By Yon Bonnie Banks



Our fantastic journey of sixteen hundred miles and thirteen days was nearly done, and we came again to Loch Lomond for our last evening in Scotland.  We ordered dinner in the café and carried it out to a table on the balcony.  Wistfully, I gazed out over the blue waters and thought of that beautiful but melancholy song I'd heard since childhood.


Legend tells that the traditional Scottish song "Loch Lomond" was written by a Jacobite soldier who was taken prisoner to England in the rising of 1745.  He was to be executed while his comrades were to be released.


According to Gaelic folklore, the spirit of the dead travelled swiftly by the "low road" and the condemned man would arrive in Scotland while the living were still struggling over the rugged terrain of the "high road".  And so the soldier who would be put to death wrote to one of his comrades of the sweetheart he would never meet again, and the lovely loch they had so often and so well enjoyed ...


Our own parting at Loch Lomond was not from each other but from the land we had come to love so well on the journey which had begun only two weeks before.  How swiftly the days had flown!


Along the way, we'd encountered creatures great and small.  We'd visited kirks and castles, lovely gardens and inspiring tombs. We'd surveyed battlefields and monuments, sky-blue lochs and picturesque bridges.  We'd gazed at lofty mountains and shining rivers and seas.  We'd enjoyed charming hospitality and wonderful Scottish cooking.  And we'd discovered our Scottish heritage, and our heritage of faith.


For most of my life, seeing Scotland had been my heart’s desire, while John would have been happy never to leave American soil ... until we went together to the Grandfather Mountain Highland Games in North Carolina.  It was there that John began to think that a visit to Scotland just might be fun.  Still, the trip was my dream, and he was willing to go anywhere I wanted, no matter how remote, and in spite of having to drive on the wrong side of the road from the wrong side of the car.  It was sometimes a daunting task.  Imagine my surprise, then, on the plane leaving Glasgow to come home again, when he smiled at me and declared, “We are coming back to Scotland!”  Then I thought, having seen and done all I had dreamed, that my journey of a lifetime could not have been more perfect.


Ben Lomond

Twas there that we parted
in yon shady glen
on the steep, steep sides o' Ben Lomond, where in the purple hue,
the Hieland hills we view,

an' the moon comin' out in the gloamin'.



But we're no awa' tae bide awa',

For we're no awa' tae le'e ye!

No, we're no awa' tae bide awa'!

We'll aye come back an' see ye!




If you came from the Bed and Breakfasts page,
use your browser's back button to return to that page.

If you came from a search, click here to begin at the beginning : Home
Copyright 2018 · Loretta Lynn Layman · The House of Lynn