Only a week prior, we were in a different part of the country visiting friends, and I did all of the photography via my mobile phone – the output was rather dissatisfactory (more on that in a future post), so I very purposefully took my enthusiast-grade camera along on this most recent excursion. Here is a selection of photos from the lovely oasis that is the Deep Cut Gardens.

The first attraction is the Display Garden, a compact set of flower and vegetable beds in the botanical-garden style.

It appeared fairly sparsely used, although not without eye-catching features and fragments.






A couple of award-winning vegetables enjoy dedicated signage.


Beyond that, there are gorgeous flowers in all parts of the garden grounds.






The next attraction is the Bonsai Display, exhibiting several dozen miniaturized trees and shrubs.





In the greenhouse that is standing next to the bonsai, one section is chock-full of various species of cacti.





Large sections within the defined Deep Cut boundaries are pure parkland, while Tatum Park, which is part of the Monmouth County Park System, sits right across the road from the gardens.

The pièce de résistance of Deep Cut grounds is the Rose Parterre.




We came to the garden relatively early in the morning, and, customarily, I removed strangers from the above perspectives. There were just a few at first, but closer to noon, people started to arrive in larger numbers, partially on account of a ceremony that was apparently about to take place in the Pergola at the far end of the rose garden. And even then, the place did not feel crowded.

Elsewhere, there are various water features and plenty of benches to park yourself and enjoy the surrounding tranquility.






We have lived in this part of New Jersey for over a quarter of a century, and I first learned about Deep Cut Gardens literally the morning of this excursion. Goes to show that there are always fun places to discover right under your nose, even when the preference is to travel far and wide in search of interesting locales.

But then the tournament schedule offered an entire half-day without any games for our team, and while the teen was happy to sleep in and my better half was content to take it easy, I needed to be out and about. So I indulged my long-held desire to survey a type of structure that I have never found time to see in close proximity before – the covered bridge.

In the early-to-mid-19th century, the expansion of road networks in rural areas brought about a bridge-building boom. This was before the advent of iron and steel in reinforced construction, so structural trusses were made of timber. Weather-induced decay limited their expected lifespan to just a couple of decades; sometimes the bridges became unusable and required rebuilding within just a few years. A relatively simple solution of covering the bridge with a roof and walls lengthened its functional life to well over a century. Within about fifty years, thousands of covered bridges were constructed all over the country.

Of those, just a few hundred remain today; the rest have been gradually replaced by more modern and durable metal crossings. New Jersey has a single remaining historic bridge, an hour and a half away from where we live. Pennsylvania, conversely, has over two hundred of those – the most of any state in the nation. Quite a few are located in Lancaster County, reasonably close to each other, so that a circuit connecting several bridges can be navigated in the space of two or three hours.

My circuit in the end included 11 bridges. Armed with only a phone, I did not spend too much time and effort looking for additional photographic angles, so each stop was relatively short, consisting of reading the information board, taking a few pictures, walking over the bridge, and then also driving over; in a couple of instances, there wasn’t an obvious space to leave the car, so I didn’t even walk around. It is not a terrible exaggeration that once you’ve seen one or two of these structures, you’ve seen them all – there is not too much variety in features between them. I kept thinking, “I still have time, let’s see if the next one brings something different”, and thus continued from one location to another until I absolutely had to go back to attend to the main purpose of the trip – cheering for my kid. Here is a brief collection of visuals from that run-about.

Landis Mill Covered Bridge, built in 1873 over Little Conestoga Creek, is the shortest surviving covered bridge, at only 53 feet long.

Architecture connoisseurs will find a unique feature at this bridge: it is the only one with the king post truss construction, which is primarily suitable for shorter spans. Since I did not think of taking a featured picture of the beams, you will have to take that fact on faith.

Hunsecker’s Mill Covered Bridge is, conversely, the longest single-span covered bridge in the county, at 180 feet. Standing over the Conestoga River, it is actually not the original structure, but a comparatively recent reconstruction of the bridge originally built in 1843 and swept away in floods multiple times between then and 1973, when this latest version was installed.

