A coastal walk (date 3) - what he says

And here's my guest blogger's account of date number three:

"Date three has been arranged as a long coastal walk. Maike is well prepared. When I do the gentlemanly thing and offer to carry the rucksack, I nearly snap my arm because of how heavy it is! It later turns out that she has a second outfit in there (this lady likes to layer) and snacks for the trip (I’m a bit embarrassed as my preparation amounts to a bottle of water). The weather is beautiful. Nice sights: bridges, water, islands, trees, wildlife, beaches. We walk. We talk. Life is sweet. We reach the halfway point and turn back after a short rest. I am thinking I would love to kiss Maike today. I don’t want to overstep boundaries. I’m also aware that if I am rebuffed it is going to be a long, awkward walk back. We spot a strange, small rock called Eagle Rock (named because in theory an image of an eagle can be seen in the rock – possibly an optimistic claim). Maike wants to take a look at the rock. I realise this would be an amazing spot to kiss. Windswept and romantic. I could commune with nature and be all Heathcliff-like (if Heathcliff was clean shaven and wearing a blue hoodie). I decide to go for it. You only live once and all that. I am happy to report that Maike does not rebuff me. We kiss. And she is an amazing kisser (apologies to one reader in particular – Maike’s mother – if this is too much detail). At the end of the walk, we sit on a wall for a long time and admire the view. Then a meal and home. It’s been a great day and it’s really nice to getting to know Maike."

To be continued.

A coastal walk (date 3) - what she says

Date 3
We meet in South Queensferry in the afternoon of one of the first properly sunny days this spring. My evil plan is to walk the 5 miles to Cramond and back in a little loop so that at sunset, we will be walking by the water with views of the Forth bridges and over to Fife. Could it be any more romantic?

We walk to Cramond where the river Almond meets the Firth of Forth, and watch the boats, and the people on the other side of the river. There used to be a passenger ferry to cross it, which would have taken under five minutes. Now, there is a bridge a mile up the river. We are alone on this side of the river, safe from other people and the ice cream van.

We walk back along the coast and climb a big rock that has a name plate attached to it. Eagle Rock. It is exposed up here, windy and sunny, and offers nice views. Almost too perfect a spot for a first kiss. And I am taken by surprise when it actually happens here, so soon. Good work!

I wonder how scary it must be to make this move for the first time. It's probably easier with online, 'official', dating, because it is clear to all parties involved that this is about romance not friendship, so attempting a kiss shouldn't be too risky. But still, I have never done it.

I'm feeling a bit self-conscious about kissing in such an overly romantic spot, or kissing at all, but it soon passes, and I am just enjoying the moment, the walk, the sun, the twosomeness, holding hands.

Back in Queensferry we sit on a wall by the water for hours, getting a Scottish tan (=sunburn), until we need to pee. We have dinner in a pub, and he gives me a lift home.

To be continued.

Forth Rail Bridge

Barnbougle Castle

Dalmeny Estate

The scenery which made him want to kiss me.

Most romantic rail bridge to cross the Forth.

At the theatre (date 2) - what he says

Here is my guest blogger's report of our second date:

"I manage to leave work on time and get to the theatre for my second date with Maike right on time. I feel more relaxed and we have a catch up before heading into the play. While waiting for the play to begin, we discuss books and she says she has read Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace twice. One of my favourite books. My heart swoons. The play is, erm, interesting and pretty weird. One audience member needs to fake an illness to get out of there.  Afterwards we go for a drink. Maike makes me laugh a lot when she can’t understand some of my words and then proceeds to say back to me how they sound. The conversation flows. I give her a lift home. On the way we arrange a third date (readers, there are no flies on this boy). To kiss or not to kiss, that was my question. I ponder trying to give her a goodnight kiss but don’t have the courage and don’t want to make her feel uncomfortable. We hug instead. A very nice second date and third one arranged. Life is good."

To be continued.

First date - what he says

I'm so excited, I have a guest blogger today! Not only are you reading about the story as it develops, you are being treated to both sides of it! Working Class Boy has kindly agreed to report his experience of dating me. Is this a great or a terrible idea? I honestly don't know, but I do think it might be entertaining. So, in his own words:

"I have had the honour of having been asked to contribute a guest blog to this publication. So, here goes...

