Travel Blogger

Panama: Snowbirds in Paradise – Sand, Sea, and Skyscrapers or A Relaxing Visit to the Azuero Peninsula

| 2suitcasesfor2years

By the time we picked up our rental car at the Tocumen International Airport it was the height of the evening rush hour in Panama City. Fortunately, we were heading into the city, while the traffic lanes carrying the daily exodus of commuters home from the financial capital of Latin America were jammed. It was only a twenty-five minute drive to our hotel on the waterfront, but we missed our exit and had to re-route our way through the now deserted downtown streets to the Hotel Plaza Paitilla Inn, for a one night stay. We chose this 19-floor waterfront hotel after determining it was the best place to get those iconic photographs of the city’s modern skyline along the Pacific Ocean coast. And we were not dissappointed.

Golden light filled the room as we drew back the curtains along a wall of windows to reveal a spectacular cityscape that transitioned through the sunset, twilight, and darkness. It was a million-dollar view and we felt as if we were some place only accessible to billionaires or actors lucky enough to have a movie scene filmed on location here. Surprisingly, the Hotel Plaza Paitilla Inn was an excellent value and very budget friendly.

After discussing our travel plan with the concierge the night before, we departed after an early breakfast to avoid the expected traffic delays as folks took the Friday afternoon off in anticipation of the four days of Carnaval before Ash Wednesday. The nationwide el Carnaval de Panama, which literally happens in every town, is the biggest celebration of the year in the country. It starts in each town with the coronation of a queen and ends with the Burial of the Sardine, which symbolizes the past festivals and enjoyment of drink and food, in the predawn hours of Ash Wednesday, and the beginning of Lent. Little did we know that Panama’s Carnaval is regarded as “one of the largest— and rowdiest — events in Latin America.” Nightly events feature themed parades with elaborately decorated floats escorted by trumpet and drum bands, called tunas. To the benefit of all, water trucks called Culecos spray the revelers in the ninety-degree heat to keep them cool. And between the water trucks, mojaderas, wetters, keep everyone partying around them soaked with water pistols, water balloons, and buckets of water. It’s not a particularly camera-friendly event.

Our destination for the next 5 nights was Posada Los Destiladeros on Playa Los Destiladeros, in Los Santos Province, a 5 hour, 335km (208mi) drive. Leaving the city, we crossed the Bridge of the Americas which soars 64m (210ft) above the Panama Canal, and stopped on the far side at the Mirador de las Américas for our first look at the canal. Two monuments commemorate the arrival of 750 immigrants from China 170 years ago to work on projects relating to the construction of the canal, which created an enduring friendship between Panama and China. The view of the canal wasn’t as impressive as its fact sheet: over 12,000 ships carrying $270 billion worth of cargo pass through the locks of the canal annually. Over 70% of the ships are headed to or are returning from ports in the United States.

Continuing on Rt1 we passed the first of many pillars being constructed to support Panama City’s new Metro 3 line, a double-track monorail project sponsored by the Chinese, that will connect the growing towns of Ciudad Del Futuro and La Chorrea to the city’s Metro 1 and Metro 2 lines, Central America’s first and only subway system that became operational in 2014. Rt1 is alternately called the Pan-American Highway, that famously stretches from Prudhoe Bay, Alaska in the United States, 19,000 miles way to Ushuaia, Tierra del Fuego in Argentina. Though a 100-mile section is missing in the difficult terrain of treacherous Darien Gap region between Yaviza, Panama and Chigorodó, Colombia.

Shopping centers and strip malls with McDonald’s golden arches, Starbucks, and Burger Kings lined both sides of the highway before giving way to open crop- and pastureland. The occasional hilltop offered views of the Gulf of Panama and the Pacific Ocean to the south. While to the north the rural highlands of the Cordillera Central, the jagged mountainous spine of the country, graced the horizon. Veering off the Pan-American Highway we headed west on Rt2 to Las Tablas. The town has been ground zero for Carnaval in Panama since the mid-1800s when two fiercely rival groups representing Calle Arriba and Calle Abajo started to compete in a festive, one upmanship every year before the 40 days of Lent began. The event in Las Tablas is very popular with folks from Panama City seeking to experience a more traditional Carnaval with folkloric music and regional dress, in what many consider Panama’s “heartland.”

Traffic had been slowly building all morning, and by early afternoon the streets of our intended route were blocked with floats being prepared for the weekend’s first parade that night. Folks were already creatively parking along the side of the roads and walking to the town’s central plaza, Belisario Porras. The congestion in the town unfortunately nixed our plans for lunch there, and we continued on for several miles along Rt2 through a scenic landscape of lightly treed hillocks. Cattle grazed in the shade under the trees.

Cars were parked on both sides of the road in front of El Cruce #2. It was a small fonda – a Panamanian roadside food stand, with smoke billowing up from its barbeque pit. It piqued our interests, and we stopped.  The outside grill area was open sided, under a corrugated tin roof. In its shade a man prepped and attended the meats that were smoking above a fire while another was using a machete to shave kernels from ears of corn. The unhusked pile next to him seemed monumental, akin to the Greek myth of Sisyphus and his never-ending task. It was the beginning step in the preparation of masa, a corn flour. It’s a must-have ingredient for traditional, homemade corn tortillas and tamales. The menu hung above a small window to the kitchen filled with women attending various stoves. Everyone was very nice and curious about where we were from, but seemed surprised that we had stopped. A large John Deere combine harvester with a police escort passed as we ate. A small caravan of pickup trucks with farm workers standing in the back followed it slowly down the road. The fonda was a very authentic, nothing touristy about it experience, and the food was good.  The line of traffic behind the harvester slowly disappeared as cars passed it when the opportunity arose.  It wasn’t until the last seconds as we raced past the tractor that we realized we also had to pass the police car! We returned the officer’s wave. It seemed like it was an everyday occurrence in the rural countryside. In Pedasi, the closest town to our hotel, preparations for the Carnaval were also visible down the side streets.

We missed the entrance to the hotel and continued down the road in hope of finding an easy spot to turn around, only to find that the road suddenly ended, with a log across it, at the top of Playa Destiladeros, a short distance away from the thundering waves of the Pacific Ocean, as if an early extension had been washed away in a storm. We were at one of the farthest points south on the remote Azuero Peninsula.

When we made plans for this return layover from our trip earlier in the month to Uruguay and Argentina, we didn’t realize our week coincided with Carnaval, consequently many of the hotels we were interested in were fully booked. After scouring the map for areas we wanted to stay we found Posada Los Destiladeros. While it showed as fully booked on Booking.com and Hotels.com, we were able to book a room directly through the hotel’s reservation page.

From the gated entrance we followed a long twin-tracked road, through a large palm tree covered property with many outbuildings, to the parking area. Through a grove of palm trees, the inviting blue water of the Pacific glistened behind the receptionist.

The vibe was really nice. It’s an unpretentious, tenderly time-worn resort in a verdant oasis of greenery on the low cliffs overlooking a wild beach and undeveloped coastline. The staff were very nice and friendly, and after a few days felt like family. The dinners that emerged from their kitchen were extraordinary!

It’s very unusual that we stay in one spot for 5 nights to unwind. But the Posada Los Destiladeros was the perfect place for us to relax, with easy walks on the beach, lounging around the pool and under palm thatched gazebos overlooking the surf as we waited for sunset every day, which offered a dramatic play of light across sand and surf.

A conversation in the pool one afternoon with another guest, a Panamanian American man visiting family over the week of Carnaval, related that he and his wife had been coming here for years, but “somehow it remains a hidden gem.” Of course, we took several half day trips to explore what else the Azuero Peninsula had hidden away.

Several days later we drove toward the beach town of Las Escobas del Venado. Well suited to the heat and humidity of the region, herds of Brahma cows have rested in the shade of the region since Spanish colonists first brought them to the area in the mid-1500s. At a turnoff for the small ranching town of Los Asientos, a roadside monument highlights the town’s traditional la corridas, bullfights. These are non-lethal events since a 2012 law prohibited the injury or death of the bull; however, la corridas are still popular in rural Panama. Along the road milk cans were placed next to the rancher’s gate, waiting for the local dairy cooperative to pick them.

A little way farther along, the colors of the tombs in a small cemetery seemed to vibrate against the verdant landscape, which receives between 45 and 90 inches of rain every year. A large group of cyclists, followed slowly by a support vehicle, made passing difficult along the narrow hilly road, with many blind curves. Though the congestión they created was well tolerated, without the honking of horns. Drivers respected their safety and gave them a wide berth when they were eventually able to pass. Small artesanal lumber mills along the way vertically stacked their milled lumber, like skis, against a wall to dry.

During the dryer summer months the Rio Oria lazily flows through the ranchlands to the ocean.

Las Escobas del Venado was the closest example of a traditional beach town, with several small hotels build along the shore of the half-moon shaped Playa Venao. It is not by any means a large resort town. The beach is very wide and shallow, especially when the tide is out, and it’s a popular spot to horseback ride or drive an ATV along the sand. Across the water a sailboat was safely anchored out of the wind and rolling waves behind the bluff at the southern end of the bay. The day was very hot, so we didn’t spend much time on the beach, and hugged the shade as we walked to the Almendro Café for our traditional “walk a little then café.”

It was a really nice spot, under large shade trees. Our coffees and pastries were excellent, and its menu looked very good with vegetarian, vegan, and gluten-free choices. It was to our surprise part of the Selina River Hostel which promotes itself as a destination for digital nomads to enjoy the sun, surf, and sand of Playa Venao. We definitely skewed their demographics for the morning.

We continued driving into the highlands along Via Hacia El Carate, a narrow serpentine road that rose through a mesmerizing landscape of hills and valleys. Unfortunately, there were not any places to stop along the way until we reached the Mirador La Vigía, which offered great views of forested ranchlands, backed by the Pacific Ocean on the horizon.

Familiar with the road now, we occasionally stopped along gated pastures to photograph the expansive landscape, that showed little sign of human intrusion, as we followed the same road back downhill.

They were few opportunities for lunch along the way so we decided to head back to the Almendro Café at the Selina River Hostel . We were not disappointed; the food was excellent and healthy. It’s so nice to order from a menu that doesn’t automatically serve French fries with every order.

Nearing our hotel, a rancher blocked the road with his herd of cows as he moved them to a different pasture.

We were back in time to watch the sunset over Playa Destiladeros. We stayed until the last color in the sky had faded away before walking back to the resort’s restaurant, where we usually dined inside to take advantage of the air conditioning and ceiling fans.

Though having breakfast on the veranda, with the sound of the waves crashing in the distance, was a delight during the cool morning hours.

Early morning walks along the beach as the sun crested to the horizon were equally as enjoyable as the sunsets, but more tranquil with squadrons of pelicans swooping low over the surf, looking for fish. Occasionally some would peel away to dive headfirst into the water to catch fish.

Remnants of Carnaval celebrations the night before were still visible in the small towns along our route as we headed back early to Panama City to avoid the traffic. We arrived on the outskirts of the city sooner than expected and decided to spend the afternoon at Perico Island. Located at the end of the very long Amador Causeway which extends for 6km (3.7mi) into Panama Bay, it’s a popular spot for city folks to catch the breezes, picnic, rent bicycles or walk along its full length which offers great panoramic views of the city’s modern skyline and large cargo ships underway to the entrance of the Panama Canal.

After strolling along the waterfront for a while we decided to have lunch at Sabroso Panamá, a uniquely decorated place with a nice vibe, that also had a balcony overlooking a marina. We tried the carimañolas, similar to empanadas, though they are made with mashed cassava (yucca) dough and then fried.

Carnaval celebrations continued that evening and the direct route back to Hotel Plaza Paitilla Inn (we had such a nice experience there earlier in the week we decided to stay there again) along the Cinta Costera, the city’s waterfront park, and the eight lanes of the Pan-American that parallel it were blocked, and we had to circumnavigate our way around it. The massive street party continued well past midnight into the wee hours of Ash Wednesday morning.

Ash Wednesday was our last full day in Panama City, and we spent it exploring the Casco Antiguo, the historic old town district which dates from 1673, and is also known as Casco Viejo or San Felipe.

This town, built on a defensible small peninsula, replaced the city’s original settlement, Panama La Vieja, which was started 11km (7mi) farther east in 1519 when Spanish conquistador Pedro Arias Dávila landed 100 settlers along the coast, and built the first permanent European settlement on the Pacific. The city prospered for 150 years as the Spanish used the town as a base for expeditions to conquer the Inca Empire and sent the plundered gold and silver they seized back to Spain. The city’s wealth did not go unnoticed, and in 1671 the British privateer Henry Morgan landed over a thousand brigands on the Caribbean coast and trekked through treacherous jungles across the Isthmus of Panama to reach the city, which they then attacked, pillaged and burnt to the ground. Six hundred Spaniards died during the assault. Though the booty they looted wasn’t as much as expected, Morgan was declared a British hero, and knighted.

We arrived by Uber to the Catedral Basílica Metropolitana Santa María La Antigua on the Plaza de la Independencia in the center of Casco Antiguo. Its striking façade which blends Baroque and Neoclassical architecture dates from 1688, but the cathedral took more than 100 years to build, and wasn’t consecrated until 1796. Inside, an interesting mural in monochrome blue depicted the indigenous peoples of Panama accepting Chrisitanity.

The Old Town was once a citadel, though the defensive wall which encircled its 36 blocks was taken down ages ago to ease its expansion. Surprisingly, within this small area there were 4 still active historic churches and the ruins of another. Our basic plan was to visit every church and then spur off to other nearby points of interest.

Adjacent to the cathedral was the Museum of Panamanian History, housed in the Municipal Palace of Panama. It’s a beautiful Neo-Renaissance style building with pilasters, arches and decorative cornices. We didn’t tour the exhibits, but we did enjoy resting in the air-conditioning of the lobby.

The narrow-bricked lanes were more suitable for the horse drawn carriages for which they were designed than the cars of today. They surrounded a plaza full of colorful well-maintained 18th and 19th century buildings with decorative iron railed balconies covered by profusely blooming bougainvillea.

Cafes surround the Plaza Simón Bolívar where a grand monument commemorates the Latin America independence hero. Behind it the graceful belltower of the Saint Francis of Assisi Church looms above the plaza. It was a later addition to the original early 1700s church that was damaged during fires in 1737 and 1756.  

Nice views of the modern Panama City skyline were available along the lane leading to the Corredor Artesanal De Casco Antiguo, a trellis-covered lane with flowering vines that offers shade for the indigenous artisans who have stalls along its length.

Back in the center we passed the ruins of the Iglesia de la Compañía de Jesús. It was built as a Jesuit monastery in 1641 and later in the 1740s it also served as the home of the Royal Pontifical University of San Javier, Panama’s first university, until the Spanish Crown banished the Jesuits from the colonies in 1767, and the church and monastery was abandoned. The ruins still standing are all that were left from a 1781 fire that ravaged the complex.

