A Wee Camping Trip In The Highlands Part 3 - The CitizenM

Here we were, feet on the ground in Glasgow, 7:30 in the morning on Easter Sunday, and quickly realizing that nobody gets up that early around there.

I was absolutely positive about which direction to march in to find our hotel, and had high hopes they would let us leave our bags inside until check-in time. Pam had a lot of experience with my map reading ability and was not quite so sure. We had a little discussion about it and took off in the direction I had chosen, while I crossed my fingers hoping I was right. The outside temperature was just about what I had expected: cold beyond belief, and from the looks on the faces of the few people walking by, they weren’t too happy about it either. I decided right then not to tell anybody that we had just left Spring-Break-Florida for this environment.

For once, I wasn’t wrong, and soon we were at the doorstep of the CitizenM Hotel. It’s difficult for me to nail down exactly what they have going on there, but if you like the Apple Store, you would love this place. There is a techy-but-we’re-not-taking-it-serious approach to everything. Upon entering, my eyes were immediately drawn to a large bookcase facing the entrance that contained many interesting items that were black, white or other muted colors and a vibrant solid bright red statue of a raven. We were greeted by a young man with a very well groomed beard, by the name of Owen. He was standing at the head of a long boardroom table that was loaded with large iMac computers. We were told that the hotel was totally self-check-In, but that he would be glad to help if we needed assistance with the technology, us being oldsters in a hipster hotel and all. He was enchanted that a couple of seniors chose their hotel and were planning on camping in the Highlands. “For Two Weeks?!” he said, delighted. I was beginning to think we might set a record for how long someone has survived the highlands…if we made it. I noticed right off that the entire hotel seemed to be staffed by intelligent-looking hipster young people. Lots of smiling faces, and not one with a look of "how come I'm working while you're on vacation?", you know, the kind of look you get from people in the Florida keys. 

He took our bags to stow away and said we could hang out in the meeting rooms or explore the town until check-in time. The whole place was something to take in. Most of the architecture we had seen already looked as if it came from the 1700’s and was made from rock. No need to go looking for castles, just a walk around Glasgow made you feel as if there was no building in Florida that was worth looking at.

CitizenM was in a large new building in an old-looking building area. At street level, I almost walked right past it. I didn't even think it was a hotel,  and inside the look closely resembled the high-tech workplace. Lots of little meeting rooms, 3 big living rooms with couches, egg chairs, and big screen TV’s. We crashed on the couch, trying to find that make-up sleep we needed while a endless stream of young couples came through.

The toilets in Scotland, never call them restrooms unless you want laughter in response, are quite different. I'm not sure exactly what it is, but everything appears to have been designed by IKEA.  The minute I knew that I was somewhere else culturally, wasn't from the fixtures, or the clothing, it was when I walked out of a stall in the men's toilet, and there was a beautiful young woman with long silver hair cleaning the mirror at the sink. That was when I knew I wasn't in Kansas anymore. 

I was already in love with the CitizenM and I hadn’t even seen the room. It felt warm and safe and nothing like driving on the wrong side of the road. I was prepared to sleep on the couch the rest of the trip and call it Scotland, but after 3 hours of me snoring out loud while Pam tried to cover my mouth when people walked by, she had enough and demanded that we get out there and see the town. It was a good thing that she did, because I almost missed it…

A Wee Camping Trip In The Highlands Part 2 - Boots On The Ground

We left Florida at 6pm in the evening and landed in Glasgow at 7am in the morning. This sounds much like a great opportunity to get lots of sleep on the plane, but of course, my brain would have none of that and I probably garnered about 3 hours of sleep. I was thinking about how I was going to get Pam through customs and get both of our large bags onto the city bus, and what kind of weather we would experience between the bus station and the walk to the hotel. First off, I know that these things do no good, but I was somehow born with the idea that if I worry just the correct amount, less things will go wrong. There may have been some element of rightness in that kind of thinking, but the main feeling I’m left with is that I have not quite worried enough yet. In this case however, we had one of the occasions where Pam has the wonderful opportunity to remind me, “See, it was all for nothing!”

