At University I had been told that the Inuit people had over 100 words for snow, because snow was so important in their lives. A few years ago I tried to make a list of all the words we Scots have for rain, given that it forms such a big featured in our Scottish culture. Some of the words I listed were; drouchet, pourin, pishin, bucketin, lashin, teamin and stoatin aff the grun. The day we went on holiday to Fort William it was all of those things. Still it kept the traffic slow.
We had picked the camp site off the internet mainly because it gave a 360o view of the site and the views were stunning. Invercoe is clean regimentally run and very very beautiful. In the evening when the rain let up for a wee while we took stock of our surroundings and took a wee drive to stun Kinlochleven. Its amazing how little one actually has to step off the beaten track to catch Scotia in stun setting.
The views were incredible, and the heavy rain merely added to that. Glencoe means the Valley of Sorrow. I had always understood that to have reference to the Glencoe Massacre which occurred here in 1692. But now I see an older deeper meaning. Glencoe after heavy rainfall cries floods of tears. Her craggy cliffs gush with waterfalls. The tears flow in streams cascading over boulders and outcrops. Sometimes they are caught by the wind and swept outward to fall again as rain.
I have always know Scotia to be a moody quine who cloaked herself in clouds and shades of light. Never have I seen that so plainly as I have here. The caravan faced onto Loch Leven and the views from the front window were enough to send any poet into floods of rapture. Often one would become so engrossed in these views that there was nothing else but that view in all the world... until one turned around!
The caravan site was under the lea of the Glencoe mountain range and they have moods and cloaks too. These moods are often at variance with the ones going on over the loch. The effects of either one of these vistas is impressive, to have the two going at the same time makes one wonder if perhaps they have died and gone to heaven.
One day as I sat on a bench over looking the loch I saw a woman on the beach trying to get an errant dog ( Murphy) to return to her. He was having none of it, and was having a whale of a time the other side of the river about half a mile away. For about thirty mins the woman screamed at the dog. Sometime during that time her children arrived and eventually the dog was recovered. The woman must have taken the dog down to the beach after a long journey while her husband set up the caravan because as they passed behind me the child said to his mum,
The next day had much better weather than the previous. I was delighted by this not only because it allowed us to get out and about more but because my son and daughter were bringing the tent up and were going to pitch on the site with us. My mother and her husband were in the next caravan to us. This was going to be a real family vacation... like the Simms but real! (nb, it was Gemma's birthday and we bought her the Simms Family Vacation) That night we celebrated my daughters nineteenth birthday with a special meal. Like so many others... only this one was served in the open air, under a gazebo (this is Scotland), cooked in two caravans and not waiter in sight. We were slightly worried by the number of candles the birthday cake and wondered if they might set the gazebo on fire but the wind kept blowing them out before Gemma could, so we had no real reason to worry.
We went up Aonach Mor, not quite a mountain at 1221m high, 211m shorter than the UKs only mountain, and its nearest neighbour, Ben Nevis. The the gondola service only went up to 650m, far enough to cause concern in one who is terrified of heights. It was fantastic.
Legend has it that up Ben Nevis lives the Caillach Bhuer (yes the same one who washed her plaid white in the Corriebrechan) each year the Spring Goddess ( Bride) escapes the Winter Goddess (Caillach Bhuer) in or around the second of February. In pagan circles this is called Imbolc, in the Christian Church its called Candle Mass and in the states its called Groundhogday. The Caillach descends from her mountain top home beating the bushes and looking under them for her escaped prisoner. The Caillach never finds Bride and eventually she dies. Bride marries Angus Og on the first of May, Beltane. When looking at this mountain there was a clear impression of an old woman's face in the landscape.
Cascading down Aonach Mor was a mountain burn which was far to inviting to pass. Not only did we stop to drink from it, three of us had a paddle in its icy waters. Passers by looked on in horror, one quite openly declared we were mad getting around the language barrier by using that ancient circling finger at the temple hand action. He was of course English! But by the Gods it was good to get your boots on again afterward.
The kids had lurched on disdaining the company of the oldies. We climbed to 663 m to Sgurr-Finnisg-aig. It was so quiet... well till we caught up with the weans.
We rested the next day, 13 m is a lot to climb at my age !! That and the fact the children went home seemed worthy of the rest. Though we did go buy some langoustine and find where Hagrad had his hut for "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkbhan".
Our next excursion took us over the Corran Ferry to the Ardnamurchan Peninsula and down to Kilchoan to catch the ferry to Mull. There are no words of warning strong enough to warn you about these roads. After the turn off for Strontium the road deteriorated to a sickening level... well that's how my passengers felt. It had been our intention to get the ferry here so that we could go as foot passengers to Tobermory returning in the evening to drive back. The journey there was so horrendous that we took the car over, costing £38 extra just so that we could use another way home. In the end we came back on Fishiness to Lochaline which was on the same peninsula but infinitely better single track roads.
I discovered something new, its often easier to drive on single track roads BEHIND someone who knows the road.
(The photo of Mingary Castle isn't great but as I went through so much to get it, its being included)
Tobermory itself was as bonnie as ever, but busier, much much busier. The place was hoatchin wi weans intent on seeing Balimory and the day was glorious.
Well all the way up till it was time to eat our fish suppers out off the catering van on the pier. Then it started it rain, fortunately just long enough to clear all other would be diners off of the public seating. The fish was so fresh the woman frier all but had to club it before battering it. The chips were pretty mediocre though.
Not so with our next fish supper eaten at Mallaig harbour in the brilliant sunshine, now that was something special.
Indeed the day was special. We arrived at Glen Finnan with enough time for me to climb to the view point to take photos of THE train on THE viaduct. That was completely un planned and very welcome. Of course by turning 180o one could take pictures of the Loch Shiel where Harry flew the hypogryph.
Then we headed toward Mallaig and stopped off for a look at Eigg and Rhum. That was after a visit to a market garden at Morar. Then finally to Mallaig itself. I didn't get the langoustine meal I had planned. It was much too sunny. Just the wonderful fish that we have come to expect from the Cornerstone CafÈ (tried the Cabin and were sorely disappointed twice.)
Never mind the following day I bought myself a kilo of live langoustine at a place just outside Kinlochleven ( Five miles off the A82 at North Ballachulish). Everything bought from here was delicious and I can't see me going North again and missing that wee five mile diversion. I ate a lot of fish there, it was just so fresh and easily available.
During our time there we met some very special people one of whom was Kieran. Kieran was in the tent next door and he loved to run down to the beach with his net and would run up to show his mum what he had caught... seaweed, jellyfish, crabs. One night the father of the site owner gave me rather a lot of mackerel. Kieran was so excited to see a whole fish. (He adored the langoustine for the same reason said it tasted like chicken) I sent him back to his tent to get his net and then I place two mackerel in it. I sent him to show his mother what he caught this time. He just adored the joke, and apparently the fish were gorgeous too, especially cutting off the head and tail!
Kieran wasn't the only friend I made there. There were lots of very special people. The nature of Invercoe is that of a stopping off place and therefor there is lots of movement and no time to make friends. This is not a place to go for tranquility, but saying good-bye to Lisa and Sandra almost had me in tears. Still they are both on the internet.
Wonder where it will be next year. I hope its somewhere new.
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