Highland fling – part 2

On the third day we rose to grey skies and drizzle moving into more persistent rain later. Hardly the tropical sunrise to get you heading for the beach but, it was an outing to Loch Ness today and I thought it would be just the sort of weather for Nessie to make an appearance.

Breakfast was a pretty good spread, full Scottish fry up, fruit, cereals and so on but, they had tried to restrict the amount you took by only putting out small plates. It’s amazing how many slices of bacon you can balance on top of a fried egg and tomatoes.  At least there was plenty of tea and coffee to go round.  Tony was a bit more subdued at breakfast, I think he had been given a yellow card.

Come the time to depart and there was no sign of the coach or Jimmy Corkhill. One of the more sprightly geriatrics found him round the back of the hotel messing with the engine of the charabanc.  He had found an electric fault with the indicators and was trying to fix it. Now that, I thought, is a first, a coach driver that not only knows it is fitted with indicators but, cares about them working.

Forty minutes later we were off into the gloom and heading even further North, about another two hours journey. It was actually supposed to be the Thursday outing but, because of  the rain he had changed the trips round as the afternoon was a shopping trip to Inverness. Oh joy!  Despite the rain and low crowd, the landscape was still impressively scenic. Wide shallow rivers and steep valley side that cascaded with hundreds of minor waterfalls as the rain ran down into the rivers.

Before we realised it we were running alongside the biggest lake I had seen and it was clear this was the Loch. The weather had not improved much but, the rain had lightened and I was thinking that it would be a good idea to take a boat trip on the lake. I knew Annette is mad keen on boat rides and I was taken up by the vastness of it all and thought it had to be the best way to see the Loch, from a boat.  We parked up at the ‘visitors centre’ which is basically a hotel two or three miles from the Loch with a self made museum full of dodgy photos of Nessie

They also had a yellow mini sub at the side of the hotel, one of the many craft used to search for Nessie. As it was some £7.50 each we gave this a miss and I steered Annette towards the whiskey shop to see if she could get any free samples. It just wasn’t our day. There was a large bin near a display of four single malts and it was full of sample cups and nobody made any move to refill any samples so that was out.

We then decided to try and get down to the lake and see if we could get out on a boat. Damn Loch was a close to the visitors centre as Bilston is to Wolverhampton town centre.  We found a couple of other braver souls searching in vain for the lakeside. After about 15 minutes we wandered back to the centre to get out of the rain. That explained the minibuses advertising boat trips.  Had to be one of the biggest cons I had seen in a long time but, it seemed to keep the Japanese and American tourists happy enough although our coachload of home grown Brits were less than impressed by the lake of Loch at the visitor centre. Jimmy Corkhill quickly picked up on this and took a slightly diverse route back towards Inverness so we could get a clearer view of the Loch from the other side.

The rain was clearing somewhat, but it was still so cloudy it was difficult to make out where the lake ended and the sky started.  Nevertheless, we did get a better view than from the visitors centre and we were soon on our way to Inverness, which like many major towns in Scotland proved to be on a modest scale by West Midlands standards. I would think it was about the size of Dudley town centre but with less shops.   It’s two big major attractions were the castle and the statue of Flora MacDonaldThe statue was actually paid for by the general from Dingwall , you remember, the guy on the chicory coffee.  The castle is now council offices and like so many historic buildings was a bit of a con. We found a small plaque on the lower wall that stated the castle had been destroyed and levelled twice in its past and was now little more than a 20th century reconstructions – shades of Berlin!!!  Once again we were limited to about an hour so there was little time to wander too far but, I got the impression we had seen it all by the end of the first 30 minutes and so with the rain clearing we headed back to Dingwall.

Our driver had been listening to our grumbles about not getting to see much of the loch and kindly took us on a slight detour round to the far side of the loch on the way back as this was where the road came closest to the water and with the sun finally breaking through gave us some spectacular views. Unfortunately Annette took most of these with her camera and unless she gets round to bunging them on  ‘Fussbuk’ you will have to google your own images.

So what had started out as a bit of a wet squib turned out nice again.

