The Western Highlands

 Or, Scotland by rail part 3

January 2023

Having had our return journey (in Whisky Galore) disrupted, we were offered a complementary single journey as compensation. Lovely. Then Covid happened and things were obviously delayed but ScotRail were true to their word and we arranged a trip in November 2021. Two weeks before we were due to leave, word came of a rail strike for part of our time and our journey was completely cancelled under us. The hotel and other things were booked however so we decided to drive up - adding an extra two days and two overnight stops to the journey, but we had a great time in Inverness, Speyside and even visited John O'Groats for the craic.

This latest problem added another discount to our tickets that we have now used without further incident, and this is that tale:

Wednesday night  / Thursday:

No fancy restaurant or visit to Milroy's this time, Steve's knee was not up to long walks or stairs and none of us fancied aimlessly trolling about north London anyway, so we packed a picnic; including haggis stuffed potato scones to help celebrate Burns Night; and we left Fratton late in the afternoon on a more comfortable than usual SWT train aiming to get to Euston without rushing.  We grabbed a taxi from Waterloo and arrived at Euston's taxi rank in plenty of time, even allowing for the longish walk to the station concourse. The Caledonian Sleeper was not on the departure board yet so we found a seat and waited. During which time Steve got an email saying that the water in the cabins was not working but that everything else was fine and they were looking forward to welcoming us on board. The news was greeted with a shrug and a tot of whisky from my hipflask. Restless, I determined to find out where our train would be. The ticket  office chap didn't know for sure but that it was always either platform 1 or platform 15. I checked both and there it was at Platform 1. Just as I established this fact the announcement was made that we could board, which we duly did to the accompaniment of a lone piper (Burns Night, again). The new cabins are pretty much just an update on the old ones with a very similar design and layout, slightly bigger window and more mod cons but still a little more cramped (it seems) than its European counterparts. But they also retain the adjoining compartment door so were we able to properly share our splendid picnic, quality wine and more whisky before allowing the clack of the rails to rock us to sleep. Before turning in finally, I checked that our breakfast order had been taken and the lovely Fiona, our coach's attendant, assured us that she had it and furthermore that it would be complementary owing to the lack of running water in the cabin although they had supplied ample bottled. 

We woke to snow-capped peaks and coffee and bacon rolls to enjoy them with, rolling into Fort William a few minutes ahead of schedule.

This time I had booked a hire car for us from a local company, which turned up a little late as they were dealing with another hire from the train and it really is a small local operation. Our ride for the week was a rather swish Audi sports model, low-profile tyres and automatic gearbox an' all. Lovely, but not, as we discovered, ideal for some of the more remote Scottish roads we were to travel. Knowing that we were not able to check in to our apartment before 4pm, I had arranged a visit to a gin distillery where we were to have the full experience, coming away with our own bottle of ultra-small batch craft gin made to our own recipe (with much guidance of course).

Pixel Spirits turned out to be a side project of the Loch Leven Hotel, or was the hotel the side project? It's hard to say but it was a splendid afternoon in glorious surroundings. Welcomed with coffee and biscuits, then a chat about the company over a gin and tonic before a tour of the distillery.

We were then shown to our mini stills and a table with over 100 botanicals to choose from and following some very clear guidance we came up with our recipes and set to weighing our ingredients before firing up the stills and watching the process unfold, intervening at the appropriate times, turning a litre of grain alcohol into, in our case, English Breakfast Gin, while Steve and Alison came up with something more floral and herby in their bottle of "Three Score Years and Ten" celebrating, as we were, Steve's 70th birthday. 

It was a really great afternoon, we learned a lot and came away with a good understanding of the process and a unique gin, which if we think worthwhile, they will make further bottles to order from our recipe.

As we were staying in an apartment this time rather than a hotel, a quick visit to Morrison's was in order to source breakfast items etc. before we checked in, unpacked and showered. The apartment block is in an old garrison building up the hill a bit from the main road but very comfortable, if a little under-lit. There turns out to be steps down the side of the building to the main road, fetching up barely 50 metres from the curry house we enjoyed on our last visit and do so again on a surprisingly busy Thursday night.

Friday

Today is Ardnamurchan day and is the first real test of our flashy sports Audi as the roads on the peninsula are narrow, winding and less than smooth. First stop however, is the Corran Ferry across the narrowest point of Loch Linnhe. It's a flatbed roro, and the crossing is about a third of a mile but it costs a tenner each way for cars although pedestrians go free. It's a beautiful drive down the coast from the ferry and the road then cuts inland between Garbh Bheinn and Creach Bheinn and then down the side of Loch Sunart to Salen. The road forks there and the way to the distillery continues down the side of the Loch for a few miles. Driving it is a tense affair but we get there and pull into the rather smart distillery overlooking the loch where we are greeted with confusion as Caren had forgotten to book our tour into the new electronic system. All is well though, it's January and there's no other visitors. It's a marvellous distillery, determinedly carbon-neutral and sustainable and produces a jolly fine dram. Caren is a delightful host and we have a lovely time. It's well into lunchtime by now and it's January. Nothing nearby is open so we forego any idea of driving to the point of the peninsula - the westernmost point of the British mainland - and turn back towards Salen and take the turn north. At Acharacle there's a community café that serves food all day including the most delicious Full Scottish Breakfast in which I indulge wholeheartedly before we continue on our way. The plan is to make a circuit via Glenfinnan back to Fort William but not far out of Acharacle I screech to a halt as a roadside venison stand appears as we round a corner. The sign directs us to the red house next door and eventually the occupant shuffles out to help us. It's his son's shop he tells us but he is out shooting some more stock. We buy what turn out to be some excellent sausages and a particularly fine haunch to roast for Steve's birthday on Monday. 

