The North Sea, Pigs, Fish and Chips, and Other Things

If Thursday was orientation for St. Andrews University, then Wednesday was orientation for HP1112 Scottish Hiking. All who were yearning for a four mile hike on the coast of the North Sea joined each other on the 1:28 bus to Crail for an extended stroll on the Fife Coastal Path to Anstruther (which can only be pronounced properly with a Scottish accent), where is located, presumably, the best fish and chips in the UK, though I have heard otherwise too. This, my friends, is Scotland:

Crail

The North Sea. That haunting little island remained on our left hand the entire hike.

Crail

I thought this was a rather neat shot. I believe that is Dr. Buras (our professor/guide/chaperon) and his oldest son silhouetted in the afternoon sunlight.

Note the trail. It was a worn strand of mud for most of the way. Waterproofing is important here, from head to toe.

An abandoned house.

A brook coming down from the fields above.

Note the small cloud of birds just beyond the rocks.

SHEEPSES!

An ancient stone boundary, running through vividly green, and just as ancient, fields.

Near the end of our hike we encountered a pig farm, were resided some fifty of the largest pigs I have ever seen in my life. Note the herd of diminutive piglets to the left and behind the pig-abode in the center. These little guys were all over the place and regularly tested out the electric fences. SQUEAL!

But that's not all I've got:

The view from my room's largest window. That street leads from the back of Andrew-Melville (my residence hall) all the way to town.

The room itself in a state of mild disorder. Its shape is somewhat remarkable: a parallelogram.

This rather large bunnies browse the lawns surrounding my residence hall in hordes. See all those dots in the grass? Yup. Thank goodness I have SOMEthing to replace the Baylor squirrels.

This is the front of my residence hall. Look at it for awhile, and you can see that the two wings are shaped somewhat like two great, concrete ships. This feeling is perpetuated upon entering, and noting that nearly all the doors have round windows.

View from the "greenhouse" at the ship's prow. St. Andrews is in the distance. Those steeples are churches: old churches made of stone. Here are old paths, trod and trod and trod, "seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil, / And wears man's smudge and shares man's smell ..."  But dearly, deep-down, fresh and living; wise, though sad and grey. All long-ago things are so in this middle-earth, made a home for men by God.