A block away was the Iglesia de San José. The 1670s church is notable for its ornate gold altar, that legend believes was saved from Morgan’s pirates by a priest who painted it black to hide its importance. There is also an interesting collection of religious sculptures and nativity scenes in a side chamber.

Afterwards we headed to the Santa Anna neighborhood, which was outside the walled citadel. While parts of it are in the UNESCO protected area of the Casco Antiguo; most of it is not. We had read that the area has great potential with many older buildings needing renovation, but were surprised by the quick transition from one neighborhood to another. While hopes are high for the barrio, many of the buildings we passed were only colorfully painted facades, with the sky above showing through the windows of roofless buildings.

Returning to Old Town we passed the Iglesia de la Merced, the only church to survive, fully intact, the destruction of Panama La Vieja during the pirate’s 1671 attack on the town. After the attack the church was disassembled by Franciscan monks and moved stone by stone to the new town, where it was painstakingly rebuilt, and is believed to be several years older than Iglesia de San José.

Our “walk a little then café,” beckoned when we happened upon Café Unido, a local coffee shop that pridefully specializes in Panamanian grown coffee, which they consider the best in the world.

A delightfully warm March day wandering the colorful streets of the Casco Antiguo was the perfect way to end our week in Panama. Between the beauty of the countryside and the coast, along with the warm hospitality of the Panamanians, we can understand why the country is a warm weather haven for expats from all across the northern hemisphere.

Hopefully, we will get the opportunity to explore more of the country in the future.

Till next time,

Craig & Donna

Along the Coast of Uruguay: Sand in Our Shoes – Faro de José Ignacio & Punta del Este & Beyond

| 2suitcasesfor2years

After a three-day road trip through the colonial towns of Colonia del Sacramento and Carmelo, then the rural farmlands of Minas and ranchlands of Gorzon, the amount of activity around the traffic circle in Faro de José Ignacio took us by surprise. We had reached civilization again! Not that it was really busy, but literally more cars had passed us in the last five minutes than the last three days, as we pulled into the small collection of shops along Rt10, which leads up from Punta del Este. Some fruit and supplies were gathered for our four night stay at Casa Franca from the Devoto Market, a well-stocked, but typical beach town store that benefits from a captive market. A few doors down the Panadería José Ignacio, a popular bakery, has a very nice selection of bread, pastries and tasty delectables. They also have a pizza and sandwich counter along with tables for eating outside on their terrace. We returned every morning during our stay for fresh from the oven delights.

Folks parked along the road followed sandy paths across the dunes to the beach. The sails of kite surfers filled the sky as we passed the Laguana de José Ignacio, a freshwater lake separated from the South Atlantic Ocean by a sandbank, which it breaches when it rains too much.

Surf pounded against the Playa Balneario across from our host Daniel’s guesthouse in the tiny hamlet of Santa Mónica, only 5km (3mi) west of Faro de José Ignacio, but a sea change in tranquility, compared to our earlier shopping experience. His wife and children waved from their balcony as his friendly dog energetically greeted us. Daniel helped take our bags to our room, which was located through a private entrance to an extension on their home with three other guest rooms. While our chic petite studio didn’t face the ocean it did thankfully have a shaded porch, where we spent many hours.

After settling in we headed to the lighthouse in José Ignacio, located on thumb-like peninsula that juts into the South Atlantic. Its 32m (105ft) tall lighthouse has guided sailors off this treacherous reef coast since 1877.

While Punta del Este has been promoted as a beach resort for wealthy Argentinians and Uruguayans since the early 1900s, and is now known as the “Ibiza of Uruguay”. José Ignacio remained a quiet isolated fishing village without running water or electricity, as the coastal road from Punta ended at the Laguana de José Ignacio. All that changed in 1981 with the construction of a bridge across the lagoon. The infrastructure improvements that came at that time were appreciated, but the town’s small population rallied to prevent the coastal area from becoming a Miami-esque playground, and successfully petitioned the local government to enact ordinances to ensure its quiet, peaceful character remained intact by allowing only single-family homes, no taller than two-stories within the Maldonado region. Along with banning discothèques, pubs and nightclubs, as well as all motorized vehicles on the beaches, jet skis and speedboats are also prohibited in the lagoons. Today the town’s seven miles of pristine beaches attract folks from all over who just want to unwind along what many consider the best part of Uruguay’s 410-mile-long coastline.

We walked out onto the rocky point next to the lighthouse, then down a boardwalk over the dunes to the Playa Brava, a long gracefully curved stretch of sand, scoping out the best spots to return to the next morning for sunrise photos. We strolled along the wide beach between lifeguard chairs. Squealing kids ran into the surf from the beach speckled with blankets and sun umbrellas amidst impromptu volleyball and soccer games. We stopped at El Chiringo, an outdoor restaurant with tables in the sand and shared a pizza for an early dinner.

Heading back to Casa Francawe stopped along the lagoonto watch a beautiful sunset across its calm water. Kite Surfers unwilling to end their day skimmed along the water until it was nearly dark.

The next morning Donna slept in while I rose before dawn and drove back to the lighthouse to watch the sun cast its first rays of light across the rocky headland and lighthouse.

A few hardy fishermen had already made their first casts of the day from the rocks. On the other side of the lighthouse a group of fishermen were readying two large skiffs to push into the surf from the beach. Next to them the first surfer of the day paddled out, and a few joggers pounded along the cool sand in early morning solitude.

After a day of rest and relaxation we wanted to explore the beach towns farther east along the coast as it runs towards Brazil. The weather doesn’t always cooperate, but we were hopeful the sky would clear as we drove along Rt 9 near Rocha. There were a good number of produce stalls along the road hoping to entice travelers to the beaches to shop. We stopped at one with shelves stacked full with jars of local honey, jams, and Dulce de Leche, along with wheels of artisanal cheeses. We purchased a Dambo, similar to Edam or Gouda. It is a traditional local cheese made with the milk from grass fed cows which graze freely in the palm tree studded, pampas rangelands, that define the region. Farther up the road we stopped for our “drive a little then café,” break at a small shop attached to a gas station in the uniquely named town, 19 de Abril.  The town takes its name from an event related the revolutionaries called the Thirty-Three Orientals, who returned from their exile in Argentina on April 19, 1825, an event that eventually started the Cisplatine War, which led to Uruguay’s independence from Brazil.

Normally in the states we avoid like the plague any eateries attached to gas stations, as they are typically places that just offer junk food, but route 9 traversed a semi-rural region, and there were few options. We were pleasantly surprised as we parked to see a mural of a painting by Simon Silva on the side wall of the café. We bought a poster of this image twenty years ago and it still hangs in our home, and it was nice to know that someone else enjoys the image as much as we do. The café Parador 19 de Abril delighted us. It’s a quaint oasis in the wilderness. The cappuccinos and fresh pastries were quite good, and the folks who ran it were very nice.

Folks were slipping and sliding through streams of water that were gushing down the hardpacked sandy roads of Punta del Diablo, as a deluge had descended upon us since our coffee break. The rain was too heavy to wander about, but we contented ourselves with driving through the haphazard layout of the oldest part of the rustic fishing village, that now has brightly painted shops and restaurants but is reminiscent of a village being founded by survivors of a shipwreck, using whatever materials they could salvage from the sea. Taking a horse drawn cart across the dunes was the only way to reach the once isolated village, until a road connecting it to Rt 9 was built in 1968. Larger flat bottomed fishing boats were beached along the gentle curve of Playa del Rivero, awaiting their next awaiting their launch at the arrival of high tide. A fisherman under a rain tarp offered his morning catch. Often during the Uruguay’s winter, June to November, the deep ocean just offshore allows folks to spot humpback and southern right whales breaching from the town’s beaches as they migrate north to the warmer waters around Brazil.

By the time we reached Aguas Dulces the rain had stopped, though the sky was still threatening, and the streets were nearly deserted. The high tide was rough from the earlier storm and was inching its way towards the row of boulders placed along the shoreline to prevent further coastal erosion and homes being swept away.  Laidback and low keyed, Aguas Dulces is a budget-friendly destination for Uruguayan families who enjoy its lifeguard protected beaches when the weather cooperates.

On the way to La Paloma we stopped at Puente Valizas, a picturesque riverside fishing village along the Arroyo Valizas. The tributary flows 10km (6mi) from the Laguana Castillos to the Atlantic Ocean, near the beach resort of Barra de Valizas. The river was busy with fishermen speeding to the Laguana to catch pink shrimp, which thrive in the brackish waters of the lagoon, for the restaurants along the coast.

In La Paloma the afternoon sky was brightening as we walked along the Paseo Marítimo, a boardwalk through the dunes that lined the tranquil waters of Bahía Grande, a small clam shell shaped bay. La Paloma is the largest coastal town east of Punta del Este and is a popular resort area with 20km (12mi) of beaches that are suitable for surfers and families with young children to enjoy.  Eventually we reached El Faro del Cabo Santa Maria, the town’s historic 42m (138 ft) tall lighthouse. Built in 1874, the powerful navigational beacon atop the tower can be seen 37km (23mi) out to sea. When it is open, folks can climb 143 steps to the top for some spectacular views of the coast.

On the way back to Faro de José Ignacio we followed Rt10 across the Laguna Garzón Bridge, an experience that totally took us by surprise, as the 2015 bridge has a unique circular design that resembles a flat donut. It’s really quite unusual but was designed this way to naturally slow the speed of traffic.

Our host and his family the next morning departed for a day trip a few minutes ahead of us. Their dog which watched their leaving from the second-floor deck had somehow escaped and was running frantically around outside the gated area. Fortunately, Donna has mastered that universal dog-call kissing sound, and we were able to lock him securely behind the gate. We called Daniel to let him know.

A few blocks down we stopped to photograph two abandoned properties. They were both very interesting, and we always wonder what the backstory is that goes with these places.

Route 10 hugs the beautiful 33km (20mi) stretch of wild undeveloped coast that extends from Faro de José Ignacio to Punta del Esta.

Reaching the outskirts of Punta we got our first glimpse of the Puente de la barra, a whimsical wavy bridge, that our route followed across the Arroyo Maldonado. Designed in 1965 to force drivers to reduce their speed, it’s said the rollercoaster-like bridge can cause vertigo if you drive too fast across it. On the Punta side there is a traffic circle that made it too easy for us to cross the bridge multiple times, just for the fun of it.

We stopped at a mirador near the “La Ola Celeste,” a stylized sculpture of a wave that overlooks the fast rolling breakers that beat against the waters of the Arroyo Maldonado as the river empties into the sea, and separates Punta from the smaller resort town of La Barra, which has a vibrant nightlife that rivals Punta’s as the best place to party in Uruguay.

This was also a great spot to get an expansive view of the dramatic beaches along the coast and Punta’s modern skyline, which often prompts folks to refer to it as “the St. Tropez or Monaco of South America.” The vista reminded us of Miami Beach.

We stopped for lunch at the Aura Beach House, a small modern café with a light menu, set on the brilliant white sand of Playa La Brava. They also have several rows of lounge chairs under nicely thatched beach umbrellas for daily rent. It was a beautiful, relaxing spot and our food and coffees were excellent; we didn’t want to leave. We found in our travels across Uruguay that street parking was always free, even along the beaches, something that is very rare in the United States.

We weren’t sure what the weather was going to be like the next day, so we took advantage of the splendid afternoon and stopped at The Hand, Punta’s most iconic landmark since the Chilean artist Mario Irarrázabal installed it along the oceanfront in 1982. It was very crowded with a tour group, but we waited for their departure before taking any photos. As it turned out the sculpture was within walking distance of our hotel, and we returned to it several times during our stay in Punta.

We continued on our way to the Faro de Punta del Este lighthouse that stands on the highest point of the narrow peninsula that was Old Town Punta, a whaling port established in the early 1800s.  

Punta, like Montevideo, has a lot of public art on the streets we realized as we drove by the Monumento El Rapto de Europa. The large bronze sculpture references the myth of Europa, a Phoenician princess who was abducted by Zeus in the form of a bull and taken to the island of Crete.  Why it is on a street corner near the beach in Punta, we haven’t a clue. Across the street from the lighthouse were several architecturally interesting homes and the very blue Nuestra Señora de la Candelaria church which had a lovely tranquil interior.

At Punta’s modern marina, sleek motor yachts and sailboats now bob gently in the water where the whaling ships once anchored. The first tourists to Punta arrived in the early 1900s, but it wasn’t until the infrastructure improvements of the 1940’s supported the construction of modern hotels and the town’s first casino that Punta’s reputation as a luxurious destination in South America was cemented. We stayed in the Old Town at Hotel Romimar, a budget-friendly lodging with an excellent breakfast, off Av. Juan Gorlero, Punta’s main shopping street.

We love exploring a new city early in the morning as it wakes up. By 7:30 beach attendants were hard at work carrying lounge chairs and umbrellas from trailers parked along the street, down to the sand and assembling them into tidy rows for their expected sunbathers. It was the perfect time to re-visit The Hand, as the sun was just cresting over its fingertips, and sunlight was reflecting brightly off the row of high-rise condos that fronted the coastline.

Wandering about we spotted several cachilas, old cars that out of economic necessity were lovingly maintained and passed forward through hard times. Some are now totally restored and look as good as the day they rolled out of the showroom. One, an old Plymouth, was creatively covered in a mosaic pattern of old Uruguayan coins.

Families were also out early to claim their preferred batches of sand at Playa El Emir, a small beach on the edge of Old Town Punta with a wonderful view of the coastline, near the Ermita Virgen de la Candelaria. The shrine to the patron virgin of Punta del Este is located on a narrow sliver of land that juts into the South Atlantic Ocean, that is believed to be where the Spanish explorer Juan Díaz de Solís held a mass when he landed nearby in 1516. Our “walk a little the café,” breaks were satisfied that morning with excellent coffee and pastries at Donut City and Cresta Café. Both were only a short walk from the beach.

A day trip the next morning took us to towns west along the coast from Punta that also interested us. Our first stop was at the Escultura Cola de la Ballena Franca, an open wire metal sculpture of a whale tail that overlooks the ocean between the endless beaches of Playa Mansa and Playa Cantamar. It is a popular lookout spot for southern right whales during the peak of their winter migration between July and October.

Casapueblo  is a surreal Guadi structure that captures the essence of the whitewashed cliffside homes on the Mediterranean island of Santorini, Greece. It started as a small wooden shack in 1958, the studio of Páez Vilaró, a Uruguayan abstract artist. He expanded it himself along the oceanfront as his family grew, and friends like Picasso and Brigitte Bardot visited, until a whimsical 13-story structure with 72 rooms stacked upon each other covered the cliff face. Today it is a museum and hotel.

Afterwards we drove to the Laguana del Sauce and enjoyed a quiet lunch overlooking the lagoon from the Hotel Del Lago.

Away from the oceanside a rural landscape quickly unfolded as we drove through farmlands to the Capilla Nuestra Señora de la Asunción, a pretty church that reminded us of settings in the American Midwest.