The road winds on, heading towards the coast before it will join the main "Road to the Isles" and we turn back towards Fort William. On one of the more isolated stretches, we are forced to a stop while a gang of workmen close the road to take what looks like an outsized lawnmower to some overhanging trees. After a wait of some twenty minutes, I edge our car with its low-profile tyres gingerly over the debris and off we go again.

We stop briefly at Glenfinnan to take pictures of the viaduct and buy some Harry Potter related toy or other for Osian, but as time is getting on, we don't stop long and are back in FW in good time to rest up and change before dinner at the winter premises of the fish restaurant we enjoyed so much last time. It once again serves up an excellent repast and our day draws to its close climbing the steps back to the apartment and enjoying a few drams, mine being those of the Ardnamurchan tasting, helpfully decanted into little bottles for the driver.

Saturday

Oban is today's destination and it's Sarah's turn to drive, not something she's looking forward to as she's not a big fan of automatics. The direct road is a winding but very scenic affair and it takes a little over half an hour to get there. We park up and explore, it's a beautiful town with much to recommend it; a lovely harbour, two very fine whisky shops and "The Gem Box", a childhood memory of Sarah's whose family loved Oban and Mull and whose late cousin loved shopping at this jeweller. There's nothing that takes our fancy there today however so we seek out the distillery. We knew in advance that they weren't doing tours and the only tasting they will offer is the official one at 2pm which is verging on a bit too late for our other plans for the day. Neither do they produce miniatures and their whole attitude comes across as being a bit snotty. Never mind, there's a charmingly ordinary local pub, Aulay's Bar, near our car park which not only serves delicious haggis rolls alongside some pretty decent beer, but also sells the local dram which we try and like well enough. Resolving that the distillery had lost the opportunity of a direct sale, we spend some time, and far too much money, in the independent whisky shops instead.

Tonight's meal is something of a blow-out as we've opted to throw caution to the wind and dine at Inverlochy Castle where Michel Roux Jr oversees the menu. It's a wonderful evening with great food and a fabulous accompanying flight of wines in an exceptional setting including, at the top of the stairs leading to the lavatories, a snooker room straight out of an inter-war novel with the most enormous elk head on the wall. 

Sunday

Today is the longest trip of the tour as we're booked into Talisker on Skye. And it's stormy. Knowing we could potentially be a bit jaded after the night before, our visit isn't until after 2pm but it's still a relatively early start as it's over two and a half hours away. And it's stormy. We turn off the main Inverness road at Invergarry and head towards Kyle of Lochalsh as the worst of the storm hits. The drive over the pass into Invershiel is particularly challenging and we're barely halfway. Eventually we get to the bridge over to Skye and, despite the lack of water-borne transport, a chorus of The Skye Boat Song breaks out in the back seat. Skye is the largest of the Inner Hebrides so there's still a way to go to Carbost and the Talisker distillery but at least the weather is easing. 

Water is cascading off the mountains, and the road gets smaller the further we go but we arrive in the area in good time, as planned, and we start to think about lunch. Despite what the internet had to say about our options, nothing we had researched was actually open, so we rocked up at our destination some 90 minutes early and despite signs to an on-site café there was nothing to eat there either. We leave Steve perusing the shop and dash back up to the local community store just as it's closing but the

proprietor's  a good soul and lets us buy our provisions which we then consume in the rather smart waiting area of the visitor centre. Finally working out that we were the only people booked in on the 2:30pm presentation, and the likelihood of 'passing trade' was virtually nil, they suggest we take the experience now so we waste no more time and head to the tasting room. The 'experience' is billed as a multimedia extravaganza but in reality is a series of promotional films and a guided tasting but it's ok, and Sarah's driver's drams come in a neat hessian bag with a free funnel, so that's good. The shop is well stocked and we end up buying a bottle of 9 year old wine cask finish that you can bottle yourself, which is a lovely detail, so I have a bottle of Talisker with my name on it and an entry in the customs book.

The drive home is much less hairy as the weather has eased considerably. We stop at the Collie and MacKenzie statue at Sligochan for a wander and photos before turning towards home pausing only to fill up at the Co-op in Broadford whose petrol is noticeably cheaper than anywhere else we've seen. It's dark by the time we get back to FW, and we hunker down to a meal of venison sausages and plenty of whisky.

