Deep country

I think I'm now in what they call the heart of Scotland. First stage, I travelled from Fort Augustus (the Pfifferlinger site) down to Onich, on Loch Linnhe near Fort William. The loch is so huge it looks like the sea, and because it's a sealoch it's tidal. Didn't have brilliant weather there, but did go inland to have a look at Kinlochleven, which is a walkers' mecca - and got lost there. I suppose it may be because my walking route guide was published in 1992, and things may have changed a bit since then, but I ended up crashing into a wet dead-end in the bracken and coming back the way I'd come. I did get some nice views, but it was a bit dismal. One of those days where you stock up with newspapers and take the van home for a cup of tea and a nice read, followed by Co-Op Prawn Arabbiata. There are proper walkers' campsites at Kinlochleven and practically nothing else except the biggest outdoor shop you ever saw in your life (in comparison to the other buildings, it looks a bit like Battersea Power Station - probably an old hydro pumping station). But I have bought enough outdoors for now, and the only other remarkable thing (to me), with my fungus obsession, was a rash of pfifferlinger. I didn't pick any because I already have a fridge full.







After a couple of days, and stilll heading South, I crossed the Ballachulish Bridge and headed down to Killin in Perthshire, which is very near my old stamping ground in Stirlingshire. I've been to Killin a few times but never stayed there. It has a spectacular waterfall running through the middle of it - the Falls of Dochart - and, again in dodgy weather, I set out for about a 6 mile walk from the campsite. Up a long, long, private road, all uphill, but then turning back against myself at the top of the hill there's a lovely walk along the valley (deer, trees, fungi, heather, little streams, etc) until you intersect with what the locals call 'The Killin Bypass' which is a tarmacked Sustrans long-distance cycleway. You can walk along it but listen out for mountainbikes approaching from behind you at speed. This walk felt like a very long one - pleasurable, but I was more than ready for home when I got back to the village. So when I found that, at the previous sandwich-stop, I'd left Bonnie's lead behind *again*, I wasn't about to head back and get it. So I threaded my waterproof through Bon's collar and she trotted obediently through the village to the petshop. But while I was buying a new lead she shot into the back and stole ALL the resident Tibetan Terrier's supper. I only found this out because an enraged lady came out. I offered to pay and she refused, seeing the funny side, really, but she was only completely mollified when I produced - guess what - a bag of chanterelles and gave her some in exchange for her dog's 'Country Selection' or whatever it was. She luckily didn't notice that, while the chanterelles transaction was taking place, I called Bonnie again and she reappeared from the section of the shop where they keep dog chews and crates of dog treats and biscuits on the floor. Her ears were flat. Which means badness. I whisked her away on the new lead tout de suite, and hoped she hadn't left too many crumbs. Hey, free supper in exchange for a few ounces of free mushrooms. I could get into this bartering thing.




Apart from my new obsession with fungi (which I think deserves a separate post, with portrait photos of many good specimens - bet you can't wait) I've just been enjoying intermittent sunshine and drizzle, dazzling green moss, wonderful woodlands, purple hillsides, cascading waterfalls, and whatever else this area had to offer. So after three nights in Killin, and two good walks, I headed off to right next to Stirling, via the most beautiful drive I think I've done all summer. That includes the Hebrides! It's the route from Killin to Crieff via Aberfeldy, and then on through Glen Almond to Braco. FanTAStic. The hills are much more dramatic than I remembered, and the grey-green of the leaves and the purple of the heather, together with the watercolour effect of damp air, made it breathtaking. And this is where I used to live (1993-2000). I must be nuts. I stopped off just before Aberfeldy to walk up a thing called Drummond Hill, a small hill with a view over Loch Tay. This was about 3 miles there and back, and the view was definitely worth it.





There was a lovely bench at the top of the walk which was a memorial in oak to someone who had obviously loved the view. Carved on it was 'KA + JD'. I just have to find out who KA is, now, and I'm sorted.

Now the photos of this are a bit special, to me anyway, because I didn't mention a wee additional purchase in Inverness (flat ears, badness). The Canon Powershot G9. Now, the camera Iain lent me has been a trouper, but it's SLOW to switch on and there's not much to fiddle with. Slowness isn't usually a problem when you're taking a picture of a coast or a mountain or a mushroom, but I really like the zippiness of the G9, its fantastic zoom, its auto-focusing thingummies, its huge, well-lit screen, and most of all the very satisfying click it makes when you take a picture. There are a zillion other functions it has which I haven't even started to explore, but it should keep me happy for ages. Once I bought it it took me nearly a fortnight to get it out of the box. Probably something about not wearing all your new clothes at once and going at it bull at a gate.



I had to include this last signpost - an example of someone starting a business getting over the obvious disadvantages of their location - or perhaps not?