2023.05.04
(Sorry. It’s a long one)
We walked to the North Sea beach at Blackdog. The icy breeze cut through us after it had charged the windmills mounted offshore. Their blades turned in unison while we contemplated dipping our toes. Nah. No we didn’t. Not quite that demented yet.
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Next stop Newbrugh to see the seals. The seals were tiny dots on the other side of the small cove. Palpable excitement. The walk too and from the beach was was delightful with golden gorse spread out all the way to the golf course and the salt water smell coming to us on the brisk ocean breeze. Trump International Golf Course was a mile-ish south. Missed it.
Slains Castle. WOW!! More like a palace. The ruin is enormous and perches on a jagged headland, protected by the North Sea to the east. The locals refer to it as ‘Draculas Castle as Bram Stoker visited here and it’s believed it was his inspiration for the castle in the book. There are massive kitchens and dozens of fireplaces and towers and guard rooms. No floors and no roofs but, hey, ya can’t have everything.
Old Deer Abby. Implying a New Deer Abby. Which there is but we missed it. Sometimes this place confuses me. This was one of those shooting past it and hurl out the anchor type things. Worth the stop for the history.
Pennan. A tiny village on the north facing beach between Elgin and Fraserburgh. It’s where the Baird clan had lands prior to the Jacobite uprising (we was on the losing side) of 1745. The sheer cliffs still show glacial paths, the road is quite simply hazardous in a steep downward meander and the pub opens at five. Four days a week. Only. Just not funny.
We walked the length of the village, maybe 100 meters (or yards) in the shade. The village is at the base of a steep cliff and only gets sunlight in high summer. Strangely, there are perfectly rounded stones, cast up from the raging ocean, all through the tiny village walk paths. Oh and the small stone port – not much bigger than a swimming pool- was built by my clan. In the 1400’s.
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Aberdour Beach. PIRATE CAVES!! Woo Hoo. A gorgeous beach (OK, not Mooloolaba, but still…) with rounded rocks and sand and haggard rock out crops. Did I mention the sandstone pirate caves? Seems smuggling, to avoid paying tax to the English, was an honorable profession in the day.
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The Roofless Kirk (small church) of the Baird Clan. Our final tourist spot for today was the crypt which served the Baird Clan for over 600 years. The roof has fallen in, there is mud on the floors and the sandstone engravings are fading with age. We took lots of photos as soon there won’t be anything to see here. Time levels all, or Momento Mori (we all gunna die), if you will. Touching the stones of my ancestors tomb in the freezing afternoon gave such a strong sense of connectedness to my past. Humbling.
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Tomorrow will bring us more spots (some spots better than your spots) to visit. Lyn is planning as I write this
Steve The Wandering Aussie 