The flight was great, and getting off the plane took about 10 minutes even though we were some of the last people off. We weren’t in a hurry at all, remembering that it was 7 am Glasgow time and our hotel check-In time was 1pm. Our time in between would be spent as you might think someone from Florida would never spend it, walking around downtown of a large city with full suitcases and backpacks in 30 degree weather. We followed the stumbling group of about 6 people to our bags, first coming to a giant staircase, which would have been outlawed in the States, and an elderly gentleman next to Pam chuckled, “Welcome to Glasgow….” as we worked our way slowly down the first descent of our trip. Once we conquered the stairs we found we were almost the last ones to get our bags, and almost the only folk coming into customs. Our customs official was a tall, nice young guy with a full red beard and he seemed excited that we were really there to go camping. “For Two Weeks?” he said, unbelieving. That wasn’t the last time I heard that phrase from a Scot. Pam replied, “Unless we like it and decide to stay!”….his answer was “Please do not say that to me…have you paid for your trip yet?”

Once we cleared customs, we quickly opened our bags on the floor. One look outside the glass windows of the airport put the fear of God into us quick. The wind was howling, the skies were dark and we could see the light rain falling. In addition to that, it appeared the people walking by were wearing full winter gear and bent over double against the wind. All faces carried the same scowl on them. We took turns, Pam going first, heading into the nearest restroom (pardon me, Toilet, nobody says 'restroom' in Scotland). Pam came out wearing four layers of pants, including full waterproof gear, which we thought we might need for hiking up in the Highlands, never anticipating that we might need it just to get on the bus. I grabbed my giant parka that took up half my suitcase and kissed it right there.

From there, it wasn’t difficult to find the city bus, and sure enough there was room for our suitcases and us, without issue. I had researched it all online, and knew that we could walk up to the bus, hand them a credit card and it was about 7 pounds each for the trip….I knew I had this one covered if the bags would fit on the crowded city bus….well…there were 4 people on the bus, and the two gents manning the station were friendly enough. They acknowledged me right off and told me to swipe my phone over their machine. I had never gotten around to figuring out how to use my phone to pay for stuff, so I  handed them my credit card. “Aye, that’s noah good here. We accept Apple Pay and cash.” All I had was about $50 dollars on me in cash, so I pulled out a twenty and he waved me back saying, “Aye, we dona take no Monopoly money here,” while he laughed a good one with his friend. I grabbed Pam and rushed back into the terminal and went about using the wifi to figure out how to get Apple Pay working on my phone…level of difficulty: no phone service, sitting in a foreign country on unsecured wifi, my credit card information hanging out there like ripe fruit for the hackers. Yes ma'am, I was worrying full time now…

A Wee Camping Trip In The Highlands: Part 1 - It Begins

The plan was for an epic journey to Scotland, finding the sweet spot between the cold winter and the emergence of the Scottish "Midges", the notorious insect that seems to be closely related to the 'no-see-ums' in Florida. This is the kind of tiny insect that attacks in clouds and makes you sorry to be alive when outdoors.
The plan was a good one and would have worked perfectly except we forgot that the weather can be whatever it wants to be in Scotland. In this case, instead of beautiful flowers blooming on the side of the road, we were greeted with bare-limbed trees and the promise of snow on the ground the day after we landed.
Originally, I was excited about the prospect of following surfing and paddling in the cold north country, but as my planning and research progressed, it became obvious that I was dealing with 'polar bears', the people that see putting a paddleboard in a lake or river when the temperature is below freezing as an extreme sport...and in my mind, they are correct.
As the forecast turned colder and colder, our packing morphed into less hiking gear, and more gear to keep us alive in the highlands when it could drop below 30 degrees Fahrenheit.

When it became the time to leave for the airport, we were excited with suitcases laden with cold gear and sleeping bags. I was my usual nervous self. I was going to a friendly country where English was spoken, but I was to be driving a Sprinter-sized motorhome on the left side of the road and looking at wet and snowy conditions.


The day we were to leave, I opened the newspaper to a front page article decrying that today was to be the busiest day in airport history. I already had a thing about dealing with homeland security and the whole baggage thing at our large busy airport, and now we were to wade right into the craziest day of the year....and then it wasn't. In the end, it wasn't so hard to understand. The airport was busy with people coming and going for Easter vacation, but they weren't coming and going to Scotland...and they especially were not going TO Scotland.
I tried to figure everything out beforehand on the internet, but still managed to find us standing in the airport with our bags with that deer-in-the-headlights look, while Pam looked around for help. The very first gentleman she found turned out to be a representative from Virgin Atlantic Airlines and quickly our bags were checked in and we were on our way to TSA. There was a giant mess of people there, but thankfully, we were Pre_check and went through in short order, except that I was pulled over for a frisking. I seem to be randomly picked for that every time I fly.
Once we got on the plane, I saw how this might be one of the better experiences ever.
The giant airliner was a Boeing Jumbo Jet, which has two levels of passenger seating. The big old 747 only had to carry 67 passengers on this trip, which meant Pam and I each had a whole row of seats to stretch out on. The food, the flight attendants, the whole trip on Virgin Atlantic was beyond my wildest dreams and Scotland was beginning to look like the trip of a lifetime.
In typical Perkins fashion, it was the special trip I hoped it would be, but if I knew what was coming for us, I might have turned around and gone right back home.....

