A Stirling effort

 Sunday 20 September

The TV was working ok last night, but typically there was nothing on that I wanted to watch - thank goodness for iPlayer! The day dawned cloudy and stayed murky for most of the day, with a little watery sun in late afternoon, so not the best day for pics, especially during my post-breakfast walk when it was quite misty, with cobwebs of dew still on the ferns and vegetation in the forest. 

I headed along the shore walk and up through the woods that skirt the Balloch Country Park into the Faerie Glen, where I met with a babbling brook and a mini waterfall. Every now and again I came across a dog and a walker (always in that order), but it was very quiet. I followed the marked trail up to Whinny Hill woods, where the going got a bit tougher and the comfortable ash track petered out into mud - and eventually watery marsh, to my cost, or rather to the cost of my walking shoes and socks. 

The tourist map of the trail was way out of scale (though to be fair I missed the icon showing the marsh) and although a circular route it was quite long - 8 miles in fact, though I'd estimated it to be about half that. I walked for over two and a half hours and at one point did feel a little panic as the trail markers disappeared and I found myself in a part of the wood with multiple narrow trails, but I reasoned with myself that I had to keep going downhill towards Loch Lomond and all would be well! It was a really good walk though - a very solitary one for the most part. Thankfully my hotel was at the end of it, so I went to my room and recuperated a bit before heading out again.

By this time my old bones were creaking a bit, so I got in the car and drove off towards Stirling so that I'd see a different bit of the Trossachs. I swung by the Port of Monteith (sadly the promised priory was closed) and had a quick pitstop in Callendar which is quite a busy little town on a small body of water. The approach of a seagull led to me abandoning my very disappointing salmon sandwich, and I drove on to Stirling.

Stirling is very grey and the centre is mainly one big hill with the castle at the top. The new town centre is pretty much like any other - lots of shops were closed, and I'm not sure whether that was Covid or Sunday-related. The much-lauded Victoria arcade was pretty but almost completely closed, providing only a thoroughfare from one street to another - this very weird niche chocolate shoe shop  wasn't available for closer inspection either.

I had coffee and cake at The Burgh coffee house at the foot of Baker Street, the incline of which encouraged lots of pre-pubescent boys to skateboard or scoot down its length - fortunately they appeared to be quite adept at avoiding pedestrians but it would probably have scared your granny. I walked up through the old town which has old town charm though again mainly closed, including the Albany lodgings, though I could have visited the jail if I'd felt so inclined. 

The castle square has fine views of the surrounding area and you can see right across to the William Wallace monument. I toyed with the idea of visiting it but realised that it would be more uphill walking and really wasn't sure my poor old pins could stand the strain! I couldn't really get a decent photo of the castle itself as it faces away from the square - I'd already decided against visiting as I hadn't really left enough time. A momentary diversion was a handsome coach driver in a kilt - you can just see his leg at the front of the bus in this pic, but I was treated to a skirt-swishing full view as he dutifully disinfected touchable parts of his bus.

I headed back down to the new town and the car park and set off for Balloch via a different route alongside Loch Venachar and through Aberfoyle - very winding but very pretty. I enjoyed driving the Golf once I got used to the brakes. By the time I got back to Balloch it was almost 6pm and most of the day trippers had gone home. It's a busy place and although it's inevitably somewhat commercialised, it's nicely done and whether you're hale and hearty or not, it's a great and very pretty place to walk. 

The hotel is really more of an inn with rooms, and although I had some quibbles over the facilities, the staff were friendly and the food was good. I enoyed a roast turkey dinner and then went back to my room to pack with a last holiday glass of wine.

I'm writing this on the train going home. (I've just realised I've written it totally in the past tense, whereas other blog entries have been in the present - I guess because usually written on the same day.) I'm looking forward to being there, and feel like I've been away ages. I've driven over 700 miles these past two weeks. It's been a lovely break with some stunning scenery and places to remember and I'm lucky to have been able to get away. 

Travelling solo is quite freeing but I do miss company over a drink and an evening meal, and the current restrictions don't necessarily make it easy to strike up conversations with strangers. Also - doing all the driving, hauling luggage unaided, making all the decisions and doing all the thinking is quite tiring! I'm glad I've experienced the Hebrides, though am not sure I'd return - it's probably a little too culturally-bereft for me (though Covid has probably put paid to a number of opportunities I would normally have had), and with such soggy weather more likely than not, I'd rather return to the Trossachs I think, taking a closer look at Glasgow again. See you again next year Scotland - at the Edinburgh Fringe I hope. 