Monday

When originally planning this trip, we had thought we'd leave on Monday but for some arcane reason we couldn't get the train until Tuesday evening so we decided to go to Mull on Monday as a sort of bonus trip. The usual way to get there I believe is to go to Oban and catch the ferry to Tobermory but that's far too easy for us intrepid travellers. 

We cross Linnhe by the Corran ferry as per, then at Loch Sunart we fork left and cross the mountains to Lochaline and the short ferry across the straits to Fishnish on Mull. From there it's a very scenic half hour drive to Tobermory and the most delightful distillery experience of our trip - even though it was my turn to drive! I had emailed the distillery ahead of our trip saying we were hoping to get there this day but certainly couldn't guarantee what time, so would they be able to accommodate us on something of an ad hoc basis? When we arrived they were more than welcoming and offered us what would normally be a warehouse tasting of their finer whiskies at 2pm, but with the warehouse closed for refurbishment we could have a short tour instead. That suited us admirably so we decamped to the pub next door for a pint and a burger before a wander around the harbourside of Ballymory, I mean Tobermory - which I still associate with the Wombles as our kids were grown up long before Ballymory was a thing. It's a delightful place even with half of it closed and we manage to get a few things we needed including a postcard for Michael.

The distillery tour is great; no matter how many of these we do, there's always something new or different. The tasting is long and relaxed and from my tiny sips I manage to guess the finish of a couple of the drams and am thoroughly chuffed with myself. Time is pressing however, there's a long way and two ferries to get home in time to roast the venison for Steve's actual birthday dinner so, reluctantly we return to the car and head back. I don't get much company on the way home aside from a few snores and a drunken rendition of 'Sailing' as we're crammed onto the Corran ferry for the last time. The road back from Lochaline is twisty and the fog has descended so I'm quite grateful for the relative silence as I try to keep up with the tail lights of the car in front, but I'm no match for his local knowledge and lose sight just before the summit and crawl down the other side before the fog clears and the altitude lowers. Aiming to get back by 6pm, I pull up at 6:15 which I think is pretty good considering the three-quarter hour wait at Fishnish. There's a rush to get the meat in the oven and we're back on schedule for what is an excellent repast followed by more whisky.

Tuesday

We've arranged to have the car for the rest of the day and we think that a trip to Spean Bridge would be worthwhile as it's advertised as a woollen mill and whisky centre but it's nothing but a tourist trap for unwary Americans so we have to make other plans. Despite my misgivings it's decided that a drive out to Mallaig would suit. I think this is largely swayed by memories of the crab sandwiches we had there last time because there's bugger all else to do there. It is a good drive though, especially in the Audi and we rock up at a very windy Mallaig where nothing at all is open save the local Co-op. Still, it's a nice drive. The way home passes Glenfinnan again and their visitor centre has a café that was open last time we passed so that's our new destination. There's also a very good little exhibition about the Jacobite Rebellion which started here in 1745. After coffee and cake, and in between showers, Sarah and I wander over to the impressive memorial to the rebellion.

The afternoon plans centre around the Ben Nevis pub, once we've garnered enough supplies for our train picnic later. Having parked the car at the station, left the keys with the ticket office and  the bags in left luggage, it's a fifteen minute walk through town to the pub. On the way I notice that the wool shop that had been closed every other time we passed, was open so Sarah and I went in while the others went to secure a table for a late lunch. It's a charming shop, up a flight or two of stairs and turned out only to be open because the owner's friend from Eigg was stuck on the mainland after a late-night helicopter trip to the hospital for her, thankfully well, young baby. Two bags of fleece, some wool and a couple of books later (one signed by the woman from Eigg who turned out to be its author), we bid a fond farewell and find the others at the pub. Pie and chips all round, and more than a couple of pints of the local brew pass the afternoon swimmingly, but eventually it's time to go. 

Having retrieved our many, heavy, bags we're waiting in the fairly cold foyer when we're invited into the First Class lounge - there's far too few passengers at this time of year we're told, to keep it too exclusive. We're checked in, fed coffee and biscuits and wait in comfort for the call to board. The paucity of passengers also means we can get a seat in the dining car for the first part of our journey where we enjoy a conversation with the steward and a miniature of Glen Garrioch just to be sociable. There's also a repeat of the cabin water problems so our breakfast is again free. We return to our cabins, consume our picnic (and a dram or two) before turning in, oblivious until we are served breakfast somewhere in the midlands before rolling into an empty Euston (there's a train strike) just ahead of schedule.

Wednesday

We've booked a taxi home at great expense and he's late. We eventually get hold of him and he's stuck in traffic not having realised there'd be trouble on a rail strike day. He finally shows up and we load our bags into the boot and ourselves into the car. It's comfortable but this guy is not a good driver and, being in the front seat, my journey home is fraught with worry but we get there in one piece and fall into the house.