Back in time for a scrub up and grub up before the entertainment and a mini-drama in the restaurant as Annette has ordered me gammon steak in peach and lemon sauce.  This was because I did not fancy any of the choices and said I would rather walk down to the chippy but, we had paid for the meal and it was not to be wasted. One of my big hangups, and let’s face it there are a few, is that food should not be wasted and I susspected that this was something I would not be able to stomach and would end up in the swill bin. I would much rather not have had anything and gone and scoffed chips later on.

Anyway, I should have enjoyed it because I like bacon!!! The fact that peaches and lemon sauce would have me retching had nothing to do with it. Well I hoped that it would be a ncie thick sauce like I had smothered on the chicken in the super posh retaurant in Berlin that time I got dragged in by Andrew, the one with the bog that looked like a luxury stainless steel future concept space lounge. However, it was a thin runny sauce, strongly tasting of peaches and was everywhere. Even the boiled spuds were smothered in it and well flavoured by it. I bravely scrapped the muck off the gammon which looked raw and took a bite, revolting. Forced a second down me and gave up.

Annette was all set to launch into a restrained attack on me deliberately not trying to like it but, was forestalled by Tony launching his own verbal abuse directed at his raw gammon and letting the rest of the dinners know what he thought of it. I was beginning to like Tony a lot 🙂

Dinner out of the way we went through to the bar and tthe Balck Isle brewerry had made a delivery, we now had light or dark real ale 🙂 Annette cheered up a bit after having a free sample of light and I got stuck into the dark which was more of a full flavoured red ale. Tonights entertainment was the ‘Highland Fling’ local talent show performed for charity every Wednesday evening in what is to all intents the village hall that adjoins the hotel.  Entrance was free to guest but, visitors had to pay £1. I was looking forward to this as I am quite a fan of local entertainment but, since the demise of the Short Heath pantomime have seen little of it around.

A big fan of bagpipes , accordions and highland dance, I was almost as excited as attending a George Formby convention. Annette was warming to the idea as the second pint went down her neck. Tony and Anne seemed reasonably pleased to, but I think with Tony there is only full enthusiasm or downright rejection.  I did try to film the piper, but the hall was very dimly lit, the impression of being in a Victorian music hall illuminated by gaslight was in my mind. You may have caught a tadge of a very dark ghostly image playing the pipes of Fbook. The programme listed; highland dance by local girls and boys in traditional dress, bagpipes, accordion and comedian, three lassies playing the fiddle and much more.

The show had been running for 24 years without a break and raised thousands for charity. There was strong feeling of community here and indeed many of the locals had relatives performing in the show. The fiddlers never turned up and the boys let the wee girlies to dance alone, but it was still a fine and dandy show, reminding me of a wild night in watching the “White Heather club” in bewilderment as a child. d9Vko6gb2Yc  This was part of the show that we never got to see although the guy on the right of the screen was the compare and Gaelic singer.

The show opened with the highland dancers with the piper in full uniform. I have to say those girls tool it very serious and performed the dances with great vigour, especially the sword dance, which according to highland tradition was performed before a battle and if non of the dancers touched the sword it would end in victory, but oooooh!, if yon feet touched the blade it was all over.  Before starting each dance, the girls would bow to each other giving a wide eyed stare that would shame a Maori in mid Hakka. I would have liked to have filmed some of their dancing but, under today’s suspicious culture feared being taken for a pervert. Shame as it was quite impressive although there was little variation in the dances that I could see despite each being explained in detail including a fairly modern one that had been invented by four Victorian laddies who were locked outside a kirk waiting for the pastor to arrive in December. They were very cold until one of them had the idea of making up a new dance to keep them warm. I kid you not! Of course this fact has been stored away in the back of my mind and has twice been fished out to Annette’s annoyance when I have been kept waiting somewhere and gone into my developing a new dance act.     Something like the image below.

The rest of the show was nicely done and we had a go at the raffle as she who must be obeyed had spotted a bottle of wine; to her great disgust we won a haggis which was subsequently presented to Mr Andrew Morris on our safe return. I have to say if it was a nice as the little I had served up on my chicken the one evening it was very tasty.  This too had been donated by the local butcher so was not the run of the mill supermarket rubbish.

