How to Conquer a Mountain Top

I've heard that the temperature has dropped down to -25C in Helsinki. I feel sorry for you guys, 'cos guess what! It's summer here already! At least judging by the outfits people are wearing. No matter if it's below zero degrees, 'cos hey, c'mon, the sun is shining! And for Glaswegians, 'sunshine' equals 'summer'. This morning there was frost and ice on the ground, and what do Glaswegians do? They go jogging in the park in shorts and a t-shirt. No, I'm not kidding. Next time I have to take some pics of them and post them here as evidence. And that's not all: I'd estimate that at least 50% of local female students walk around campus in sandals or ballerinas, no matter what the weather. Me and the other Scandinavians are the only people with proper winter wear here. Maybe that's why I keep getting odd glances from people. There might, of course, be other reasons for that as well (considering how weird I get sometimes), but yesterday it must have been my ear warmers. On other days, it might as well be my zombie-like appearance, or on Monday, my wobbly pace.

The reason for my eccentric walking style was last weekend, or more specifically, the fact that last weekend I conquered the highest mountain on the Isle of Arran, which made my muscles rather stiff.


Yes, I've just spent the most amazing weekend here so far, on an overnight trip to the amazing Isle of Arran with the International Society. Before the trip I knew nothing about Arran, but now I'm convinced it's a must-see destination for anyone touring around Scotland.

We left Glasgow for Arran at dawn on Saturday. After sitting on a bus and sailing in a ferry for two hours, we could see Arran looming mysteriously ahead with its high, rugged mountaintops and ancient castles veiled in mist that was, luckily for us, clearing rapidly away and uncovering a cloudless azure sky.



We couldn't help wondering what good deeds we had done to be granted such a fair day. Needless to say, had it been misty and rainy, the trip wouldn't have been such a success.

The weather being so fantastic we decided to spend the day staggering steeply uphill, bathing in gallons of sweat inside our gore-tex outfits (except that mine isn't gore-tex, it's something much more hardcore called AIR-TEX! "Ja vain ysiysi!"). I didn't even have proper footwear, but who cares, I rely on my sneakers, they have taken me all the way up on Madeira's peaks and all the way down the slopes of Bavarian Alps.
The hike was strenuous, but definitely worth the puffing and blowing. The landscapes resembled Tolkien's Middle Earth, and the shades of light were so gorgeous I ended up filling up my camera's memory card. Some proof of this below.


Making our way towards the slopes of Goatfell, the highest peak on Arran we're about to tackle.


Having a well-deserved break with our big group.


Any orcs in sight?


Struggling my way up the mountain peak I felt like a winner. You really had to make an effort and struggle your way up there as the last 300m stretch up to the top was pretty steep and rocky. But the reason I felt like a winner isn't the effort I had to make but the fact that it seems I've overcome my so-called fear of heights. There was absolutely no sign of vertigo. I could stand beside a steep edge and still keep my head cool. So thanks to all those ramblings in Madeira and the Alps, I've actually managed to get rid of it. Here I come, Mount Everest! >:)


Done it!


I got to know two more Finnish girls, Anna-Kaisa and Lotta, both of them law students.


We spent the night at a big hostel in Lochranza, the northernmost village of the island. To put it short, what happened in the evening was basically a dinner (my difficult diet was well catered for as well), some drinking in our dorm (which I, surprisingly, didn't take part in but checked bus timetables for the following day instead) and later on, a skinny dip in moonlight (which I, again, didn't take part in, but documented the whole show though, with the result that about 30 pics of the Arran trip in my camera are of tiny, pitiful, cold-struck dicks).

The night was cold and damp, because the heater in our room decided to get some rest as well.


On Sunday we were very efficient and managed to see all the remaining important sights on the isle. Thus, I saw:

- The ruins of a 13th Century castle in Lochranza (see pic below)
- A whisky distillery (I even tasted the actual product – a bit bitter and tarred, I'd say, but bear in mind that this was my very first sip of this noble drink)
- 5000-year-old stone circles and standing stones in Machrie Moor (far better than Stonehenge, 'cos you could actually walk inside the circles, breath in the atmosphere and touch the stones)
- A cave on the east coast where king Robert the Bruce is said to have been hiding back in the 14th Century, just before he went and defeated the English, bringing to a victorious end the quest for freedom that William Wallace had started a few decades earlier.


Lochranza Castle


Standing Stones on Machrie Moor

The most memorable moment of Sunday was, however, watching a seagull (paying homage to the grand song 'Wishmaster' by Nightwish, I shall call him Steven) having his lunch on the rocks of Lochranza bay. Steven had found an eel, more or less of his size, and was standing there beside it, pecking it, trying to get a grasp of its slimy skin, but failing time and time again. Steven must have had Finnish ancestors, because he had more determination and guts than any other seagull I've seen. It wrestled with the eel for ages. Not succeeding, however, Steven got very clueless and frustrated. He was starving, and all he had caught was this slimy, damned creature he couldn't handle. So after some more struggling with the eel, Steven got very pissed and swallowed the freaking eel ALIVE. And to make it even more disgusting, there was the sight of that doomed eel's hopeless struggle back to light inside Steven's neck and stomach. We couldn't see whether it succeeded, because Steven decided to take to its wings, flying very, veeeeryyy low, because of that moving parasite inside his system.
Below is a very blurry picture of our hero. Because the pic doesn't really convey anything, I took a video of the whole episode to show you guys once I get back in Finland – hands up, who wants to puke?




So, all in all, Arran was (and IS) well worth a visit. I had such a great time that I almost didn't spare a thought on what my mum had told me on Saturday morning over the phone. Mami passed away that morning. She had just had breakfast with a nurse, and after that, she had closed her eyes and fallen in eternal sleep. That was a beautiful way to leave, just like she had always wanted. But it was way too early. It was the weakness, her body couldn't take it after all even if her spirit could have.

I guess you're wondering how I'm doing. Well, surprisingly okay. As I said, the weekend took my thoughts away from it all. On Monday I talked with my dad on the phone, and that helped. I actually went through the shock already two weeks ago when Mami was taken to the hospital, so I was sort of prepared. You can never be too prepared for news like that, but still, all in all, I'm doing very allright, so don't worry about me. Even if this might sound a bit selfish, I'm better off here in Scotland, away from the sorrow, the funeral arrangements and all. And for me, Mami isn't really gone, I cherish her spirit in my memories. For all those 85 years, she lived life to the full.


PS: Hauska suomenkielinen vuodatus ja lisää kuvia Arranin reissulta löytyy tietenkin Petran blogista, mistäs muualta. Muutenkin suosittelen tsekkailemaan Petran blogia, jos suomeksi tahtoo lueskella kuulumisia, koska liikutaan paljon yhdessä ja Petra(kin) jaksaa panostaa kielelliseen ilmaisuun - tuleehan hänestä lääkäri, lingvisteistä kyvykkäin ;) (jos et ymmärtänyt huonoa ironiaani, tsekkaa otteita lääkäreiden saneluista joltain vitsisaitilta).