First date:
Before the first date with Maike, of course I had seen her online profile and there had been messages sent between us. From this Maike seemed interesting, quirky and pretty. On the day of date I arrived feeling reasonably calm and optimistic. She was already there and reading (a very good first sign). Very quickly I realise that I have underestimated Maike. First off, she is incredibly good looking (Readers, I know I am a fool for not realising this sooner. What can I say? My Ipad is small and her photographs simply did not do her justice). I suddenly feel more nervous than I did. Maike struggles to understand some (actually, maybe a lot) of my accent. I fear I am making a mess of this. So, I regroup and try to portray myself as something other than a bumbling idiot. Hopefully I achieve this. We talk about various topics: work, where we live and have lived, books, music, and even dating. Maike is sweet and very funny. Her sense of humour is sharp and dry. I find myself laughing a lot. She even manages to suggest I might have an inappropriate relationship with my sister, which is funny rather than offensive. Time goes. One hour turns into two and then three. There is a slightly awkward moment when we realise that she lives in the same building as my friend (hopefully she does not think I’m an axe murderer and now have her address). At the end of the date I decide to be brave and ask her out for a second date. She accepts. Hurray! So, dear reader, the first date is navigated with a great deal of nerves but seemingly a level of success. Phew."

Aw, isn't he a charmer? To be continued.

Get ready, a treat is coming up!

Brace yourselves for a special treat on Wednesday: For the first time in the history of my regular ramblings on the internet, I will have a guest blog!

Working Class Boy #2

Date 2
On our second date we saw a play which had received raving reviews, but which I found a bit disturbing. For example, in a twisted sex scene on a kitchen counter the hostess and a much older guest cheated on their partners during a dinner party while the old guy's wife and grown-up son were talking to the hostess's husband in the living room next door. Maybe too intense for a second date?

We went for drinks afterwards, but I felt too shell-shocked to discuss the play. We talked about other stuff and it was nice. He had read everything by David Foster Wallace. Even unfinished stuff! While not exactly obscure, the author isn't that widely known outside the US.

He noticed before I did that I was uncomfortable discussing a topic. I don't remember which topic, but I liked his perceptiveness and consideration. I believe his job requires a lot of listening, and he is very good at it.

He gave me a lift home which was great. He can drive and has a car, how convenient! Compare 10 min in good company in a cosy car to 40 min of waiting at a bus stop, sitting in the freezing or overheated bus with unsavoury or smelly characters, before finally having to walk through an unlit park to get home.

It turned out that he had been to my house before because he is friends with my neighbours (*click*). Awkward. Now I feel like my neighbours are spying on me.

Parking in front of my house I could see my flatmate through the window doing the dishes. I didn't want to linger here, exposed like that. He made no attempt to get out and open my door for me (how dare he not to!), so I just gave him a hug in the car, making it practically impossible for him to kiss me.

I think I dodged a bullet there. Kissing in a car is awkward.

To be continued.

Live coverage from the front

I'm changing the format of my date reports to live coverage! But before that, I need to bring you up to speed.

This guy, let's call him Working Class Boy, was the guinea pig to my first experiment of being the man (*click*), where I selected dating candidates myself rather than waiting for them to select me. Well, he was the first one who wasn't playing hard-to-get. There was another one who at one point took weeks to respond. During this time I had already deleted our previous conversation and lost the record of what had been said.

Date 1
From the few pleasant messages Working Class Boy and I exchanged, I couldn't find anything wrong with him. He seemed kind, well-read, interested in many different things, fairly active, and pretty sane. He was also slightly taller than me and seemed to still have full hair. Not a major issue but nice.

Arranging our first date was uncomplicated. I asked him out for coffee, and he told me which days he would be free. Very helpful. We set the time and place, and then we met in a nice café with a few comfy chairs, which was also a restaurant and a bar, a versatile choice. I had been on a first date here before, with Huggy Boy (*click*). That didn't go so well.

I was more nervous than I had been on most previous first dates, because this guy was promising. When he arrived he seemed nervous as well. We talked for hours about books, and work, and where we were from, and where we had lived, and while there were a few pauses, they weren't too uncomfortable. He seemed awfully nice. I made an inappropriate joke involving his sister whom I had never met. He took it graciously. He kept painting me in a good light, which somehow urged me to say something bad about myself in which he couldn't possibly find anything positive. I must have failed, because before the date was over he committed the faux-pas of asking me out for a second one.

To be continued.

Anniversary

Three years ago last Saturday I moved to Edinburgh!

To celebrate the occasion I went out to GrownUps, a "disco for old people" as my friend described it. "But in a good way"... The theme was punk rock and I was having a great time, dancing and jumping to high energy music. Appropriately, I got soaked with beer by two of my over-enthusiastic friends. And since old people go to bed early, the night finished timely at 1 AM. Perfect!

