The Shell Seekers

It’s not easy to take time out from the things we should be doing to do the things we can, but sometimes it’s a sanity-saving device. Doing the things we can do include stepping away from being overwhelmed by chaos and cardboard, and going to see the sea.

We forgot about the sea, really. We thought: castle. If we’d been thinking we would have actually put on the hats we had, applied the sunscreen we tucked into the pack, and maybe brought shoes good for tidepooling. We held onto none of the above; just the camera and tripods and the expectation of another fancy house with an entrance chock full of pistols and swords. (Really — Scottish castle people? You need to discuss things with your interior decorators.) We got on one of two buses and just thought we’d enjoy wandering around some place new.

We hadn’t counted on turning a corner after an hour long ride to see the Irish Sea looming up ahead of us, misty and blue. We looked at each other, then looked at the looooong drop from the castle to the water and thought, “we’ve got to find a way down there!”

We haven’t seen a sandy beach or surfers in ages, but still, there is something familiar about the sea here. Pebbled shores. Brisk winds. Massive rocks. It looks a lot like Northern California. D. and T. got out of the bus, discussing their strategy on how best to climb down the hazardous looking cliffs when a girl paused near us, listening. “You’re not local, are you?” she asked.

“We’re Californians,” we said, giving our usual reply — so people can get the L.A./Hollywood/Disneyland thing out of the way. (You’d be surprised how many people make some comment on any or all of things on hearing where we’re from.) “Oh!” the girl said happily. “Iowa!”

We wandered toward the visitor center with our new acquaintance, a veterinary student finishing her third year, and pooled our ignorance as to how to get down the cliffs without killing ourselves. Apparently we were louder than we thought — or else the wind was right. Another girl trailed after us, then called, “Would you mind if I hung out with you? I don’t know anyone.”

Much to our surprise, this girl was another American, a second year veterinary student, this time from Texas. We laughed at ourselves — all of the Americans from our entire bus had just managed to clump together.

It really was odd — we’ve made a serious effort not to hang with strictly Americans, in the name of actually embracing the fact that we’re in Scotland. We’ve made an effort to remember that Scotland is not the U.S., and to change our expectations. However, something about our little group just clicked. A farm girl who’d hardly been out of Iowa, a well-traveled Texan who’d attended school in Japan, Italy, and the UK, and two Hobbits. It turned out to be a perfect combination.

We found a rickety staircase to the cliffs and climbed down, ignoring the fact that what goes down must eventually come back up. We set aside…well, thought, really. The mist was burning off, the sun was out, and the sea was huge. There are six hundred and some acres at Culzean Castle and Country Park — that’s the official name — and all we could see was the sea. Deer park? Swan pond? Aviary? Walled garden? We never made it to any of those.

Should you have the chance to make a day of it at Culzean Castle, you will enjoy the castle. It was full of the usual swords and old paintings, but the symmetrical windows, stairwell, towers, and… cannons, even, are pretty neat. There is a model kitchen with an ingenious spit that turned via a pulley and fan which was powered by hot air, a bathtub that really looks like a massive boot, a gorgeous old fountain, green houses — and guides who are tremendously patient with random questions and helpful for when we got turned around, which was often. Americans might especially enjoy seeing Dwight Eisenhower’s Scottish White House — as a floor in the Culzean house was given to him in recognition of his service during WWII. The pictures, medals and clothes he left behind make a wonderful exhibit indeed.

All of the normal indoor castle-y stuff was great. But we’ll leave you with images of where we spent most of the day — scrambling over rocks, picking up seashells, exclaiming over sea urchins, anemones, and soaking up the sun.

A doctor friend advised that we really take as much Vitamin D. as possible, to combat the effects of winter, and though we’ve been taking both calcium and D., there is nothing like the health found in a dose of sunshine. We ended the day sunburned, exhausted, hollowed-out, and healed.

And we have three pounds of shells.

Bliss.

Check out the whole slide show

– D & T

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