The next morning, our last full day in Uruguay, we headed west toward the Canelones wine region near Montevideo, an area which produces nearly fifty percent of Uruguayan wines at vineyards which were started four to five generations ago by families which immigrated from Europe. Piriápolis is a small coastal city which grew from a private investment as the country’s first planned resort was along our route. El Balneario del Porvenir (the Resort of the Future) was the vision of Francisco Piria, a wealthy Uruguayan businessman, who in 1890 bought 2700 hectares (6672 acres) of undeveloped land along a beautiful beach, 99km (62mi) from Montevideo. He spent forty years commissioning hotels and a promenade along the oceanfront, which he likened to the French Riviera, before his death in 1933. In 1937 the population of the resort town was large enough to be declared a pueblo, and twenty-three years later it achieved the status of a city. From the landing of a small chapel atop Cerro San Antonio we had a perfect panoramic view of the city that still draws visitors to its beach where families can rent scooter cars for their children to wheel along the promenade. During the high season the Aerosillas Piriápolis chairlift whisks tourist from the marina to the top of the hill. The Castillo de Francisco Piria, the entrepreneur’s home, was on the outskirts of the city as we headed to a wine tasting and overnight stay at the Pizzorno Winery & Lodge.

We arrived at the winery as a tractor pulling a wagon full of just-harvested grapes was being unloaded into a destemmer-crusher, the first step in the long process to create wine.

Founded in 1910, the fourth generation of the Pizzorno family operates the wine estate. It has 21 hectares (52 acres) of vineyards planted with Tannat, Cabernet Sauvignon, Cabernet Franc, Petit Verdot, Merlot, Pinot Noir, Malbec, Arinarnoa, Marselan, Sauvignon Blanc, Chardonnay, and Muscat of Hamburg vines.

We were the only guests that afternoon during the last week of February and thoroughly enjoyed the interesting tour of the wine cellar led by Joaquin, the winery’s sommelier. He   explained their viticulture philosophy which endorses “traditionally harvesting grapes by hand, respect for the ecosystem, environmental conservation through a no fertilization and watering wisely policy, along with green pruning, leaf removal, and bunch thinning to obtain the best grapes, which is reflected in the quality of the wines we make using only our own grapes.”

Afterwards Joaquin’s experience continued to enhance our tasting of four wines as he shared his knowledge of the vineyard’s terroir, and the different grape varietals, along with their aromas, flavors, and recommended pairings with food.

It was our last night of our 15-day trip around Uruguay and we treated ourselves to a luxurious stay in the winery’s posada. It was for many years the family home until it was creatively restored into an attractive boutique inn with four guest rooms overlooking a pool and the vineyards.   

“You will have the posada all to yourselves tonight. Enjoy the pool, and feel free to walk through the vineyard. A nightwatchman will arrive later.”  The golden hour was upon the vineyard as we cooled off in the pool. 

This surely dates us, but it felt like we were in an episode of the TV show Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous hosted by Robin Leach, who used to sign-off with “Champagne wishes and caviar dreams.”

Till next time,

Craig & Donna

Montevideo: Feria, Murals & Carnaval – The Antidote for our North America “Winter Blues.”

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A clearing storm covered Uruguay’s Atlantic Coast as we landed at Carrasco International Airport on the outskirts of Montevideo. We were ten minutes into our forty-minute Uber ride into Ciudad Vieja, the old town section of Montevideo, when the masts of several catamarans poked above the tree line that obscured our view of the oceanfront. Our driver proudly boasted that the country has nearly 660km (410mi) of pristine beach-covered coastline along the Río de la Plata and the South Atlantic Ocean. But the real pride and joy of Montevideanos is La Rambla of Montevideo, a wide coastal esplanade that runs for 22km (14mi) along the city’s waterfront, “one of the longest continuous sidewalks in the world.”

Our ride into the city soon started to follow La Rambla’s serpentine route along the coast, past folks, at the end of the workday, flocking to its breezy shoreline to enjoy all sorts of activities from rollerblading to kite surfing. Several beach areas also had bandstands where musicians were drawing good size audiences. Lovers snuggled on the seawalls, amidst swimmers emerging from the ocean, games of soccer, joggers, aerobic classes, personal trainers, cyclists, sun worshippers, and walkers carrying their ubiquitous Mate carryalls. Enjoying socializing with friends on La Rambla is an important part of life in Uruguay’s capital, where the city’s 1.4 million residents, nearly 40% of the country’s population, have an open invitation to “The Outdoor Living Room of Montevideo.” Come sunset there seemed to be collective quieting as folks stopped to watch the sun sink below the horizon. We could already tell that this could be the antidote for our North America “winter blues.”

The next morning, we were up before sunrise to stroll along the oceanfront, hoping to catch the first rays of sunlight cast across the city. From our room at Hotel NH Montevideo Columbia, we could see seven freighters making their way to port, and the remnants of an old defensive tower. It was part of the quickly built ramparts that once encircled the citadel soon after the Spanish founded the city in 1726, to thwart Portuguese expansion southward along the coast from Brazil.

Street art and sculptures that were a blur yesterday as we sped by were now full of detail. In some places along the esplanade there were images of dinosaurs on relief plaques implanted into the sidewalk that suggested the region’s fauna 85 million years ago.

We reached Playa Ramirez, a large crescent-shaped beach as the sun was breaching the trees and shining upon the city’s modest skyline. A large group of cyclists preparing for the upcoming Vuelta Ciclista del Uruguay sped by. Two women stood in the water and let the gentle morning waves lap around their ankles as they chatted.

Across from the beach was Parque Jose Enrique Rodó. A large sculpture in the center of the park is dedicated to the Montevideo-born philosopher and essayist, who wrote about Latin America pursuing its own cultural identity and spiritual renewal, and the dangers of unbridled materialism.

We started our loop back towards the Ciudad Vieja down one of the park’s palm-lined paths and zig zagged our way through barrios full of colorful street murals, and older 1900’s era buildings with interesting architectural details.

Walking through Barrio Sur along Isla de Flores, bleachers were being set up at the intersections in preparation for one of the last parades of Carnaval. The street was lined with murals dedicated to the local comparsas, large groups of 50-100 candombe drum performers and dancers, who participate in the yearly festival. We spent some time determining a good vantage point for watching the parade later in the week.

The grand Plaza Independencia was a huge contrast to modest barrios we had walked through earlier that morning. In the park’s center a large equestrian statue stands atop the Masoleum of José Gervasio Artigas, a gaucho, military leader, and revolutionary who inspired Uruguayans to fight against Spanish and Portuguese rule. He is considered the father of Uruguay’s liberation movement, though he did not live long enough to see the country’s independence in 1828.

A vast array of different architectural styles can be seen on the buildings around the plaza, but the most intriguing is the chaotic styling of the 27-story tall Palacio Salvo, which eclectically blends elements of Art Nouveau, Art Deco, Gothic, and Renaissance architecture into its design. The iconic mixed-use building has shops, offices, apartments and the Museo del Tango. It was for a short period of time after its completion in 1928 the tallest building in South America.

At the opposite end of the plaza the Puerta de la Ciudadela, one of the old gateways into the colonial citadel, is all that remains of a tall stone defensive wall that was 6 meters (20ft) thick, and totally encircled the small peninsula where Spain established its first colony in Uruguay. After Uruguay gained its independence the demolition of the citadel’s ramparts started in 1829, less than 100 years after their construction, to make room for the growing port city’s expansion.

The old gateway opened to Sarandí, the main pedestrian lane that runs from one end of Ciudad Vieja to the other. At the beginning of the lane was Montevideo’s Walk of Fame, where stars of famous visitors to the city, like Nelson Mandela, the Rolling Stones, Enrique Iglesias, and Olga Delgrossi, Uruguay’s beloved singer and tango dancer, were imbedded in the pavement with sun bursts above their names.  Now mid-afternoon, the day had warmed, and the street was full of vendors under colorful umbrellas, selling all sorts of items geared for tourists.

We wrapped up our day’s wandering about at the Montevideo Metropolitan Cathedral, or as it is formally called the Catedral Metropolitana de la Inmaculada Concepción y San Felipe y Santiago.  In 1790 the construction of the cathedral was started to accommodate a growing congregation in the prosperous city, which had outgrown its first smaller brick church, which was built on the same site in 1740. Inside were some very nice pieces of religious art.

The next morning we continued exploring the old town and watched a wedding party throw rice upon a newly married couple at the Registry Office. We only noticed a sculpture of Montevideo’s version of Romeo and Juliet when a crowd in front of us was pointing up to a balcony. “Our walk a little then café,” routine was satisfied with breakfast at Federación, an artesanal panaderia and café, with tables on the sidewalk and in a small courtyard. It was on the way to several museums we planned to visit, before having a late lunch at one of the steakhouses in the Mercado del Puerto.

Montevideo has over twenty museums that span the spectrum from art and science to tango and carnaval. Around the corner from the café, in a 19th century building, was the Pre-Columbian and Indigenous Art Museum. It is a relatively small museum, but it has an interesting collection of archeological artifacts and an extensive collection of Carnaval masks from across Latin America.

Everything about the South American cowboy can be viewed at the Museo del Gaucho and Currency. It occupies a stately old bank building which in itself is worth poking your head into, but the immense scale of the building overpowers the exhibits of small objects used in the South American cowboy’s everyday life. Many of the fine silver items on display were from the estates of wealthy ranch owners.

The currency exhibit was okay, but we think you really have to admire a country that puts an armadillo on one of their coins. There was also a collection of coins recovered from the wreck of the Spanish galleon El Preciado, which was sunk in Río de la Plata by pirates in 1792, as it sailed for Spain carrying gold and silver to pay the taxes levied against the South America colonies.

Artistic street murals can be found all across Montevideo and we passed several interesting ones on the way to the Museo de las Migraciones. We really enjoyed this museum as it celebrates the country’s diverse population of its immigrants who contributed to making Uruguay the wonderful place that it is. The exhibits confirm the belief that most folks have more in common than what separates us.

It was a long walk back towards the Mercado del Puerto. The cast-iron and glass roofed structure was imported from Liverpool, England, and feels a little like a Victorian era train station; it opened for its first customers in 1868. The old port market used to be the central place to buy supplies, fruits, produce, meats, and fish, but has now been gentrified into an atmospheric food hall, where steakhouses reign supreme, and charge a hefty price for being convenient for the cruise ships passengers which disembark at the port. That being said, we enjoyed the ambience of open wood-fired parrillas, and wafting aromas rising from the various kitchens. It was a challenge to choose a restaurant, as all the dishes that waiters whisked by us looked delicious and tempting.

Later in the week we returned to the area to attend a tablado at the Museo del Carnaval, which also had a great collection of imaginative costumes from past carnavals. As the actors readied themselves for the performance, an announcer stepped forward. There were lots of Spanish words, followed by “Donna DiMeo Hammell” and more Spanish. I speculated that we had won the Uruguayan Lottery.  Or “maybe I’ve been chosen to participate, but I don’t speak Spanish!” Donna’s first thought was, wow, they pronounced my name correctly! The mystery was solved when Donna approached the offstage area, and a smiling theater employee handed her the credit card she had unknowingly dropped earlier.

Tablados are temporary neighborhood stages set up across Montevideo where colorful theatrical and musical performances are put on by groups of actors called Murgas, known for their satirical and humorous songs, who are joined by groups of Parodistas who are recognized for their entertaining parodies of well-known stories or events.

Tablados performances only happen during the carnaval season in Uruguay, which runs for forty days between mid-January and mid-March in Uruguay. The performance we attended lasted two hours and had eight different skits. If you cannot attend one of the carnaval parades in Montevideo the tablados are extremely funny and entertaining and you don’t need to understand Spanish to thoroughly enjoy them. They are also very inexpensive.

Walking back through the newer part of Montevideo the next morning we strolled along

Av. 18 de Julio. The street is named for the day in 1830 when the Uruguayan Constitution was ratified, and is the city’s busiest street with numerous stores, restaurants and bars along its length. At the intersection of Av. Carlos Quijano was the Fuente de los Candados,

the Fountain of the Padlocks. It seems every city has one of these landmarks where couples announce their love by hanging a lock on the metalwork; many of these were engraved with names, dates, or sentiments. What’s unique about this one is that it surrounds a fountain where folks also throw coins to make a wish.

Next to the fountain was a couple busking for tips as they tango danced in front of a café. This was the only time we saw tango dancing in Montevideo, even though the city shares credit with Buenos Aires as the birthplace of the dance. The scarcity of dancers might have been because we were there during carnaval season, and so many other events were happening then.  

Nearby was the Mirador Panorámico de la Intendencia de Montevideo. It’s an open-air viewing platform on the 22nd floor of the headquarters building of the Municipality of Montevideo. Montevideo does not have a very interesting skyline, but the view was expansive, and you can see the port and how La Rambla follows the twists and turns of the coast. There is a small café inside at the mirador. We didn’t find it to be a “must do,” destination, and would suggest trying to time your visit to the mirador around sunset, if possible, to make it more spectacular.

Afterwards we decided to expand our wanderings around the city, and we walked many blocks to the Mercado Agrícola de Montevideo, a historic city market that dates from 1913. We bought some fruit and empanadas for lunch. The most interesting part of our walk was around the Palacio Legislativo, a neoclassical building that is the seat of the Uruguayan parliament. The building’s iconic architecture stands in stark contrast to the large heart felt murals portraying local Montevideans, and the writer Kurt Vonnegut.

Over the weekend the Llamadas parade, one of the largest during carnaval, was taking place Friday and Saturday night in Barrio Sur. The parade celebrates the Afro-Uruguayan culture in the country with numerous comparsas, large groups of 50-100 festively dressed drummers who play traditional candombe rhythms for their dancers who perform along the street ahead of them.

Our Uber driver dropped us as close as possible to the viewing spot we had scoped out earlier in the week. But the streets were full of activity, with roads blocked for charter buses carrying various comparsas and staging areas where the dancers and drummers readied their groups.

We didn’t know advance ticket purchase was required, so we were totally surprised when the intersections were cordoned off and only tickets holders were allowed onto the sidewalks along Isla de Flores street. Fortunately, the area we had chosen had one small section that was open, and we jammed in, shoulder to shoulder, along with several hundred other folks with the same idea, to watch the parade. Folks next to us cautioned us about losing our phones to grab and run thieves, but we never felt uncomfortable in the crowd.

Carnaval in Montevideo is not as elaborate spectacle as in Rio de Janeiro where huge floats dominate the night. We didn’t last until the end of the parade, but it was a hugely fun, very authentic grassroots event that we thoroughly enjoyed. A few blocks off the parade route at Restaurante Palermo Viejo we shared our first chivito. These are huge, layered sandwiches that contain churrasco steak, ham, bacon, mozzarella cheese, lettuce, tomato, and a fried egg on top. The tasty creation was very filling, and it is often referred to as Uruguay’s national dish.

The next morning after a luscious breakfast at El Copacabana, in the old town, we took an Uber over to the Feria de Tristan Narvaja, a Sunday street market that stretches for seven long blocks through the Cordon neighborhood. It features a multitude of vendors selling everything imaginable, along with secondhand clothing, used books, fresh produce, and artist’s handcrafted creations.

