Inspirations and Aspirations

Travelling, I have found, dear readers, is good for the soul.  

And an electrifying shock to the imagination.  New places, new sights and smells.  New people.  The same but oh so very different from home life.  Exploring a new town, a new landscape, is exhilarating and exciting and tiring all in one package.  Because you want to take it all in, soak it in by osmosis, not miss out on anything.  And when you aspire to be an author of great novels, set in wondrous and strange landscapes such as you find yourself in, the desire to just stop the clock, put your bags down and stay put for days and weeks and months is incredibly strong.

As you have probably guessed by now, we have recently been on a journey, through bonny wee Scotland, my beloved other half and I.  What an incredible country it is. 

Urquhart Castle, Loch Ness

Let me just mention one area in this posting, for there are many more places in Scotland I could write about today, but I must be patient (The Isles, the Vikings, Orkney, Edinburgh ... the list goes on).  One at a time.

Applecross

The Highlands.  Such an evocative landscape.  Hard to describe, except to say so very terribly romantic.  Purple heather covering munros (hills). Bens (mountains) so sparse, and magnificent.  Ancient forests with giant mossy trees standing tall as guardians. Valleys of lush green farmland, with their miles of low stone walls and white-washed farmsteads. Single track roads traversing it all, sometimes snaking alongside a loch, or meandering down a valley, or summiting one hundred barren, stony knowes (knolls).

Hairy Coo, Islay

And as we drove through this land, castles would appear.  On a rocky outcrop.  In the middle of an island in the middle of a loch.  At the foot of a mountain.  Some would be just a pile of rocks, the familiar brown tourist road-sign indicating to what it once was.  Others would be in a very dilapidated state, but still distinguishable as a castle in a previous life.  Then there were the castles that stand today, just as they did in the 13^th, 14^th, and 15^th century. Stirling Castle, Urquhart Castle, Eilean Donan Castle to name a few.  All just wonderful.  To be able to wander through their private chambers, their great halls.  Their inner and outer closes. Let my imagination take me to wherever it wanted.  Creating the people, the smells, the sights, the noises.  Imagining the village of people required to keep such a place running. 

Eilean Donan Castle

Strome Castle, Loch Carron

Ardvreck Castle, Loch Assynt

We are home, recovering from jetlag.  Normal life resumes.  But my subconscious is still working hard.  Processing the images. The creative brain assembling fragments, scraps of story building blocks.  I dream of castles, abbeys, palaces.   Wild forests and silent bens.  Lochs shimmering below silver mists.

For now, I am content with my memories, my photos, my diary entries.  And on some tomorrow, I will have written a manuscript, a novel, and our wonderful trip to Scotland this April would have been the first gem, the foundation for it all.

And I can’t wait to go back. To be inspired.  And to aspire yet again to be an author, of historical fiction, set in this bonny wee country called Scotland.

What I’m reading:  Katherine, by Anya Seton

What I’m listening to:  The Rehearsal, by Eleanor Catton