Monday 11 July Scotland, Part I
Home again, after ten marvellous days in Scotland. Better still, I'll be going back there for another few days at the beginning of August (more of that later).
Here's a brief rundown on how I spent the time. I took lots of pictures, which I'll put on the family web site when I have had time to process them.
Thurs 30 June
I drove to Tyndrum, a village on the West Highland Way, where I had booked into a hotel for a couple of nights before joining my friends for the following week. I reckoned that as I was totally unfit and had not done any serious walking or climbing all year, I needed to get in a bit of practice on my own before then.
On the way to Tyndrum I took a slight detour in order to stop for a picnic lunch near Moffat in the Scottish borders, where there is a waterfall called the Grey Mare's Tail. There is an attractive view of this place on my Pictures page, but I have never been there until now. The view was just as attractive as the image on my pictures page, but sadly without the two scenic young men. It was a cool and slightly drizzly day, but I got in a bit of exercise by climbing up past the waterfall to a little lake called Loch Skeen.
In Tyndrum I stayed at the Invervey Hotel, a comfortable, friendly and inexpensive place where they serve good bar meals. They gave me a double room but only charged me for a single.
Fri 1 July
It rained overnight but it was dry by morning, with low cloud covering the mountains. I decided to go for a major excursion, climbing two of the nearby mountains, Beinn Dorain and Beinn an Dothaidh. The description of this climb in The Munros tells you to start at Bridge of Orchy station, but when I got there I saw a notice saying that the station car park is only for the use of train passengers, not walkers. I parked there anyway, in an inconspicuous place away from the notice, justifying this by telling myself that I would be using that train line the following day. In any case, there were several empty places in the car park.
I was pleased to find that I could climb at a reasonable pace without feeling any ill effects. As I reached the col between the mountains the cloud was already lifting, and from then on I had clear views all the way to both tops. The Munros book gives estimated times for each ascent, based on Naismith's Rules, and when I was in my 40s or even 50s I was usually pleased to find that my time for an ascent was less than the estimate, say 2h 15min for a "Naismith time" of 2h 30 min (the figure given for Beinn Dorain). Now that I'm in my mid-60s I am quite a bit slower, and I took 2h 45min to reach the top of Beinn Dorain, where I stopped for lunch and stayed a while to admire the distant views in all directions. In the afternoon the sun came out as I descended to the col and up a fairly easy ascent to the three separate tops of Beinn an Dothaidh for more spectacular views across Rannoch Moor to the hills above Glencoe. Then back to the hotel for a couple of pints of beer and a grilled salmon steak at the bar.
Sat 2 July
The obliging people at the Invervey Hotel said that I could leave the car in the hotel car park for the week, and I set off with my backpack and suitcase to the tiny station at Tyndrum Upper. (Tyndrum must be the smallest place in the country to have two separate stations. As the names imply, Tyndrum Upper, on the West Highland Line to Fort William and Mallaig, is at a very different altitude from Tyndrum Lower, on the line to Oban.) The journey to Mallaig took three hours, passing through some of the most beautiful and inaccessible parts of Scotland. At Mallaig I met up with the rest of our party (old friends Allan, Pat, Bob and Barbara, and another couple whom I knew only slightly, Alison and Lionel with their two small children). A small ferry boat took us for the 30 minute crossing to Inverie in a driving rainstorm.
Inverie is the only town on the British mainland that is completely inaccessible by road. It is on the peninsula of Knoydart, cut off from the rest of the country by two sea lochs (like Norwegian fjords) and a range of rugged mountains, the Rough Bounds of Knoydart.
It's actually an exaggeration to call Inverie a town. It has a single street, paved in places, a pub, a post office that opens for a few hours three days a week when the ferry calls, and a small information centre. The total population is probably around 50. We stayed at a cottage about half a mile outside Inverie.