Following our “walk a little then café” philosophy we took a break at El Imperio, an eclectically decorated bar, where the barista between serving inside customers ran trays of espressos out to the vendors on the street. We thought the feria was one of the more interesting ones we’ve experienced during our travels and think it’s a must-do activity when visiting Montevideo, if you like this sort of event.

Later that morning we headed to the airport and picked up a rental car we had reserved at Localiza Aquiler de Autos, a very good local agency with reasonable rates, for our 12 day road trip, which we were starting the next day. But first we had one more thing to do locally, and we drove an hour north into the countryside outside of Montevideo. Nearly forty percent of Uruguay’s population lives in Montevideo, but the city’s urban sprawl quickly transformed into gently rolling farmlands and vineyards as we drove through the Canelones region to the Cabaña La Mansedumbre, a rustic, under-the-radar destination restaurant. We eventually turned down a sandy dirt road. A small weather-worn sign hung from the cattle gate across the twin tracks that led to Fredy and Silvana’s ranch. When making our reservation, he had reminded us to close the gate securely so his goats wouldn’t escape.

We were the first guests to arrive that afternoon and were warmly welcomed into the courtyard of the couple’s rural farm stead. A tour of the open-air kitchen followed where we met Fredy’s son Juan, as he was preparing charcuterie boards under an array of sausages and cheeses hanging from the rafters. Heat emanated from a brick oven in the corner. Two large golden tortilla de papas cooled on a countertop under shelves laden with jars or homemade sauces, jams, and jellies. Baskets of fresh bread and rolls which Silvana had baked that morning tempted us with their wonderful aroma. 

Very enthusiastically Fredy explained that everything they use to prepare their dinners is sourced within a 5-mile radius of their farm. Though many items, like the goat cheeses, were made by his neighbor using the goat milk from Fredy’s herd, while the tanat wine we were offered, as we waited for the other guests to arrive, came from a friend’s vineyard at the other end of the road. Bottles of grappa that Fredy had infused with herbs lined a shelf above wine casks which flowed freely all afternoon.

Neither has trained as a chef, but they both share a passion for food and travel which has inspired them to refine their skills over the years, and now share their enthusiasm for great food at their home on the weekends. Seeing their farming community’s potential they have encouraged their purveyors to provide new and different sausages, cheeses, and produce than what was traditionally available in the past.

With everyone’s arrival we were seated at tables under their tinned roof porch. We were hoping to experience a traditional Uruguayan asado, but grilling meats on the parrilla was not part of the gourmet eight course feast that the couple had planned.

Our initial disappointment faded quickly as amazingly delicious dishes emerged from that simple country kitchen for nearly three hours that afternoon. Every dish was uniquely flavored, excellently prepared and presented. Coffee, dessert and grappa crowned the dinner. We wish we had taken notes, but photos of some of the dishes will have to suffice. 

The dinner was nicely paced, with plenty of time to talk with the other guests and enjoy the wine between courses. It was a memorable afternoon, and an excellent farm to table dining experience, along with being the best meal we had while visiting Uruguay.

For reservations Fredy and Silvana can be contacted through phone & WhatsApp +598 99 390 054.

Montevideo consistently ranks as the top city in Central and South America for quality of life. We thought it was a great destination, especially during Carnaval and it exceeded our expectations.

Till next time,

Craig & Donna

P.S. Our 12 day road trip through Uruguay started the next day.

During our stay, Donna had horrible hacking cough, that was so concerning one night we called the reception desk at NH Montevideo Columbia to ask for advice. The hotel, to our relief, had a physician on-call who made a late-night visit to our room. After an initial exam the doctor wrote a prescription for a chest x-ray in the emergency room at The British Hospital, a private hospital in downtown Montevideo. Fortunately, it was a quiet night at the hospital, and we were attended to quickly after checking in. We had a good experience there, the x-rays were negative for lung infection, and the hospital visit was totally covered by our travel insurance.

Street parking everywhere in Uruguay is free!

Driving Through the Baltics: Part 9 – Sigulda, Latvia to Tartu, Estonia or Spires, Onion Domes and a Neat Cafe

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Mornings with overcast skies, which cleared by noon, had prevailed for the past two days. We hoped that this weather pattern would continue as we headed north from Sigulda to Tartu under a gunmetal gray sky. It would be less than a three-hour drive if we drove directly there, but that’s not our modus operandi. Over wine the night before we had scoured the map along our tentative route and highlighted some picturesque and fascinating stops for further exploration in the region.

After a short 20-minute drive from Sigulda we stopped at Lielstraupe Castle. It was originally constructed in the later part of the 13th century as a crusader fortress by Voldemar von Rosen, a Teutonic knight and vassal to the Archbishop of Riga, who had initiated a crusade into the region to forcibly convert the area’s pagan tribes to Christianity. The thriving medieval village of Straupe grew around the castle and was a merchant town within the Hanseatic League. It was totally destroyed during the Polish – Swedish wars in the early 1600s and never rebuilt. The castle, now a substantial manor home after being rebuilt from ruins after the wars of the 17th century, remained sporadically in the possession of the von Rosen family, through centuries of the region’s conflicts, until 1939. During the Soviet era the manor was used as the Lielstraupe Tractor Station, with its rooms and stables being used for classrooms, workshops, and dormitories. In the 1960s the estate was used as a psychiatric hospital. Since 2023 the castle has been owned by the Municipality of Cēsis, which has opened it to tourists as it undergoes renovations. Unfortunately, we were unable to tour the interior of the manor, since we stopped by before its opening time.

Our “drive a little then café” instincts took us to Valmiera, the largest town in the Vidzeme region with a population of about 51,000. Like Cēsis and Sigulda, its founding is tied to the Northern Crusade in the 13th century. Parking was conveniently located across from Valmiera’s St. Simon Church. Amazingly, the medieval building, which dates to 1283, is believed to have survived the centuries without any major alterations. Russian Czar Ivan the Terrible ruled during the Livonian War (1558-1583), a conflict which included the medieval superpowers Sweden, Denmark, and the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth fighting for control of Latvia. Several cannon balls fired by Russian troops into the church’s walls are on display in the church’s narthex as testimony to the strength of its construction. It was a Catholic church until Martin Luther’s Protestant Reformation was brought to Latvia with the signing of the Truce of Altmark in 1629, which ended the Polish-Swedish War (1600-1629).

A short walk from the church were the 13th century ruins of a Livonian Order Castle. As ruins go, these were not very impressive, with only a small L-shaped wall section still standing. However, there was a very interesting 3D relief map of old Valmiera in the courtyard in front of the Museum of Valmiera which showed that the town was ringed with defensive fortifications, which signified the town’s importance within the Hanseatic League, second only to the town of Cēsis in the Vidzeme region. The ramparts stood until they were destroyed in the Russian Empire’s shelling of the city during the Great Northern War in 1702. After the war the castle’s ruins were used as a quarry to rebuild the villagers’ homes destroyed during the conflict. The church was easily located on the map and was a good reference point for understanding how the old town was laid out.

From the castle grounds we then followed a pretty path downhill to the bank of the Gaujas River before succumbing to our call for coffee. We stumbled upon Café Kekss totally by accident. They have several unique small greenhouses, with tables and chairs for 4 people in each enclosure, outside their small cafe. It was a chilly and windy day when we visited, but sitting in one of the glass houses was perfect. The staff was very nice and the barista who took our order delivered everything to our table.

We really enjoyed our experience there, and the greenhouses are a great way to extend the season. Before returning to the car we spent a little bit of time strolling along the Dzirnavu ezeriņa promenade in the park downhill from the café.

It was the last Saturday in September, and unexpectedly we had the road to ourselves, only occasionally seeing another car whiz by. As hoped for, the sun brightened the sky later that morning as we continued our drive through a mostly semi-rural landscape, dotted with farms, towards the Latvia/Estonia border.

Only a short distance away from the border we paused to stretch our legs at Valka-Lugaži’s Evangelical Lutheran Church, our last stop in Latvia. The church’s name first appears in medieval documents of 1477. Prominent nobles were patrons of the church since much of the congregation were the poor serfs who farmed the land of their lords during the feudal era, which unfortunately lasted in Latvia and Estonia well into the late 19th century. Church history notes that the Baron von Wrangell family rebuilt the church many times over four calamitous centuries which saw the region engulfed in wars. The last descendant offered to repair the church in 1910 when a fire collapsed the belltower into the church. With the Lord’s good graces and the steady hand of a bomb disposal expert, an unexploded WW2 bomb, ignored by the communist regime for fifty years, was finally removed from the belltower after Latvia regained its independence in 1991. We crossed over the waters of the Pedeli River into Valga, Estonia. Interestingly Valka and Valga were one town until their separation at the end of World War I. With the collapse of Imperial Russia, Estonia and Latvia declared their independence and a new border was determined which split the town in half down the center of the river. A spirit of unity still remains between the two towns, as extended families now travel freely across the border since the countries joined the Schengen Area, and even share a professional basketball team, the BC Valga-Valka/Maks & Moorits, along with the slogan “One Town, Two Countries.”

A few minutes outside of Valga we turned and followed a secondary road to Sangaste Castle in rural Otepää Parish. More manor home than castle, the estate’s history began in 1866 when F. G. M. von Berg (1845–1938), the last Lord of Sangaste, inherited the property from his uncle Count von Berg, a decorated Russian Field Marshal, and dreaming big decided to build his family a 99-room English style mansion. Its size was only curtailed by an imperial rule that permitted no homes with over 100 rooms unless they were built for the Czar. Von Berg was a successful agriculturalist, having developed a new rye variety, along with establishing a prized dairy herd with milk “so good that it was sold in the markets of St Petersburg.”  Though located deep in the rural countryside, the manor had all the modern conveniences available at the beginning of the 20th century, with a telephone line installed in 1896 and electric lights in 1907.

With Estonia’s independence from Russia at the end of the First World War the new government started to seize the lands and manor houses of Baltic Germans. The government however acknowledged von Berg’s contributions to Estonian agriculture and allowed the aging Baron to stay in his home until his death in 1938. During the communist occupation of Estonia, the castle was used as a Young Pioneer Camp and its interior was altered to have 146 rooms. Somewhere along the line someone determined that the manor was composed of 1.45 million red bricks, or one brick for every Estonian.

In the crossroads village of Sangaste, in front of its church, a lone tree showed off its spectacular yellow leaves, signaling Autumn was finally here.

Four miles beyond Sangaste we glimpsed the onion shaped domes of (EAÕK) Ilmjärve Jumalailmumise, an Estonian Apostolic Orthodox Church, amidst a clearing. The red brick and stone facade of the 1873 church was brilliant in the afternoon sun. Unfortunately, the church was closed, though we were able to peek at the interior through an old-fashioned skeleton lock, and even take a picture. A placard in front of the building noted that the church’s two large bells were donated by the Russian Czar Alexander II. The church suffered during WW2, but its spirit was wounded the most when thieves in 1979 stole the church’s silver treasures used for communion.

We hadn’t expected restaurants in the area to be so scarce and far apart. Many were already closed for the season, though the weather, now cooler in late September, was still very comfortable. Our hope rose when we approached a restaurant across from the ski lift, that was now carrying mountain bike riders to the summit for a thrilling downhill ride, at the Munamägi Ski Center, outside of Otepää, the “winter capital of Estonia.”

But as we neared an employee flipped the sign hanging in the door to CLOSED! It was only mid-afternoon, had we missed the lunch hours? With our stomachs now rumbling we breezed quickly through the town and regretfully bypassed the opportunity to visit the ruins of Otepää’s ancient hill fort from the Viking era, and the remains of a Bishop’s castle where the oldest known firearm in Europe was discovered. We also missed Otepää kirik, the town’s historic church, which in modern times is historically connected to the country’s flag, when in 1884 the blue, black and white flag of the Estonian Student Union was consecrated there during “Estonia’s Awakening.” The Student Union’s design became the flag of Estonia in 1991.

We eventually had a very nice late lunch at Pangodi kalarestoran, a fish restaurant, before  our last excursion to Luke Mõis, an ancient feudal estate that dates from the 13th century. The manor house is an unassuming building that now hosts events and weddings. But the real interests here were the cascading ponds and the Gardener’s Cottage. The estate’s head horticulturalist must have been highly regarded judging by the beauty of his ornately trimmed petite home, in a lovely bucolic setting along one of the ponds. If we had planned better this would have been the perfect spot for an afternoon picnic. It’s a very pretty spot that’s worth detouring to if you are driving from Riga to Tartu.

Tartu was only 30 minutes from Luke Mõis and we arrived to find Estonia’s 2024 Capital of Culture alive with activity as we checked into the Art Hotel Pallas, a creatively decorated boutique hotel, ideally located on a pedestrian mall that led into the town’s historic center.

After dinner we enjoyed a leisurely stroll over the Kaarsild, an arched bridge that spans the Emajõgi River, an important trade route since the Viking era that connects Lake Võrtsjärv to Lake Peipus and is still navigable all the way to the Baltic Sea. We wondered if a Viking ever imagined the bright lights of the bridge and Tartu’s growing skyline reflecting upon the river’s water.  

Till next time,

Craig & Donna

Road Tripping Through the Baltics: Part 6 – Riga, Latvia, or Where Old World Charm Meets Art Nouveau

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We didn’t know what to expect when we first drove into Riga after following the E67 south from Pärnu, Estonia. It was a beautiful drive through evergreen forests that paralleled the Baltic Sea. But as we neared Latvia’s capital and largest city, with a population nearing 600,000, scattered nondescript low-rise apartment buildings sprouted from the landscape. The density of the housing and buildings grew along our route, which was now a six-lane tree-lined boulevard with a tramline. Closer to the city center the road narrowed at Brīvības iela (Freedom Street), and its older character began to shine through with many 19th and early 20th century buildings embracing Neoclassical elements.

Painted bright yellow, the Russian Orthodox St. Alexander Nevsky Church was eye-catching. The Palladian style building with columned facade and domed sanctuary looked solidly constructed of stone, but it is actually a wooden structure erected in the 1820s. An unusual feature was its freestanding belltower that was added in 1863. A building farther down the block was our first introduction to Riga’s early 1900s Art Nouveau architecture.

Continuing into the city center on Brīvības iela we parked along a side street next to the Esplanade Park and walked back through its well-manicured grounds, past statues and a delightfully whimsical birdhouse tree to Riga’s Nativity of Christ Orthodox Cathedral. It’s a beautiful stately building capped with a golden dome. Constructed in a Neo-Byzantine style during the late 19th-century, while Latvia was still part of the Russian Empire ruled by Russian Tsar Alexander II, it is the largest Orthodox church in the Baltic countries. When Riga was under the Soviet Union’s communist control the cathedral was used as a planetarium.

