60 in Speyside. A Wee Piece of Paradise
A man drove towards and past us on that long walk out from Glen banchor towards Newtonmore. He stared at Sara as he drove by, his head moving to keep her in view as he drove, a wide smile on his face. We stopped and looked at each other. What on earth was THAT about. Although we felt a bit bedraggled and broken, we didn’t think we looked in any way comical. Sara said it would have freaked her out if she’d been on her own. (And without me, she wouldn’t have been there at all.)
As we dropped down into the village, the same man came back along the road and wound down his window to talk to us. Still grinning. He’d seen us at Laggan less than 5 hours ago. It was the dog he remembered - presumably Sara and I had melted into something beyond recognition. He’d been going up the road for a recce as he was planning the same walk next day, but to include a Munro. He didn’t explain exactly why we were so funny, but at least he wasn’t sinister anymore.
Destination Grill. We could smell it before we saw it. A Highland Truckers Cafe and the loveliest welcome. Wet dogs and women welcome, we set up camp next to a radiator. We had no idea where we would be sleeping but I didn’t care. We could eat, drink, recover and had about an hour and a half until darkness.
We asked the waitress where she thought we could camp. She asked the Cook, he asked the Manager. Sara pointed out a long path down to a tunnel under the railway line and asked if they knew who owned that land. I said I thought it would belong to Robert from This Farming Life as Spook and I had watched it the other night and he was rounding up sheep near the shinty field. The Manager said Robert would be in later as he came for a pint every Friday. So Sara did a wee recce to see if it looked like a viable spot, declared that it was, and we waited for Robert. I recognised him straigth away and said “Robert!” as he walked past us to the bar. He looked marginally alarmed and then a little ‘sheepish’ when I said I knew him from the programme.
“But that’s not what I want to ask you about. Is that land over there yours, and can we put a wee tent up for the night?”
He looked down the lane and explained that it was Common Grazing ground up to the fence under the tunnel and if anyone (most likely one grumpy farmer who used the lane) challenged us, we could say that we’d checked and that it was ok to camp.
“But it’s going to rain ALL night!” he said. “Why don’t you sleep in my shed?”
I took this suggestion very seriously - sheds can be very noisy and draughty but he had Alpaca’s - I knew that from the programme. As long as they didn’t spit on us, they could be cosy. Robert saw me looking tempted and said it was the other end of the village so he’d need to get us a lift. He looked longingly at the door to the Bar. The Manager said she’d give us a lift when she locked up for the night.
By this time it was 6.40pm and Sara had already been pacing about clutching her tent waiting for him to get thirsty. She’d carried that tent a long way and it was me who’d said I wanted to sleep in a tent with my dog. The main point was that we’d established a place and permission. I had to let the tempting shed offer go. There was very little daylight left so she set off saying it would take 10 minutes to put the tent up.
It was pitch black and an hour later before she finally appeared back.
She said she’d been stomping purposefully down the lane and passed a man walking the other way with his dog. Shortly after, she heard a yell and looked back. The man had tied up his dog and was running towards her at a sprint. This was far worse than the man in the car grinning at her. She hugged the tent for protection and froze.
“What’re you doing?” he yelled.
“I was just going to put my tent up.” she squealed
“Oh thank god. I thought you were going to kill yourself. I had to come back - I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t.”
Having established that she was of reasonably sound mind, he then advised her to walk further along under the line, to another tunnel that was much drier. So she went under the tunnel and climbed into the field. Which was full of cows and as she’s very scared of cows she clambered back over onto the embankment where she side stepped her way to the other tunnel. Where the wind was howling straight through, so she went back along the awkward slope to the other tunnel where the aforementioned ‘grumpy’ farmer was now loading up some silage on his tractor.
“What are you doing here?” he asked in a less than friendly tone. She told him, he checked where she was from, established that they had a mutual connection in Lochaber - as one does in the Highlands - took the tent off her so she could climb the fence, and left her to take the 10 minutes that it takes to put up her tent.
Before we’d left home, we’d had a chat with Jim Cooper from the Rescue Team and alerted him to our plans. He’s got a bit of time just now before supplying safety cover to SAS TV programmes and other such ‘cliff hanging’ types of stuff. I just wasn’t sure at which point he’d consider it reasonable to ask him to come and find Sara. I had mentioned the possible use of a flare in an emergency, but he’d kinda ruled that out as unlikely to be helpful.
