Castle & Cask.

I don’t believe I ever said wild swimming is sexy.

Look at that castle!!!

Also, funny side note, I am losing one pair of goggles per day. I have never lost a pair of goggles (except when Kathy steals them xo) but somehow I am leaving them all over Scotland. Today I had to borrow a pair and well, they look better on him than me.

Back when we first started talking to Ben about coming to scout Scotland, he sent me a message with a shaky 3 second video he grabbed as he was driving past a little castle on an island. 

“Would you want to swim around this castle?”

Ben. You see me.

So this is a swim I have been looking forward to. Out the door early again with cups of coffee in Roam West mugs, crossing the loch under pink skies.

Fàilte (welcome) to Castle Stalker!

The name "Stalker" comes from the Gaelic Stalcaire, meaning "hunter" or "falconer". It is a medieval tower house originally constructed in about 1320 by Clan MacDougall, was taken over by the Stewarts in 1388, was lost in a drunken bet to Clan Campbell in 1620, abandoned in 1840 when the roof fell in, bought by Charles Stewart of Achara in 1908 who started conservation work, and finally ended up in the ownership of Lt. Col. D. R. Stewart Allward in 1965 and he fully restored it. It’s been featured in several films including Monty Python’s Holy Grail. Lots of history for such a tiny castle.

I skipped down the path, giddy, past the sheep, under more dramatic skies (Scotland, my word the drama in the skies!!!), through the gate, up the hill down the dale over the thingy, wow we made it to the shore where nothing but water lay between me and this 700 year old castle.

We were joined this morning by Ben’s swimming buddy Nick Cochrane, who is a local open water swimming and triathlete coach. I’d say he’d make a perfect addition to our little team.

I shimmied into the neoprene a little faster this morning, added some neoprene swim socks which I did not regret. The water was warmer than I expected - maybe 62? Clear clear clear. We enjoyed a slack tide with very little pull and made our way out to the island. Stopping for photos of course, diving down into the kelp.

I’m sorry I know that’s a lot of castle pics but you guys I swam around A CASTLE!!!

What a beautiful day, what a stunner of a swim. We made in around and back to shore covering only about a half mile, but we could easily add a circumnavigation of the adjacent island for a little more. A perfect swim spot. Imagine swimming here, then changing and warming up in a near-by pub, then getting a boat ride to a special tour of the castle. What a day.

I’m still thinking of the ways we can make the transitions a little easier for potential guests. Things like jugs of hot fresh water for rinsing, the gorilla buckets for standing in and keeping feet clean, maybe even a little stool or bucket to sit on to get wetsuits off ankles when fingers are cold. Dry robes for changing and keeping warm. This is doable, and I think the swimming is worth it.

I have never liked to be cold, have never enjoyed cold water. And yet for my second day in a row, I found myself coming out of the water elated. Is it the sky, the clear sea, the effects of cold therapy, the castle? All of it? I don’t know. But it feels really good.

Back to the hotel to shower and change before Ben & Sarah dropped Celine and I in the nearby town of Fort William. We strolled a bit, bought authentic, pretty Scotland sweaters (please don’t ask me how much it’s just SOOOOOO pretty and I only have one set of warm clothes, so…), had lunch, then caught a cab to the Ben Nevis distillery.

Local delights: Purple Heather and locally farmed mussels.

The building sits on a green with Ben Nevis, the tallest mountain in the UK looming in the mist behind it. The water that runs down from this peak is used to craft the Ben Nevis whisky, and we got to poke our heads into all manner of vats and giant barrels and casks to see how it’s done. And yes, the tour concludes with a tasting. If a dram of whisky doesn’t warm you up, nothing will.

We tried and failed to catch a bus back, and ended up with George, the same taxi driver who had delivered us to the distillery for our ride home. Like many Scots, he’s got the gift of banter and is not short of facts and dad jokes to make the ride more interesting.

We laid low this evening and ate leftovers for dinner (kept in our self catering kitchen here at the hotel). I edited and blogged and watched two goats cavorting in the neighbors field. Looking out the window, I swear Scotland must have 28 shades of green. As the sun set, the sky did its dramatic encore turning 17 shades of gray.

More drama as a stiff wind moved in tonight. We’ll swim where we can in the morning.

I’m headed to bed for some castle dreams and a high that can only come from a clear, exhilarating, wild, cold water swim.

Slàinte mhath,

Bonnie Heather