A tourist in the Trossachs

 Saturday 19 September

This weekend couldn't have been more different to the last. Apart from the weather with the lovely sunshine, it's the number of people. I don't think I had appreciated how close Loch Lomond was to Glasgow, as I'm quite sure that the city folk and their sprogs formed the bulk of the day trippers I saw today. (Social distancing - hmmm who am I to judge about extended families and bubbles?) You don't even have to drive here - Balloch has a train station in the middle of the village, and other rural stations serve the tourist hot spots. Signposting is good so attractions are easy to find, and small catering outlets and ice cream vans (which didn't look like they were selling drugs) make hay while the sun shines.

First world problems arising from overnight and my early ablutions in the form of complaints about my room. Not only do I have to walk slightly uphill to the bathroom, but I realised that the mattress/bed also slopes. My shower makes a noise like the scene in Psycho, which is mildly disconcerting. The hairdryer has a very short lead, you have to keep the button pressed down (pointless! pointless!), and it has a nozzle sitting with it in the drawer which is obviously from a completely different hairdryer. On the bright side, I think the TV has righted itself but the wifi on the phone still doesn't work. When I went to breakfast, I was offered coffee and orange juice and a menu for cooked items but also handed a brown paper bag containing muffin, granola bar, yogurt, apple and a can of water. All of which seemed superfluous, most of which I handed back thank you very much, and enjoyed my bacon sandwich.

Anyhoo, I decided to head off to Luss, a supposedly picturesque village on the Loch a few miles further north. I collected a filled roll from the cheery little shop opposite and got in the car, arriving there soon after 10am and not expecting to have to drive around to spot a parking space - which I did, and which I had to pay for - shock horror! It's a pretty enough village with quirky little houses, a couple of obligatory gift shops and a bunch of portaloos, evidently to cope with the hordes of people who'd had the same idea as me. Families were setting up their folding chairs on the shore or following the fairy trail, which forms one of the easy and accessible walks around the village. So many dogs and small children.

I decide to attempt one of the longer walks on the leaflet, but by mistake I turn off  the path to begin climbing Bein Dubh. I thought it was part of a walk, but it wasn't, and it's 642' high and I climbed about two-thirds of that wearing trail sandals, sweating like mad and got a very muddy foot (just the one). I was discussing with a couple who had paused at that point too whether we should attempt the last very steep bit, and then they mentioned car park tickets and I realised I would never get back on time if I attempted the last bit, so I turned around and went back down doing my best mountain goat impersonation. I only fell over once - slowly, on my bum - and was thrilled that I managed not to turn an ankle. I fear my knees may not wake up tomorrow. On the plus side, I got a workout and some colour in my cheeks.

By the time I got back to the village, it was super-busy and I felt a bit unsettled by the number of people and disappointed by the obligatory gift shops with their dearth of fridge magnets. So I decided to take myself off to Helensburgh, as recommended by the nice lady in the tourist office yesterday, and sit by the water, which is Gare Loch. The town itself is unremarkable, but people were making good use of the waterfront, so I found a bench and ate my lunch. 

On the way in I'd spotted a sign for the Hill House, a National Trust property, so I Googled it and when I found out it was designed by Charles Rennie Mackintosh I decided to pay a visit. I had wondered if it might be the birthplace of John Logie Baird, the inventor of the telly, who was born and buried in Helensburgh, but it turns out to be a house that Mackintosh designed and built for the Blackie family of publishing fame during the last century.

It's in a swishy residential area on the outskirts of Helensbugh and very close to the Upper station. The house itself is quite plain owing to its cement exterior - but Mackintosh's obsession with design rather than build quality means that the poor quality cement he used over equally poor building materials has led to the house needing major external renovation. So it's covered in a kind of bizarre giant cage, known as The Box, but you can still visit the house and gardens and you get to walk around the box and look out to a great view of the Loch. 

