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Thursday 10 September 2015

Strathpeffer walks and Castle Leod

In the morning I skipped the church service to go for a walk. I have been known to do this.





I visited Eagle Stone. The Galic name is Clach an Tiompain, which translates as "Sounding Stone." That may not be as descriptive - the stone has an eagle carved into it, with a horse shoe above - but I like it better. It's a short walk above the village to find it, then along a small track edged by trees. The stone has been moved several times, and there's damage to it, but I think it likes where it's sitting now. It's peaceful in there, surrounded by trees, looking out over a gentle slope with a view of Knockfarrel at the end.

I walked up Knockfarrel, the site of another of those Pictish forts with a fantastic view and melted rock. The day was overcast, threatening to rain, but I often like that weather. It's certainly much cooler for walking. I took the same path as the day before but broke up through the ferns to the ridge line, to the edge of brown-green-purple bracken with tiny purple buds bursting, and the last bluebells of the season. I stood on the knock, greeting a man who was just leaving, and spent some time looking. I sat on the grass, near bluebells and bright yellow flowers and small ferns. You can't imagine how wonderful I found it just to be there, away from London for a bit, away from people, just myself  on a hill in the air in Scotland.


Knock Farrell
A view from the knock
I need to learn the birds of prey over here,
so I can recognise them.
I took the ridge the other way, through the forest to Cnoc Mor. The view from there was obscured by young planted forest, which did not impress the walking man whom I bumped into again. We talked - he was from the area, from the Black Isle which is not an isle at all but a jutting out of land into the ocean, with Beauly Firth and Moray Firth on its south and Cromarty Firth to the North. I suppose he was in his late 50s or so, dark hair, Scottish accent, always wanted to go to New Zealand. We got covered in midges and walked down through the forest. He explained the difference between England's right of ways - one step off those marked tracks and you're breaking the law - and the freedom in Scotland to choose your own path (within reason; no wandering through gardens or fields in harvest). We parted out of the forest and I visited a disappointing Maze which I shall not go into (I didn't; it wasn't even a maze, just modern stones). But I did watch a bird of prey land in a tree, call, fly, and I started a small deer amongst the bracken and flowers.

Spot the deer! Not its name, a challenge.

We had lunch at the Pavillion in Strathpeffer, then went to attend a tour of Castle Leod, open to all MacKenzies. It always seems so peculiar to me, the two-half houses, part public and part private, the half you live and sleep in and the half you show off to strangers. Grandma, with her vast knowledge of the area's history and having stayed at the castle several times before, served as a tour guide for one of the rooms. She was enjoying herself.
I don't know when the castle was built exactly, except that it was well in place by the 15th century and looked relatively recognisable. It seems to have been built from stones long before, on a site where Vikings celebrated their conquest, perhaps on an old Pictish site. I think there were dragons involved at some point, not large dragons, but smaller, sleek and streamline forms. The modern history of Castle Leod is much better known, and has been lived in by the same family for over 500 years.

There's a story behind every picture on the walls, every map or piece of jewellery or weapon or book or elephant's foot arranged for keeping miscellany together. I particularly liked the story behind the portrait of a pretty young lady who once disgraced herself at a formal dinner (I believe some rather important people were there) by removing all her clothes and running down its length. Now, that's a saucy minx.


They're doing rennovations on the castle now, restoration, so there's scaffolding over the front. It's cold and old to live in a castle. There's up keep and history, and opening half your home. I would find it hard.


I was driven back to Inverness in the afternoon.  I was catching the Caledonian sleeper back, departing at 8.30pm and getting in at London around 7. I had purchased a pillow just for the occasion. I was in the cheap seats, not exactly vertical but certainly not horizontal, but I managed to snatch some sleep and was right and ready for a good Monday of work. But I won't leave you with that, but with Inverness. It's beautiful there, especially in the evening. I found my spot from last time while I waited for my train - my seat in the graveyard overlooking the river. It was sunny by then, that glorious rich afternoon sunlight. I ate a little food, then went for a stroll. The air was clear and the river was bright and flowing.






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