get rid of the threat. Around the very same time that cutlers were developing the slip joint knife, they were likewise try out lock blade folding knives.

Things about What Knife Are You Carrying Now?

For the ultimate spread of this kind of knife, we have a fella by the name of Al Buck to thank. Al owned a knife company with his dad, Hoyt. During WWII, H.H. Buck and Boy made fixed blade knives for American GIs. When these soldiers returned house, they went to Buck for their civilian usage knives.

In 1964, he introduced the world to a legend: the Buck 110 Folding Hunter locking blade knife. Also called the Buck knife. Like a slip joint knife, a locking blade knife has a strong backspring situated along the back of the knife. But here's the difference: on a locking blade knife, the backspring has a small hook that snaps into a corresponding notch in the blade's heel when the blade is totally open.

See This Report on A Knife Nerd's Guide To Pocketknives

To launch the backspring's hook from the blade's heel notch, you need to apply pressure to the spring situated near the end of the knife handle. Because the Dollar company never ever patented its knife innovation, companies all over the world started to execute the style in their own folding knives. My favorite locking blade knife is one from Santa Fe Stoneworks.

How cool is that? Knives are standard concern to soldiers around the globe. However, when a recruit is outfitted and equipped, he's usually given a fixed blade knife instead of a swiss army knife. When you're out on the battleground, you can just draw your repaired blade knife, and you're prepared for action.

Facts About The Best Knives To Carry For Protection Revealed

Since you need to use both of your hands to open the blade, swiss army knife just aren't extremely useful in a do-or-die circumstance. To treat this problem, knife makers put a thumb stud on the blade that enables the user to open it with one hand. Rather of a thumb stud, Spyderco put a big thumb hole in the blade.

Besides making the blade simpler to open, knife companies made tactical folding knifes easier to get to by putting a clip on the manage. (Spyderco claims to have actually been the very first to do that.) Instead of burying your hands in your pockets and digging around until you find your knife, a tactical folder clips to your pocket, offering you fast and instant access to your knife.

Grommet's Knife and Carry, 22500 Town Cir #2016, Moreno Valley, CA 92553

$1951-697-6468

#knives

[brookyzmb644]

10 Principles of Psychology You Can Use to Improve Your microtech utx 85

The Ultimate Guide To What Knives You Can Carry Where In The U.s?

Table of ContentsAll About The Best Knives To Carry For ProtectionWhy Are You Carrying A Knife? for BeginnersSome Known Incorrect Statements About The Best Knives To Carry For Protection The 9-Minute Rule for Why Are You Carrying A Knife?Examine This Report about What Knife Are You Carrying For Protection?Fascination About The Best Everyday Carry Knives

Besides having various kinds of blades, camper knives likewise have various tools that could can be found in convenient while hanging out in the great outdoors: a can opener, scissors, screwdriver, and so on. Also called a multi-tool knife. The Swiss Army knife is the most renowned of this type of pocket knife. The canoe knife gets its name because it looks sort of like a canoe.

The most typical combination is a drop point blade coupled with a pen blade. The congress is a timeless slip joint swiss army knife that sports 4 blades most usually the spear point, sheepsfoot, coping, and pen blades. Abe Lincoln carried a congress with him back in his rail-splitting days. The congress apparently got its name since all the blades form a congress, i.

What Knife Are You Carrying And Why? - An Overview

The peanut gets its name from its little size. This knife usually has two blades: a clip point and drop point on the same end. Back when people wrote with quill pens, one needed to develop a point on the quill prior to writing. To facilitate this fragile work, cutlers developed specialized pen blades.

In British English, pen knife is the word for any kind of multi-bladed knife or tool. But a conventional pen knife is a little pocket knife with two blades pivoting on opposite http://local.wxii12.com/en-US/s/CA-Redlands/Dining-Supplies ends, with one of them being the conventional small pen blade. It has a low profile and does not stick out when in your pocket, making it an ideal penknife to bring when using a match.

All About What Are Types Of Blades To Carry?

Its inexpensive cost makes it a terrific "beater" knife. Consider it the modern-day peasant knife. Allegedly developed for cowboys and other ranchers, the stockman is an American classic and consists of 3 blades: clip point, sheepsfoot, and spey. If your grandfather or daddy talented you a swiss army knife, possibilities are it was a stockman.

It has two blades that trappers would discover useful while skinning hides: clip point and spey. These 2 blades hinge on the same side. While the slip joint knife reduces the possibility of a blade folding back up on you while in use, it does not remove the threat. Around the very same time that cutlers were establishing the slip joint knife, they were also exploring with lock blade folding knives.

A Knife Nerd's Guide To Pocketknives Can Be Fun For Anyone

For the eventual spread of this type of knife, we have a fella by the name of Al Buck to thank. Al owned a knife business with his daddy, Hoyt. During WWII, H.H. Dollar and Boy made repaired blade knives for American GIs. When these soldiers returned home, they went to Dollar for their civilian usage knives.

In 1964, he presented the world to a legend: the Buck 110 Folding Hunter locking blade knife. Likewise known as the Dollar knife. Like a slip joint knife, a locking blade knife has a strong backspring located along the back of the knife. However here's the distinction: on a locking blade knife, the backspring has a small hook that snaps into a matching notch in the blade's heel when the blade is fully open.

Get This Report about What Are California State Knife Laws?

To launch the backspring's hook from the blade's heel notch, you need to use pressure to the spring situated near completion of the knife handle. Since the Buck business never ever patented its knife development, business around the globe started to execute the style in their own folding knives. My preferred locking blade knife is one from Santa Fe Stoneworks.