When we got there, we found that the cottage was one of the best that we have stayed in, with five good bedrooms (Bob and I shared a room with stunning views over Loch Nevis), a large sitting room, an elegant dining room, a very well equipped kitchen, a laundry room and a drying room (essential in the western Highlands, where you can expect rain most days). No television – the only TV reception on Knoydart is for the few people who have satellite dishes – and zero reception for mobile phones. No newspaper deliveries either. But radio reception was pretty good. The rental of the cottage included the use of a Land Rover, which was very useful in taking us over some of the dirt tracks to the remoter parts of Knoydart.
Sun 3 July
Unsurprisingly, it rained on Sunday morning. We stayed in the cottage, chatted, read, played with the kids. After lunch it cleared up and we all piled into the Land Rover for a drive. Since there's only one road on Knoydart, there wasn't much discussion about where to go. We just drove along the road until we came to the signpost for Doune.
In comparison with Doune, Inverie is a bustling metropolis. In fact, Doune barely exists at all. It has no road access whatever, even for all terrain vehicles. To get there, you have to leave your Land Rover on the road, and walk for about a kilometre down a steep footpath to a cluster of half a dozen houses by the shore. The only other means of access is by sea.
Amazingly, Doune has a restaurant. When we reached the bottom of the path and wandered along the shore, we met a woman who asked if we were interested in Sunday tea. We jumped at this offer, and she pointed along the shore to her restaurant. We sat at an outside table on the porch, right by the beach, looking across the water to the southern tip of Skye, and she brought us not just two large pots of tea (one weak, one strong, to cater for all tastes) but a plate of the most delicious home made cakes and biscuits: irresistible gingerbread loaf, Scottish shortbread, chocolate crunch. And she only charged £2 per person. We decided there and then to come back later in the week for dinner at this restaurant at the end of the universe.
Tuesday 12 July Scotland, Part II
On Sunday evening Allan asked us all what excursions we particularly wanted to do during the week. Three years ago, when we stayed over on the other side of Knoydart, it rained hard nearly all week, and we were only able to do one major climb, a memorable traverse of Ladhar Bheinn. There are two other Munros on Knoydart, Meall Buidhe and Luinne Bheinn. These can both be climbed as part of a single circuit, which Bob and I both nominated as our first choice in the event of a fine day. Barbara wanted to climb a very remote hill, Beinn na Caillich, and Allan and Alison wanted to climb Ladhar Bheinn using a different route from the one we took three years ago.
Mon 4 July
Bob and I woke up early, to hear the radio weather forecast before the 7am news. It was terrible: "Low cloud covers the entire country and there will be heavy showers everywhere today." We looked out of the window and saw a cloudless sky with the sun shining invitingly on the mountain tops, and decided that the forecast must apply to a different planet. We decided to take a chance on the weather and go for the traverse of Meall Buidhe and Luinne Bheinn, which is described in the Munros book as "one of the roughest hill walks in Scotland". The party consisted of Allan, Alison, Bob and me, the others deciding to do something a bit less energetic. We had a fantastic day's climbing, with perfect weather throughout, and came back after eight hours' walking feeling somewhat shattered but totally exhilarated. Allan and Alison are stronger walkers than Bob and me, so towards the end we split into two separate groups. Bob and I lingered for about half an hour on the summit of Luinne Bheinn taking in the views of some of the wildest country in Scotland before setting off down the mountain on a 10km hike back to the track where we had left the Land Rover.
The anglicised pronunciation of the Gaelic name Luinne Bheinn is very similar to "loony bin". This point was not lost on Mary when I phoned her that evening. She had comments to make about the mentality of people who would exhaust themselves going to such desolate places.
Tues 5 July
It's almost unheard of to have two consecutive fine days in the western highlands, but Tuesday again dawned bright and sunny. I was too tired for another major walk, so while Allan and Lionel went off to climb Beinn Bhuidhe and Alison babysat the kids, I went with Pat, Barbara and Bob up a slightly lower ridge (Druim na Cluain-airighe, for those with a close interest in Scottish hills), along which we could walk right back to our cottage.