The rooms are wonderfully well-preserved, with a few repro items but with mainly originals. A very well-versed volunteer gave me lots of info and there were too many highlights to mention, but I was particularly taken with the lighting (originally gas, now of course electric), Mrs Blackie's boudoir and the drawing room fireplace. There's a lovely kind of glass-topped dark wood (rosewood?) card table with a decorated cross piece beneath, that was sold by the family to Andy Warhol and bought back again from his estate at a very high price. I had tea and a Rennie Mackintosh Empire biscuit (of course), had a wander round the lovely gardens, full of happy bees and fragrant roses, and bought a Hill House fridge magnet before heading back to Balloch. (I fear I may hit a fridge magnets crisis point when I get home as the volume of my travels and exhibition souvenirs mean you can barely see any white on the fridge freezer any more.)

Regrouped myself back at Balloch House, celebrated walking half a mountain or so with an ice cream from the nice chatty shop across the road, and set off for a walk along the river side of the shore and up to Balloch Castle country park. There's a small but fairly unremarkable castle at its centre, but the park itself is gorgeous and a fabulous community asset - so much space, beautiful woodlands, easy parking, a brilliant place for families to take a picnic and for kids to play in proper play areas. Well done whichever body manages it, but boo that the walled garden wasn't open - the castle I could understand, but I could only see the garden through the bars of a gate...

Back to the hotel to blog, wash my filthy feet (this takes some time) and to eat some very nice beef bourginon for dinner. This place must be a goldmine, but the manager tells me that it's been a bit too busy and that she's concerned the good citizens of Balloch and the surrounding areas aren't following the rules at the moment - she of course has a business to protect too which customers don't always understand. I've seen a lot of big groups today which I can't believe are two households, though of course here kids under 12 don't count which is probably sensible. I think tomorrow I may go a scenic route far from the madding crowd and go to Stirling for a bit of culture, history and maybe light shopping....

Back to the mainland

Thursday 17 September

There is no avoiding it - transport connections today are going to make things challenging. I leave my accommodation in the pitch black at 6am to drive to Lochboisdale for the ferry back to Mallaig. I arrive there after about 35 minutes, during which time I meet 3 other vehicles. It is quite an eerie drive

Knowing that I need to fill up with petrol before returning the car, I decide to do so before boarding the ferry (pay at pump seems quite common here, which is just as well). This is something I have done many times during my 40 years of driving, but it would appear someone didn't drain the nozzle before me because on insertion I get a splashback over my foot and the leg of my jeans. I stink, but luckily am able to change into different trousers once I'm in the ferry queue and have a carrier bag to hide away the smelly pair.

We board and leave on time - this is a big boy and the journey is over 3 hours so we're allowed to leave cars and go up into lounges or on deck. The promised sun is not yet out but I position myself in the lounge in the hope of seeing some dolphins or even whales out at sea - I think I may have spotted one of the latter, but it certainly didn't breach so I could have mistaken by the shadow under the water. 

We arrive in Mallaig and I park up and go to the station to check the bad news the app has given me - a landslip on the west coast line means that I will have to get off the train at Fort William and get on a bus to Crianlarich where I will then pick up the train to Glasgow Queen Street. I am assured that this will take the same time as the train would have done (which miraculously turns out to be true. There's a first time for everything.) Not being keen on the prospect of a hernia, I leave my heavy luggage at Way out West, a quirky gift and clothing store, who will stick it in a stockroom for the day for £3 per item, worthwhile as I have to take the car back and have over 4 hours to kill until the train at 4pm.

I drive to Morar 3 miles away to take back the car. The jobsworth woman I encountered before, who is evidently terrified of coronavirus (I know, I know, she may live with someone vulnerable. But she even refused to dispose of a plastic bottle I had left in the car, and disinfected the card machine keypad I had used three times), is obviously concerned that the dirt the Note has accumulated over the past rainy week is disguising damage, but I persuade her that it isn't, she relieves me of £400+ for the hire, and I set off to walk back to Mallaig. I have time and I need the exercise. I have done far too much car sitting this past week.

It's along a main road, but there's a designated walkway and the roadside is very pretty, with mini slate cliffs and loads of heather and wildflowers. It follows the railway line, and when I hit the town the Jacobite steam train is on the move:

As I pass the slightly grotty hotel I stayed in on the way out, the nice young man from Barcelona who seemed to perform every role there (I don't know if his name was Manuel) sees me and waves. Which was nice, and I was also recognised by the lovely waitress in the bar/restaurant I visited, where I go for a very nice leisurely lunch with a glass of wine and my kindle.