A Wee Camping Trip In The Highlands Part 4 - A Day In Glasgow

Glasgow….I’ve only seen a small part of it, but what I saw would be heaven for most of the young people I know. Here you have the urban life, pubs and Starbucks everywhere, good beer, good whiskey, and music all around. Plenty of good food, and for some reason I haven’t figured out, the price on clothing wasn't bad. Even with the exchange rate against us, we could have found reasonable-priced clothing just strolling along the street. There are parts of the city where the street is clear of vehicles, but it is pedestrian-beware where you do cross traffic. Nobody really waited for the crossing light, but hardly anyone dared jaywalking. I was extremely careful and almost met my maker from walking in front of a taxi I didn’t see coming around the corner.

It was way more crowded than I would have expected on a weekday when everyone should be at work, but I saw plenty of people shopping, and dragging their carryon bags with them. It turned out that many people in the UK get a two week vacation right around Easter and we landed right in the middle of it. We also had the good fortune to book our hotel right in the middle of City Centre, which included the long pedestrian-only Sauchiehall St.

We ate lunch in the Iron Horse pub and the food was good, almost as good as the atmosphere. I was to find later, that the meal I had there was on the low end of what I would find on the journey. I was so proud of myself. I walked right into a crowded pub, oriented myself, and immediately noticed that instead of the music stopping and everyone turning around to look at the strangers that dared to invade their territory, nothing happened. There wasn't a place to sit at all, but two nice ladies noticed Pam and said they were just leaving and offered us their table. I quickly sat down and wondered if this place took our credit cards, what kind of tip to leave, etc. Meanwhile, Pam pushed up to the bar, ordered our food, and a half pint of what they had on tap for me. She then proceeded to carry on a conversation with a couple of the local men at the bar, nodding and laughing. When she finally came back to the table, I asked her what she had learned. She had no idea what they said, she was picking up every third word at the most.  It was a two way problem, they couldn't understand us when we talked fast and we had no hope of understanding them when they got excited and the burr got really thick.
There I was! Eating Bangers and Mash in a pub in Scotland on Easter Sunday! If I had known that for the next two weeks that almost every meal was going to be in a pub, I wouldn't have thought it was such a big deal.

Everywhere, the people were nice, and something I found striking was that jobs we may consider menial were being performed by clean-cut smiling young people. I never really saw a scowling face except outside when the wind was blowing cold and hard. Nobody seemed angry that they had to work on the day. It didn't occur to me until much later that perhaps they were smiling because they were working indoors in a nice store instead of having to be outside!

As much as I loved Glasgow, there was that thing you see everywhere…the façade is maintained, but don’t look out back. In the alleyways, trash abounded and sometimes some surly-looking characters. Glasgow had that look of ‘we had a party last night and sometime today somebody will be up to clean’.

If there was a standout thing to mention besides the fantastic buildings and the incredible cold wind and snow, it was the buskers performing in the streets. I took some video and am still reeling from performances that would rival anything I’ve heard before. That somebody could sit in the street in 30 degrees F and do what they did, made me realize that I have probably no talent at all and should give my equipment away to the homeless...I had wondered before why some performers thought backing tracks were a necessary evil…these performers proved them wrong…really wrong.

Magical Days Again

We hit the camping a bit earlier in the week this time, due to an accidental booking. It was great though, I came packed prepared for surfing and biking and it was a good thing. It was cold and the waves weren't breaking well enough to endure the temperature the first morning. I did get in a 20 mile bike ride and felt fortunate that I wasn't the casualty of a spring break driver heading down A1A. Lots of motorcycles everywhere because of bike week, and truthfully, if I owned a Harley, I'd have been out riding there as well. I had to laugh a bit. I can easily remember the days when it was commonly said that a woman couldn't be strong enough to handle a Harley. I sure saw plenty of women driving them and not all of them were big and tall. Funny thing about stuff we used to know as facts that turned out to be way off.