The next day I bought some wine and was asked for my ID! I didn't think that would still happen in my mid-thirties, and I was thoroughly pleased. But then I wondered that after a night of partying I may have looked young and rough, rather than old and well-preserved. Oh well, I'll take it.

Being the Man

After a bit of a break from boys I'm now taking online dating to the next level: I'm gonna be the man! Well, I'm still gonna be me, just taking the initiative. Rather than waiting for the dudes to contact me, I will be the one to choose who to talk to. Turns out the ones who pick me are not the ones I would pick - no offence guys!

So I sent a message to someone whose profile I liked, he got back, we chatted for a bit and then I asked him out on a date. Whaaat?!? Yeah, right! Why didn't I do that sooner?

Tax return II

This!

Isn't she adorable?

Tax return I

Every April, I get a huge tax return. This is because HMRC got my tax code wrong. I have now taken steps to get it fixed, but that means the end of my annual cash surprise.

This year, I treated myself to something special. It arrived last week in this funnily shaped parcel. Can you guess what it is?

At the library

At the library, I asked to have my book extended. The guy grabbed it on both ends, pulled hard, and told me it just wouldn't extend, as hard as he tried.

Now, a British person would have politely laughed at that joke and that would have been the end of it. But of course me being me, I called him out on it, accused him of recycling that joke, making it obvious that I was German. So, naturally, he told me a German joke.

A young German soldier, newly drafted, is sent to a training camp for the first time. There, he acts very strangely. Over and over, he picks up leaves and rocks from the ground. He looks at them, shakes his head and says: "This is not it." "This is not it." Inside, he picks up pieces of paper lying around. He looks at them, shakes his head and says: "This is not it." "This is not it." The commander watches this behaviour for a while and then decides that this young man is not fit for service. He decides to discharge him. So back in his office, he hands him the discharge papers. The soldier takes the papers, looks at them and says: "This is it!"

I don't quite get it - what's German about this? Well, you'll be glad to hear that I wasn't mean enough to make the librarian explain the joke. Instead I politely laughed, thanked him and left.

Easter 4

Easter Sunday starts with pancakes, but not much else happens today. I am in a lot of pain from the first day's two munroes, and the rain has got worse. It even snowed last night! The hills look extra pretty with the fresh dusting, and we take lots of pictures during the five minutes that the sun is out.

We attempt a short, but extremely scenic walk into the Lost Valley, a beautiful gorge with steep drops, waterfalls, some scrambling, and a river crossing. But once this is done, the rest of the day is spent back in the cottage, drinking wine and working on the jigsaw puzzles.

On our last day in Glencoe we almost climb Glas Beinn Mhòr.

The hardest bit is to decide which walk to do - Beinn a' Chrùlaiste which is boring-looking and boggy, but possibly less steep and offering nice views of less boring hills. Or, staying low, and walking through the two valleys on each side of Buachaille Etive Beag, Lairig Eilde and Lairig Gartain. This would mean walking around the mountain we climbed on the first day. Or, driving on a single track road through Glen Etive all the way to the end and climbing Glas Beinn Mhòr, another munro.

Glas Beinn Mhòr is the winner, and Glen Etive is beautiful. Full of canoes and people parking in passing places on the single track road. After 15 miles we get to the end, park, and start walking, with a good view of the mountain we are going to climb.

Actually, the mere thought of climbing up 1050 m to a snowy top which is partly hidden in the clouds is daunting. My motivation is as low as the hill is high. Yes, my motivation is 1050 m low.

We follow the river which goes all the way up to the bealach we are aiming for. There are again great waterfalls and water slides on granite slabs - it looks like the water is having a lot of fun coming down here! The sun comes out occasionally, but my lack of motivation has spread and we decide we might not do the whole climb but just walk up the river for a bit longer. With this decision I'm suddenly much happier!

We split the group when Kat wants to go up a spur and Daniel wants to cross a river. Silke and I join Kat, climb a little bit, and then sit on the rocks and watch the others cross rivers from a mile away. Very entertaining. Once they have crossed all the rivers that needed crossing we meet up again by a footbridge and return to the cars.

Back in Glencoe Village we stop for a coffee and a scone in the lovely Glencoe Café. We finish the day with a pub meal, more jigsaw puzzles and a film - "Local Hero", a Scottish classic. And with a nice glas of whisky we finish off another lovely Easter weekend.

