A Wicked good time

Forgive the poor pun.  I came to Wick to see if I could find any trace of my family, a branch of which is Wares, the gent in the photo with kilt on opening page, and to wander the streets they once walked. Once a great fishing town the loss of the herring hit it hard but I was told that a wind farm would be coming to help revitalize the place, not that it doesn’t appear to be doing fine but better wouldn’t hurt. I met some men offloading about 12 large barrels of crabs with massive claws into buckets but unfortunately all seemed destined for across the Channel.

This is the shortest  street in the world according to the Guinness World records at 2.06 meters (6’9″) There is only one address, 1 Bistro and was declared a street in 1887.

Wick Coastal  Rowing Club uses this type dory

After wandering around town I went to the Carnegie Library where there is an archive room and with help from the staff I was able to find the Marriage Registry for my Great, great, great grandfather married to Christine Hunter. 

He must have been somewhat important as I found his name etched on the sidewalk.

After about 4 hours of walking I needed a brew and just down the road from the Old Pulteney Distillery and 100 steps from my guest house I entered The Mountain Dew Bar. I hadn’t made it halfway to the bar when a customer, my new vertically challenged mate, Gary, announced the arrival of the Scottish comedian, Billy  expletive Connolly, meaning me.  The rest of the evening this gang of former strangers and now mates and the lovely bartender, Katrina, proceeded to attempt to kill me with kindness.  I never had an empty glass all night and the craic was very, very good. I have never felt so welcomed outside of the Plockton Inn and I thank them all for capping off a good day.

And  the wind took my old, venerable cap into the river Wick this morning so I can finally justify a new one