This was a trip of cold in the morning and night and warm by lunchtime. The lesson we have learned from backpacking is that it's all about the layers. Zip-off pants, 3 shirts, boots and flipflops. You just have to love this time of year in Florida. For some reason, it was cold with less wind than usual, so we had these great clouds of mist in the morning, and fantastic stars at night. We walked from morning until way past dark and when we weren't walking, we took our bikes and got lost in the Palm Coast area, which was another adventure all by itself. 

We learned a lot from our ranger friend at the campground, finding that it could be a decent place to fly fish. He and a buddy went out from our site the first night, promising us fish for dinner and instead came back covered in mud. Apparently, the flats can be a bit like quicksand and one wrong step and you're up to your waist in it. A vision came to mind of a Redfish laying there in the shallows and telling the rest of his friends "Hold my beer" while he splashed around the soft sand spot. Nobody really knows if fish laugh or have a sense of humor, but if they do, we might have heard something that evening.

Our ranger was unable to provide fish for the dinner table, but the spirits of the fishermen were not dampened a bit. They both swore to come back and get those Redfish and get them good. Unfortunately, that never happened as far as I could tell, and I was left with the strong opinion that the only fish in those waters are much smarter than the folks with the fishing poles. 

We went for a long walk and were surprised to find a big pile of firewood stacked by our campfire. Not only was that a pleasant surprise, but we seem to have been blessed with God's own firewood.

 Those pine logs burned as if gasoline had been poured on them.

When we weren't sitting around the campfire, cooking or eating, we were walking the park. Even the deer in the Preserve were getting used to seeing the Perkins brothers there and hardly paid us any mind at all. They just looked interested for a brief moment as if we might have something good to eat, and then sighed and went back to grazing.

Each trip, it seems as we get a little bit closer to the perfect experience. Steve found what could be the great idea for a tent, as long as you don't sleepwalk at night or don't have to pee in the middle of the night. His new man-powered vehicle, the Catrike turns out to be the right tool. He can keep up with us no problem on our bikes and his back problem that prevented him from biking was not an issue. The only issue I can see is that he is somehow seeing this as his "wounded warrior" chariot, seeking a Don't Tread On Me flag to go with his giant USA flag on the antenna on the back of the bike. We are already hearing tales of "back in WWNam", so I'm not certain where this will take us..

The Letters From The Big Island: Part 1 - The Oldest Lady With The Bestest Location

This trip was to be an adventure, a way of saying that after being married 30 years, we still knew how to have fun. the first thing I wanted to try was a Bed and Breakfast, which I had shunned before. Here, on the Big Island, a B&B seemed much cheaper than a hotel, so we tried out a place that turned out to be most interesting.

Amy, our hostess was 91 years old, and sharper than me. She gave me something to hope for, a chance to believe that growing old doesn't necessarily mean the wheelchair and endless re-runs on TV. We spent the night in her very old sprawling house, mere feet from 100 foot cliffs down to the ocean. It was near one of the two main towns on the island, Hilo (pronounced 'heelo'). She had dogs, a cat, and a lot of personality. 

A major plus for me was she happened to live right next to the only active surf spot I found on the island. In fact, after exploring the island for 10 days, it was the only place I saw any surfers out. I stood at the mouth of a river that the local surfers used to paddle out and shot photos for over an hour. Girls were ripping it up out there. It was head-high and looked easy except for the rocks everywhere. I even saw a guy about my age, looking very out of shape, getting some waves on a longboard. 

I got up early the next day and shot my first Big Island sunrise. I was stoked beyond belief and it was only day two of our journey!

The Frozen Floridians and Accidental Magic: Paul Plans, God Laughs

Not every single mile of the Appalachian Trail is something wonderful that you want to remember. In fact, there are some spots that we would prefer to not think about when looking back....this is one of those places we will never forget.

We were enjoying our lunch on a long log at a gap between two mountains in the nice warm mid-day sun. It was hard to believe the heat we were experiencing after the cold of the previous night. I was fixing my next to last Mountain House meal and Paul was enjoying a well-deserved cigarette, while Chase was taking advantage of an opportunity to take a quick nap. It was one of those UN-scenic spots, featuring a giant run of power-lines, and a gravel service road running through the gap. It was a reminder that even though we were in the middle of nowhere, civilization wasn't too far away. It was still mighty peaceful, the only sound besides the buzzing of the power-lines was the sound of Paul warming up to another story.
I heard a gravelly noise nearby and looked up from my stew to see Paul's face contorting and his eyes going wide. It was an expression that I hope I never see again...

