King David II. I kinda like the sound of that.
Suppose you were on a scavenger hunt. And suppose they challenged you to find, in the same room, a knight in shining armor and a polar bear. Where would you go?
Is there a Mecca for golf? A place where, if you’ve studied, practiced, applied yourself and achieved even a modicum of proficiency, you can access the holiest of holies? I’ve been there.
The big Scot stood in the middle of the room, wearing a kilt and sporran, and brandishing a long, serrated knife. Could it be someone slighted the honor of the Haggis?
Have you ever chickened out on an opportunity, with no reasonable shot at an encore, and regretted your cowardice? I have.
And 30 years later, as luck would have it, it seemed I might finally redeem myself.
Yes, there is a monster hidden in this post somewhere. But first, the battlefield.
“There can be only one!”
The Isle of Skye. Even the name sounds mythical. It’s reputation, what little I knew of it, was of a place with spectacular views around every corner. Thus my excitement when, while researching a trip to Scotland, I found a tour option that included this potential feast for the eyes. This stop could be the highlight of the trip.
But how did it measure up?
They call it The Glen of Tears.
Located in a treeless valley, steep cliffs on either side, its rugged beauty belies a historical incident of such treachery its infamy lives on, 325 years later.
O ye’ll tak’ the high road, and I’ll tak’ the low road,
And I’ll be in Scotland a’fore ye,
But me and my true love will never meet again,
On the bonnie, bonnie banks o’ Loch Lomond.
There’s a good chance you’ve heard this chorus before, and perhaps have even sung it. And there’s a fair chance you thought it a sweet, wistful song about some poor Scottish lad breaking up with his sweetheart and rueing the occasion. But the backstory isn’t quite so sweet.