I visit the little Heritage Centre, watch a rather dull video all about the fishing industry in Mallaig and look at some photos to pass a bit of time, then collect my luggage and go to the station. By now it is blazing hot, there are men in shorts and women wearing sleeveless tops, and I am in a jumper, with a layer beneath, denim jacket, thick socks and walking shoes. I am very uncomfortable and hot standing on the platform, but finally we're allowed on the train and off we go to Fort William through that wonderful scenery again, but because I'm a bit drowsy and sitting backwards I miss the wondrous viaduct.

At Fort William we're directed to the coach and I have to say that this was the best bus replacement service EVER. The coach driver zips along at a cracking speed, but we also get to see the most wonderful highland scenery for over an hour, though as I wasn't sure of the direction of Ben Nevis I'm afraid I missed it. In the early evening sun, it was a stunning journey and I probably got to see even more than I would have done from the train as the railway line frequently goes through dense woodland.

There's a bit of a wait at Crianlarich, but the train pulls it and off we go to Glasgow - sadly it's dark soon after so I don't see much. I finish my book on the kindle - I recomment Hamnet by Maggie O'Farrell, an imagining of the early life of Shakespeare, Anne Hathaway (actually mostly about her) and their family.

Bang-on time arrival at Queen Street, and I walk the 10 minutes to my quirky Citizen M hotel (but WHY is it always uphill?!) which is in between the Pavilion and Royal theatres. Now this is a new experience, checking in on a touchscreen without a human in sight, intuitive though it is - you even make your own keycard. It's nearly 10pm by this time and I'm a bit jiggered so go straight to my room which is very narrow, but airy and well designed. 

Sadly no tea and coffee (and I can't face the thought of finding the canteen) but the bed is wondrous. An iPad controls everything and once I've switched the lights on and off several times (including plunging myself into total darkness and having to grope around the room) and worked out how to close the blinds, I get ready for bed and sleep the sleep of the just or a person who's just spent 16 hours in transit.

Friday 18 September

Friday dawns sunny in Glasgow. I'm on the 4th floor but as there are workmen on site opposite modesty dictates I leave the blinds down for a while until I'm decent. The hard floor makes the daily yoga a bit challenging but it's a great shower. Breakfast is a kind of buffet and is very good, with granola and yogurt and a revelatory vegan croissant which has all the taste and none of the grease. 

I pop out to Superdrug as I'm in need of some supplies, 

then return to the hotel to collect my luggage and order an Uber to take me to the Avis car rental down near the quay. I am given a shiny red VW Golf with very fierce brakes and one of those push button parking brakes which confuse me no end. Is it on or off? It has parking sensors but the satnav isn't enabled as obviously that's a chargeable extra - annoying. So I have to use my Google maps on my phone and which sends me to the wrong place when I get to the destination end of what is a surprisingly short journey out of the city to this beautiful national park. Fortunately I'm not a million miles away and Balloch's not that big so following my nose works out well. 

I find a place to park (free - another welcome surprise), locate my hotel (Balloch House) which is smack in the middle of the village and on the loch, and go to Tourist Information where they give me loads of leaflets and useful advice. 

I move the car to the hotel car park, change into walking sandals - hurrah! buy a picnic lunch, and set off along Lomond Shores. This is a lovely, accessible walk through and alongside sun-dappled woodland that skirts the loch. It leads to an aquarium, a treetop adventure walk for kids, a bird of prey centre and a small shopping mall, complete with a Thorntons and a Jenners HoF store. Not for me thanks, so I walk on, through more woodland past a pretty marina and find a bench facing the water in memory of Hannah Shoesmith where I eat my lunch and breathe. So lovely, and great to have a bit of a walk.

I head back and buy a ticket for a Sweeney's one-hour cruise around the lake. I also cannot resist the ice cream being sold (Scottish tablet  flavour is especially nice), but I sit and eat it in the sun until it's time to board the boat. The trip is nicely done, with a pre-recorded commentary detailing some of the historic events and places surrounding the loch. Apparently it's 24 miles long and 5 miles at the widest point, and across it is the invisible line separating the lowlands and the highlands, marked by Ben Lomond. It's dark water because it's so deep, and it's peaty.

