Jake Edson — Scotland (SCTD)

The first thing I would like to do is to state my goal for this essay. I wholly intend to thoughtfully describe my experience in Scotland this summer, but I wish to be as clear as possible; I shall try not to get wrapped up in overly contemplative vernacular, though it is frequently in my nature to do so. Therefore, here is my heartfelt yet deliciously simple reaction to the 30 days I spent in Scotland: it was, without a doubt, the best month of my life. I found there, in the ancient buildings; in the majestic rolling hills; in the clear, shimmering lochs; and most of all, in the fantastic new friendships, what seemed to be my calling.

I still remember like it was yesterday, the day we all met in the New York airport. I was just a shy New England kid, having never traveled beyond North America nor been so far from family for so long, and I had no idea what to expect. Perhaps I still am that kid, albeit a bit less shy, and more experienced in the outside world than before, but the trip certainly did affect me more than that. There were several occasions throughout the entire month when I would blink, as if it were just dawning on me: "wow, I'm in Scotland." Being from such a rural background, I had done kayaking and plenty of hiking but not to the extent to which we did on Skye and Uist. I remember being nervous about canoeing, sea kayaking, and the boat trip, but I don't think I could have predicted how rewarding those activities would be. Granted, the cities, featuring beautiful buildings, tourist attractions, and of course shopping, were a great deal of fun, and I absolutely loved those experiences, but the rural aspect—interacting with the townsfolk and getting a firsthand view of the countryside—was different. There is nothing that can compare to the burning in your legs after cresting the final hill or ledge on a miles-long journey, when you can feel the grass beneath your feet, the wind filling your lungs and caressing your face, and the indescribable views for miles in all directions. These moments, such as reaching the top of the Quiraing on Skye, are the ones that linger indefinitely in my mind, and that I will never cease to cherish.

Obviously there are others, far too many to list here, that bring paradoxically, and though perhaps it is clichéd, both a smile and a tear. Some of said memories I could not have guessed would later be so moving, such as the time on Uist we had to capsize ourselves in our sea kayaks, and after going first, I was supposed to be helping my partner, Laura (who was also our leader) out of the water. I was so cold, soaked to the bone, and afraid of falling in again, that I couldn't do anything and she just hung on to the end of my kayak until our guide was able to come help us out. Okay, so perhaps that doesn't translate very well to paper, nor does it sound very fun. But it was a great experience, and we laughed about it for weeks afterward. Or the time we all went to the beach in the evening, and there was no one else near, and we all just spread out, staring into infinity and getting lost in our own separate thoughts. Or exploring the land surrounding our hostel the first evening on Skye, finding a place to take shelter from the driving winds while we talked and stared out across the sea; or going to the ceilidh; or playing soccer (football, that is) with the local children on Uist; or the rock climbing and abseiling.... As I said, I could go on forever.

Our leaders, too, were fabulous. Laura, who I have already mentioned, and Claire, our Scottish leader, were both universally talented and endlessly inspirational. They were always ready for anything, and they constantly excelled at whatever new activity we were trying. Neither would hesitate or falter, even in tough situations such as when our return flight was delayed and we were forced to stay another night in Glasgow. Always upbeat, always prepared, and always there when you needed them, either would make an excellent role model for anyone.

And what would any description of a trip to Scotland be without a passage on the unfathomable beauty of the landscapes? Though it is an old cliché, pictures cannot, in fact, do them justice. The rolling hills and jagged peaks of the Scottish highlands are powerful things: they inspired in me this insatiable wanderlust—this burning desire to go and see it all. "Itchy feet," some call it, and though it is probably one of the most potently memorable feelings from the entire trip, yet it is still difficult for me to describe. Thankfully, we were able to explore some of the highlands, particularly on the island of Skye (one of my favorite parts of the Experiment). Due to the pictures and memories I have of those regions, that wanderlust is most likely the strongest aspect in my determination to return.

There is so much more that I could say about the trip. I haven’t even touched on the invariably fantastic cooking we were subject to at the hostels, the friendliness (and wonderful senses of humor) of all of our guides, or the freedom with which we were permitted to explore the cities. But it was more than all that; more than my humble words can begin to describe. My sojourn in Scotland was like an excellent dream—the kind that, in the morning, one might write down to contemplate and savor. Alas, even the best dreams must come to an end. Unlike a dream, however, these memories are not so fickle or so superficial: they were life-changing in more ways than one. I undoubtedly will return at some point in my future, be it for college, to explore, or just for nostalgia’s sake. But for now, I will have to rely on my pictures, my journal, and of course, my memory. For if I but close my eyes, I can still feel my legs burning, the wind on my face, the grass beneath me, and the inherent wonder as I gaze eternally at that indescribable Scottish horizon.