A short distance from the cathedral was the Latvian capital’s Freedom Monument. It’s a 42m (138 ft) tall obelisk that commemorates the soldiers killed during its War of Independence, which raged for two years between 1918-1920, when Latvia declared its sovereignty from a collapsing Russian Empire, but then had to fight off the newly formed communist Red Army of the Soviet Union, which didn’t want Latvia to secede. It was symbolically erected in the same spot that a statue of Russian Czar Peter the Great once stood. Latvia’s hard-fought liberty lasted only twenty years before the Soviet Union’s re- invasion and annexation in 1940. During the Soviet era, communist authorities considered demolishing the female figure of Liberty lifting three gilded stars, that represent the three original cultural regions of Latvia: Kurzeme, Vidzeme and Latgale, but dismissed the idea because they feared it would have pushed the citizenry of Riga to fill the streets in protest.

We secured overnight parking at Autostāvvieta and dragged ourbags noisily behind us, down cobbled lanes for several blocks to the Hotel Monte Kristo, which was located on the edge of the historic district, and had very budget friendly room rates.

We found the pedestrian-only Old Town the next morning a delight to wander through as we worked our way to Livu Square, which many consider the heart of the Riga’s Historic District with its numerous restaurants and umbrellaed cafes surrounding a picturesque square. Feeder streets were speckled with the facades of many Hanseatic League merchant houses from 13th to the 15th centuries that survived the destruction of the Second World War. It felt as if we were in a small village instead of metropolitan Riga.

Just off the square is one of Riga’s famous landmarks, the Cat House. It was built in 1909 and combines Art Nouveau decorations with medieval turrets and two angry cats. Local folklore tells of a wealthy merchant who, when snubbed by members of Riga’s Great Guild and denied inclusion, in response commissioned two cat sculptures. The felines were sculpted with arched backs and raised tails, and positioned on the top of the turrets with their butts insultingly facing the guild. When the merchant eventually received membership into the guild, the offending sculptures remained but were turned to show the guild their better side.

While some folks can persuasively argue that the larger more cosmopolitan Dome Square with the Cathedral of Riga, and its cloister, plus magnificent Baroque pipe organ – one of the largest in the world – and ornately carved 17th-century pulpit, anchoring the plaza, is ground zero for activities in Riga.

Dating from the early 1200s, the cathedral has undergone many alterations over the centuries that include a mishmash of Romanesque, Gothic and Baroque architectural styles that miraculously blend together beautifully. During the communist era the church was closed as a place of worship and used as a concert hall. It reopened for religious services in 1991, after Latvia regained its independence.

The plaza hosts a variety of events throughout the year, including an annual Christmas market, a Midsummer Fair in celebration of the Summer Solstice on June 23rd and 24th every year, and the Miķeļdiena Fair, a harvest festival held at the end of September. There is also a constant rotation of art installations on the plaza. When we visited an inviting open sided room called the Dome Next Door intrigued passersbys to investigate it further.

Then there is Rīgas Rātslaukums, the city’s spacious old 13th-century town hall/market square containing the House of the Black Heads, an extraordinary Gothic-style building originally built in 1334 by the Brotherhood of the Black Heads, a guild for unmarried merchants, shipowners and foreigners, that was for many decades the largest public building in the city. The Brotherhood takes its name from its patron saint, Saint Maurice, a Christian martyr traditionally depicted as a black man. Sadly, the iconic structure was destroyed in 1941 by Nazi bombing during World War II.

Only the building’s original foundation remained and the guild hall’s reconstruction, based on old drawings and early 20th-century photographs was, unfortunately not started until 1996, but then joyfully completed in time to be part of Riga’s 800th year anniversary celebration in 2001.

The plaza in front of the guild hall has excellent acoustics and is a popular spot for folks to gather and listen to classical music buskers. It also hosts a large RIGA sculpture in 6ft tall letters that’s a favorite spot for visitors to take Instagram-worthy selfies.

Across the square is the controversial Latvian Red Riflemen statue, a colossal red stone monument erected in 1971 by the Soviets commemorating a Latvian military unit that was formed as part of Russia’s Imperial army during World War I to defend the country from German invasion. It switched its allegiance to the communist cause after the Bolshevik revolution, with some units fighting against Latvia during its War of Independence. Many think that keeping the statue is an affront to Latvia’s history and want it removed, while others say it should stay to acknowledge a complicated past that the country is still coming to terms with.

Others still will point to the observation deck in the towering 123m (404ft) steeple of the 15th-century St. Peter’s Church that offers an unobstructed 360-degree panoramic view of the historic district and the metropolis that has spiderwebbed out from the center of Riga.

From this vantage point it was easy to understand why Albert of Buxhoevden chose this spot in 1199 to land 23 ships of Crusaders, the Brothers of the Sword, determined to convert the pagan tribes of Livonia to Christianity at the beginning of the Northern Crusade.

While the church is attractive, the streets around it are tight and there’s barely enough room to compose a photograph of the whole church. The church lost it spire and roof during the German Army’s shelling of the city in 1941. (But it was the Soviet Union’s scorched earth advance across Latvia in 1944 that left nearly fifty percent of Riga in rubble.) The resulting fire gutted the building, and it was left in ruins until a 20-year long renovation started in 1954. Fortunately, there were funds in the budget for an elevator, which now makes journeying to the viewing gallery quick and painless. The views out over the city were amazing. And from the tower’s vantage point it was easy to see how the Daugava River was so important to Riga’s prosperity as a naturally protected inland port city, in the early 1900s when Riga was the Russian Empire’s third largest city. We saw the city’s new prosperity emerging in a towering modern skyline across the river. Other points of interest around the church include the Chimney Sweep House and the whimsical Town Musicians of Bremen sculpture that’s based on a Brothers Grimm fairy tale.

We enjoyed all four of these destinations as they were each unique in their own way, but we also loved wandering down the smaller lanes between these sights to savor the ambiance of the Old Town.

Riga’s massive Central Market occupies three cavernous former Zeppelin hangars only a 10 minute walk from the old district. There must have been over 100 food stalls selling fruits, vegetables, cheese, honey, meats & tons of smoked fish. A foodie’s heaven, it was one of the best mind-boggling food markets we have ever been to. Embrace the smoked fish, it’s delicous! There was a remarkable selection available with a variety of flavor nuances depending on the type of fish and the wood or pinecones used to provide the smoke cure.

During its prosperous heydays in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the city’s merchants and industrialists reinvested their wealth into a building boom that embraced the highly decorative frontispieces of Art Nouveau architecture.

Many fine examples of these buildings are scattered all across Riga, but there is a concentration of them designed by the architect Mikhail Eisenstein on Alberta, Strēlnieku, and Elizabetes Streets in “the Quiet Center,” a treelined residential neighborhood near the Latvian National Museum of Art, that has contributed to Riga being regarded as the “Baltic Pearl,” and the “Paris of the North.” 

To reach the neighborhood we crossed a footbridge over the Pilsetas canal in Bastejkalna, a sculpture filled park. The canal was once part of the defensive moat that encircled medieval Riga, but it was reworked into a scenic park when most of the town’s ancient ramparts were demolished in the 1860s to facilitate the expansion of a growing city. Small tour boats now offer rides along the tranquil scenic waterway. 

Our walk returning to the historic center passed a variety of buildings and protest murals before reaching the Latvian National Theatre, an eclectically designed cultural arts center where Latvia’s independence was declared from its stage on November 18, 1918.

Strolling along Krišjāņa Valdemāra iela in front of the theatre towards the Daugava River offered a nice view of the modern Vansu Tilts bridge and the skyscrapers of Riga’s new commerce center across the river.

The last remaining section of Riga’s ancient defensive wall stands along Torna iela and we re-entered the old town through its Swedish Gate, that dates to the 1600s.

It was an interesting neighborhood with charming narrow cobbled lanes that led to the Saint Mary Magdalene Church (13th-century), St. Jacob’s Catholic Cathedral which was built in 1225 and passed back and forth between Catholic and Lutheran denominations several times over the centuries, and the petite Blessed Sacrament Chapel, all located within a block of each other.

We had many pleasant meals all across Riga during our three days’ stay, as the local restauranters produce delicious, culinary experiences, for tourists and neighbors alike. Our dinner at Ala Pagrabs, an atmospheric subterranean speakeasy that serves classic Latvian fare, great beer, and offers live music, was outstanding. Riga is a lovely city that we thought we could enjoy living in, though the winters might be too cold for us.

Till next time,

 Craig & Donna

An Estonian Road trip: Part 2 – Across the Pine Barrens to the Pakri Peninsula & the Gulf of Finland or Soviets, Swans, Windmills & a Polar Bear

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Dense forest lined the road, occasionally thinning to provide a glimpse of Tallinn Bay. It seemed as if we had only left Tallinn minutes earlier, quickly passing through its outer boroughs to enter a semi-wilderness beyond the city limits. To paraphrase; We weren’t in Tallinn anymore. Lively, and charming, one third (461,000) of Estonia’s 1,370,00 citizens call this “gem of the Baltic,” home.

Only 15 minutes from the center of Old Town, we were in the surprisingly different forested landscape of Eesti Vabaõhumuuseum, the Estonian Open Air Museum, an ethnological recreation of a historic fishing village on the shore of Tallinn Bay, with the wonderful mission of showcasing the country’s rural architecture and way of life during the 18–20th centuries.

A pleasant set of trails through the woodland connected 14 separate areas that featured different buildings.  Some of the buildings have docents dressed in traditional clothing to help explain how residents lived centuries ago. The wooden windmills were particularly interesting and the large sturdy log cabins surely would have made Daniel Boone envious.

Leaving Tallinn behind: this was the first stop of our 21-day road trip through Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania. There was hardly any traffic on the roads through the sparsely populated countryside that traversed stretches of open fields, bogs, pine forests and swaths of beautiful birch trees. Vast tracks of forest still cover over fifty percent of Estonia’s territory. Set away from the roadway a bike path, just one of 7,230 cycling routes and bike trails in Estonia, loosely followed our route from the Open Air Museum to Keila in search of a mid-morning coffee break.

It was a surprisingly frustrating endeavor. Takeaway coffee from a gas station? No no. This was nearing a crisis situation for us. Those in the know understand that without that a coffee fix, life in the universe is imperfectly balanced. Fortunately, we found a very nice gourmet café, Cake Atelier, on the main road through Keila. Chatting with the owner about our trip through Estonia, she shared that we were in luck today, as it was one of the town’s twice-yearly craft and food festival days and pointed down the road.

We both like exploring local markets and this one in Keila, while very small, was a perfect local event to have stumbled across. Set up in the parking lot of a small strip mall, it wasn’t geared toward tourists. It was simply regional food purveyors sharing what they love to do. Samples were abundant. There were extraordinary amounts of smoked fish, pickles, sauerkraut, and baked goods, along with foraged lingonberries and wild mushrooms.

From July to October foraging for berries and other wild edibles is a popular activity in Estonia and explains why we saw so many cars parked at various spots along the road in the middle of nowhere. We ended up purchasing a bottle of artisanal Rose Hip liqueur from a middle-aged woman who had been an exchange student in Florida in the early 2000s. Her cordial, lovingly crafted from her grandmother’s ancient family recipe, was very tasty. We purchased a bottle and enjoyed it as a nightcap during the rest of our trip.

Next to the parking lot was a pretty church, Mihkli kirik, Keila’s St. Michael’s Church.  This wooden church was first erected here shortly after the Danes conquered northern Estonia in 1219. A century later a larger stone church was constructed to accommodate the worshippers living in the growing village. The present church replaced an older one destroyed during the Livonian War of the 16th century. There were some interesting stone carvings around the door to the church, and an intriguing cemetery that called for further investigation.

Across the way the Scottish House, with its majestic sculptures of highland stags in its courtyard, seemed incongruously placed. But we enjoyed resting, enveloped in its warm wood interior, and lunch was very good.

Our destination at the end of the day would be the guesthouse Pakri Baron, at the foot of the lighthouse, at the top of Pakri Peninsula. But we rarely drive the fastest and most direct route. Our road trips usually connect the dots, and resemble Ws or Zs to points of interest along the way. With that in mind we headed to the Keila Waterfall in Lõokese tee, Meremõisa – gotta love that name – 13km (8 miles) away.

Without any tall mountain ranges, Estonia really isn’t noted for its waterfalls. But the Keila Falls, the third largest in the country, were relatively close. The falls are in a pretty river park that has a trail over a wooden suspension bridge that crosses to the opposite side of the falls. There is a small renovated hydroelectric power plant at the Keila waterfall that first started to produce electricity in 1928; the river park was originally part of the extensive grounds of the Keila-Joa manor. The neo-gothic style building was built in 1833 and is one of Estonia’s best surviving examples of the popular 19th-century architectural style. Unfortunately, the grounds of the manor house/museum were closed the day we were there.

Nearby, the all-wood Kõltsu Manor built in the late 1800s was another fine example of Estonian architecture. The large home was commissioned by a baroness to be used as her summer residence. After World War II, the house and grounds were used by the communist Russians as one of their Pioneer Camps. The name sounds so benign, but in reality, while they did offer camp activities, they were Soviet re-education camps that indoctrinated Estonian youth with communist ideology. Today the manor hosts events, weddings, and outdoor concerts during the summer months.

The forests in Estonia have their own stories to tell. We did not stop at the memorial to the 2000 Jewish victims of the Nazi massacre in 1944 at the forced labor Klooga concentration camp. Closer to our destination we stopped in Paldiski to purchase the makings of a picnic dinner and breakfast the next morning at the guesthouse. Apple trees grew wild along the edge of the road. We picked a few for munching later. White with a pink center, they were probably an heirloom variety called “Eva Kuld,” similar to the Pink Pearl variety. The apples were delicious.

We had timed our arrival at Pakri Baron to coincide with the sunset in hope of getting some nice photographs of the lighthouse and the coast as the sun dropped. However, the weather was fickle. But the guesthouse was wonderfully situated next to the lighthouse, which towered over us, and was a stone’s throw from the Baltic Sea. The still active lighthouse was built in 1889, and during the summer months it’s possible to climb its 275 steps to the top. Unfortunately, it was closed during our visit in mid-September. In front of the lighthouse is a copy of sculpture called The Ship’s Last Sigh (1899) by the Estonian artist Amandus Adamson (1855–1929), who grew up near Paldiski. The sculpture was chosen by vote from 5 of Adamson’s works by the residents of the community in 2008 to commemorate their native son. The guesthouse even had a traditional Estonian sauna in a separate building, just one of the 100,000 saunas in a country of 1.3 million. It’s definitely a cultural thing.

It was still dreary the next morning as we started our drive to the resort town of Haapsalu on the west coast of Estonia. But there were places to explore along the way. We don’t recall how we actually came across the existence of the Ämari Pilots’ Cemetery, but most likely it was a result of scouring Google Maps to find points of interest along our route. More accurately it could be referred to as the Russian Pilots’ Cemetery.