I was actually quite surprised to learn that a fully wooden structure was reconstructed so recently. Probably because it is not designated as “historic” due to that 20th-century rebuild, it is not painted red, as is the standard for historic covered bridges.

Inside the bridge, you can see the truss construction known as double Burr arches, which is again a rarity.

Pinetown Covered Bridge, also over Conestoga, has been standing at its spot since 1868.

Zook’s Mill Covered Bridge has provided a crossing over Cocalico Creek since 1849.

Earlier bridges had solid walls. Occasional windows were added to them only at much later dates to improve visibility and ventilation.

Keller’s Mill Covered Bridge is another outlier – the only bridge painted white.

That departure in the color scheme may be indirectly due to the fact that this is not the bridge as it was originally built over Cocalico Creek in 1873. It was rebuilt at least once before the end of the century due to flooding damage. In 2006, it was completely dismantled and replaced with a steel-and-concrete bridge. And after that, in 2009, the 19th-century structure was reassembled a few miles downstream in a different location, where we find it today.


Erb’s Mill Covered Bridge was first built over Hammer Creek in 1849 and last rebuilt in 1887.


Forry’s Mill Covered Bridge spans Chiques Creek and has stood on this spot since 1869.

It’s one of the easiest to get a full view from the side, given the relatively open meadow on its northern side. (I am pretty sure that I did not trespass on anyone’s private land.)

Siegrist’s Mill Covered Bridge also spans Chiques Creek and is among the youngest covered bridges in the area with respect to the original construction date of 1885.

It is probably the most accessible bridge for exploring from all angles, given plenty of space to leave the car and several paths leading to the creek on both sides.



Most covered bridges employ single Burr arches as the truss construction mode. You may have glimpsed some of those in earlier shots, and here is the best example of that.

Shenck’s Mill Covered Bridge, also on Chiques Creek, dates from 1847, but was rebuilt just a few years following its opening, in 1855.

Here is something relatively unique – it is one of only three bridges in the county with horizontal side boards.



Kauffman’s Distillery Covered Bridge, yet another span over Chiques Creek, was first built in 1857 and rebuilt in 1874.

Finally, Shearer’s Mill Covered Bridge, first built in 1847, is the only bridge that is painted entirely red, inside and outside, with no white anywhere. And it also features horizontal side boards.

Standing over the same Chiques Creek, it is again a relocated specimen, moved to its present location in the Manheim Memorial Park in 1971.


The location means that it is fully pedestrianized, which is another unique feature among covered bridges in Lancaster County.


I suppose enough is enough. I know a lot more about the covered bridge construction now that I researched the history and features of every bridge included in this group. I doubt I will explicitly plan another such set in the future, but no doubt if I randomly come upon another covered bridge somewhere, my appreciation of the landmark will only be enhanced by this brief sightseeing outing.

You’d be well justified in thinking that Þingvellir is a natural World Heritage site, though. While scattered remains of the thousand-year history are found here or there in the park, visually, it is all about the landscape and the unique proposition of being able to see the edges of two tectonic plates, the Eurasian and the North American, pulling apart from each other.

This is what this terrain looks like from the main elevated terrace near the visitor center.





Þingvallakirkja in its current incarnation dates from 1859, but there has been a church at this site continuously since 1015. The small church cemetery is the resting place for several notable Icelanders (for instance, Einar Benediktsson, whom we got briefly acquainted with in the Reykjavik post). The buildings behind the cemetery include the summer residence of the Prime Minister and supporting staff quarters. This cluster of man-made landmarks is the only one in the park, so it is no big surprise that it ends up a constant feature in shots from all possible angles.







The church is active and regularly hosts weddings, but is open to visitors only in the summer months.


The 7-kilometer rift that marks the eastern boundary of the North American tectonic plate starts right by the main viewpoint near the visitor center.



This rock feature crowns the rocky outcrop defined as the Law Rock (Lögberg), the open-air venue for the Althing assemblies of yesteryear.


The expanse of water to the south is Thingvallavatn, Iceland’s largest natural lake. It does not freeze even in winter…

… although you can find frozen streams elsewhere in the park.