We normally self-cater on these holidays, and go out for a restaurant meal just once during the week, but this year we decided to treat ourselves to two dinners out. On Tuesday evening we made our way back to the Restaurant At The End Of The Universe in Doune, for a truly memorable meal. In such a remote location you don't get any choice on the menu, you have to turn up at 7pm and accept the meal that they have prepared. And what a meal it was. We were surprised to find two other parties there, a couple who had come on a yacht that was moored by the beach and a larger group who appeared to be staying in Doune (at a B&B run by the restaurant people). The dinner started with a sumptuous bouillabaisse, brought to the table in a huge tureen by the chef, who ladled it out with a flourish, and returned a quarter of an hour later to offer second helpings which were eagerly accepted. I have only had bouillabaisse a few times, always as a main course, but this starter was as good as any I can remember. It was followed by a main course of roast lamb and home-grown vegetables (I'm guessing that the lamb was also home-grown, from the flock on a nearby hillside). Dessert was a mouthwatering homemade cardamom ice cream with shortbread, followed by a selection of Scottish cheeses and coffee, and washed down with some excellent Italian wines. Truly a dinner to remember, in an idyllic location and in the company of my closest friends.
Wed 6 July
Yet another fine day! (Must be global warming gone mad.) Allan and Alison did their circuit of Ladhar Bheinn while Lionel babysat. I went with Barbara and Bob up Barbara's remote hill Beinn na Caillich. This was another memorable climb. I was glad I had packed shorts in my backpack, and I changed into them for the long walk home on a hot afternoon, down the Mam Li path back to Inverie.
Thurs 7 July
At last, a rest day. I was quite relieved to see low cloud over the hills in the morning. Bob and I used this as an excuse not to join the others in their climb (yet another expedition up Ladhar Bheinn). We pottered around in the cottage all morning, doing chores such as washing and doing a bit of cleaning in the kitchen. In the afternoon we went out for a stroll around Inverie and met the others coming back from their climb, which they had abandoned because of driving rain up in the hills. That evening we all went out for dinner to the Old Forge pub in Inverie, which bills itself as Mainland Britain's Remotest Pub. The meal there was nice enough, but not in the same league as Tuesday's.
Some time during the day we heard news on the radio of bombings in London. In that remote and tranquil place it was hard to realise that these atrocities could be occurring in the same country. Now in today's news it seems that the perpetrators were suicide bombers living here in Leeds. For what it's worth, my view on this dreadful episode is that violence breeds violence, and those like Tony Blair who instigated the brutal invasion and occupation of Iraq have a great deal to answer for; as also do those preachers and imams who entice young men into throwing their lives away in such a barbaric and futile way.
Fri 8 July
Unbelievably, the weather was fine yet again. For the last day of our holiday the whole group including the kids (Charlotte, 4, and Matthew, 1) got into the Land Rover, and Allan drove us on a very rough track across to the far side of Knoydart for a walk along the coast and a picnic lunch. Then back to the cottage for our final dinner together.
Sat 9 July
Up early to finish packing before setting off at 9am for the 10 minute walk to the landing stage at Inverie, 30 minute ferry across to Mallaig where I said goodbye to the others, three hour train journey to Tyndrum and 320 mile drive back to Leeds. Thus endeth another marvellous week in the highlands.
But it won't be long at all before I'm back in Scotland! Allan and Pat usually take a cottage for two weeks and invite separate lots of friends to join them for each of the two weeks. But they decided this year to take two separate cottages, one in July and one in August. They asked me months ago which one I would prefer, and I said Knoydart. But now it turns out that they have a spare place in the other cottage, in Glen Shee, where they are going next month. They asked if I would like to go there too and I said I'd have to square that with Mary. She seems not to mind, so at the start of August I'll be back in the highlands, probably not for the whole week but at least for a few days.
Wednesday 20 July
Not much time for the internet at present. I'm spending the evenings watching the Tour de France, which ends on Sunday (barring any disasters, Lance Armstrong is heading for an unprecedented seventh win), and struggling to read a highly technical 200-page PhD thesis for which I am the external examiner (hopefully the last time I'll have to perform that chore).
