When Your World Shrinks

Go abroad. Get outside. Expand your circle. Get lost in Scotland, if you can.

A friend of mine, who lost a parent suddenly and at a young age, described the aftermath as her world shrinking. Her circle narrowed, and her focus sharpened. She became instinctively better at discerning what truly mattered from what was merely noise. This idea has stayed with me, resonating deeply in more ways than one throughout my travels in Scotland.

Scotland is an extraordinary place to be reminded of the earth’s vastness. Here, it’s easy to feel small—to step away from modern distractions and the rush of daily life. The Scottish Highlands, especially, are a remote region in a country already on Europe’s edge. Being there, you feel pleasantly lost, wonderfully disconnected from much of the world. The landscape is a rugged tapestry of mountains, rain-soaked forests, castle ruins, sheep pastures, and churchyard cemeteries. Sparsely populated yet rich in history, the Highlands immerse you in something rare and magical. It’s almost like being let into a secret that few others on earth know.

The contrast between the wildness of the land and the warmth of the Scots you meet makes this region perfect for reminding yourself that the world is immense and full of wonderful complexity. After wandering the Scottish Highlands in early autumn, I can assure you that you won’t want to shrink away from anything—instead, I suspect you will feel revitalized and reconnected to yourself. This was true for me.

At various points in life, your world may shrink. Family will pass. Lovers will leave. Friendships will change. This is an inevitable fact of life. As someone who recently experienced his world getting smaller, my advice—if you’re interested—is to intentionally seek out experiences, places, and relationships that expand your worldview, renew your energy, and broaden your perspective. For me, being in the Highlands revived a sense of possibility and awe that had lain dormant for some time.

To be honest, over the past few years, my spirit and zest for life had been dampened. Quieted by the challenges and realities of modern life in today’s America, shocked by parental loss, and then beleaguered by the financial and legal repercussions that followed, I felt as though I was slipping into a version of myself that wasn’t fully accurate. I wasn’t unhappy or untrue, but I did feel incomplete—like a vital part of me was missing or neglected. My recent trek across Scotland reminded me that there is much more living inside me (and perhaps at the bottom of Loch Ness) than these past few years had allowed.

I’m thankful for my time chasing the sun across the Highlands and for the company I shared while there. But most of all, I’m grateful that Scotland awakened in me the beginnings of a renewed hunger for life—and a more authentic, fuller version of myself. Sláinte!

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On the second-to-last weekend in September, my friend Tiffany and I arrive in Glasgow after driving over 300 miles on the left-hand side of the road from England to rendezvous with our mutual friend Laurie for a Scottish holiday. I have known Laurie for decades, and she is an avid international traveler who swaps her home in San Diego with lovely folks from Helensburgh, Scotland for over a month. She kindly allows Tiffany and me to stay at her house and adeptly drives us around Scotland. But before heading to the Highlands, the three of us feast on Scottish hospitality at many a pubs, the Scottish Malt Whisky Society, and a traditional Sunday roast—Britain’s favourite weekly meal.

The scotch is too strong for my taste, but the tradition of Sunday roast in the UK is delicious and I very much enjoy the beef roast and Yorkshire pudding from the Butterfly and the Pig in Glasgow.

After Glasgow, on a brisk Tuesday morning, we depart for the Highlands in a very tiny car packed with three Americans and their luggage. The quarters are tight, but Laurie handles the manual transmission well, and Tiffany endures several hours in the broom-closet-sized backseat like a champ. Both Laurie and Tiffany also endure me talking at length about Loch Ness and its famously mysterious resident during most of our drive. They even indulge me with multiple stops along the loch to look for a glimpse of our girl “Nessie,” take plenty of photos, and make a pit stop at the official Loch Ness Centre..

Loch Ness is over 755 feet deep—that’s comparable to the height of the Golden Gate Bridge underwater! Since 565 AD, there have been over 11,600 recorded sightings of unusual activity and serpent-like beasts in the loch, with the most recent sighting occurring on the very day I visit Loch Ness. At 6:58 pm on Tuesday, September 23rd, the Clansman Hotel webcam records unusual activity on the loch’s surface, not far from shore. Watch and judge for yourself here. I have been a Loch Ness monster believer since I was a little boy, so I’m positive Nessie chooses the day I visit Loch Ness to make a cameo, to reaffirm my faith—and to deliver a healthy dollop of childlike glee that feels really good. Thanks, girl.

With my heart full from a day of beast-sighting, our trio arrives for two nights in Inverness, the capital of the Scottish Highlands, where we explore the city and one of Scotland’s oldest, still inhabited castles, Cawdor Castle. Meandering about the castle grounds imbues a sense of fairytale magic, and the blend of storied Scottish history with a distinct design aesthetic captivates me. Being the sun-worshipper that I am, the castle gardens stun in the midday autumn sunshine, and I feel as if I could spend the entire day here.

With two glorious days in the Highlands complete, Laurie drives us back to Helensburgh (pronounced ‘Helens-borough’) via a rugged and mystical landscape — roads that look like they lead into the clouds, cliffs jutting into space, plus an abundance of murky lochs and murmuring rivers that lead to mighty oceans. I can’t wait to come back to the Highlands, but for now, it’s time to return to Helensburgh to do laundry, relax, and make new Scottish friends at the Henry Bell. Meeting (and drinking) with locals has been the highlight of these jaunts, so far.

After mucking it up with the boys (Neil, Bob, Bill and Gordon) at the Henry Bell, and a good night’s sleep, we set off for Edinburgh, Scotland’s historic heart and capital city. Edinburgh is magical in both appearance and atmosphere. The gothic architecture and historic pride centered here, perfectly captures how the Scots merge British pomp with ancient Celtic and Viking roots. I only spend one night in Edinburgh, but I’m already determined to return. If you ever find yourself in the UK, don’t hesitate to venture to the North and visit the Scottish capital—you won’t be disappointed.

Eight days in Scotland draws to a close with a Lufthansa flight to Munich, Germany, where I’ll meet three new friends for Oktoberfest — more to come on that epic adventure in the next edition. But, until then, cheers everyone!