Þingvellir is one of the main components of the Golden Circle. You cannot, unfortunately, do it justice in the space of a one-hour stop on a chauffeured group tour. Some of the key points of interest, such as Öxarárfoss Waterfall or the most picturesque portion of the Almannagjá Gorge that marks the boundary between two tectonic plates, are a good twenty minutes from the visitor center on foot, which makes it impractical to try to reach them when time is limited. I chose a short loop that took me near the church and its adjacent buildings, proceeded at a leisurely and cautious pace (some pathways remain quite slippery with ice well into March), and still felt like I was rushing. Two hours must be the absolute minimum at Þingvellir. And in summer, snorkeling between the tectonic plates would be something of a bucket-list activity, extending the visit to at least half a day.

Having completed the Golden Circle, our tour bus returned to Reykjavik. I still had the evening and the following morning to do more sightseeing in the capital, but that was already covered in the post about Reykjavik. And after that, the Scotland+Iceland adventure came to its end.

The three defining components of the circle are Gullfoss Waterfall, Geysir Geothermal Area, and Thingvellir National Park. Marketing hype notwithstanding, they are all well worth visiting. It should be pointed out that they are positioned roughly on a straight line rather than any circular route in relation to each other or to the capital. However, the customary track for seeing them all on a single day from a base in central Reykjavik is a triangular-looking highway loop that allows add-ons, such as the Kerid Crater (Kerið in Icelandic spelling).

This is not an explosion crater, but rather a caldera that collapsed inward without any volcanic eruption, anywhere between three and six thousand years ago. The walking path around the rim takes about 25 minutes to navigate at an unhurried pace.





I did not remove the tiny people from either the bottom or the opposite side of the rim, primarily as an indication of scale.

The lake at the bottom of the crater is 55 meters down, accessible via a designated path, and frozen in winter. There are standard warnings not to step on the ice, but you will always find younger visitors who ignore those. I am too old and too rule-abiding for that, so I limited myself to standing on the edge of the ice when I walked down.



It is kind of curious how pieces of rock and ice are found atop the frozen surface.

Surrounding landscapes as seen from the Kerid’s rim.



The labels on this public toilet’s doors suggest adventures awaiting those who enter – be it navigating a lava tunnel, watching the whales, or scuba-diving – which I found unexpectedly humorous.

Gullfoss regularly tops the lists of most impressive waterfalls in Iceland. The name means “Golden Falls”, and its anchoring location on the Golden Circle means that the multi-tiered waterfall is the most visited of all falls in the country.


There are various viewing points on the western bank of the Hvitá River, so I got a few different angles to capture the tremendous sight.



It should be noted that the strong winds accompanying my visit to Iceland were at their strongest and coldest around Gullfoss. I could barely maintain an upright posture and avoid dropping the camera from my frozen fingers as I was taking these pictures.

The waterfall cascades into a narrow canyon, where the small river eventually adopts a relatively serene flow.






Farms breeding Icelandic horses dot the countryside. Our tour bus made a stop at Brú horse farm, not far from Gullfoss, so that we could get up close and personal with these sturdy animals.





The Haukadalur Geothermal Area – commonly known as “Geysir”, the name that gave origin to the English word “geyser”, as one might expect – is a steaming cluster of mud pits.




The headline attraction is one geyser that erupts every few minutes, the Strokkur. I positioned myself on different sides of it and waited out the periods of calm in order to capture several sequences of the signature event.




Standing downwind from the geyser turned out about as well as you might guess – once the steam came towards me, it affected the camera’s ability to focus.

I moved to another side for another sequence.





The last main component of the Golden Circle is Thingvellir National Park, but since it is a recognized UNESCO World Heritage site, it will enjoy a separate subsequent entry in these pages.

A general note on doing the Golden Circle. There are many options for joining a group chauffeured tour – the driver will provide wide-ranging commentary during driving segments, but let you explore on your own at each stop. If you are car-enabled, it is not too difficult to make the circuit on your own, and whatever you lose in the form of the driver’s narration will be plentifully compensated for by managing your own time at each stop and not wasting any on pick-ups and drop-offs.

