After four hours of travelling up through Stirling, Perth, and Avimore we arrived safely and booked into our room. The hotel was a listed building, very Art Deco, and the rooms charming. It has been a ops site for the RAF in WW2 and was very proud of that. Having booked in we set off fairly quickly to see Culloden Battlefield and if we had time the Clava Cairns too.

Someone said before we left, "do you know the birds don't sing at Culloden" We listened very carefully, and do you they were right, there was no bird song. Oh the occasional crow crawed but no song. Oh there were some noisy tourists but after they left.......... It was a beautiful weekend, the sun shone the whole time, except for the time we spent on Culloden Moor. The sky clouded over and the wind came out of nowhere. A very eerie haunted place.

We read the details of the battle, the last battle fought on British Soil and we couldn't believe how stupid Bonnie Prince Cherlie was, imagine trying to use the Highland charge against the government troops across such mossy bracken carpeted spongy land. The usual conversation came up. What side would you have been on if you could go back to then. David funnily enough was not sure. I was, I would have supported the Gov. troops with the rest of my clan. Ah but that's another discussion.

next day

The loch is still gie bonnie and David had a great deal of fun exploring it for the first time. The views from the castle are utterly incredible "from ilka bore the beams were glancin" The light played on the waters reflecting on the hills beyond creating different moods, each one chasing away the one previous in a few heart beats, that of course is when the heart remembered to beat. Each view of the loch from every nook and cranny in the walls was different.

I bought some haggis sauce in the castle shop, made at Moniak castle over the brow of the hill for Castle Urquhart. I love haggis and since coming home I tried it, it really does work well with haggis, and I suspect other game too. ( red current juice, whisky, sugar and fenugreek)

The Next day

Next day we had to go home, I didn't want to, but I had work, and David was starting a new job. We had heard the night before of the Clootie well ( cloth well) on the Black Isle, near Tore, so after a dismal breakfast which was so bad I couldn't eat it, David had both of them, we set off over the Kessock Bridge .

A clootie well, is a natural well which started as being sacred to the old gods, when the Christians took over they adopted them. basically you say your prayer, make your request and then lie a piece of cloot ( cloth) to a nearby tree. There were no signs, nothing to pout us in the right direction save for our minds which had been fogged by the whisky the night before when we had been told how to get there. We were just beginning to think we had done something wrong when I spotted it. Spotted it? How could anyone miss it! It was right beside the road and it was without doubt one of the strangest, spookiest, sites I have ever witnessed. From ilka tree dangled cloots and shoes and hats and towels and socks and jackets and even a police keep out plastic strip. Not a leaf was showing and the trees were full. David and I made our wish ( get the sick bags ready) for a long and happy life together and then we tied a pair of my dirty sock around a tree but intertwined with each other.

Time to go home. I owe David many gifts, through him I have seen South Queensferry and Falkland Palace, Argyle stunning beautiful places, I gave in Loch Ness and Castle Urquhart but now I decided to even the score completely. I decided to drive down the A82 and give him Glencoe. The road twisted and turned no less than I remembered it, all the way down the Great Glen. I drove well, and I don't say that of my own driving often. I kept my cool and did not get rattled, nevertheless by the time we reached the bottom of Loch Ness at Fort Augustus I had to stop the car, David was sick!

The road was empty and I have to say I enjoyed the drive, till about Glencoe. Honest to goodness there are some bliddy eejits on the road. I am going to start a campaign forcing ever tourist the adorn their car with a green T. Then everyone would know they don't know the road, maybe a red one for visitors from outside the UK who want to drive on the wrong side of the road. Still Glencoe.... the lighting effects were stupendous on this deep haunted Glen, shadows chased and vistas seemed to move in the light. As we came out and onto the Rannoch Moor David was spell bound. I kept my eyes on the road.

And that was about that, we were back in civilisation another two hours and we were home. I have driven around Loch Lomond many times and that upper section before Tarbet is far worse than the road around Loch Ness, but then we were into heavy traffic by that time. I was glad to get back to my own personal road, the M8, I know I am nearly home when I am on that.

My old guest buik

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