Editor's note: Ann Ostendorf, 24, of Cape Girardeau is spending a year traveling through Great Britain, Pakistan and Asia. This is the second in a series of articles she will be writing about her journey.

SCOTLAND -- After traveling around the Scottish Highlands for a couple of weeks, I began to understand why so many people have left Scotland as emigrants in the past few centuries. Even with modern conveniences, it often seems a harsh and desolate place to live. At the same time, though, it's easy to see why so many people are returning to Scotland, both for the natural beauty and to learn about their heritage.

The culture is different from Britain's, and the Scots have what can mildly be described as an intense pride of hailing from this northern land. This strength of character has no doubt developed out of a need to cope with the unrelenting environment, a lingering effect of the past generations who bravely fought the weather, invaders and each other to create the Scotland of today.

The long, thin lochs (lakes), the most famous being Loch Ness, nearly cut the northern half of the country off from the mainland in several locations. These often stretch nearly 100 miles long but only a half-mile across, promoting isolation among the clans of the past and the villages of the present. Even now, the roads zigzag from east to west and back to navigate the inland water and mountains.

The coastline is equally menacing. It's a wonder the small fishing villages manage to cling to the shore during some of the ferocious wind storms blowing from the sea.

The stereotypical tough and rugged nature of the Scots has no doubt developed out of the obvious need to harden oneself against such a severe environment. One even wonders if men began wearing kilts just to spite nature.

A prime example of this came as I was climbing Ben Nevis, Great Britain's tallest peak. A co-ed, middle-aged rugby team was climbing the mountains carrying goal posts, corner flags and balls along with them. After the four-hour climb, they proceeded to mock the mountain as they rolled around in the snow wearing shorts. I felt a bit wimpy as I stood wrapped head-to-toe in two layers, shivering in the thick fog.

The rocky soil has provided another challenge. Years worth of toil is represented by the stones stacked to make walls strung along the crags. The most famous of these stone walls now in today's Britain was built by the Roman Emperor Hadrian nearly 2,000 years ago. The Romans recognized the fierce environment even then. It was viewed by the soldiers as one of the worst locations one could be asked to serve, and soldiers were sometimes sent there as punishment.

I am sympathetic to those men having to camp in such a place. Even with my tent and sleeping bag, I woke up cold and went to sleep cold even though it was June. And these were the good nights' sleep because at least I didn't wake up wet. One old Scotsman from the Isle of Skye accurately and proudly described the rain as capable of coming from the left, right, front and back simultaneously. It's no wonder the Roman army stationed along the Scottish border had the highest desertion rate in the empire.

The Scots have historically used their weather-hardened character to their benefit. The Romans eventually stopped trying to tame them; the Vikings decided it would be most beneficial to join them. Even the British couldn't control the clans by force -- it took a royal marriage. These attempts to tame Scotland have only intensified their pride in being separate and distinct.

Even within the country there is a strong identity with one's clan, or family ancestry, as has been for generations. Each clan -- and there are hundreds -- has its own tartan. This is a distinct plaid pattern traditionally worn on a man's kilt. Today, dresses, scarves, hats as well as kilts are made in different tartans. These have become particularly popular with the numerous foreigners of Scottish heritage who come to Scotland to learn about their ancestry. Catering to people with Scottish roots can be big business. The largest clan alone, the McDonalds, has several million members, most of whom don't live in Scotland. Books and posters tracing one's heritage fill the gift shops, second only in number to photo books depicting Scotland's natural beauty.

In a way, the interest of those of Scottish ancestry in discovering their heritage has intensified the Scots' own desire to hang onto their style. At a traditional Scottish cealidh (pronounced kay-lee), which is historically a family gathering, I witnessed the desire to preserve the cultural heritage among the youngest generation. Two old men in their tartans hosted a show of young musicians, dancers and storytellers. They have found willing tourists who are interested in listening to bagpipes, epic ballads and foot-stomping dance numbers with fiddle accompaniment and are willing to fund such events.

At all the popular tourist destinations like Loch Ness, Loch Lomond and Edinburgh Castle, you can still hear a lone bagpipe player maybe a mile away wailing "Amazing Grace" or some heart-wrenching ballad. As busloads of tourists tramp by dropping a few pence into the case alongside him, it's clear he doesn't do this to make a living. He plays because he knows the sound of the bagpipes needs to be in the air. Because this is Scotland. And it will always be Scotland.