The Manager had meanwhile assured me that we were welcome to stay in her Grill until she closed up at 9pm. There were a few other folks in - mostly local, and a couple who were living here for the tree planting season. The young woman was beautiful with the thickest, longest dreadlocks I’ve seen, and the man had little tattoo’s across his face. And of course there was Robert and his pals in the bar. I could probably rustle up a search party without resorting to Jim.
Sara reappeared, breathless and laughing about the kindness of the anxious dog walker. We gathered up our things and the dog and headed out into the thankfully not yet raining night. Down the lane, under the tunnel and there was the tent in the torch light on a perfect wee spot of grass just big enough. It was a bit of a wade through the tunnel, but it was really sheltered. It was a haven.
Apart from the night time trains that shot past us like missiles, lit up the tent and sounded as if they were going to run us over. The first morning train was 6.30am. Then the ‘grumpy’ farmer arrived at 7am splashing through the puddle in his truck and fired up his tractor. He did say good morning, which was nice of him.
Neither of us had slept much, but it was good not to be walking, we weren’t cold and we weren’t wet. It HAD rained all night, and the dog had a slight problem with a windy bottom, but on the whole, I could say I’ve had worse sleeps in hotel rooms. I COULD say that. It was time to get up and see where we were in the cold light of day.
What more could one ask for?
Sara’s daughter Maisie works on the Caledonian Sleeper which has to skip the West Highland Line just now as there’s maintenance on the line. So they get off at Kingussie and take the bus to Fort William. Maisie WAS on this train and said that if she’d known, she’d have tossed a couple of breakfasts out the window for us.
But we had the lovely Newtonmore Grill, thankfully, so no need.
The Romanian woman who was manning the fryers, greeted us with “coffee? Tea?” rather than a good morning.
“Sausages? Eggs?”
I’ll have toast says I, and I’ll have porridge, says Sara/
“Porrich????” The lady looked a little contemptuous. This is clearly not the breakfast of Truckers.
Sara looked embarrassed and said she’d just have toast.
“It’s ok. I make you porrich. I have time.” She made her the biggest bowl of porridge possible and poor Sara trudged her way through it to show her gratitude.
The tree planters arrived for a pre-planting breakfast. Bowls of lasagne and chips were delivered to their table without the slightest hesitation or raised eyebrow. Much admiration for the dreadlocks ensued. Then a saucer with a cut up sausage arrived at our table.
“Forrr dog.” She stated.
Over toast, porrich and sausage, we decided I wasn’t fit for the back country walk to Kingussie but could probably manage the pedestrian path that goes direct. We’d already arranged with Lindy-Lou that we could leave our rucksacks in her wood shed in Kingussie and then attempt to walk to Loch Insh thus enlightened.
We said our goodbyes to the loveliness of Newtonmore and it’s Grill - forget the tourist hotels - this is the place.
We abandoned our bags, grabbed a coffee in Kingussie and booked our lift from Spook slightly early. We’d walk along the back road and he could scoop us up before Loch Insh. After contacting Linda about our bags, she’d invited us to enjoy an alternative option and I’d made a date at the lochside and had decided to knock Kincraig on the head.
We walked 7 miles instead of 15, for which I was very very thankful.
Ruthven Barracks. It was all delightfully rural compared with the wilds of yesterday.
Less than 2 hours after calling for back up, Spook delivered us here…….
I felt I’d made my point. I’m 60. I have aches and pains I didn’t have when I was 59. I needed an intervention. And Lindy-Lou in the shape of her mobile sauna at Loch Insh happened to be right place, right time. Dip in the loch is highly recommended but thankfully not obligatory. Enough!!
Sara is all pink because she went for the full swim, and I am white because I refused to, I have next to no clothes on, it’s bloody cold and I want to be inside.
Where it is fantastically cosy and restorative and from where I can watch my Daniel Craig emerge from the loch….
This was the spa break we didn’t go on. This was a little piece of perfection.
It was good of Daniel to join us.
Our Guru of Sauna Cairngorms and Yoga Cairngorms - Linda - could tell us that the optimum experience is to heat up first, and then plunge into the loch. Repeat 3 times for the full healing experience as the pores are open and the goodness reaches the very core of you. I remained only marginally healed but very very contented.
To book this you can contact Linda at www.yogacairngorms.com
To book a visit to Roberts croft and walk with the alpaca’s and donkey contact his wife, Jenni at www.cairngormalpacas.co.uk And check them out at BBC’s This Farming Life. I love that programme!!!