Twenty-two miles outside of Oban in the Scottish Highlands lies a lonely, old structure called Kilchurn Castle. The area is desolate; when I visited in the middle of February I saw probably fewer than ten people, locals included. During the tourist season there are adorable B&Bs, but while I was there those were deserted; the owners surely escaped to warmer climes.
The trip included everything I have come to know and love about Scotland: a kilted man walking his West Highland Terrier, day-drinking in a wee pub, a loch aptly named "Awe," Highland cows grazing before a backdrop of snow-topped mountains, bleating sheep, overly friendly locals, and, of course, a castle.
When the bus dropped us off I was sure the driver had made a mistake; we were in the middle of nowhere. With the help of my friend’s smart phone we managed to find the trail that would take us to the castle. You couldn’t enter; it was locked and completely unattended except for the sheep scattered around.
After several hours of walking through the enchanting highland scenery we were in desperate need of a good defrosting session. The closest business was in the next town over, so we walked the couple miles there. Public transport is nonexistent.
The pub was empty but for the bartender and a couple of rowdy men on an afternoon break from work. After a warming pint and several minutes with my hands under the dryer in the bathroom, I was feeling warm and content. Sitting in a pub in the middle of the day with friends, just chatting and playing games, is a truly quintessential Scottish experience.
As we prepared to leave later in the day, we managed to find one open B&B. Trusting the hospitality of Scots, I entered and asked if I could use their restroom. After a few minutes of confusion (I had forgotten “restroom” is foreign terminology there) the owner exclaimed, “Oh! You want the toilet!” She let us into the bathroom, and it took me over ten minutes to escape her well-intentioned chatter afterward. She was so excited to have a visitor in the off-season and wanted to know all about what I was doing in Scotland.
Even in the dead of winter, there is something so perfect and magical about the Scottish Highlands—maybe it’s the fairies that are purported to live in the hills or the fantastically fuzzy Highland cows and the castle ruins. Maybe it’s just the beer. Whatever it is, Scotland draws you in.