There's not much else to see in Balloch apart from the country park walks and the castle which I will do on Sunday, so I check into my hotel and receive a friendly welcome. It's an old pub with rooms which are charmingly crooked - I have to walk slightly uphill to the bathroom - but although it's great to have a little view of the Loch, I'm right above the pub garden so I hope it won't be too noisy. And the TV keeps losing signal, and the wifi quality is such that means the apps on my phone won't connect as the signal is insecure - so I will probably be addressing this with the management. Good job I'm not on a work trip.

I discover to my horror, having spent the night in 6 different places before this, that finally I have managed to leave my phone charger behind at Citizen M. The local convenience store, run by a charming and helpful Asian shopkeeper with a broad Scots accent, of course sells absolutely everything and comes to my rescue, but it's not the cheapest mistake I've ever made because it's both the plug and the cable I've left plugged in beneath the bedside table in room 404.

I update this blog, and go for a solitary dinner of lobster fishcakes, retiring back to my room before 8.30pm. The TV signal is pretty much gone for the night and both BBC Sounds and Deezer are fighting a losing battle with the wifi. I still feel lucky though - especially as I discover my trusty Chromebook will play iPlayer.

Uist - a united chain of islands

 Tuesday 15 September

My ferry to Berneray, one of the islands that make up Uist, wasn't til mid morning so I didn't have to rush. At last the rain had stopped and I had a relaxed drive down to Leverburgh on the tip of south Harris. I cannot explain why there is an office chair in this Information booth en route, but it would've been a rather damp sit...oh and there are lots of weird scarecrows on the south of the island - no idea what they're supposed to be scaring off as most of them are at the entrance to properties - quite bizarre. Maybe they're there to frighten the sheep off approaching the property.

I visited the community shop, where they're kind enough to let you use their loo and they sell an amazing range of everything, including DIY, groceries, upmarket smellies and Harris Tweed souvenirs (there's even a little Harris Tweed exhibition there). 

I bought wine, since I had detected that there was no restaurant within walking distance of my next accommodation, and I am so weak-willed I couldn't face the thought of a a night on holiday without alcohol.

The CalMac ferry monopoly in the Hebrides works very efficiently, but sadly with the smaller ones you have to stay in your car these days so you don't get to see the arrival. I drove through Berneray and on to North Uist. Yet again a dramatic, mountainous landscape, and I drove to Lochmaddy where a friend of a friend is running the small cultural and exhibition centre (which includes a post office) called Taigh Chearsabagh. Simon said "Welcome to Taigh Chearsabagh" as I arrived, but I have no idea how he pronounced it. Gaelic is very prevalent on signs and legends here (and throughout the Hebrides), but I've yet to hear any locals speaking it. The accent is very soft and easy to understand, and you can definitely hear a touch of Norse with the Viking influences.

We had a good old chinwag about culture and the like over lunch - he's only been here for a couple of months and it's a 2-year secondment, so too early to say how he's settling in - but having come from Edinburgh, I do wonder whether it'll feel a bit too quiet, without live theatre and so on. Really nice guy though and was nice to have a cultural chat.

I drove on mid afternoon through North Uist, again with an ever-changing and dramatic landscape, but again with not much to visit en route. I drove up a couple of tracks in search of promised walks only for signs to disappear so that the route was unclear. Even some of the beaches appear to be inaccessible - tantalisingly close, but with farmland appearing to bar the way to the casual visitor. I arrived on Benbecula (which is very flat and somewhat featureless, hence that's why the airport's there) and at my accommodation, which is basically a large house divided up into a number of large bedrooms, and tonight it's just me occupying the whole place. 

I meet Marion the owner (she's in a Range Rover, so obviously not doing too badly), and my room is spacious and well equipped. In fact, the shower also doubles as a mini steam room - a nice diversion, (apparently very popular among the many cyclists braving the Hebridean Way). Covid has put paid to a decent buffet breakfast, so there's a well-stocked tray of long-life products which reminds me of my Interrail trip 5 years ago, but there's also a fridge with fresh milk and a place to stash my wine - hurrah!