What piqued our interest was the use of tail fins from crashed Soviets planes as headstones to mark the graves of the pilots that died in accidents while flying from the former Russian airbase, Suurküla Aerodrome, during the Cold War era. The cemetery’s discreet location, in a forest almost obscuring it from the road, was so that reminders of the peacetime deaths, from a high accident rate, would not affect the morale of the military base.

The cemetery appeared to be well cared for, but it’s a reminder of a painful and repressive 46 yearlong occupation by communist Russia, unlike the monumental Soviet propaganda sculptures that were in public spaces across the country, which were destroyed or sent to the Soviet Statue Graveyard in Tallinn. This reminder of a dreaded past, like an uncle no one wants to talk about, was left to rest in peace.

Nearby was another reminder of Soviet rule: Murru vangla was a Soviet forced labor camp and re-education center where prisoners were sent to work in a limestone quarry for the duration of their sentences. After Estonia’s independence the prison and quarry were closed and abandoned. Water eventually filled the quarry and partially submerged some of old mining structures and prison buildings. Set against tall, eroded dunes created from slag left over from processing the limestone, the water of the quarry shimmers like a Caribbean beach. The uniquely beautiful manmade setting has slowly become a popular destination for divers and swimming. What’s left of the prison was turned into a museum. There is an admission fee to access the quarry area, but since the day was still heavily overcast, we kept driving a short distance down the road to the Padise Monastery. Founded in the early 14th Century by monks displaced from a monastery in Latvia, it flourished until the St. George’s Night Uprising, when Estonians rebelled against Danish rule and the imposition of Christianity upon them and killed 28 monks. The building was later turned into a fortress, but by the early 1700s the stones of the deteriorating fortification were used to build an adjacent manor house. What’s left of the monastery’s ruins has been preserved and now operates as a museum, and the manor house is now a boutique hotel and spa.

One of the many things we enjoy about traveling during the shoulder season, aside from fewer tourists like us out and about, is the affordability of really nice hotel rooms. Our case in point was our midweek 2-night stay at Hermannuse Maja, which backed up to the ramparts surrounding Haapsalu Castle, cost only €97.00, and included breakfast. Parking was easily available on the street.

Around the corner from our hotel the Müüriääre café, with an attractive interior and tempting food display, was the perfect spot for lunch before exploring the unusually named Haapsalu Episcopal Castle on a cloudy afternoon.

In the late 1100s Christian missionaries followed German merchants along old Viking trade routes into the region known as Livonia, that is today Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania. The land was originally populated by pagan tribes, but unfortunately located between Orthodox Russia and Catholic Western Europe. Never happy with the status quo, religious zealots called for a Northern Crusade against the Baltic pagans, and with the blessing of Pope Celestine III, persecution began in 1195. The efforts to recruit an army was assisted by a papal bull which declared that “fighting against the Baltic heathens was of the same rank as participating in a crusade to the Holy Land.”  The medieval era was fierce, and bishops not only accompanied the crusaders spiritually into battle, but wielded swords alongside their troops fighting those heathen tribes. Haapsalu Episcopal Castle was built to project the power of the church during the thirty years it took to subjugate the region. In 1583 during the War of Reformation the Catholic stronghold fell to Protestant Sweden and the cathedral became a Lutheran church.

A tall defensive wall still encircles the nearly 1000-year-old castle. And the church has been nicely restored after surviving fires in 1668 and 1726 and neglect during the Soviet occupation when it was used as a granary. Though only the outer walls of the monastery, which was later converted to a palace, remain after the 1668 fire.

We enjoyed walking along the ramparts and climbing the castle’s tower. Surprisingly in mid-September we practically had the site to ourselves. Wandering through the ancient, vaulted dungeon-like rooms of the castle’s museum that showcased life in Medieval era was particularly interesting. The grounds of the castle are quite extensive, and one section in a now dry moat has a medieval themed playground with all sorts of structures for kids to climb on. During the summer the castle hosts a series of concerts, and the town welcomes tourists with a busy schedule of events.

Dinner that evening was across the street at the rustic Talumehe kõrts, which specialized in traditional Estonian dishes.

The next morning, we woke to a perfectly clear sky. The sunny weather was a welcome reprieve from several gloomy days, and we took full advantage of it to explore the picturesque town and walk along the Haapsalu’s bayside promenade. The walkway extends for quite a distance along the waterfront, and is flanked with a variety of architecturally interesting buildings along its length.

At one point we spotted a polar bear standing on an ice flow. A statue! It was one of several exotic animal sculptures, recreated from old photographs of the wooden figures made in the 1920s, for a section of the boardwalk called Africa Beach, a beloved small park from the 1800s. During the Soviet occupation the original wooden sculptures were used as firewood by Russian soldiers. With the Russians finally gone in 1991 the park was revamped as a children’s playground.

A short distance beyond the playground the walkway ends at the 5-story tall Tagalaht birdwatching tower. Climbing the tower offers views over the saltwater marshes of Haapsalu Bay, which is an important stopover for artic birds during their Spring and Fall migrations. Swans, cranes, and a variety of ducks can also be spotted.

The small town existed on the region’s fishing and agricultural base until a visiting physician observed that the local folk used sea mud to treat a number of ailments. He opened Haapsalu’s first therapeutic mud treatment resort in 1825. It soon became a popular destination for several generations of Russia’s czars and aristocracy. A bench along the path commemorates the spot from which the composer Tchaikovsky watched the sunrise when he summered there.

Walking back to town we passed the distinctive green onion shaped dome of Haapsalu’s Maria-Magdaleena kirik, a Russian Orthodox church. The church was consecrated on July 21, 1852. In the audience was the son of Czar Nikolai I, Alexander (later Czar Alexander II, Emperor of Russia, King of Poland and Grand Duke of Finland.)

We worked our way across town to Lake Väikese and savored a delicious lunch overlooking the water from the enclosed patio at Wiigi Kohvik, before following a walking path along the water that circled the lake. Along the pathway we noticed that nearly every home on the lake had a traditional Estonian sauna in their back yard. They were all different sizes and shapes, with some constructed with wood and others totally covered with earth. We wondered if folks jumped into the lake as part of their sauna ritual. Brrr! Just thinking of it made me shiver.

Overall, we had a very nice tme in Haapsalu. The next morning, we checked out early and drove to the harbor at Rohuküla to catch the first ferry of the day to Heltermaa on Hiiumaa Island.

Till next time, Craig & Donna

Estonia Part 1: Tallinn – Captivating, Charming & Caffeinated

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Why Estonia? We are sure folks can relate, our pockets aren’t as deep as we’d like, but that doesn’t keep us home. A low budget, off-season destination is more attuned to our lifestyle anyway. So, when an under $400, September fare from New York City to Tallinn, Estonia popped up in our email we jumped at it after some research confirmed we could find some very nice hotels from $50 to $100 per night, often with breakfast included. Exploring the lesser visited Baltic countries of Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania also fulfilled our desire to extend our travels beyond western Europe, which previously had been very Mediterranean-centric. Living in the very hot and humid southern United States is also affecting our decisions concerning vacation destinations, as we are now seeking alternative destinations as a result of climate change. The heat of a southern summer often continues into September and October, with temperatures at home in Georgia often in the high nineties. Estonia offered a wonderful reprieve from the sweltering summer heat with a daily high average of 14°C (57°F).

The history museum at Maarjamäe Castle was an unusual first stop for us after picking up our rental car at the airport. But it was the closest we’d be to it during our three-week road trip through Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania. The museum is in a renovated 17th-century chateau, which was left to ruin for decades during the communist Russia occupation of Estonia. It is beautifully set on a bluff across from Tallinn Bay, and was built by the Brotherhood of Black Heads, a professional association of unmarried ship owners, merchants and foreigners dating from the 14th century, as a summer retreat.

Today the museum’s permanent exhibit, My Free Country, explores 100 years of modern Estonia’s history, from its 1918 declaration of independence from Russia, and the following War of Liberation, through twenty years as a sovereign nation before being invaded by Nazi Germany and communist Russia during the Second World War. The fifty years of brutal Russian occupation after World War II and communist propaganda are also covered, up to Estonia’s 1991 second declaration of independence from Russia, which was overwhelmingly supported by 78 percent of Estonians. It’s a difficult mission to reconcile the terror of the communist years into a bright, hopeful future, but historical research, as well as oral histories, document forced resettlements to Siberia and imprisonment in labor camps during the Soviet reign of terror, when Estonians were prisoners within their own country and shot if they tried to escape. The exhibit highlights a proud history of an unrelenting desire for freedom, which prevailed under the worst conditions. A history that, it is hoped, the younger generation of Estonians, who have not experienced communism, never forgets. As one quote on an exhibit referring to Russia said, “Nothing good ever comes from the east.”

After the 1991 independence, colossal, large-scale Russian propaganda sculptures, which once dominated prominent public spaces across the country, were removed from view but not destroyed, as they are part of Estonia’s history. However, they were erected behind the museum in a space fittingly called, with Estonian humor, “the Soviet Statue Graveyard.”

Our first lunch in Estonia was at the museum’s café, Maarjamäe Resto, an unexpected culinary delight, which could be considered a destination in and of itself.

It was still too early to check in to our hotel in Tallinn, so we headed nearby to the Tallinn Botanic Garden, a large park with an extensive greehouse. The grounds were quite pleasing with their plantings, and the greenhouse with its various collections of tropical plants was very interesting. Though in the section filled with cactuses from around the world, Donna, ouch!, accidently brushed one with her hand and imbedded some spines into her skin. Not a huge issue when you are home and have the proper tools to pluck the pesty spines from your skin and relieve the discomfort, but when you are traveling, it’s another issue entirely.

Fortunately, the barista operating the café in the greenhouse had dealt with this before, and he ran out to his car to fetch a roll of good old-fashioned duct tape to grasp those microscopic thorns. He was very nice, a 30ish Italian man who during conversation jokingly related that being a part time medic was not part of his job description when he was hired, and visitors getting pricked with cactus thorns happens more often than you would think.  We were curious how a warm-blooded southerner ended up in the northern Baltics. “You know there is always a woman to blame, and I followed my love back to her Estonian homeland.” We asked if he missed the warm Mediterranean weather and la dolce vita. Yes, the weather is nicer, so we visit my family, but life is better here in Estonia as there are more opportunities for those willing to work and get ahead. Estonia is leaps and bounds ahead of the other European countries in embracing digital technologies. So much so that the government considers internet access a fundamental right and ensures that everyone across the country, even on the smallest islands, has reliable internet, and offers digital literacy programs for the technology challenged. The government also endorses working from home remotely, and offers an Estonian Digital Nomad Visa. “Estonia is very big in cybersecurity, and this enables every person, business, and government institution to be connected. We are one of the most digitally advanced countries, and we can even vote securely online in Estonia.” This digital future contrasted with as well as complemented the vibrant centuries-old walled city of Tallinn.

Despite not having particular plans for Tallinn, we knew we would enjoy exploring the city as soon as we saw the ancient architecture along the way to our hotel. Having a rental car and finding a hotel with free parking is difficult in any city, but we scored big withTaanilinna Hotell. The hotel was in an excellent location, just on the opposite side of the old town’s historic ramparts, and a short walk from the 14th-century stone towers of the Viru Gate’s flower market.

Google Maps got us close, but the hotel was a little difficult to find, and we mistakenly drove through a pedestrian only area; fortunately, there were few people about. In order to find the hotel, we parked and walked down the street, when we spotted the hotel’s sign, which was set back from the lane. It’s a modest hotel, and the staff was very nice. We enjoyed a quiet 4-night stay.

With Tallinn’s old defensive wall only a stone’s throw away, history surrounded around us, and we quickly set out to explore and to find a place for dinner as twilight descended on the old town. Our wandering took us down various lanes, past distinctive centuries-old 4 to 5 story tall buildings that served, as was the medieval custom of the time, as the multifunctional home/warehouse/offices of wealthy merchants.

Lights twinkled on and illuminated the cobblestones in a golden glow. I know it’s cliché, but our first impressions of Raekoja Plats, the Town Hall Square, anchored with its soaring 64M (300FT) tall 13th-century watch tower, were beautiful, charming and magical. We were disappointed to learn that the tower is only open from the beginning of June to the end of August. We love a good tower climb!

Still retaining its original footprint, Tallinn is one of Europe’s best preserved medieval cities, with 26 watchtowers along its ancient ramparts and city gates, topped with distinctive cone-shaped red roofs.  The walled city still encircles a vibrant and active community, which supports a lively arts scene, along with a robust nightlife.

Its preservation seems surprising for a city that has stood at the crossroads of conflict since it was founded by a Danish King in the early 1200s. In addition to the Danes, Tallinn has been ruled by the Brotherhood of the Sword, the Teutonic Order, the Holy Roman Empire, the Swedish Empire, Czarist Russia, Nazi Germany, and the Soviet Union. The city’s prosperity and resilience throughout the centuries is testimony to the strong spirit of the Estonian people. 

One of the nice things we enjoy about staying in one place for several days is the opportunity to experience the locale as it quietly awakens with the sun. Whether it is cloudless blue skies or a place cloaked under clouds with folks huddled under umbrellas to ward off the rain, a place breathes and its mood changes by the hour, from day to day. The destinations on our walks were always different, but we often crossed the same lanes and stopped to photograph something different that caught our eye, which we hadn’t noticed before.

Old town Tallinn is mostly flat and is a wonderfully walkable city. There is a short uphill stretch to Toompea Hill (the upper city), where we visited the Kiek in de Kök Museum, the Bastion Tunnels, and Neitsitorn, the Maiden’s Tower. During the 1700s when the towers lost their military significance they were often repurposed as private apartments, with a craftperson’s workplace on the lower level, and rooms above. During both world wars the tunnels were used as air raid shelters. While the towers were lived in continually, most famously by the Estonian painters and twin brothers, Kristjan and Paul Raud, until the 1960s, when the city deemed them unsafe for habitation.  Abandoned, the towers became a destination for homeless squatters and Estonia’s emerging counterculture. The extensive tunnels were an area the police refused to go. A popular, unlicensed bar opened in the tower on New Year’s Eve in 1980. Unfortunately, it didn’t survive the economic turmoil of the era as the Soviet Union began its descent into a failed state.

After an extensive multiyear renovation, the Kiek in de Kök Museum opened in 2005. The Maiden’s Tower now hosts a new Neitsitorn café, which has a nice view out over the Danish King’s Garden, and the ghostly blackened bronze statues of three monks named Ambrosius, Bartholomeus, and Claudius. Legend holds that they occasionally appear spectrally in the garden, though the only thing that appeared the morning we visited was a sleek red Ferrari 296 GTB that was the center of a photo shoot. The tower also has the re-created art studio of the twins, Kristjan and Paul Raud. The tunnels under the ramparts have been creatively reenvisioned and now house a variety of interactive digital multimedia and historical exhibits.