Before I go back to read a few more pages of the thesis there's just time for a quick gripe about Barclaycard. I have had a Barclaycard Visa card ever since they first launched credit cards, must be well over 30 years ago. For the past several years they have participated in a reward points scheme called Nectar. Yesterday I had a letter from Barclaycard:
Dear _____,
We take the time to listen to our customers to ensure we bring them the range of services they find most useful and valuable. Recently, customers have told us that security and peace of mind, especially when travelling, are important factors in choosing a credit card. As a result of that feedback, we're making some changes to the benefits and services we provide.
We will no longer issue Nectar points.
How's that for a spectacular non sequitur? "You want security and peace of mind, so we're scrapping your reward points scheme." I use the reward points to get discounts at the supermarket, so this means that the grocery bills will now go up a bit. I won't change to another credit card, though. I don't think I would do better elsewhere, and in any case I think I do fairly well out of Barclaycard. I always pay off the full amount each month, so they never get any interest payments out of me, and I get up to six weeks free credit from the time I make a purchase until I have to pay the bill. So I suppose I can't really complain.
But I do wish companies would be a bit more upfront about it when they are running down their services. Here's another recent letter, this time from British Telecom, or BT as they now call themselves:
Dear _____,
Your BT Chargecard is a reliable way to make calls when you're out and about and now we'd like to give you even better value. That's why we're making a few changes.
Great new rates.
This is followed by some highlighted reductions in charges to services that I never use, and further down the page two non-highlighted items:
Calls from BT payphones will now incur a surcharge.
… we're also introducing a quarterly fee of £1.18 per Chargecard.
Needless to say, I scarcely ever use my BT Chargecard, and when I do, it's likely to be from a payphone. At least they offer customers the option of opting out of the new tariff and staying on the existing Chargecard package, and I have promptly done so.
*Sigh* Back to the thesis.
Wednesday 27 July
Mary takes great pleasure in feeding the birds that come to our garden, mostly bullfinches, greenfinches and bluetits, but also blackbirds, robins, wrens and many other more occasional visitors. One of my projects for this summer was to cut down a row of cypress trees at the side of the garden that have grown much too big, but this was vetoed because Mary thought that there was a blackbirds' nest in one of them. The blackbirds were certainly nesting somewhere in that area and were evidently raising a family, because we have seen several small fledglings hopping around the lawn looking for food. Unfortunately the new neighbours next door have two bloodthirsty cats. When we found that one of them had caught an adult blackbird, leaving a single parent to provide for a hungry family of small birds, we started shooing the cats off when we saw them, but this wasn't very effective. Last week I sent off for an electronic cat scarer.
Another set of regular visitors this year has been a pair of doves who always perch on the same branch of the apple tree at the bottom of the garden. They are really like caricatures of what doves are supposed to be, all lovey-dovey, billing and cooing, nestling up to each other, rubbing beaks and grooming each other for hours at a time. But recently Mary found a telltale pile of grey feathers on the lawn and feared the worst. Since then we have only seen a single dove, which sits on the same branch of the tree looking forlorn.
Who knows what, if anything, takes place in a bird's brain? There's no way of telling whether they have any capacity for conscious thought, let alone whether they can feel emotions such as grief or bereavement. But it's hard not to feel sorry for this little creature sitting all on its own awkwardly trying to groom its own feathers. I hope the cat scarer arrives soon and does an effective job.
Not much else to report at present. I have been distinctly unwell for the past few days with some kind of respiratory infection. When I was working full time I used to ignore minor illnesses like that. It was easier to keep on working as usual than to take time off and then have a backlog of work to catch up on. But now that I'm semi-retired I reckon I can afford to pamper myself a bit, and in any case I think you need to look after your health more carefully as you get older. So I have stayed at home this week doing very little apart from reading and sleeping, and taking an occasional dose of Flu-Plus. I hope I'm feeling better by Saturday, when I'm due to head north for another week of climbing in Scotland, in Glen Shee this time. All being well, I'll be back here again on 6 August. [In case I haven't already mentioned it, there are three pages of photos from the previous Scottish trip, to Inverie earlier this month, on the family web site here.]