How cool is that? Knives are basic concern to soldiers http://local.wxii12.com/en-US/s/CA-Rialto/Dining-Supplies all over the world. However, when a recruit is equipped and equipped, he's typically provided a repaired blade knife rather of a penknife. When you're out on the battlefield, you can just draw your repaired blade knife, and you're all set for action.

What Are Types Of Blades To Carry? Fundamentals Explained

Because you have to use both of your hands to open the blade, penknife simply aren't really convenient in a do-or-die circumstance. To remedy this concern, knife manufacturers put a thumb stud on the blade that allows the user to open it with one here pocket hand. Instead of a thumb stud, Spyderco put a large thumb hole in the blade.

Besides making the blade much easier to open, knife business made tactical folding knifes much easier to get to by putting a clip on the deal with. (Spyderco claims to have actually been the very first to do that.) Rather of burying your hands in your pockets and digging around until you discover your knife, a tactical folder clips to your pocket, giving you fast and immediate access to your knife.

Grommet's Knife and Carry, 22500 Town Cir #2016, Moreno Valley, CA 92553

$1951-697-6468

#sharp knife

[wherespaulo]

A Long Walk to Findhorn, Scotland

August 6th – 28th, 2019

I’d decided to spend a week at the Findhorn Community, a spiritual eco-village near Inverness in the north of Scotland, and since I wanted to stretch my legs too, I decided to hike there from Glasgow. It would be 11 days and 219 miles along the West Highland Way, the East Highland Way, the Speyside Way and Dava Way -- and then, after a week at the Findhorn Community, I would hike for 5 days and 88 miles back to Aviemore along the Moray Coast Trail and Speyside Way.I’d be staying in small pubs/B&B’s and have my luggage transferred between them, so I only needed to carry a day pack, and I’d navigate using way-markers and electronic OS maps on my iPhone – way-markers are few and far between on the less popular East Highland Way though so I used the maps.me app for parts of it.

A series of unrelated chance encounters with strangers through 2019 had led me to Findhorn:

 -          Jan – at the Camino Ways exhibitor at the NY Times Travel Show in the Javits Center, NYC, a couple of strangers told me about the Via Francigena hike in Italy.

-          March – while hiking the Via Francigena a chain smoking Basque, Beatrice, informed me her favorite Camino hike was the Via de la Plata/Camino Sanabres from Seville to Santiago de Compostela.

-          May/June – while hiking the Via de la Plata/Camino Sanabres I met David who told me all about the Findhorn Community where he lived.

-          Aug – now hiking to the Findhorn Community.

Your whole life could be one big adventure like this, with one unexpected encounter leading to another, if only you were open to change and learning from people who are different to you. Chance encounters are one of the main reasons I love traveling so much. So try not to be shackled to the views of those in your usual immediate surroundings or even those that were prevalent in your environment where you grew up – instead, look out for those special people who will light your way as you’re led from one unexpected path to another.

There were many highlights of the trip – here’s a few:

The second day from Balmaha to Inverarnan alongside Loch Lomond is worthy of note for many reasons. For a start, the 21 miles took way longer than expected – 11 hours instead of 9, probably due to the never-ending winding paths that ran through the dense woodlands surrounding the loch.

Then there were the ominous dark clouds of midges – I didn’t realize the extent of my itchy bites until later and would subsequently use a very effective and appropriately named repellent, ‘Smidge’. And for good measure I finished the day off by staying in an infamous haunted pub, The Drovers Inn…I wondered why I was getting some strange looks from other customers when they realized I was actually staying there overnight. Good job I didn’t google the place until the following morning https://www.droversinn.co.uk/about-us/ghosts/...and yes, I was staying in room 2!

On the fourth day the stretch from Kingshouse to Kingslochleven had some of the best scenery of the West Highland Way, with elevated views over wooded valleys disappearing into the distance -- it was a pity I was in a rush since I had over 30 miles to cover to get to Inverlochy Castle beyond Fort William. I staggered in through the palatial rooms to the rear garden set in beautiful extensive grounds and kept ordering cold IPA’s from the immaculately dressed waiter until my thirst had receded. The wealthy Americans dressed to the nines, sipping fancy cocktails and listening to a girl play the harp didn’t seem to mind me being a tad underdressed for the occasion, covered in sweat and dust.  

The moorlands section from Laggan to Kingussie was my favorite stage of the East Highland Way – it was beautifully wild and remote with the added attraction of getting lost, both geographically and internally. Barely recognizable footpaths meandered alongside splashing streams that cut through hills of yellowing grass stretching into the distance.

Some sections of the Speyside Way and Dava Way ran along old railway routes -- Aberlour to Tormore, Cromdale to Nethy Bridge and Grantown on Spey to Forres. Replete with platforms and converted stations they appeared as a world long forgotten, like faded memories from a path once trod. But I did travel back in time with a ride on a steam train on a section that still exists between Nethy Bridge and Aviemore.

Aberlour was one of my favorite villages from the old railway sections with its station converted to a quaint tea shop and located on a beautiful stretch of the River Spey. And the old pub I stayed in there, The Mash Tun, had been designed with rounded walls to look like a ship and had an extensive selection of scotch whiskeys.

My stay at the Findhorn Community which, although not involving a geographical journey, was very much about continuing along the inner path, and suffice to say, the world seemed very different when I hiked out of Findhorn to when I’d hiked in just one week before. It was as if my inner and outer paths had converged and my soul had become part of the landscape.

[dreiamanderenende-blog]

Von da führt eine kurze Busfahrt mit schönen Aussichten ins Spey valley und den ersten Wasserfällen zum eigentlichen Ziel.