Edinburgh Castle

A fun fact about Scotland is; they've never won a battle that they weren't outnumbered.

The path to the castle starts on the Royal Mile, most significantly at the Tolbooth Tavern. Which, like its name implies; was once the Tolbooth to enter the gates of Edinburgh, then became a variety of purposes including a jail and of course is notoriously haunted. The Royals would follow the cobblestone street up to the gates of the castle that was built upon the dormant igneous foundation of a volcano. 

We left the hotel at dawn to walk the incline of the Royal Mile road for our scheduled tour of Edinburgh Castle. The meeting place to find our guide was just a few blocks away from the castle entrance. I noticed him as other tourists were gathering, not knowing he was our guide at the time. He was just a man with reddish light brown hair, mid thirties, a short beard, wearing a worn cognac color leather jacket and jeans. I noticed him, because he was the only one sitting at a bistro table drinking a can of beer at 8am. 

"Is this the right spot?" I wondered out loud to my three other traveling companions. Suzanna, Buck, and Keisha. We were surrounded by the endless stone buildings stories tall resembling books on a bookcase for their narrow and stately architecture, no separation between them. My eyes scanned the names of the closed shops, taverns, and restaurants, looking for the name of the pub that was listed on the Tour Guide Site we had registered on. 

"Are you here for the castle tour?" a female American accented voice asked beside me and I turned to see and young woman with champagne curly blond hair in an ivory wool trench coat. "Yes." I responded. "I'm here for that too." she affirmed.

We learned she was a law student from Texas. When fifteen or so people were standing around us with the same facial expression of patient enthusiastic anticipation; the man at the table stood and joined our conglomeration. As he passed, there was a noticeable waft of stale alcohol that accompanied him. The way that someone's skin and hair and sweat smells sweet after hours of drinking. 

"Good morning everyone!" He barked cheerfully, and the mingling group of tourists silenced the side chatter. "If you are here for the Edinburgh Castle tour, then my name is Alistair and I'm your tour guide for today. Come up and we will scan your code." and we lined up with our cell phones to show the QR codes from our bookings. Alistair, was still nursing the last of his beer. I noticed his cheeks were flushed red. I wondered how the tour was going to go. 

After the last of us had finished signing in, Alistair raised his can to the group as if to make a toast "There are no alcoholics in Scotland, only professionals." with that he slugged the last of the can and tossed it into a nearby waste bin. 

Alistair, it turned out, had attended Edinburgh University and graduated with a degree in history before sticking around and getting a job doing tours around the city. 

As we found our way up the hill and through the medieval gates of the castle, he shared fun facts and stories of Scottish history in a comedic and light hearted way that had our entire group laughing. I was pleasantly surprised at the jovial nature and and way he shared information. 

 

 

Seeing the seamless building craftsmanship from mountain to stone and brick was awe inspiring. Along the walls, repairs from battles throughout history and openings from where archers could defend the castle were patchwork through the walls as you continue to climb the circling passageways to the castle pinnacle. 

 

Alistair entertained us with tales of battles and love, betrayal and loyalty throughout Scotlands eccletic and rugged history. "This here is the last gate of the last defense..." He winked. "if the attackers had made it this far."And we made it towards the final plateau where the military honors monument and Saint Queen Margaret's Chapel stand. 

 

The chapel is the oldest building in all of Edinburgh. Small and quaint. Beautiful restored stained glass allowing the light in. 

From the outlooks of the fortress, the views of the city are breathtaking. A quaint cemetery for the canine heroes of the military and royals is nestled into an alcove. 

 

As I walked the grounds where Mary Queen of Scots walked, as I touched the stones that hold the history of the land. I felt a sense of timelessness and mystery. A connection to the blood in my veins, my heritage my lineage. 

Robert the Bruce is my ancestor. My blood comes from those who shed blood here. I wondered if my own ancestors were walking beside me as I peered out over the walls and through the passageways and windows. 

 

Stones hold energy. The echo of voices crying out over these walls from time gone by, was palpable. How could I feel at home there. From the moment my feet touched the ground in Scotland, with every step I took, my body and heart leapt with remembrance and homecoming. 

The stories of the people etched in the walls, the rustic edges of stones shaped from hands that have passed or touched them, the harshness of the crags and boulders of a volcano foundation. 

I would and could spend a day here. With a guide and alone. Exploring, feeling, sensing, imagining, reliving. 

We are headed back again. 

To know about when and where, click here:

Scotland Ireland Email list