Here are a couple of views over Reykjavik from the terrace on the upper level of Perlan Museum.


The standout landmark in the shot above is Hallgrímskirkja. The church is only 40 years old this year (completed in 1986) and dominates the city’s skyline to a degree that it is visible practically from anywhere in Reykjavik. It is the most recognizable architectural landmark of the entire country and must also be the most photographed one, to which I couldn’t help but contribute plentifully.


The sculpture in front of the church is of Leif Eriksson, the first European to set foot in North America.

The interior of the great church is decidedly spartan, with just a handful of embellishments, as befits a Lutheran place of worship.



I ended up in front of Hallgrímskirkja after the fall of darkness as well, so here are a couple of nighttime shots repeating the daytime angles.



Among other notable landmarks in town is Höfði House, which hosted a consequential summit between Gorbachev and Reagan in 1986…

… the modern city hall with its 3D topographical map of Iceland…


… and the unpretentious 19th-century Icelandic Parliament building, next to the similarly unostentatious late-18th-century cathedral.

Possibly the second most-photographed sight in Reykjavik is this sculpture called the Sun Voyager.

The sculpture was installed in 1986, a year that appears to be singularly momentous in Reykjavik’s recent history. I am already mentioning it for the third time in this post. There may be undertones of Viking seafaring exploits in the composition, but the intended symbolism is broader, representing a journey towards the new horizons.

The sailors in the boat are greeting the rising sun, and curiously, there is another sun-themed sculpture found in a different part of town – this one is called The Face of the Sun.

A piece of the Berlin Wall was donated to Reykjavik and installed in the vicinity of the Höfði House in 2015.

There are various monuments to notable Icelanders found throughout the city. We already noted Leif Eriksson. The poet and public figure Einar Benediktsson, whose works contributed to the push for Iceland’s independence, is commemorated near the Höfði House, which incidentally was his residence in the first half of the 20th century.

This is the monument to Ingibjörg H. Bjarnason, who became the first female member of the Parliament in 1922.

It stands close to the Parliament building in the heart of the historic center, but the buildings around the courtyard are all modern. That is one illustration of the fact that in Iceland, traditional-looking buildings and modern-looking ones frequently exist side by side. Here are a couple of other perspectives making the same point.


Overall, the Old Town Center has quite a few colorful pockets.






Lake Tjörnin, around the corner, is a major haunt of swans and other waterfowl.


As you have probably guessed, I removed a bunch of stray passersby from these pictures – but not as many as you might think. Most of these photographs were taken in the morning hours, and the city remains relatively deserted until late morning. At least when it comes to the consecutive Sunday and Monday mornings in mid-March.

Let’s include one more angle with Hallgrímskirkja, from across the lake.

Reykjavik’s “downtown” area, separate from the historic center, is a triangle formed by the streets of Laugavegur and Skólavörðustígur. Its edges are residential, while its core is certainly quite touristy and commercial, and colorful eye-catching buildings are found on many corners.












At the bottom of Skólavörðustígur, the block known as “the Rainbow Street” is another oft-photographed location.


Likely not among the most prominent Icelanders, this sculptural group is called simply Dance; it feels more like a “band” to me.

It stands next to the Perlan Museum, an incredible collection of displays and interactive features focused on the natural wonders of Iceland.

The interactive exhibitions do not lend themselves to photography all that well (or are expressly prohibited, as is the case for the aurora borealis show), so here are just a couple of snapshots: the inside of a volcano about to erupt and an ice cave.


The weather was not too bad during my two days in Iceland, but one unfortunate aspect was the strong cold winds sweeping every nook and cranny. They forced me to reduce the amount of time I was out on the streets and instead seek refuge inside museums.

Ah, who am I kidding!? If you know me well enough, you’d fully expect me to prioritize one or two museums in my sightseeing itinerary.

One of those was the Settlement Exhibition, a tremendous journey through time from the point when the “Smoky Bay” was founded as the first permanent settlement in Iceland by Norseman Ingólfur Arnarson in 874 CE. Its centerpiece display is built around the excavated remains of a 10th-century Viking longhouse.