Glencoe with a fresh icing

Glen Etive

First stag of the day

  

 

 The top on the left is Glas Beinn Mhòr - the ascent follows the river up to the bealach, passing the smaller, snowless top on the right and following the ridge. I'll save this walk for another day.

Easter 3

Today's theme is water.

It is Easter Saturday and the weather is shite. So we go for a lovely low level walk, the Kinlochleven - Blackwater circuit (*click*). It is a slow climb over 5 miles up to the Blackwater dam, across the dam, and back on the other side of the river. The glen was dammed over a hundred years ago, combining three lochs into one huge reservoir, to provide hydro-energy for Kinlochleven's aluminium smelter.

Walking out of Kinlochleven I get us lost right away, but not for long. We follow Glen Leven on a wet path in light rain alongside the river Leven, and we see huge pipes on the other side of the glen coming down the hill to Kinlochleven, and waterfall after waterfall. We stop by the most beautiful waterfall of them all for a rainy lunch. A few streams need to be crossed - usually not a problem, but on a watery day like today at least one of us loses her boots. For some reason the moods are high, and we find ourselves singing, jumping between earworms, catchy songs about rain, umbrellas, boots, bridges. We cross a very dodgy foot bridge.

Most of us are quite soaked when we reach a boggier bit. We finally see the dam, but it is oh so far away! When we finally reach it we climb over the gate to walk across it, ignoring the signs that prohibit it. Our Scottish friends seem to enjoy the rare sight of Germans breaking the rules immensely.

The dam is almost one kilometer long, and walking on it I can almost feel the weight of the water to my left, only held back by a bit of concrete. I wonder where I would rather be if the dam broke. On it, or below in the glen.

On the other side of the glen we follow the path back towards Kinlochleven for a bit, but then we decide to walk on the covered concrete aqueduct, a conduit which takes the water from the dam all the way to the top of the big pipes we saw earlier, above the village. Every once in a while, there is a little gap in the cover and we see the water rushing very fast under our feet. The conduit follows the shape of the hills and is quite exposed at times, giving us great views across the glen, and onto the waterfalls under which we walked just a few hours ago.

I am very wet now. And cold. While I am enjoying this walk very much I am looking forward to a hot shower and a cup of tea. When we reach the pipes, the conduit ends and we join the track again. Four and a half years ago, Kat and I came down here on our last leg of the West Highland Way (*klick and klick*).

Back at the cottage someone makes pizza - not me, I do nothing. We turn on all the heaters to dry our things and after dinner we check out the pub again.

Today's wet walk. Also Buachaille Etive Beag at the bottom, and our cottage in Glencoe (red triangle)

A little birch wood

A very good waterfall. One of the best.

River crossings

Glen Leven

A dodgy footbridge

The Clachaig Inn, seen from our cottage

Easter 2

After a leisurely morning at home, Colin picks me up and we drive to Glencoe. Our cottage is right next to the Clachaig Inn, so we leave a note on the door and go to the pub. The pub has two bars, the Boot Bar for dirty hikers and the Lounge. I'm inclined to go to the dirty bar, but Colin is already going for the other one, so that's where we're waiting for the Germans.

Of course, knowing me they look for us in the dirty place first.

The next day, we decide to climb Buachaille Etive Beag, a straightforward walk on a good path, but steep. There is also quite a narrow snowy ridge from a bealach to the first top, which makes the walk more adventurous in the blustery winds. Too adventurous for some. Ice axes and crampons might be a good idea today but of course we don't have any.

When no one gets blown off the ridge or the top we slide down the snowy slope on our bums, back to the bealach. There is really no reason to walk down a hill when you can slide it down on your bum. Especially when you have an audience. We climb the other top - the wind is getting stronger and helping us up. I have a vision of the first of our group arriving at the top and, caught by a gale, flying over it. This doesn't happen. We take a quick break to enjoy the views of Ben Nevis in a cloud, the Blackwater reservoir, glacial features everywhere, and hills and snow. Walking down again I get a premonition of the muscle pain to come.

At night, Colin cooks up a lovely curry and we make a start on the puppy puzzle.

The U-shape that makes the geologist happy - a glacier came through here

On yer bum!

The top on the right was this day's first munro

 

Ben Nevis in the cloud

Wombat

Have you googled a wombat lately? I highly recommend it: *click*

Easter 1

Just back from my Easter holiday, so here comes a teaser with more to follow:

More Glen Affric Pics

While I'm away shooting more pics in Glencoe, here are some more pictures of Glen Affric from a few weeks ago.

One of the wilder burns we had to cross

The boys walking ahead

Caledonian Pine