It had started off as a beautiful morning. We were somewhere in North Carolina, the day after the coldest night ever, and I was still alive and I had gotten a bit of shut-eye. My new sleeping bag had become my most favorite thing in the world, right next to a cup of good coffee. Speaking of which, I had convinced myself while at home packing for the trip, that I didn't really need good coffee while backpacking and took a baggie full of some Spanish brand of Instant coffee that tasted almost as good as dirt. This wasn't strong South American coffee that was an acquired taste, this was just plain bad coffee. I had plenty left over at the end of the trip. I would have left it on the trail as Magic for another hiker, but that would just have been mean.

A few of our new friends from the night before had hiked off early to their cars and the ride home, doing a fast 13 mile march, knowing that good hot food and nice warm beds were waiting for them. Paul had decided that we needed one more night in the woods, so we were going to hike to a shelter that was only a little more than a mile from our truck.  Chase had mentioned several times that if we just hiked that little bit more, we'd have a steak dinner and be back home in our beds by 3 am in the morning. Paul would have none of that, so we hiked slow, taking our time and enjoying the weather that was nothing like Florida, or possibly like Florida on it's best day. We had plenty of food, plenty of time and the only worry on our minds was making sure that we didn't get to the camping shelter too early. 

It was lunchtime and we were taking it easy before the next ascent when Paul got that horrific look on his face and everything we thought we knew about the upcoming last day of our trip changed for good. Paul's cigarette fell from his mouth, I spilled stew on myself and Chase jolted awake at the sight before us. On the road below, were 3 vans with the name of a local church on them and out of the vans were spilling a horde of preteen boys with backpacks. It wasn't difficult to tell that many of them looked ill prepared for the trail, with giant packs and heavy sweatshirts. There were a few counselors scattered among the children and I watched with interest while the group assembled, not thinking of how this might affect our own plans. Paul, however, instantly knew that this was a less than desirable turn, and quickly ran down to the person that appeared to be the leader and conversed with him at length. He came back with his head hanging and announced to Chase and I that the group was heading to the same shelter. "There is only one thing we can do, " he said, "beat them to the shelter and claim it for our own.."

What Paul had not counted on, was the church group had a secret weapon: two older teenage boys that could hike faster than Chase could run, and soon our leisurely last day of heaven turned into some kind of trail race. I was left behind, limping with my bum knee, feeling bad, but not as bad as the counselors I passed by, with kids sitting and crying on the trail. I saw an iPad laying on the trail, and several men carrying their pack and someone else's at the same time. Who knew that a kid could grow up in the mountains without knowing anything about hiking? 

The day turned into a long pattern of leapfrog. We would pass the two scouts for the church group and then get passed by them. Instead of fun, it became a competition. 

I saw the look in Paul's eyes and knew that it was no longer about the serene peace of a night under the stars, it was about winning. Finally, it was late enough in the day that Paul announced that he and Chase were going to take off and capture the shelter for us and save me a place. I agreed that sounded like a good idea and decided to take advantage of my time alone on the trail, pretending that I was an adventurous solo hiker, doing the AT on my own. It was a great feeling, listening to the woods and my thoughts, occasionally interrupted by my encounters with whimpering young boys sitting on the trailside with their large packs. I was very glad that I had someone show me how to prepare for these trips and how to bring as little as possible. I walked alone until it was almost dark, thinking I would finally arrive at the campsite of my dreams with another large fire going to help keep me warm while I prepared my last cup of hot chocolate before climbing into my beloved new sleeping bag one last time. Instead, I ran into Paul and Chase on the trail, coming back towards me, Paul with a look that was even worse than the one that I had seen before. One thing we had not taken into account was that the last shelter being only a mile from a parking lot meant easy access for locals. This translated into Paul finding a shelter full of rednecks with booze, a bonfire and a lot of whooping it up, and no room for a bunch of weeny backpackers.

So it was, that our last night of happiness under the stars, or even a sizzling steak dinner, morphed into a drive-through at Burger King and a hard bed at some Pakastani roadside hotel with Cheerios for breakfast...after you paid through the bulletproof window of course.

Author's note: My mother's last request of me was to keep writing. This one is for her.