We awoke this morning to a ruckus of seagulls on the roof of our cottage and the scent of salty sea air, but it was what we didn't hear or smell that really roused us. No bustling in the kitchen, no scones, no sausage, no eggs or grilled tomatoes . . . we stared at each other, motionless, as the cold realization that there was no hot breakfast waiting for us sunk in. Laurel won this Mexican standoff and I thumped down the stairs to plug in the kettle and look for the toaster.
Coffee and toast, could that really be enough? Where would the other 2,000 calories, that we had grown accustomed to, come from? I made some sandwiches to carry in our pack to sustain us if we got hungry later in the morning. We are on step 1 of a 12 step program—eliminate second breakfast and elevensies—don't eat again until noon.
Our plans for the day were not too ambitious: 1. Do the laundry; 2. Hike up to St. John's Kirkyard; 3. Have supper in the local pub. St. John's Kirkyard is the ruins of an old stone church and cemetery whose origins date back to 1004. It seems that St. John the Evangelist answered the prayers of some fiery Scots, under the leadership of the Thane of Buchan, to dispatch 600 or so pillaging Danes to a permanent resting place referred to afterwards as the "Bloody Pits." The church had a few renovations and rebuilds over the years and the current ruins were originally built in 1513. It appears that the Scots mastered the construction of walls and foundations very early on, but struggled to design a roof that would last more than a couple of centuries!
The cemetery has headstones visibly dating back to 1733, but many were worn smooth or too encrusted with lichen to read. Only one or two McDonalds rest in the large graveyard, where Ingrams are the majority. Jim has been specifically looking for Lawries, his Scottish roots, recently researched by his nephew, Chris. No luck in St. John's Kirkyard.
On our way back to town, we stopped on the beach under the shade of the sandstone cliffs to eat the sandwiches that Jim had made this morning. Two of our three things to do today were done—siesta until supper!
The Garden Arms was a quaint pub that met every expectation, including colourful regulars who provided a wonderful atmosphere. We decided to only have a drink and to eat supper back at the cottage after a stroll to Crovie, the next town down the shore.
The MacDonald Clan are starting out today on their flights to Scotland. Siubhal sàbhailte!
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