BIKEMONKEY

Enjoying a Tennent's lager, Scotland's national brew, at a quaint fishing spot on the River Dee.

Although I am of Germanic descent, I don’t really have much connection to the history or heredity of “my people”, unless you consider my deep appreciation for brauts/sausage and other salted pork products evidence of some sort of cultural link. My wife’s family,on the other hand, has a deep understanding and love for  Scotland, the country from whence their blood line began. Arnot, or also Arnott, is the family surname that dates back to the 12th Century and can be pinpointed to a small locale situated on the border of Fife and Kinross-shire. Our fearless family tour guide, DTD, otherwise known as the Plan Man, took us to this area to show us the craggy remains of   the Arnot Tower, thought to be built in the early 1400s, that stands today as evidence of this bucolic area’s feudal past and, more importantly,  as a reminder of his family’s roots. It was touching to see three generations of Arnots, Dave, Duncan and Rowan, stand beneath the remains of this historical landmark.

Rannoch Moor in the Scottish Highlands

Ben Nevis, Scotland's highest peak, tops out at 4,409 ft.

Scotland’s stark, harsh beauty is no better epitomized then by the highlands area in the northern part of the country where rocky hillsides,  valleys and glens, as well as the boggy, peaty land, were manipulated and crafted into manageable plots by its hearty early inhabitants. One example of the difficulties that this landscape posed to early settlers is that when the West Highland Line, on of the most scenic railway lines in all of Britain, was built across Rannoch Moor, its builders had to float the tracks on a mattress of tree roots, brushwood and thousands of tons of earth and ashes. The significant amounts of rainfall that this country gets means that you are continually surrounded by a sea of green.

Copious amounts of rainfall also means that the creeks and rivers are always full, which is a good thing, because many of their waters-that very often run brown due to the high concentrations of peaty soil that the water filters through-are used in the distilling process for some of Scotland’s finest scotches.

These brown waters may make a good smokey scotch someday.

While in Fort William,home to one of the most challenging UCI World Cup downhill and 4 X races, Duncan and I discovered the second most important thing that peaty soil provides: killer single track! Turns out the soft, loamy  soil that covers the lower slopes of Aonach Mor, a mountain in the Nevis Range, is the perfect medium to sculpt ripping wooded single track out of. The fact that the soil is also very rocky and rooty, makes it even better for creating challenging rock sections that transition into flowy, undulating forested trail that perfectly follows the contours of the land. On top of the natural characteristics that this landscape provides to work with, the trail builders of this vast network have added wooded/planked bridge sections that are

Duncan dropping in on one of the many ripping sections of "unnatural" trail we rode at Fort William.

more roller coaster than trail. All of these effects work in a symbiotic relationship to create some of the best manmade trails that both Duncan and I have ever ridden. The cherry on top of this epic ridding center, as if it could get any better, is the fact that the Scots are pretty lax about monitoring/policing the building of new trails that aren’t on the official map, what we here in Marin and Sonoma County would call ILLEGAL  the Scots call “unnatural”. Unnatural sounds so much better and doesn’t come with a hefty fine.

From Fort William, which sits in the northern Highlands area of the country, we made our way south to Edinburgh, Scotland’s capital and Europe’s largest financial center. However, before we got there, we stopped at Stirling Castle, one of the largest and most important castles in Scottish history that was the scene of many bloody battles between the Scots and English as they vied for control of this strategically placed fortress.  Bumping our way through the narrow cobbled streets

These sturdy walls have repelled many invading armies.

of Stirling as we approached the castle, which sits on a volcanic crag, you could practically feel the history oozing out of every building front and edifice. Across the valley and the River Forth, sits the Wallace Monument, a  tower built on the summit of Abbey Craig to commemorate William Wallace-think “Braveheart“-the 13th Century Scottish hero.

We made our way to Stockbridge, a hip Soho-ish neighborhood of Edinburgh, where we spent four days wandering the streets, sampling amazing food, taking in the sights and sounds, and indulging in some of Scotland’s finer ales and lagers(Bellhaven , Tennent’s and Brew Dog are three that I highly recommend, and I’m not much of a beer drinker). Edinburgh Castle, located in the heart of the bustling city upon Castle

If only these walls could talk.

Rock, was first constructed sometime in the 12th Century and has been the site of many historic uprisings from the Wars of Scottish Independence in the 14th Century to the Jacobite Rising in 1745.

Despite not having any Scottish blood I was, by the end of our trip, feeling my Scottish roots, even if they were just by marriage. Maybe it was my sideburns,or squirrel pelts as Vanessa affectionately calls them,  which I had specifically grown out in a vain attempt to get some street/pub credibility from the locals that were making me feel more at home (True story: While in a pub in Stockbridge, I was approached by an older Scottish gentlemen who asked if the door mats on the side of my face were real. When he ascertained they were, he shook my hand. I guess that’s a good thing….). It is possible that the abundance of Scottish meat products, particularly the profundity of different types of sausages and meat pies, made me feel more Scottish than German. However, I think what truly made the difference and cemented the fact that it doesn’t matter whether I have any Scottish blood in me or not, is that my nephew and I look good together in tartan pants.

Rowan busting out the traditional tartan plaid.