A walkway along the ramparts between the towers at the museum led to an exhibit about Tallinn’s café culture. Though the first coffee house opened in the town of Narva in 1697, Tallinn didn’t get its first café until 1702 when one opened on Town Hall Square. The oldest still-operating café dates from 1864, when the renown marzipan bakery, Maiasmokk, decided to offer coffee to go along with their tasty, sweet treats. After 160 years the Maiasmokk Café, even surviving nationalization during the Soviet occupation, is still open and a beloved cultural institution in Tallinn. Most of the exhibits address Tallinn’s café culture during the repressive communist era, when going to a café to share a coffee was one of the few recreational activities people could afford. With our “walk a little then café” philosophy for exploring a city, we felt we had found kindred spirits in Tallinn.

Decades later Estonian’s infatuation with coffee continues. This cultural obsession was fully on display when Estonian singer Tommy Cash performed “Espresso Macchiato,” during the finals for Estonia’s 2025 Eurovision contest and came in third place! Though in Italy some humorless Italians didn’t like the caffeinated cliches and called for the song’s banning.

Other points of interest on the hill included the onion-shaped spires of the Russian Orthodox Alexander Nevsky Cathedral. It’s across the street from the pink building that houses the Estonian Parliament. (A very good eye-level view of the cathedral can be seen, on the uphill walk, from the restored bell tower of the mid-1400s St. Nicholas’ Church.

He was the patron saint of merchants and seafarers. It was formerly one of the wealthiest churches in Tallinn until it was severely damaged by WWII bombing. Fortunately, many of its fine ecclesiastical art works, acquired from the art capitals of Europe during the Hanseatic era, had been removed from the church for safekeeping at the start of World War II.  Now restored after a 30-year long renovation, the church serves as the Niguliste Muuseum, and exhibits the works that survived that cataclysmic war. Fortunately, the 105 meters, 345 ft, tall spire has an elevator that whisked us to the viewing deck.)

Farther along in one of Tallinn’s oldest churches, the 13th century St Mary’s Cathedral, there is a unique private worship box, totally enclosed with shaded windows, built directly across from and on the same level as the pulpit. Jokingly, we speculated it was designed for a wealthy patron so he could fall asleep and snore, without embarrassment, as the priest orated endlessly.

The hill also has the best vantage point for cityscapes of Tallinn’s historic skyline, the Patkuli Viewing Platform, and a mysterious red gorilla, that seems incongruously out of place. But we will leave him for you to find.

Stairs from the viewing platform ascended back toward the lower town, and we were close to Balti Jaama Turg, the Baltic Station Market. It was Tallinn’s first train station constructed in the 1860s, and became a market hall in 1993. A major renovation in 2017 totally revamped the three-level market, which has become a magnet for residents and tourists seeking a lively venue filled with diverse international eateries, antiques vendors, clothing shops, and food stores.

The next day, closer to our hotel, we wandered about, climbed more towers, walked along arched and tunneled alleyways, and descended into a cellar or two. Our walk along Müürivahe Street to the Hellemann Tower and Town Wall Walkway was quite interesting. The real prize was the view from the tower window towards Town Hall Square – it was a panorama filled with red tiled roofs and steeples.

Across from it was the Dominican Convent built in 1246. It was the oldest monastery in Tallinn and supported the adjacent St. Catherine’s Church which was completed in the early 1300’s. The convent couldn’t exist solely on the alms it collected, but the friars were an industrious group who supported themselves as farmers, and traders of fish, while also operating a brewery that sold four different kinds of beer, while they spread the gospel. “The monastery also drew profit from the veneration of relics,” and at one time, records suggest, they had “twelve silver reliquaries containing the heads of saints, with each head reputed to cure a different set of diseases.”

But everything came to an abrupt end during the Protestant Reformation in 1524 when a Lutheran mob ransacked the church and monastery, and the friars were expelled from Tallinn. A partial restoration was undertaken in 1954, and it’s now a museum, which also hosts art exhibits. Its rough stone chambers and some fine carved stone works were intriguing. We didn’t notice any fireplaces, which left us wondering how difficult living within these spartan walls must have been.

Next to the monastery is Katariina käik, St. Catherine’s Passage, an old medieval lane that separates the church from the surrounding buildings. Today it’s lined with restaurants offering Estonian cuisine, and artisanal crafts shops, featuring the talented women of the Katariina Gild who craft jewelry, weavings, ceramics, blown glass, and leatherwork. At the far end of the lane, under the arched entrance off Vene Street we found the Restaurant Munga Kelder to be a nice place to dine.

Within earshot of a town crier’s call was the Masters’ Courtyard. It similarly has unique craft vendors, but also has a restaurant that fills the courtyard with rustic tables covered with colorful tablecloths, which gives the courtyard a joyful, boisterous look.

Marzipan lovers, we had to stop one afternoon at the Maiasmokk Café. The ambiance in the front room was very old school with an ornate ceiling, and mirrored walls with polished wood trim and newspaper hooks! When’s the last time you’ve actually seen a newspaper? Their colorful back room is a temple to marzipan with display cases showcasing the sweet crafted into figurines and other shapes.  The variety was just mind boggling. And if your timing is right you might be able to see them being made.

With our sugar cravings satiated, we checked out Tallinn’s Great Guild Hall, directly across from the café. It featured several floors of interesting exhibits dedicated to the city’s history and trade guilds.

Across from the guild hall and the café is the Church of the Holy Spirit. During the medieval era it was the main church for everyday folk in Tallinn, and the first chapel to offer masses in Estonian, not German or Latin as was the tradition of the other churches in Tallinn at the time. With its stark white interior and original dark wood ornamentation, it is one of Tallinn’s least altered churches.

There were several other interesting facades down the street from the Great Guild Hall.

Tallinn has a rich nautical heritage that started during the early Viking era in the 6th-century when the area that would become Tallinn was a stop on the Baltic trade route that connected Sweden to Constantinople.  The area of Tallinn traded furs and bog iron for wine, spices, glass, and jewelry. Shortly after the Danes established rule over northern Estonia in the early 1200s, Tallinn now a larger port city, joined the Hanseatic League, a confederation of medieval trading cities located along the Baltic and North Sea coasts. The Dutch, German and Swedish merchants of this association brought several centuries of prosperity to the city that’s still reflected in the fine examples of merchants’ houses and guildhalls that line Pikk Street. The league’s maritime trading also supported ship building which remained a vital industry through the Soviet Era which saw the shipyards build warships and submarines for the Russian navy.

The importance of Tallinn’s maritime history is well told with two museums in the city.  One is housed in a squat, round, 16th-century cannon tower called Fat Margaret, which once guarded the port, but now is a modern, state of the art museum, with ship models, interactive displays, and the hull of an excavated wooden shipwreck to view.   

Its sister museum is on Tallinn’s waterfront at the Lennusadam Sea Plane Harbor. It was raining heavily the day we visited, so we didn’t see the historic ships docked outside, but we did enjoy the full-size boats on display inside the old seaplane hangar. Especially the submarine Lembit, built in Tallinn and launched in 1936, which was the pride of the Estonian Navy.

The large concrete hangars themselves are noteworthy, as the three connected shells were the largest reinforced concrete domes in the world, without any central support columns when their construction started in 1912. They were ordered built by Russian Tsar Nicholas II to shelter the seaplane squadron that was part of Peter the Great’s naval forces. It’s a cavernous space with a seaplane hanging from the ceiling, and where you can actually walk under a submarine. The museum also had a nice café which overlooked the exhibits.

When the weather was inclement or the walking distance too great, we used Uber to get around. The service worked very well for us in Tallinn. Getting to Telliskivi Loomelinnak, the Telliskivi Creative City, from the Lennusadam Sea Plane Harbor was one of those occassions and it worked perfectly.

It’s an old, street-mural covered industrial site that’s been revamped into a hip entertainment and nightlife destination with theaters, galleries, restaurants, and bars. It was a fun place to explore, but I think we skewed the demographics a little bit.

 Till next time, Craig & Donna

P.S. We purchased Tallinn Cards to use during our stay in the city and found it to be quite beneficial and cost effective. The card offered access to over 50 museums and attractions, free travel on public transportation, and discounts on sightseeing tours.

Driving the North Coast 500 – Part 7: Duncansby Head Lighthouse To Loch Ness or Castles, Myths & Bagpipes

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A small flock of sheep, sleeping on the tarmac, scattered when we rounded a bend to Duncansby Head Lighthouse before the crack of dawn. The pinnacle stood silhouetted against a brightening sky of pink, amber and blue, as the sun crested the horizon over the North Sea.

We followed the trail along the cliffs towards the Duncansby Stacks and passed a spot where we imagined an ancient Norse god had wielded a broadaxe and severed the bluff in two. The stacks were glowing red in the early morning light as Kittiwakes and Guillemots swooped along the cliff face, which stretched south for miles.

Following a delicious hardy breakfast, we packed our bags and said goodbye to the innkeepers at the John o’ Groats Guest House, one of our nicest stays while in the Scotland, then began the final leg of our NC500 tour and headed south along the A99 and A9 to Dunrobin Castle & Gardens, before spending the night in Strathpeffer. A pleasant distance of only 113 miles, which took us all day with all the photo stops we made. But that’s the way we roll.

There’s a debate about the best way to drive the North Coast 500 and the consensus seems to be that exploring it in a counterclockwise direction leaves the breathtaking scenery of the west coast for the last part of your trip.

We did the opposite and followed the NC500 clockwise, heading south from Inverness to Edinburgh, then west through the highlands to the Isles of Skye and Lewis & Harris before returning to the mainland and heading north to Durness and John o’ Groats, before heading south along the North Sea Coast of Scotland. We found the scenery breathtaking.

Our only complaint was the lack of official scenic pullovers, as we often had to park at the entrance to a farmer’s pasture or on a side road, and walk back along its shoulder to the spot we wanted. Fortunately, there were few cars on the road, because we stopped numerous times.

At Wick we visited the Old Parish Church and wandered amid its ancient gravestones, the oldest of which dates to 1639. The present church was built in 1862 over the foundations of two earlier churches, the earliest dating to the 12th century. A prideful lot the Wicks were, and they didn’t take kindly to anyone disparaging St. Fergus, their church’s patron saint. History tells of an Archdeacon, a noted reformer, who visited the parish in 1613 and vented his wrath on a beloved image of St Fergus in the old church, attacking and defacing it. The congregation was incensed, and the Archdeacon might have met his maker on the steps of the altar if the local sheriff hadn’t escorted him out of town. But he only got as far as the Wick River when he was ambushed and drowned.  During the following enquiry, “witnesses swore on oath that they had seen the ghost of St Fergus astride the unfortunate minister holding him down in the river.”

Clan Gunn Museum & Heritage Centre is beautifully set on the coast.

There are few natural harbors along Scotland’s North Sea coast. Ferocious storms blowing in off the sea required many villages to build stout seawalls to prevent their fishing boats from being smashed against the rocky coast. One such place was the tiny Latheronwheel Harbour. We had it all to ourselves when we visited on a Wednesday in August.

Crossing the River Helmsdale, we stopped at the Emigrants Monument which graces a hilltop that overlooks the village of Helmsdale nestled against its river and the sea. It’s a heart-rending tribute to those who were forced from their homes and livelihoods during the Clearances. The inscription on the monument, in Gaelic and English, reads:

“The Emigrants commemorates the people of the Highlands and Islands of Scotland who, in the face of great adversity, sought freedom, hope and justice beyond these shores. They and their descendants went forth and explored continents, built great countries and cities and gave their enterprise and culture to the world. This is their legacy. Their voices will echo forever thro the empty straths and glens of their homeland.”

It was commissioned by Dennis MacLeod. The son of a war-widowed crofter, he emigrated from Scotland to South Africa and made his fortune in mining.

Dunrobin Castle & Gardens was our main destination for the day, but our hopes were temporarily dampened by a sudden heavy rain. Fortunately, after we ran through the storm to the entrance, the sky cleared.

The castle is one of the best-preserved examples of how the landed nobility extravagantly lived. A castle has stood on this site overlooking the Dornoch Firth and the North Sea since the Earldom of Sutherland was created in 1235. Only a few walls of the ancient castle’s keep remained after extensive renovations and expansion in the 1700 and 1800s. The result was a French style chateau with towering conical spires and 189 rooms. Amazingly, the beautiful estate has remained the seat of Clan Sutherland for 800 years and is today owned by the 25th Earl of Sutherland.

Our self-guided tour (there were staff along the way to answer any questions) through the

exquisite rooms of this immense family home was very interesting. And it does feel like a family home, opulent but not pretentious. It was significantly nicer than the royal Palace of Holyroodhouse in Edinburgh.

As gardeners, we delighted in wandering through the Versailles-inspired oasis of flower beds and fountains.

Off the garden was the estate’s former two-story summer house, now a museum that displayed a notable collection of Pictish Stones, along with a variety of ethnographic items collected from travels around the world, and animal head trophies from safaris in Africa. 

At the lower end of the garden, we watched the castle’s resident falconer demonstrate and explain the ancient art of falconry as a Harris hawk, Gyrfalcon and Peregrine swooped low over the gasping audience. It was a very entertaining and informative show.

Farther south we turned off the A9 and headed to an early dinner at the Surf and Turf in Dornoch, a small town that traces its roots back to the 8th century. We discovered the Surf and Turf through one of the Instagram feeds we follow. The reviews were quite favorable and pictures of the seafood looked delicious, but we didn’t realize it was a takeaway shop. Luckily for us, they had a long bar with stools along one wall. The fresh fried fish, calamari and mussels we ordered were excellent and all locally caught.

The Dornoch Cathedral was just around the corner, and we spent a while studying the grotesque ancient gargoyles and stone interior of the church, which held its first service in 1239. During the medieval era the gargoyles were believed to portray evil spirits, which were driven from the church by ringing its tower bells.

In 1245 the 1st Earl of Sutherland was buried in the cathedral, the first of many Sutherlands  to be entombed in the family vault under the sanctuary floor. Three centuries later the church was left in ruins after fire destroyed the nave and roof during a climatic feud between Clan MacKay of Strathnaver and Clan Murray of Dornoch. Fifty years later only the roof over the chancel and transept walls were replaced. The cathedral remained partially renovated for another 300 years until 1835, when the Duchess of Sutherland financed a full restoration. Light poured through 27 stained glass windows and brilliantly illuminated the church’s interior. Three of those windows, with the themes literacy, music, and peace, were donated to the church in 1926, in the memory of the famous Scottish-American industrialist, Andrew Carnegie, who summered nearby at his baronial estate, Skibo Castle.

Also of interesting note, the last burning at the stake of a witch in Scotland happened in Dornoch in 1727.  Janet Horne, a local woman, was accused of turning her daughter into a pony and riding her around the highlands to perform her witchcraft. The Scottish Witchcraft Act of 1563 was repealed in 1736. The singer Madonna had her son Rocco christened in the cathedral in 2000, before her wedding ceremony to Guy Ritchie at Skibo Castle.