All aspects of the discovery of Iceland and the early life of Norse settlers are covered at the Settlement Age hall.


Additional spaces chart the subsequent history of Reykjavik, through its becoming a prominent farmstead and eventually growing into a city where the vast majority of Icelanders reside nowadays.


There is also a set of reconstructed commercial and private interiors from the early 20th century.



One other museum that I visited was the Saga Museum, a curious collection of wax-sculpture compositions that chart the course of Iceland’s Viking Age history through depiction of some of the leading figures immortalized in sagas of the time. Among them are: the aforementioned Ingólfur Arnarson, the first Icelander, with his wife Hallveig Fróðadóttir; a celebrated 9th/10th-century blacksmith Skalla-Grímr; the 13th-century writer and politician Snorri Sturluson, whose works on Viking history are cited by historians to this day; or his older brother Sighvatr Sturluson, a chieftain killed in the Battle of Örlygsstaðir in 1238.




A bit campy but surprisingly engrossing.

I at first tentatively planned to see a fine arts museum as well, but this trip was originally about whisky, and when I came across a notion of a young Icelandic distillery, I decided instead to stop by for a tasting.

I doubt many people will feel that they need more than a day to see Reykjavik, but with more time (and less wind), I could have additionally explored the harbor area, which is a major leisure and entertainment cluster, or stopped by other museum exhibitions or enjoyable public spaces. I suppose there will be future opportunities for that.

The relatively short timeframe of the most recent trip and the distances that we needed to cover in four days reduced my photographic output entirely to the “drive-by” variety. Our main distillery targets were all located on the southwestern edges of the Highlands and in Argyll and Bute. Here is a small selection of perspectives that we came across.

Glen Ogle Viaduct, built in the second half of the 19th century.

The mountain peaks known as the Three Sisters of Glencoe.

You’ll have to trust me that there is a third one to the left of this perspective.

Unnamed ruins near Killundine on Morvern Peninsula.

Ardtornish Castle and Lighthouse in another part of Morvern.

The most colorful waterfront of Tobermory, on the Isle of Mull.






Abandoned boats in Salen Bay.


Duart Castle, guarding the passage of the Sound of Mull.



Coastal perspective in Oban Bay.

Campbeltown Marina.

Notice the skies. It is a good illustration of the crazy weather that accompanied our visit to the Kintyre Peninsula, alternating bright sunlight and hail throughout the day.

Campbeltown was the only occasion of this trip that we stayed overnight in town. It will not win any awards for prettiness, but I still went out to the pier in the morning to snap a few perspectives of the waterfront and surroundings.





The coastline at Westport Beach, a few minutes out of Campbeltown.


Our only dedicated “culture” stop on this trip was the Neolithic monuments area in Ballymeanoch, which includes standing stones, a stone circle, and a cairn.




The last-day itinerary switch described in the previous post meant that we drove through Inveraray on Loch Fyne. Its castle would be on my target list if it were not customarily closed through March for the winter season. You cannot get good perspectives of the castle from the nearby roads, but the town itself turned out to be quite fetching.




There is also a local attraction called Inveraray Jail, offering tours of the premises and an escape room themed after the establishment. We did not proceed beyond the gift shop, though.

And that’s all there was. The next morning, I flew to Iceland.

Also, age is now a factor. Not the whisky’s age, but the visitors’. We can’t really do justice to more than a couple of distilleries on a single day anymore, whereas in the past, we may have been able to visit four or five during the opening times on the same day.

So, 4 days = 8 distilleries. Or maybe 9, depending on how you count, as you will see below. Here is my customary brief overview.

