The Great Glen Way
6 days.
7 B&Bs.
73 miles.
NO TAXIS.
Apr 16
We flew in to London then took a train to Edinburgh. There are trains every hour, and we were traveling on a Thursday afternoon…since we weren’t sure how long it would take us to get from Heathrow to Kings Cross Station, I suggested we wait and buy our tickets when we got there. After all, the travel sites recommended waiting a bit to buy, since ticket prices fluctuate.
This was a bad idea. Really bad.
You know how when you’re boarding an airplane, on your way back to coach class, and you pass those people in first class, sipping their cocktails and leisurely flipping through their glossy magazines? Legs stretched out, all the space in the world?
Yeah, those people. I am not those people.
For the next three weeks, I’m going to play that I’m a travel writer.
I’ve always thought this was the ideal job. What better way to spend your life than traveling the world, exploring the places you find, and then writing about them! It would be like getting paid to do the things that I generally pay other people for the privilege of doing on my own.
There are people out there who are fabulous at self-realization and making their dream jobs happen. I’m not one of those people, or that would be my job.
(Possibly I’m just too addicted to my creature comforts to take a low-paying, low-security job, too realistic about the averages and financial realities of any sort of journalism, and not quite egotistical enough to really believe I’d end up with a career like Bill Bryson or say Peter Mayle. Or even that woman who wrote Eat, Pray, Love.)
But here’s the thing: I love to travel. And I love to write. And right now I’m embarking on a lovely little tourist adventure, and I intend to write about it.
That’s right folks, stay tuned! I’m headed for a three-week adventure in Scotland, full of trains, castles, walks, and whisky. And Nessie. I will be on the lookout for Nessie.
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