So a word about my mom. Ok, maybe a few words. My mom is not a traveler – which is entirely fine. Except when you try to travel with her, and you are like me, a well-seasoned traveler. (Some might say I’m a little impulsive, impatient and keep going until I collapse in exhaustion. They might be correct.) Our little jaunt over to Scotland could provide a feast for teams of therapists for years to come.
But I must give her a stack of credit. She not only put up with me, she kept up with me. We raced all over Scotland filling each precious day to the brim. I even convinced her that it would be a great idea to take a train way up to the highlands simply to stay one night in a haunted castle – which also happened to be a youth hostel. Now, I’m pushing the limit staying at a youth hostel. My mother is a couple of years older than me, and a total champ.
Carbisdale Castle is stunning and set into a lush landscape of sheep, heather and hairy coos. It has a tempestuous story, one of tragedy, backstabbing, burned documents, and banishment. The Coles notes version is about a much detested woman who got the boot from her in-laws once her hubby died in a ‘hunting accident’. It would seem that the classy way to kick someone out of the family was to build them a gorgeous castle far away from the rest of the family, and ask them not to pop by for Christmas dinner. It is referred to as the Castle of Spite.
I didn’t see any ghosts, though my mom said there was a bump in the night. However, in a castle full of crazy young travelers, I suspect it was more than a bump. I’m sad to say the hostel has now been closed due to high costs of some seriously needed repairs. Keep an eye on the Hostelling Scotland website to see if they plan to open the doors once more. If they do, be sure to bring your mom along.