Deanston was a return visit. We had fond recollections from stopping by in 2018; the distillery was along our driving route, and we did not want to start our trip with a 3-hour leg to the first target (which, sadly, eliminated Ben Nevis from the itinerary altogether). The factory-like complex sits on the bank of the River Teith, and I somehow retained an erroneous past impression that the tasting room windows looked out on the river. In fact, all you can see from the windows is the embankment wall (located immediately to the right of the below perspective). Nonetheless, the shop and the tasting area are great, the staff is engaging, and a large full-service café has opened on the premises since our last visit. That last time we ended up with an impromptu tasting of half a dozen selections from the Deanston range gratis, but nowadays the tasting flights cost as much as £35 for 4 drams (pretty steep but not unique); playing up our repeat-visitor credentials, we elicited a 5th at no extra cost.

Ardnamurchan is one of the youngest distilleries around, just a dozen years old, located on the eponymous peninsula on the southwestern edge of the Highlands region. Probably the prettiest by sight of all the distilleries that we visited on this trip. Despite its remote location, there were some other people there when we arrived. Friendly and easy-to-engage staff, nice tasting room, and a flight of 3 whiskies for £12.

Nc’nean is an even younger distillery, located quite a distance from anything on the Morvern peninsula (if you look at the map, you may think that it is next door to Ardnamurchan, but there is more than an hour and a half of driving distance between the two; we did not visit both on the same day). There is not much visitor traffic in the off-season, so advance arrangements are recommended; I emailed the distillery with the day and the approximate time of our arrival and obtained a confirmation that someone would be there to receive us. The same person who emailed me back met us in the bar and talked us through the distillery history and its expanding range as we proceeded with the tasting. It turned out to be a very good experience. The 3-dram flight cost just £6 and was further enhanced by a preceding drop of the new make spirit and then an extra dram towards the end as a reward for our enthusiastic engagement. (On a curious note, there is a baby-changing table in the restroom; apparently, Nc’nean is among the small number of distilleries that allow underage visitors and are happy to welcome parents with infants.)

Tobermory is located on the Isle of Mull. It is a sign of our dedication to scotch that we are willing to incorporate two ferry rides into the itinerary for the purpose of visiting a single distillery. (We stayed on the island overnight.) Tobermory village waterfront is very colorful – to be featured in the next post – and the distillery visitor center at the edge of it feels somewhat understated, sitting behind the large village parking lot. The distillery is one of the oldest in Scotland, dating from 1798, and produces single malts under two brand names, Tobermory and Ledaig, owing to the fact that today’s Tobermory is a merger of two villages, and the distillery is actually in what historically was the village of Ledaig. Here, we went for a semi-guided tasting of four “elevated” whiskies across both brands (for a fairly reasonable outlay of £35), in a separate tasting room off the main shop that we had to ourselves for the duration of the experience. The affable guide gave us a long intro, mentioned some things to look out for, and then left us to go through the tasting at our own pace while periodically checking in on us.

Glen Scotia is one of the three Campbeltown distilleries. The visitor center is compact, with a dedicated sit-down area for tasting. The attendant was happy to engage with all of our questions, but he was manning the shop all by himself and needed to periodically switch his attention from us to other people who popped in and out. All whiskies in the distillery range are available for tasting at different per-dram prices. We selected 4 for the total cost of £28, and then talked the attendant into giving us an extra dram of the one that we liked the best (for the record, that was the 12-year-old tawny port finish, the most outstanding scotch of this trip).

Springbank in Campbeltown was probably the most low-key of all our stops on this trip. The distillery has a bar on premises, called Washback Bar, where you can just walk in, sit down, and order a flight from among various options (we picked one at £30 for 4 drams). The atmosphere is nice, the engagement with the bar staff is limited, and that was what we needed at that moment. We did pop into the relatively simple visitor center a bit later and chatted up the staff; you can pour yourself a sample of each of the Springbank, Longrow, Hazelburn, and Kilkerran brands from huge glass containers by the shop window, but we had to pace ourselves.

Glengyle is the third Campbeltown distillery, existing, in a sense, solely so that Campbeltown can be considered its own whisky-producing region (three distilleries is the minimum for that). It is, to be honest, creative accounting. Glengyle is not territorially distinct from Springbank; in fact, if you take a few steps forward in the above perspective and turn right, you will see the sign shown below less than thirty meters in front of you. The Springbank visitor center doubles up as that of Glengyle’s as well (this is where the count of visited distilleries – either 8 or 9 – becomes open to interpretation). There is also the peculiarity of the “Glengyle” trademark not being owned by the distillery, so the single malt produced at Glengyle is branded as Kilkerran. We were staying in Campbeltown overnight – no additional driving that evening – and therefore went for a warehouse tasting of Kilkerran. It ended up being private, offering 6 straight-from-the-cask selections under excellent guidance. Top experience – and only slightly more expensive than flights elsewhere at £40.

