Today, we started early by playing the St. Olaf course inside of the Cruden Bay course! For all those who know of St. Olaf, this place is where the bloody battle of Cruden was fought against the Vikings. The crest of the St. Olaf and Cruden Bay includes a castle for Slain’s Castle, water for the ocean, A hawk for Hawk’s Hill— the highest point on the course from which you can see for miles around, and a Viking ax to remember the ancient battle.

We enjoyed this 9-hole course very much and thought it was both beautiful and challenging. John birdied the second hole, and I was happy to birdie the last! (Everyone has had plenty of birdies this trip, I’m happy to say!)

Waving goodbye to these lovely courses and the whole area, we headed south to finally visit Dunnottar Castle (closed last Friday when we were here in the rain and wind). Today was a magical day. Not too many people, and the whole place was open for exploring. We saw it all, and no one fell off a cliff! (See pictures)

From there came the long drive south to Crail. We decided to change plans last week when we found out that we could get a second round at Kingsbarns for a discount. Loving both the course and the discount, we all decided to make the switch. Of course, the first thing I did was check to make sure that we had a place to stay. The Golf Hotel, nope. East Neuk (where we had Quiz Night), nope. The Honey Pot— yes, no problem (through Booking.com). So off we went, and back we came, right to the Honey Pot. What? No booking? But, but, but…

We checked the email and the messages. Somehow, with wires crossed in all directions, I had booked the Honey Pot in South Africa! Good thing this Honey Pot knows everyone in town. He sent us down to the water to a place called The Marina, where Morgan could take us for the night. Thank you, with a firm handshake! And off we went… From the castle in Cruden Bay to the ruins of The Marina Hotel. The reviews truly read, “We had the tour and found our host drunk and the place dark and run down. As quickly as we could, we ran off to The Golf Hotel.” And that’s our home for the night!

We found Morgan in the back of a lorry unloading stuff. He called out to us, “Are ya lookin’ for a room?” Right away, John and I both thought the same thing, Chaucer! And this was one of the pilgrims. Without waiting for an answer, he lowered himself to the ground and continued with his monologue. “You’ll love the room. Well, it’s not the best room, but it’s the best we’ve got.” “Let’s go have a look-see. You decide. But I guarantee you’ll not find a better price. And the lad can have his own room, no extra. Come have a look-see.” “Bad part is it’s on the second level (which means 3rd floor).” “Oh, and yes, there’s a breakfast. Don’t come down until half past eight or she’ll be mad as a hatter. Well, she already is. English, you know.” Oh, good food? I asked. “Not particularly.” And he really never stopped talking, and everything he said was slurred. More than a bit of the whisky perhaps? Then he left us in what he termed “The Junk Shop”— a back room, dark and stacked with glass cases and tables all laid out with trinkets for sale: Carved statues from Africa, tea sets, odd clothing items, pictures, games, and all of it stacked and waiting for a buyer. A few minutes later, Morgan appeared again. “Rooms are all sorted. You’ll have to see for yourself.”

If you remember the wild story of McCaig’s Rest in Oban from a few years ago, this was very similar. That one was on the water, up lots of worn-out stairs, the doorknob that came off in John’s, and the karaoke bar downstairs—this place has the same stairs, worn carpet, very dark and run-down, and with seagulls instead of karaoke. There was a lot of discussion when we were left alone to decide. Do we stay here or look elsewhere? Johnny was on his phone searching, while John was laid out taking a brief snooze.

I was left to make the decision. I decided to talk to Morgan again. Drunk or not, this was his business. That’s when I saw pictures of him dressed in a kilt with a young girl on each arm. “Do you have daughters?” I asked. “Aye, I do. Both went to college in Canada,” he said proudly. One’s working in Aspen now. And the real man came out. I decided we would stay and give Morgan our business.