All too soon the show was over and despite some of the acts not showing it was still a good night out by any standards. On the way out I was asked by one of the locals if I’d enjoyed the show and I enthused respectfully. It turned out his daughter was the main accordion player who had joined the show as a learner at the age of 10. He asked me if there was anything I’d have liked to have seen and I replied “Donald where’s your trousers.” I qualified my remark with the explanation that this was probably the only Scottish song we heathen English would be able to sing along to and he seemed kindly disposed to my remarks, but then they were all so very friendly he was probably too kind to tell me to push off.   All too soon it was over and I hope one day to return to Dingwall on a Wednesday to watch it all again.

Off to bed and Annette had a fiddle with the TV, caught some of the news about the riots and everyone was scandalised and shocked. I cannot think why, it was pretty damn clear that as soon as the numb nuts press told all the rioters London would be swarming with police brought down from the rest of the country, even the dimmest could work out the rest of the country would be open to the crooks. I didn’t loose any sleep.

The morning brought fare weather with a glimpse of the sun and it was to be our trip to Skye, chance to whistle the Skye boat song.   The trip to Skye included the main town which made Bilston look like London, but it did have a nice beach area and docks for us to wander around.  I cannot believe we actually drove past an otter sanctuary and a small castle without pause to get to the main town, but that was the schedule!!! In any case from what I could see the castle was full off Japanese tourists, but it would have been nice if we could have seen some otters.

The scenery was, as ever, pretty breathtaking but it was with some regret that I found they had built a bridge from the mainland and we would be driving  “o’er the seas to Skye.”  As the main town is in the middle of the island and once again we only had about 80 minutes for sight seeing, we were pretty much stuck with a wander round the harbour and the beach, neither of which took more than ten minutes exploring. However, like most of the small harbours we saw on our travels, it did pass a close resemblance to Balamoray, complete with painted houses. 🙂  Otherwise, it hardly seemed worth the three hours trip north for the little part of the island we saw. I think it would have been quite easy to have driven round the whole island  in half the time we were left hanging around, and I’m sure there was lots more to see.

However, the weather had improved although we had got some genuine Scottish wind blowing, but even that wasn’t too unpleasant by comparison with the stuff that has been buffeting England in recent years.   Taking advantage of the better weather Mr  Corkhill took us back alongside Loch Ness again and informed us, on our last day, that the train from Dingwall runs more or less alongside all the lochs and rivers between the hotel and Skye and he wasn’t kidding. The track ran within about ten feet of the water for much of the journey. Now that would have been a much more interesting trip than following the roads up and over the hills.

Last night in the hotel and once again we had an accordion player. Bliss 🙂 He was a bit more to Annette’s taste and played some more modern stuff, once again using an electronic box for backing tracks and effects, not quite traditional folk music.  He was quite good and when

he asked for any artists for requests me and Tony shouted out for  :

 

 

 

We never did get to hear any Andy Stewart but, as we were the last ones in the bar the entertainer eventually came over to us and asked if we knew what his hit record was. He was not at all surprised when we burst into “Let the winds blow high, let the winds blow low, through the streets in ma kilt I’ll go.…” Of course this was too much for Annette and Anne but, he took it in good stead and me and Tony had a laugh with him.He had been told by the waitress to stop his show as we all had an early start in the morning and they wanted to prepare the room for breakfast – it was just gone 11 pm!!!  So there was little more to do than set off to bed with the rest of the old uns.

All to soon the holiday was over. As a taster for the highlands I thought it was pretty good, but I would like to go back under my own team so as to get up the hills and go see the Black Isles brewery and all the other things we missed on the whistle stop tour.  The journey back was pretty grim for me, legs cramped up again and it seemed to go on for ever. Eventually we got back to Wolverhampton, having exchanged phone numbers with Tony and promised to call (have done and need to give him a bell over Christmas). Annette tried to call Adam to pick us up from the coach station but, strangely his phone was switched off!! She suggested walking and as it was a nice night I was certainly up for it, hopefully get some blood circulating in my legs again and avoid amputation.

We even stopped for some chips on the way home and I was glad of the chance to put my back down as it seemed incredibly heavy compared to when I packed it last night. When we got back home and I started to unpack I found Annette had loaded it up with two huge books and the Haggis adding about 10 lbs to the weight instead of putting it in her bag that had wheels, women!  So that was our highland fling, worth the journey in my opinion but, took far too long to get there for Annette’s liking. Maybe next time I tell her to go by train or plane she’ll listen 🙂