Of moors and monster mini golf.

When I think of Scotland, I will forever think of the sound of water. Of rushing rivers and dancing creeks and bubbling brooks and lake water lapping at muddy shores. I tried to record it at least a half dozen times, and when I got home was disappointed that none of the clips even poorly approximated the sound of the unnamed and overfull creek that tumbled down the side of the munros into Loch Lomond just south of Ardleish.

Of course, all that water meant an inordinate amount of rain, even for Scotland in October. I found myself there in a downpour, having purchased impulse plane tickets to surprise Missy, who was hiking the West Highland Way with friends. Scotland is the land of at least some of our ancestry and a sentimental favorite; we grew up singing about "the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond" while hiking. Missy had had the trip planned for months, but at the last minute I decided I couldn't possibly pass up a chance to meet her on the storied banks. Seth told me to go for it. I spent a week trying to subtly discern her hiking schedule and sorting through the complicated logistics of meeting her on the trail (before breaking down and sending a message to Christine, one of her hiking companions.) 

On Sunday morning, because there are just enough hours in each day to do allthethings, I got up early, met Michelle in DC for our annual tradition of running the Army Ten Miler, raced back, and was just about to go to Ford's baseball game en route to Dulles for my flight to Heathrow when Finley burst into my shower on the phone. "It's Missy," she said. "It's an emergency." The jig, as they say, was up. Scotland was in the throes of a major weather event; flooding had caused road closures and bridge washouts, and parts of the trail had fallen unceremoniously into the loch. Missy and Christine had been turned back at Rowardennan, and were in the middle of a major reroute with dubious transportation.

So instead of surprising Missy on the banks of Loch Lomond, I picked her and Christine up in the soggy hamlet of Drymen in a rented, left-handed death trap of a stickshift, and together we careened north on washed out roads wide enough for 1/2 of our miniature conveyance to beautiful Ardlui. 

We arrived in time to ferry across the lake and pick up the trail north of the washout. We sang "Loch Lomond" at the top of our lungs in the rain, and toasted our good fortune in a cozy bar over typically abysmal Scottish food.

I had only one full day on the trail, and the boggy moors were the stuff of Burns poems. My boots got thoroughly soaked, sheep outnumbered people by a factor of at least a few hundred, 

and we were deeply disappointed that the advent of metal detectors had apparently dispensed with the tale of Robert the Bruce's weapons disposal after the Battle of Dalrigh. We celebrated the day with Scottish ciders in front of a fire. As one does.

Before my sprint back to the airport the next day, I made quick stops at Dumbarton Castle (where in 1548 a five year old Mary, Queen of Scots sheltered before sailing for safety in France) and the Glasgow Cathedral (c. 1136). Because what kind of Walters doesn't cram two weeks of sightseeing into two days?

And then, after perhaps a hearty Scottish joke (this miracle rainbow), it was back to the world of kid sports and Halloween prep and (thankfully, and suddenly) fall-like weather in the mid-Atlantic.

There were a few other September/ early October highlights. Michelle and I ran a relay race across New Hampshire.

F+F broke more boards, and got to see Harper's rugby win over Mount St. Mary's.

We saw Barbie in imax and visited the truly exceptional Planet Word museum, both with dear friends.

We popped up to NYC for the kids' first Tunnel to Towers 5k, a truly incredible event, and a quick visit with the Antals.

We went apple picking (Seth can reach the apples at the very tops of the trees, to the kids' delight),

made our annual pilgrimage to the Halloween store, and played monster mini golf.

And we loved the adorable #greatannapolispumpkins scavenger hunt. 

This October is brought to you with a big thanks to Seth, who nailed picture day in my absence (along with a lot of homework, and at least one Underwear Incident.) And to Heathrow duty free, for the illegal Kinder Eggs. 

Cheers to Fall and a bheil foghar snog agad to you!