Friday, 20 May 1955
We leave Edinburgh for Glasgow on a service bus. A very kind and helpful conductor took care of our baggage for us. We checked the bags at the bus station at noon, bought a scarf and gloves. Glasgow appears to move a lot faster than Edinburgh but it’s a huge slum. Ruth’s knee socks are objects of much interest, lots of staring at two uncomfortably cold young Americans. The local kids in skirts and short pants have bright red knees that match their fiery cheeks.
We lunch at Prince’s Restaurant. A nattily attired local at the next table industriously digs into each nostril as he reads The Times. I think of anglophiles back home who will be certain that I am lying about this. A nice old gardener opened the gates to the park next to the agricultural school so we sat on a bench and ate South African apples we had bought nearby. Two buses leave for Oban, with mostly hikers among the passengers. We’re the only Americans. It’s raining and the bus leaks. The scenery is beautiful as we pass the Firth and what seems like the entire British navy, including carriers and battleships, tied up in the Clyde. It’s very strange to see shipyards with their cranes and dry docks on one side of the road and farms and cottages of the workers on the other. We travel north through the Lochs and the scenery gets really wild. In the Highlands the weather closes in, bleak and severe, which is probably why all the cattle have stringy long hair. Snow begins to fall even if it is the end of May.
A considerable amount of hail follows but our cute little conductorette keeps smiling through it all, opening doors for passengers who run for the bus from the most obscure places. Upon entering Oban we spot a nice bed-and-breakfast place and hike over to it from the bus stop. Mrs. Robertson’s Eskdale turns out to be everything that Mrs. W’s wasn’t. It is spotless and pleasant. We have a warm room over the kitchen, B&B plus tea for three nights, and it is only $US 10.50 for the two of us. And the other guests are friendly as well. Two young women from Rhodesia describe the turmoil there and imminent threat of civil strife. Very sobering stuff.