I call a local restaurant and order takeaway scampi and chips, and then have to drive 6 miles there and back to collect (having had to call them because I couldn't find them, but bless the chef's heart he came out to wave me down!). Sadly it is a very unremarkable takeaway, although generous on both scampi and chips, but the room is comfortable, there is a loveluy sunset, at the back of the house 

I have chosen decent wine,  and I have the pleasure of listening to one of Barry's auditions for The Bet, the first play in our short play season. I watch Des (blimey Tennant and Mays are good) and have a very early night as I need to leave here at 0815 to catch the ferry from Eriskay to Barra, which is promised to be the Hebrides in miniature. I have slept well for most of this holiday.

Wednesday 16 September

This part of the trip is basically a series of islands from Berenay in the north to Eriskay in the south. An early start today and a really lovely drive south to Eriskay, and crossing at various points via beautiful causeways with lochs on either side. The sunrise was rather lovely

The sun glints off the water, the blue skies make those lochs even bluer - it really is gorgeous. Many of the roads here and on the other islands are single track with gazillions of passing places - everyone acknowledges the giving of way. I arrive in Eriskay and am gobsmacked by the causeway (no stopping for a pic allowed - bah!) and the views.

I am early for the ferry, so make a phone call and walk around a bit. The crossing is only around 40 minutes, but sadly by the time I arrive the sun has gone and Barra is covered by cloud. I drive the winding road to Castlebay, where of course you can't get over to the castle because the ferry isn't running, 

you can't visit the Heritage Centre, and although you can buy the newly-launched Barra gin  you can't watch it being made. The local shops have some sad and overpriced, poorly presented souvenirs. And it starts raining, again that very gentle and quiet rain that soaks you through within minutes. I visit the local Co-op to buy my dinner for tonight - and where would the Hebrides be without the Co-op? Respect! I have come to greatly value the sight of a Co-op.

I drive west and north and come across loads of cars parked by the cemetery

and after a short distance I give way to the hearse carrying the dearly departed. But they sure have chosen stunning locations for their cemeteries, and if the number of waiting cars is anything to go by, the late Barran was a very popular person. 

I carry on, bound for the airport where you can watch small aircraft land on the extensive beach. Sadly you can only buy takeaway from the nice ladies in the little cafe, so I purchased a toastie, went back to my car and watched a private plane make a very hairy and noisy landing on the beach. The rain eased a bit so I went for a walk on the headland on the other side of the landing beach.

With little more to do, I drove a bit further north past the very average-looking house that had belonged to Compton Mackenzie, the author of Whisky Galore which was filmed on Barra. I went to the ferry terminal early, bought supplies from the very nice coffee shop, and read for a while before bording the ferry for the crossing back to Eriskay and South Uist. En route to Benbecula I stopped off at the memorial to Flora McDonald 

whose house was originally here - she was the famed escort of Bonnie Prince Charlie (over the sea to Skye) during the Jacobite Rebellion. She was quite a girl - after being imprisoned for her part in attempting to get the son of James II on the throne, she married and tried to make her fortune in the US with her husband, but eventually returned to her homeland and died on Skye. I also stopped off at this rather unexpected Catholic tribute to Our Lady of the Isles - a 20' column of the madonna and child that's in the middle of nowhere.

Back to the Hebrides House to pack, eat and sleep and have a steam and a shower before a start at stupid o'clock tomorrow to go back to the mainland. Some reflections about the Hebrides:

• Lots of sheep and hairy cows - you feel less stressed just watching them
• Passing places make single track roads much less scary and encourage you into 5th gear, but my right wrist probably has RSI from the constant acknowledgement of those who have given way to me
• So many lochs, big and small - and the causeways made me feel happy as I crossed them
• Where on earth do they buy ordinary clothes that aren't Harris tweed or woolly? Not even any of the independent chichi boutiques I favour...where so they buy pants ffs?
• Bees and wasps hitch rides on the ferries (and fleas if there are sheep on board)
• Virtually nothing has been open for business - no castles, no heritage centres, no museums, no boat trips - I should have researched better as these are essential diversions when the weather is against you
• No face covering, no entry and use the sanitiser - the Hebrideans have been very strict about anti-Covid measures
• The gentle rain swirls and soaks you - am glad I brought 2 cagoules
• The landscape and the colours are amazing and have made the trip worthwhile

Tomorrow is a travelling day and will probably involve hanging about and tedium. But I'm really looking forward to a weekend in Loch Lomond.