Edinburgh Castle

My plan for today was to explore Edinburgh Castle. There is a long history to this bit of rock, with fortresses dating back to the 12th century (and evidence of early human habitation more than a millennium before that).

High atop this rock, the city was spread out below; it was clear enough to see the Forth bridges in the distance. The cables of the new road bridge towered over a hillside like three sets of sails.

Being a child of the New World, my image of a castle trends more toward fairy-tale palace than fortress. This was a fortress, with only a few of its earliest structures remaining (having been bombarded so many times over the centuries).

We passed through rooms in the Royal Palace where Mary Queen of Scots once lived, and toured vaults that housed prisoners as recently as World War II. We saw the crown jewels, displayed alongside the historic coronation stone on which the next King of England will be crowned.

The wooden beams supporting the roof of the Great Hall were magnificent, and all the more amazing that they date back to the early 16th century (not having been destroyed by fire or bombardment).

The one o'clock hour is marked by a single blast from a howitzer. Why not noon? Or three o'clock? One o'clock was the frugal choice, explained the district gunner: consuming just one shell.

The Mons Meg, a fearsome medieval weapon and one of the largest cannons in the world, is here. Imagine the destructive power of a 20-inch, 400-pound cannonball.

Just as I sought a place to sit in the café, one of the staff was removing “reserved” signs from a few tables. He motioned to me—best seat in the house, he explained. And so it was, looking out over the city from high atop the castle's cliff.

I strolled down the Royal Mile, admiring only the exterior of St. Giles' Cathedral. There appeared to be a service in progress; a gentleman came outside to encourage a bagpiper to relocate a few blocks away. The area was teeming with tourists; the expected street performers were drawing the expected crowds. I didn't linger.

I wandered instead through the Grassmarket, bustling with market stalls, and found my way to Victoria Street. I'd been hoping to find somewhere to enjoy a cup of tea and a pastry, and got lucky when I found La Barantine (and managed to score a table).

I wasn't confident about the bus schedule, so I opted to return to South Queensferry in the early evening. Mass transit is evidently the way to get around, even in full formal attire.

The rain held off—mostly—during the day. It poured during dinner (lucky timing!), and then stopped. With hours of daylight remaining, an after-dinner stroll was in order ...