We ended our day in the quaint village of Strathpeffer, a Victorian era spa town whose sulphurous spring waters were touted as a cure for many ailments. A railway line reached the town in the late 1800s, and it became an easy destination for wealthy Victorians who sought “to take the waters.” Our hotel, the Highland Hotel Strathpeffer was one of those grand, four-story wood paneled, railway hotels built to ease spa-goers’ visits to the village. It’s glory years now a distant memory, the hotel still has its original warm wood paneling, but our room was very spartan, and a far cry from what we imagined were its luxuries during its heyday. During World War I the hotel was requisitioned as a convalescent military hospital, and in the Second World War served as a naval training school.

The village was very charming with a visually pleasing assortment of well-kept Victorian architecture. The old train station now hosts the Highland Museum of Childhood and a nice cafe. Across the street from our hotel the town’s original pavilion was recently renovated and once again hosts music and theater events, along with weddings, and exhibitions. Behind the pavilion is a small whimsical sculpture garden with five 13ft tall wooden sculptures of mythical figures from Celtic, Viking and Pictish legends. They were created by Allister Brebner, a local woodcarver with a workshop in the old train station, from the trunks of giant Douglas Fir trees, harvested from the Highland’s forests.

Is a tour of the Scottish Highlands really complete without visiting Loch Ness? We didn’t want to have any regrets, so on our last full day in Scotland we headed to Urquhart Castle and hoped to catch a glimpse of the fabled serpent so we could tell our young grandchildren, with our fingers crossed and a wink of the eye, that we had indeed spotted and encountered the creature and tried to wrestle it to ashore. I had his head and Donna his tail, but the slippery slimy thing was wildly thrashing about, and we lost hold of him, and in a final splash he vanished. An epic fish story about the one that got away is always good for a child’s imagination.

The castle commands a strategic point that juts out into Loch Ness, the natural geographic dividing line between the northern and southern Highlands. Built in the 13th century, it was one of Scotland’s largest fortifications and had a tumultuous 500 year history as it was captured then retaken numerous times during the Wars of Scottish Independence. Finally British soldiers blew it up in 1692 as they retreated to prevent the Jacobite army of Bonnie Prince Charlie from occupying it. On the grounds is a full-sized working recreation of a medieval trebuchet, a catapult-like siege engine that used a counterweight to hurl large stones against castle walls. Unfortunately, they were not demonstrating its use when we visited. Urquhart Castle, along with the Glenfinnan Viaduct for the Harry Potter train, were the busiest attractions we visited while in the Highlands. The rest of the time it felt like we had the Highlands mostly to ourselves. This was wonderful considering we drove the NC500 during the summer high season in August.

Our last stop before catching an evening flight from Inverness Airport was in Drumnadrochit, a crossroads village at the foot of a bridge that crosses over the River Enrick. We drove through it on the way to Urquhart Castle, earlier that morning, and thought it would be a nice place to break for lunch.

A young bagpiper commanded the village green as we settled into an outside table at The Fiddler’s Highland Restaurant to people-watch for a while. We were a little melancholic that our trip was finally coming to an end after driving a big loop around the Highlands, an area blessed with an amazing array of beautiful mountains and seascapes. The wizardly spell cast by the pipes was hard to break as we departed.

My heart’s in the Highlands, my heart is not here,

My heart’s in the Highlands, a-chasing the deer;

Chasing the wild-deer, and following the roe,

My heart’s in the Highlands, wherever I go.

The poem was written by Robert Burns

Till next time, Craig & Donna

Driving the North Coast 500 – Ullapool to John o’ Groats or Mountains, Lochs, Seas, and Midges

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True to form, blustery afternoon winds were ripping the clouds apart as the CalMac ferry steamed past the Rhue Lighthouse, heading into Loch Broom and the ferry dock at Ullapool. Being one of the last cars to board the ferry, we were one of the first off in Ullapool, and decided to pull over out of everyone else’s way to get our bearings before taking a spin around the village. Ullapool isn’t a particularly large village, only a couple of blocks, but within ten minutes of folks disembarking from the ferry, there was no sign of life on the streets. Granted, it was a Sunday, but in August, which is the tourist high season, and it felt like a ghost town. Fortunately, we did find the local Tesco supermarket open, and we bought some provisions for breakfast the next morning, as where we were staying for the night, the Altnacealgach Motel on Loch Borrolan only offered dinner.

We were back on mainland Scotland and on the NC500 again, after modifying our NC500 route to include the Isles of Skye, and Lewis & Harris, for seven days of exploring those interesting islands.

Scotland is so outstandingly beautiful, and with every twist and bend in the road there always seemed to be another vista worthy of photographing. While the roads around the Highlands are in excellent condition, our one pet peeve is there are not enough designated vantage points to pull over and take pictures from. Often, we u-turned and pulled into a gated entrance to a field. Pulling over onto the hard shoulder wasn’t an option as The NC500 throughout the Highlands is mostly a two-lane road without shoulders. The narrower country roads off the NC500 have pullovers called Passing Places for when you encounter oncoming cars, but they are not to be used for parking.

Our recently refurbished room at the Altnacealgach Motel was nice and large. Most importantly it had a kettle for our early morning coffee. The motel is a modest place with 8 rooms, but it’s beautifully situated, a pebble’s toss across the road from Loch Borrolan. Dinner was simply pizza and chili, but quite good. https://www.altnacealgachmotel.co.uk/

Our 144-mile route along the NC500 to Balnakeil Beach then onward to John o’ Groats the next day was our longest drive in the Highlands. We figured as always, we’d make many other stops along the way, so planned for an early departure the next morning.

For a third day in a row, it seemed we couldn’t shake the overcast sky from the heavens and have a sunny morning. It was unusually dreary weather for a Highland August, so much so that many of the folks we encountered felt it necessary to apologize for the unusually dreary weather.

We followed the A837 north and stopped at Ardvreck Castle, once the seat of the MacLeods of Assynt, and Calda House, now ruins. The ancient 3-4 story fortified tower house dates to the late 15thcentury and is set on an island in Loch Assynt. It’s a dramatic setting, with the loch surrounded by the magnificent mountains Quinag, Ben More Assynt, and Canisp. A narrow, sandy isthmus connects the island to the mainland. Accusations of a sinister betrayal made by the MacKenzies of Wester Ross ruined the reputation of the MacLeods of Assynt and was believed to be the cause for the rapid decline of the MacLeods’ fortunes. A final battle between the clans in1672 forced the MacLeods to surrender their rule of the Assynt region to the MacKenzies. The Calda House was built in 1726 by Kenneth MacKenzie II of Assynt for his new bride who found the old fortress dreary and uncomfortable, and “much to her dislike.” Built with imported sandstone, her new mansion stood three stories high and had 14 bedrooms. As legend tells it, the joy of a new home only lasted until 1737 when a late-night celebration continued past midnight into the sabbath, and the house was struck by lightning. Only a bagpiper who refused to play on the sabbath survived. The castle stood strong until 1795 when a lightning strike also destroyed it.  It wouldn’t be proper castle ruins without a ghost and local lore obliged with the story of the daughter of the MacLeod chief, who threw herself from the tower of Ardvreck Castle when she realized her father had betrothed her to the Devil, as payment for the Devil’s help in building it.

We pulled over at several spots along the A894 in Unapool to take pictures of Loch Gleann Dubh. The views of the loch were gorgeous, and we were a little envious of the folks who owned homes above the loch and could enjoy this panoramic vista every day.

The road swerved through a mountainous landscape sprinkled with lochs. Clouds raced across the sky. Surprisingly this popular route did not have many restaurants open on a Monday. This was a near crisis situation for two under-caffeinated coffee aficionados.  Our  pursuit of coffee was almost a forgotten memory when we spotted a Spar grocery store in Scourie, adjacent to a caravan campsite overlooking Scourie Bay and a beautiful beach. Back in the car we enjoyed two cups of coffee and the view.

We eventually turned onto the A838 at Laxford Bridge and followed it to Rhiconich. Past the hamlet this section of the A838 narrows to a single lane track as it winds through a desolate landscape of rolling hills and heather land. It was on this stretch that we encountered oncoming “traffic,” the occasional grouping of 3 or 4 cars or caravan. The narrow road allowed two-way traffic, but in order to pass an oncoming car one vehicle has to pullover into a small bump-out called a Passing Place. These are well marked and spaced along the country roads, but you need to be on the lookout for approaching cars, as the protocol is for drivers to pull into the closest Passing Place on their side of the lane and wait for the other vehicles to pass. It took some getting used to. Surprisingly, the speed limit on these single-track roads is 60 mph, but we were only comfortable driving at half that speed. Donna says that’s because I drive like an old man.

We pulled over at the Geological Information Point along the bank of Kyle of Durness, a sea loch, to read the placard and stretch our legs. Here we were fortunate to spot a shepherd on an ATV, as he and his sheep dog herded a large flock of the wooly beasts down the side road to a new pasture. The A838 continued as a single lane road all the way to the crossroad in Durness. It was suddenly a sunny day!

The beaches along the coast of Durness were our main destination for the day. Compared to the barren earth toned landscapes we traversed earlier in the morning, the striking Caribbean blues of the ocean off Balnakeil Beach were exotic, and for a moment we thought we might have been transported to the British Virgin Islands. The wide white sandy beach stretches for nearly a mile and is flanked by dunes covered with beach grass. Following the curve of the beach to the Faraid headland and stacks is a popular walking activity. There was a strong breeze which discouraged sunbathers, but there were a few hardy folks willing to take off their shoes and dip their toes in the chilly water of the North Atlantic, which hovers around 56F/13.5C in late August.

The location of the Balnakeil Church overlooking the beach and bay must have been very inspirational back in the early 1600s when it was constructed atop the ruins of an earlier 6th century Celtic monastery. Services were held in the church for about 200 years before a new place of worship was built on the southern side of the hamlet.

Today, headstones in the graveyard surrounding the ivy-covered ruins are slowly being swallowed into the peaty earth. Some interesting folks are buried in the cemetery. Notably Domhnull MacMhurchaidh, a hitman for the Clan MacKay. He is believed to have murdered 18 people and dumped their bodies into the waterfall that runs down into the caves at Smoo. “Apparently, he believed the folklore tale that the Devil lived below the falls and thence his crimes would never be discovered.” Fearing his grave would be desecrated after his death he paid a princely sum beforehand to be interned in a tomb inside the church.

A monument to the Durness born poet Rob Donn, aka, the Robbie Burns of Gaelic poetry, also stands in the churchyard. He never learned to speak English and composed in Scots Gaelic. His poems sometimes contained bawdy verse and satirical social commentary, but they were faithfully memorized and orally repeated around Scotland for 50 years before the first printed versions were available after his death.

Elizabeth Parkes, the aunt of John Lennon, is also buried in the churchyard, and he is said to have visited Durness frequently. It’s believed locally that his song In My Life, “There are places I remember,” reflects his experiences in the area.

Since the 1500s, one of the historic residences of the chiefs of Clan MacKay, Balnakeil House has commanded a prominent spot across from the ancient church, with a sweeping view of the beach. The current, bright yellow dwelling on the site dates to 1744.

Continuing our travels east on the A838, a two-lane road again, we stopped at Durness Beach. Though much smaller than Balnakeil, its waters were still a pristine blue and the beach, which backed to a steep slope, had dramatic rock outcroppings. 

Farther along from the overlook above Ceannabeinne Beach we watched paddle boarders in wetsuits set out onto the calm waters.

With our stomachs growling, we were beginning to envision all that lamb on the hoof turned in to chops; lunch was finally procured at the Norse Bakehouse in Rhitongue. This is a fine family-owned establishment that has probably saved the lives of many tourists driving the NC 500 on a Monday. It was an excellent casual restaurant, with indoor and outdoor seating that serves sandwiches, soup and pizza. Their coffee was wonderful and the food was fairly priced. https://norsebakehouse.wixsite.com/my-site/dinner-menu

“From Land’s End to John o’Groats.” We made it! Though the expression usually relates to traveling from the tip of southern England. We had cheated and started in Inverness and headed south to Edinburgh before going west across the Highlands to the Isles of Skye and Lewis and Harris. Then returning to the mainland and driving north along the west coast to John o’Groats, traditionally considered the northernmost point on the English mainland, though the designation actually belongs to Dunnet Head, about 13 miles west. Our own expanded version of the iconic NC500!

The clouds had thickened again by the time we arrived at the famous signpost overlooking a small harbor, and the sea. That’s pretty much the main drawing card to the village, which otherwise feels like an outlet shopping center. But it’s considered a must stop for most tourists before they continue on to explore the immense beauty of the northern Highlands. That seems to be the case since 1496, when King James IV granted a license to Jan de Groot, a Dutchman, to operate a ferry between this northern-most port in Scotland to the Orkney Islands, which had recently been acquired from Norway in 1472, as the resolution of an unpaid dowry for the King of Norway’s daughter Margaret’s marriage to James III of Scotland.

Business boomed for the enterprising de Groot and he was eventually able to build a large octagonal house with eight doors, in the center of which was an eight-sided table, designed so his seven sons seated at the table would be recognized as equals, as there was not a head of the table.  Over time Jan de Groot was anglicized to John o’Groats.  A modern art installation, in front of the John o’ Groats Hotel, now occupies the spot where the family home once stood. But a nod to his legacy was incorporated into the Victorian era John o’Groats Hotel built in 1875 with the inclusion of an octagonal tower in its design. The hotel now called the ‘The Inn at John o’Groats’ underwent an extensive renovation, which included a modern Norse style extension in 2013, and now features individually unique, self-catering apartments with 1, 2 or 4 bedrooms. https://www.togethertravel.co.uk/destinations/scotland/john-ogroats?guests=1&nights=1&bedrooms=0

Outside of town Leonna and Adam, the innkeepers of the John o’ Groats Guest House, warmly greeted us when we arrived very late that afternoon, but still with enough time for a short rest before dinner. While the inn looks a little spartan from the road, our accommodation was quite large and comfortable. https://www.johnogroatsguesthouse.com/

We were enjoying a whisky before dinner when Adam came into the lounge to mention that the sunset that evening, after several cloudy days, looked like it could be quite spectacular. Now, we had read about the intensity of midges during the summer months and came fully equipped to ward off the tiny nuisances with all sorts of repellents: bug sprays, lotions, insecticide wipes, and head netting. We were prepared! But in our almost two-week long trip through the highlands, we hadn’t encountered any – none, nada, zero, zip – until I spontaneously grabbed my camera and rushed outside to the corner of the building. Suddenly I was engulfed in a swarm of nearly invisible Culicoides impunctatus, the Highland Midge, Scotland’s most ferocious foe, and reportedly the reason why the Highlands remain so underpopulated. I was woefully unprepared! If anyone was watching me, I must have looked like a dancing fool with one arm frantically waving about my head as I tried to level the horizon through the viewfinder of my camera to capture the sunset. Thankfully there were still a couple of sips of whisky left to settle my nerves.

The dinners and breakfasts that Leonna and Adam created over the next two days, which showcased locally sourced provisions, were especially delicious. Their inn was one of the nicer places we stayed during our travels through Scotland. We would definitely return.

The next morning, we caught the ferry to Orkney.

Till next time, Craig & Donna