After the night not getting shot by gamekeepers, I thought I had better be sensible and book a campsite. Still not quite sure where to go, I thought it would be an idea to go to a road intersection where I could either go east and south to Perth and Edinburgh, or west again into the wilds, depending on my decision (and the weather reports: there's flooding in Central Scotland and Fife). So I consulted the Campsite Book and - conscious to choose a small one, bearing in mind the packed and noisy nature of the larger sites I'd seen - I picked Invermoriston, a place near Fort Augustus at the bottom of Loch Ness. This is one of the Certified Locations (not big sites) of the Caravan Club, and they only take five vans. And the woman I spoke to sounded really nice, and said 'We'll see you later, Judy' and I felt looked after straight away - which was good after my slightly scary night in the woods (I kept hearing noises, and had to go out with a torch twice to see if there was a Strange Man).
It was another lovely drive to get there, but by the time I got to Fort Augustus there was smoke coming out of my brakes - possibly because I'd gone up one side of some steep hills and come down the other. But I found the site easily: it was really the extended front lawn of a farmhouse, surrounded by trees and on the crossing of the River Moriston at a little stone bridge.
Reception committee was Amanda, running about in wellies and a kagul in the rain, trying to get two trailer caravans and me sorted out. When it all quietened down, she invited me and Bonnie on a communal dogwalk with a neighbour the next morning, ten o'clock sharp. In the picture are Sue and Amanda, with Buster the English Bull Terrier, Ellie the Boxer, Penny the darker-coloured Boxer, Max the Lhasa Apso, and Bon. Bon was a bit nonplussed to be with so many dogs, I think, but there wasn't any trouble. She just ignored them, despite ten-month-old Ellie's many boisterous attempts to start a game.
After that walk, all the dogs and people went home and Amanda, me and Bonnie walked about 10 miles to and from a dam further up the river, talking all the way - we have rather similar histories and tastes, it turns out. Amanda doesn't live there all the time, but her dog, Penny, is 13 and has cancer, so she's brought her back up to her Mum's from the borders as there are stairs to climb at Amanda's flat and Penny's better off in the countryside. So Amanda's up and down all the time visiting. The walk was mostly along a track, and then it got trickier and went onto deer-trails: we saw a couple, and Bon was thrilled and gave chase, but she actually came back when we called her. I'm not sure it's obedience so much as knowing when you're beaten.
The next day, Amanda and her Mum Catherine took me mushrooming - they showed me how to find chanterelles, which they call 'Pfifferlinger' because a German visitor at their B and B showed them how to find and cook them (theyr'e 'girolles' in French, so I don't know how they got such a French-sounding name in English). They like to snuggle in the moss around birch trees, and once you've got your eye in you find loads. To show me what they were like to eat, Catherine cooked me scrambled eggs on toast with pfifferlinger, and then I started doing them myself in garlic and butter in the van. We also found ceps and boletus, but I'm not so sure about identifying them and I don't like them as much: they have a spongy underside you have to take off before you cook them, and I'm not as sure I won't mix them up with something else. Chanterelles are egg-yellow, candle-wax yellow, and not prone to burrowing bugs so there are no nasty surprises, and they keep a long time in the fridge. The ideal mushroom, really, and quite easy to identify. Especially if you remember they like birch trees, because I think there's a lookalike that hangs about under pines. Impostor.
Amanda also took me into Fort Augustus to get the van's brakes looked at and get gas for their midge-destroying machines (it's a very midgy site, unfortunately) and Robert at West End Garage booked it in for Saturday to have a look. We then went for coffee at a place Amanda used to work (excellent cheese scones!) and for a nice wander around Fort Augustus. It's a town defined by the Caledonian Canal, a flight of locks and a swing-bridge that lets boats out at the end into Loch Ness - very pretty.
Friday was rainy and I slept most of the day, but got up in the afternoon when it had cleared to do some weeding in their vegetable garden (which I'd promised to do) and managed to clear quite a lot of chickweed from around the lettuces and cauliflowers. Also picked some sweet peas for the house and for the van - there as a big cloud of them growing round the lettuces and and was lovely weeding with my nose in their scent. I really enjoyed it, despite the ferocious midges: I wore my midge-hood, which makes the world look like everything's under netting, but does keep them off. And went over from Avon stuff to the more serious Deet-based repellent. Every time you pull up a weed, a cloud of midges appears. Bonnie wandered about the garden (Amanda has told me that midges bother a dog most on its bum and ears, so Bonnie is now Avon-dog-so-soft in both those places. I wonder if Avon would like to know that), and I was visited by the hens, who wanted to scratch over my weeded patches for worms, and their peacock, who likes to eat chickweed (he's vegetarian). There used to be two peahens and some guinea-fowl, too, but they disappeared overnight around December 22nd. I don't think it would take much pipe-smoking on the part of Sherlock Holmes to work out what happened to them. So the peacock's all on his own now, which is a bit sad.
Saturday, I took the van the 8 miles back to Fort Augustus to the garage and left it, left Bonnie at the farmhouse with Catherine and the other dogs, and went off in Amanda's mini cooper (scarily fast for me, used to 45mph) to Inverness. We acted like towny people and I got some bits and pieces and we had a nice lunch at Pizza Express. By the time we came back, though, we'd had enough of the town (although I had bought a very nice hat to keep my midge-net off my face). Robert said my brakes were fine, but the back wheels were full of muck, probably because I'd taken the van scrambling to find a woodland campsite that night.
Amanda and I spent Sunday picking more chanterelles and this time blaeberries (or blueberries, or bilberries) which grow here on low bushes in the clearings among the trees. The berries aren't as big as commercially-cultivated ones but very sweet, and they dye your fingers purple while you pick them. Bonnie loved this day best, I think, because the chanterelle walk was more active and then she could lie in the heather while we did the slower work of picking blaeberries.
I started with the plan to stay for one night, and eventually, I think, stayed for six, I was having such a nice time. By the time I left, Amanda and I were firm friends, and Catherine says I can come back anytime and she'll put me on the side drive if she's full. She's also done my washing for me, and presented me with a jar of home-made raspberry jam - and by Monday she'd made three or four jars of blaeberry jelly out of Sunday's berries, and gave me one of those, too. It's delicious: slightly less sweet than raspberries or strawberries, and tangy. Great on a scone. Bon has made herself at home in their house and I haven't finished the weeding, and there's a dry-stone wall to repair. And I'd also like Catherine to teach me to look after bees....so....
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