The next destination on our original plan was another island, the Isle of Arran. It used to have a single distillery, interchangeably called Lochranza or Arran, but now has a second one, a sister establishment called Lagg, on the opposite side of the not-exactly-small island. Intraday ferry schedules are hard to align with distillery visits to start with; staying overnight on Arran was not in our plans, given that we were flying out of Edinburgh the following early morning. We initially thought of reaching the island in mid-morning, spending time at the older distillery, and departing towards the mainland in mid-afternoon. However, the weather was shifting, and with that, the ferry schedule shifted as well. I got an email from the CalMac ferry company the day before that the afternoon runs from Arran were being cancelled, and our latest option for the day would be departing a little over an hour after arriving. No amount of dedication to scotch justifies taking two ferry rides to spend at best 15 minutes on a distillery visit. We scrapped going to Arran altogether.

The alternative for the day presented itself even before we made that decision. Glen Scotia distillery belongs to the Loch Lomond Group, whose headline eponymous distillery is not open to the public; the shop attendant at Glen Scotia clued us in that there was a brand-new alternative place to find dedicated tastings of Loch Lomond whisky. Luss Distillery, in Luss village on the shores of Loch Lomond, produces gin rather than scotch, but it belongs to the same parent company and includes scotch tasting flights in its offerings. The visitor center opened literally just a few weeks before our visit. It has all the vibe of a large brand-merchandise store, spiced up by a case displaying a bunch of very mature, very expensive vintages. The tasting counter on one side is stocked with the entire range of Loch Lomond whiskies and Ben Lomond gins. We went for the entry-level 3-dram tasting for £15, and then talked the guide into giving us smaller portions of 3 more whiskies from Glen Scotia, confirming our outstanding impression of their 12-year tawny port finish. The distillery complex includes a full-service cafe and a dedicated modern gin tasting room, all in the middle of a rather touristy village. (It was raining and we did not explore much beyond the distillery.)

And that leaves Auchentoshan as the other repeat visit to bookend the trip. On our first stop here in 2018, I tried their Three Wood whisky, and it became my preferred go-to choice for several years afterwards. Then, a couple of years ago, I stopped liking it all that much – either the formula changed, or my tastes have. Part of the reason to stop by again was to see if I could rediscover my enjoyment of the Three Wood. The visitor center is comparatively low-key, fully stocked with the current range and offering a small seating area for tasting. We had a nice reception and engagement from the attendant, played up our return-visitor bona fides, elicited 4 drams in the officially 3-dram tasting flight (at £12), and then talked the guy into offering us a taste of the new Three Wood. It failed to reignite my interest in it, but the experience was pleasant.

With that, I am up to 50 unique distilleries visited over the course of five trips to Scotland. I have a feeling that this year was not the last such trip. We’ll tentatively target 2029 for another one.

We covered significant ground but a smaller number of distilleries this time around, primarily because our targets were more remote in the absolute sense, not clustered together in most cases, and fairly distant from one another. In between visiting 9 distilleries over the course of 4 days, we saw parts of Scotland that we hadn’t visited before. There will be pictorial summaries of both scotch and scenery in due time.

I am not very fond of flying across multiple time zones for short trips, so my incredibly lovely and talented travel planner figured out how to tack two days in Iceland onto the overall itinerary. This was my first visit to the country, with just enough time for a quick circuit of prime highlights. Impressions of what I managed to cover will also appear in these pages as per my standard MO.

Being in Iceland in winter, I certainly could not have passed up going on a Northern Lights-chasing expedition. For a teaser, here is photographic evidence that the aurora borealis did make an appearance in front of my lens.

