Microblog

The terrain was wilder today as we walked from Aberfoyle to Callander: all moorland, lochs, and rolling hills with great views. We agreed that some of our photos look like something off chocolate box lids, almost too picturesque, but that’s how it looked.

Glimpsed layers of countryside from an often wooded trail on day one of our Rob Roy Way hike along the southern edge of Trossachs National Park. Tonight we’re in Aberfoyle with seven more days of walking ahead. We can still walk as far as we ever did, it just takes us a few more days.

We’re now in Drymen, near Loch Lomond, joined by two UK friends, ready to hike the Rob Roy Way for the next eight days. Dinner tonight was at a pub originally owned by Rob Roy’s sister, a thematic start to our adventure.

Our walk today held quite a few surprises. At the Glasgow Necropolis we happened upon the grave of William Miller, the ‘laureate of the nursery’ and author of Wee Willie Winkie. Behind it, Glasgow Cathedral dominates the skyline.

OMG, etc. Glasgow (Scotland) is hopping tonight. We arrived today and were originally planning on a quiet beer and a light bite for dinner, but the city had other ideas. We took the opportunity to ride the delightfully diminutive subway to a slightly quieter neighborhood instead. As a kid, I absolutely loved riding the Glasgow subway, and I still do.

After an ELL session on Malala Yousafzai with an adult learner, I went to the nearby Minneapolis American Indian Center for a bison melt. Lawn signs out front promoted candidates in the upcoming tribal elections.

I finally got around to seeing “Crossing the Line: The Passport Re-Imagined” at Open Book, just three blocks from our home. Here, the artist has produced passports for migratory birds; the painted eggs represent individual birds, while the cloth satchel serves as a “nest” to hold the eggs and passports. On my own travels, I’ve often been in awe of migratory birds, especially at Farewell Spit on New Zealand’s South Island, where we observed bar-tailed godwits that migrate 7,500 miles to Alaska.

Cycling through the U, I paused for these magnolia blooms. Behind me, a pair of wild turkeys gobbled in precise unison, inching closer to each other with every call. A raptor flew overhead with a twig in its talons, and over at the local eagles’ nest, the mother was shifting her weight, settling in for yet another season.

With a bit of help from light rail and a friend and his truck, we cycled trails east of St. Paul, including a nicely refurbished section leading to Battle Creek Park. We both almost stalled out at a couple of points as we tracked this stream uphill.

One of the advantages of being a senior is that the consequences of being arrested are far less severe than they were when I was young. I no longer have an employer to fire me, and I can comfortably afford a lawyer or a fine. Besides, I look harmless. With that in mind, I secured my bicycle and clambered up a railroad embankment. I carefully crossed two live tracks to get a closer look at a dozen vintage coaches, including these from the North Pole Express. And nobody stopped me.

​I had to go to the tool chest for a rubber mallet to help me chop this rutabaga without losing any fingers. If I were doing this in the UK, I would call the veggie a swede or a turnip. Here in the US, however, the term “turnip” is reserved for the smaller white variety. Right now, the rutabaga and four other types of root veggies are assimilating themselves into a lamb stew.

Set up trackers for our upcoming trip: D and T for our backpacks; 1 to track a cardboard box we’ll check in at MSP then mail from Glasgow. The rectangular tracker goes in my wallet. (The total weight for the four devices is 1.5 ounces, 43 grams.)

We had an unusual perch for the nearly sold-out Minnesota Orchestra concert. There wasn’t much dust on the pieces we heard: two 20th-century American composers unfamiliar to me (Antheil and Adams) and Tchaikovsky’s final symphony, written on the cusp of the 20th century. In the foreground there’s a robotic camera; the performance was broadcast live on Minnesota public television and radio.

Shared notes about our day over a dinner of indigenous ingredients at the bar at Owamni. While reservations for this James Beard Award-winning restaurant can be hard to snag, we’ve found that unreserved bar seats are usually available if we arrive early. Signs reminded us where we were, featuring tags like #landback, #86colonialism (86 is a nod to the restaurant lingo for removing an item from the menu), and the acknowledgment that we were dining on native land.

A cycle ride with a friend included trail sections that have just reopened after light rail construction. At this choke point, there was room for the light rail or the trail, but not both. The trail won, while the light rail runs in a half-mile tunnel through unstable ground under the trail. This is possibly the most expensive compromise in Minnesota infrastructure history.

Walked through Northrop, a performing arts building, on my U walk, admiring the little niches like this one. It’s such a great place to stop for a quiet cuppa, so I did.