Lost in Edinburgh
What I found when I lost my way in Scotland
Edinburgh. It was a decades-long dream for this American to be there. And there I was, about halfway between Edinburgh Castle and the Palace of Holyroodhouse on the Royal Mile.
Alone.
The friend I was traveling with and I had just parted ways for the afternoon. She had other interests. I had to see Holyroodhouse, having read every fictional and nonfictional account of Mary, Queen of Scots, I could find over the years. Having watched every movie or program I could find. Having a general interest in history and specific interests in the British Isles.
Holyroodhouse is special to me. Even before Mary, there had been the wedding of James IV and Margaret Tudor in the abbey while the palace was under construction. Later, James VI would live at Holyrood until he became King of England and took up residence in London. So much happened here.
In between, there would be burnings and cannon attacks and repairs. Holyroodhouse has seen some things.
And I was going to see Holyroodhouse.
Alone.
That turned out to be the best part. My visit to Holyroodhouse was the beginning of my discovery of the joy of solo travel.
The Royal Mile
The Royal Mile is the road that slopes gradually from Edinburgh Castle at the top to Holyroodhouse at the bottom. It’s actually made up of several streets that run together west to east, starting with Castlehill, which runs into Lawnmarket, followed by High Street, on to Cannongate, and finally, Abbey Strand. It is roughly a mile long(an English mile) and takes just under a half hour to walk.
The Royal Mile is a busy thoroughfare, overrun by tourists and populated by colorful locals. Walking it alone gives you the opportunity to stop where you want and enjoy the view. If you’re walking and talking, you might miss some things . . ..
Like this guy playing his heart out for you although bagpipes are difficult to ignore!
This wizard floating in mid air.
This guy doing . . . his thing.
There’s always something to see on the Royal Mile, whether it’s the colorful characters or the rows of shops. So, so many shops.
But, finally, you end up here, at Holyroodhouse.
It was incredible to tour it alone, absorbed in my own thoughts. It was just me and Holyroodhouse. There were other tourists, but I hardly noticed them. I was having a moment with history, and that’s all I cared about.
Pictures aren’t allowed in Holyroodhouse, so I had to put away the potato I use for photography. (I suck at photography, and there’s no point in pretending otherwise, okay?)
Holyroodhouse is massive. You can tour parts of it online via the Royal Collection Trust. There is so much to see, from the state apartments (including the chambers of Mary, Queen of Scots) to the Throne Room and the Great Gallery. I stood at the spot where Mary’s secretary, David Rizzio, was murdered by her jealous husband, Lord Darnley, and his gang of assassins.
This spot, this murder, was the beginning of the end for Mary, Queen of Scots.
I stood there.
Outside, I was able to pull out my potato again and take some pictures of the ruins of the abbey that dates back to King David I of Scotland (1128, to be exact) and the grounds of the palace.
As I strolled the grounds (not the whole 10 acres, but some of it!), I wondered if Queen Mary had once walked where I was walking. Did she appreciate the lush beauty of the place?
Did she ever stand and admire this incredible view?
Finally, it was time to leave. My stomach was grumbling for fish and chips. (I gained five pounds on fish and chips in the UK and Ireland.)
The part where I get lost
The half hour walk back to the hotel would justify the fish and chips, so I decided to hoof it. I’m a avid walker anyway, so it seemed like a good chance to stretch the old legs, too.
There had been some instruction from our tour director about finding Princes Street if we got lost and following it and . . . more words. Who’s really listening when you’re trying to photograph Edinburgh Castle with a potato?
I set out in the direction of Princes Street. For some reason, my phone wasn’t getting any kind of connection, so I had no access to maps, and the paper one I had was kind of vague. Nevertheless, I set out confidently in the wrong direction.
Before this happened, I would have thought being lost would terrify me. I got lost in my car in the city I live in once when I was new to the area, and it was enough to keep me from going back until Google Maps became a thing. But then again, I did see a dead body on a stretcher and a swarm of cops arresting a bunch of people that day (the middle of a week day!), so there’s that.
But, I wasn’t scared in Edinburgh. Maybe it’s just Edinburgh, or maybe I’m older and wiser and more savvy now. I know what to look for and how to avoid a sketchy area, not that I saw any in Edinburgh. I’m sure they are there. As I strolled along, I realized I was relaxed and trusted myself. I was happy.
At one point, I spotted three people — two women and a young man — with a large map, so I approached them, hoping to get some directions. They stared at me nervously as I asked what street we were on. They spoke to each other — in German, I think — and looked, frankly, kind of terrified. (What were they saying? “It’s an American. Does it have a gun? What should we do?”) I tried to ask them if they knew the name of the street we were on, but I think they were even more lost than I was.
When I turned, I saw the ultimate “get unlost” solution: a tour bus driver! He was parked on a side street and vacuuming the steps of his vehicle with some little handheld thing. He cheerfully pointed me in the right direction, and off I went.
I think Edinburgh is still so vivid to me because I walked it alone, taking in every site, processing it all deliberately and thoughtfully. When there’s no extraneous chatter or other distractions, it’s easier to simply be in a place, be a part of it.
Upon finding Princes Street, I was still a bit turned around. I wanted to get some pictures of the Sir Walter Scott monument, and I knew I needed to go west. Waiting to cross a street, I asked a woman standing next to me if I was headed in the right direction. She responded that she thought so, and then said, “I’m so sorry, but I’m in a hurry, and I’m late,” before darting across the street and disappearing into the crowd.
“That’s fine. I’ll be fine,” I said because she did look distressed.
I continued on my way, still feeling happily lost and not minding at all now. If I wandered up and down Princes Street, I would eventually see the cross street that led to my hotel.
Then, I saw the woman, running back toward me, waving at me. Nearly out of breath, she pointed in the sky, “Do you see that spire ahead in the distance? Walk toward that. That’s the monument!” She turned to run off again, and I shouted “Thank you!” after her. She turned to wave, still trotting along, and I thought how kind it was of her to come back for me that way when she was in such a hurry.
And then I had my moment with Sir Walter Scott. I love Ivanhoe. His other books are good, too— the other Waverly novels — but Ivanhoe is special. I wrote about a book from my grad school studies , The Superhistorians, in another article. The author included Sir Walter Scott among his chosen great historians although books like Ivanhoe were historical fiction and Scott did take liberties with historical fact. But, he brought history to life and he did so by putting people at the center of it. He made history a riveting story.
As a history major who had been drawn to history initially through historical fiction, it meant something to me to stand before the monument to Scott and reflect on his work. It was yet another moment between Edinburgh and me.
Then it was time for fish and chips. And Guinness.
What I learned
The main thing I learned from being lost on my own in Edinburgh was that it wasn’t a big deal. I have been interested in the idea of solo travel for awhile, and it seems to me there has been a explosion of interest in and information about it over the last couple of years. There are many articles online about why people are taking up solo travel, which typically include the freedom of being able to do what you want when you want with less expense, along with being able to immerse yourself fully in the experience. Solo travelers often note a boost to self confidence and self-knowledge that come with the experience. Solo travel can also be less stressful than traveling with others.
Would the imagery of the Royal Mile still be so vivid to me if I had walked it with another person? Would I have been as immersed in Holyroodhouse with someone else waiting for me to finish in a room or drawing my attention to something else? Would I have had that connection with a stranger that still reminds of how awesome human beings can be? Would I have enjoyed reflecting on the influence of Sir Walter Scott on me, a history and English major while standing before his statue?
Those memories are my own special memorie s— mine alone.
After Edinburgh, the idea of solo travel became more than just an idea to me. I now see it as something I can actually do.