St-Martin is a lovely island that offers a broad range of beach and water-based activities. Plenty of amazing food options, as well. Away from the beaches and the restaurants, minor points of interest marked on the map as “tourist attractions” do exist here and there, but if someone like me, who can barely stand staying beach-bound for any prolonged period of time, doesn’t carve out time to go and see them, I doubt many other people would.

Our stay on St-Martin in December was by far the laziest vacation in a decade, and I only carried the camera with me on three distinct occasions. One of those was a day sail along the southern coast, so here are a few coastal pictures of Philipsburg and other parts of Sint-Maarten, the Dutch half of the island.






Fort Amsterdam, a 17th-century defensive outpost, is one of the minor points of interest.

In the distance, you can see St-Barts.


The colorful beach of Grande Case, with buildings standing directly at the edge of the sandy shore, deserved to be photographed, even as I did not have my trusted camera with me. On a gorgeous sunny day, phone-taken snapshots come out well enough to pass my quality controls.





There are quite a few fun-to-look-at buildings in different states of upkeep along the Grande Case Beach.





A tour around the western part of the island in a UTV afforded me another, if rather sparse, opportunity for sightseeing photography. The itinerary included only three stops, the last of which was for drinks on the beach. Before that, we went to a place colloquially known as “Moses Walk”, where a shallow – below the knee – channel separates the main island from a tiny islet.





We also stopped at a prime spot for observing iguanas along an inner bay called Étang aux Poissons (literally “Fish Pond”).


A couple of perspectives of the edge of the village of Quartier d’Orleans across the pond.


The last time that I carried the camera with me while on St-Martin was for a sunset cruise, which more or less followed the same route off the southern coast of Sint-Maarten as the previously mentioned day sail. The lens was pointed in the direction of the setting sun much more than in the direction of the coast.






The volume and nature of these photographic glimpses may not clearly reflect that, but we absolutely loved our time on St-Martin.

It should be noted that the members of the online community of World Heritage enthusiasts that I always consult as part of my pre-trip research did not sound overly fascinated with Ivrea in their reviews. One of the most modern properties on the WH list, this industrial city of the 20th century is recognized as a great example of merging industrial production with social, residential, and urban planning. Built in the 1930s-60s by Olivetti, a manufacturer of mechanical and electronic office supplies, unlike Crespi d’Adda, which is pleasing to the eye, Ivrea has been described by past visitors as monotonously industrial and not in the greatest state of upkeep. My expectations were pretty low, and the site did not exceed them to any measurable degree.

Here are several perspectives along the main artery of the core of the industrial town, Via Guglielmo Jervis.





The building housing the UNESCO Visitor Center breaks that monotony in design.

The visitor center is only open on the weekends, and I was there on a Monday. There are information boards in front of it which provide the historical overview of Olivetti and Ivrea.

There are more of those by the entrance to the main Olivetti office in Ivrea (and at other points along the street). So, at least, you can learn something even if visually it does not seem awfully outstanding.

Elsewhere along the main street and in side pockets are rows of warehouses and other auxiliary buildings.



Not that the planned town is completely devoid of charming buildings.


To be clear, this is not the center of Ivrea proper. The historic part of Ivrea looks as attractive as any random Italian town with thousands of years of history might, as far as available online pictures can tell. It is not, however, part of the WH recognition, which is limited to the industrial Olivetti part. I never went to the town center.

Instead, after about half an hour of walking along the main street in a steady drizzle, I repositioned myself to another part of the core inscribed area, near what is marked on the map as “Unità Residenziale Ovest – Talponia”. If you look for it online, you will see a large semi-circular building designed in the same general style as what is shown in the opening shots of this essay. What stands out is that it is built into a hill. I goofily ended up on its back side, and it took me a while to understand what the landscape features in front of me could have been.



I thought that maybe walking down that path would bring me to the front of the building, but it only took me close to other examples of industrial-age architecture.

At this stage, I ran out of my time allocation to explore Ivrea, and started my way towards the airport. By my personal definition of “visited”, I can certainly count Ivrea on my WH roster.

And with that, the trip to Italy was over.