Whisky and No Room at the Inn
Trip Start Sep 03, 2007
10Trip End Sep 14, 2007
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Where I stayed
They use taller spirit stills to get more of the bad vapours out of the alcohol, thus allowing them to say "Our whisky is that much closer to Heaven." Very witty
I arrived in Aberdeen around 4ish, and I proceeded to drive the twenty miles or so north to Cruden Bay, the course I was planning on playing the next day. I found it easily (get to the small town, turn towards the ocean, there's the course) and set up a tee time for 9AM. With that set, I went into town to find a room. Of course, there were absolutely zero rooms in Cruden Bay. I drove back to Aberdeen, and come to find out, there were zero rooms in Aberdeen (at least the hotels). I didn't know where any of the B&B's were, and Aberdeen is a bigger city, so I went north. On to a small town of Ellon, which had no rooms. I was beginning to notice a trend. I went to Newburgh, no rooms. I went to Peterhead, which is a good 30 miles north of Aberdeen, and I couldn't find a thing. No vacancy signs on all the B&B's, no rooms in the hotels. By now it was 7:15 and getting darker, and I had a bad feeling I would be sleeping in the car
I took it, and proceeded to listen to his directions, which included "once you get to the end of the pavement, don't worry, just keep going on the dirt road, and you'll get to it after another mile or so." NOT the most confidence-inspiring quote I was looking for. However, it was 7:30 and I was very tired, and I didn't much feel like sleeping in the car. So on I went. I turned down this very dark, very small road that lead out into farmland. One word kept flashing through my head . . . ."hostel, hostel, hostel" as in the movie Hostel. Which does happen to be a horror movie about people who stay in a hostel getting chopped up and such. Very much the correct frame of mind I should be in at this point. So I keep fighting the tickle in the back of neck telling me to turn around, and I push on through the dark.
I take the next turn, following signs to Rattray Head, which is nothing more than a lighthouse on a promontory. Ah yes, here we get to the dirt road, which looks nothing more than a tractor track, bracketed in by fences. That means there IS no place to turn around if I go forward
I keep the car in drive, and press on to the buildings . . .