It's August 2003, and there are two things about myself I'd like to change. (Aside from all the things I'd like to change via the miracle of cosmetic surgery, were I not a cringing coward… and totally against such degrading procedures, obviously). The first thing is the fact that I'm a terrible driver and haven't been behind a wheel for about seven years. The second is that, despite having lived on and off in Scotland for over twelve years now, aside from trips to Glasgow and Aberdeen (and a carsick visit to Oban when I was about thirteen), I've barely stuck my long pointy nose outside my own back garden.
Dodging the Big Blue Vans
The first problem was easily remedied. I say easily: six hours of nerve-wracking, humiliating and, frankly, terrifying refresher driving lessons were in fact anything but. However, £120 and some clean underwear later, I was once again deemed safe to hit the road. (As opposed to pedestrians. Or cyclists. Or other cars. Or even one of Mr Arighi Bianci's Big Blue Vans.) (In-joke for anybody else who had the inimitable Mr Blunt as a driving instructor.)
So, have car (okay, hire car, a red Micra called Siegfried to be precise) will travel. And as luck would have it, also have lovely friends Emma and Stephen, who had booked a time share lodge in Aberfeldy in Perthshire and kindly invited us to join them for the weekend. Hooray!
Go, Siegfried, go!
Now I must admit I had my doubts about the wisdom of holidaying in Scotland during October. However, as we headed north on the M90 soon realised that I was wrong. The scenery surrounding us was absolutely breathtaking, sloping hillsides covered with amazing autumn foliage, rich red, burnished gold, like New England in the Fall. The 'silvery Tay' was sparkling in the sun, a double rainbow spanned the valley (honestly!) and I only went the wrong way once. Bonus!
Needless to say it was pissing with rain by the time we reached the lodge, which was smart and spacious, and featured one of those cool beds in the sitting room that fold down from the wall, as well as a lovely view across the hills to Schiehallion. The main complex boasted a bar and restaurant, a games room and a swimming pool - always useful when you're spending all day eating and all evening drinking…
Aberfeldy and the Birks
Undeterred by the rain, we decided to tackle the Birks of Aberfeldy, a gentle walk round a waterfall featuring beautiful leafy views, favoured, apparently, by Rabbie Burns himself. (Along with everything else in Scotland. Unless it's favoured by Sir Walter Scott, of course. Or Mel Gibson.) However, Burns did write a whole poem about the Birks (= Scots for birches, we eventually discovered) so that's quite a good claim to fame.
And so into Aberfeldy itself, an attractive stone-built town that manages to be pretty without being too touristy and twee. It boasts stores for all your hunting, shooting and fishing needs, and a Co-op for everything else, as well as a very good bookshop, whilst even its amusement arcade is a converted 1930s Art Deco cinema. Classy.
Blair Castle
The following day we headed for Blair Castle, up the road in Blair Atholl. If you've ever harboured a secret desire to be Archie from Monarch of the Glen then I strongly suggest you head here. From the incredible array of weaponry in the entrance hall to the stags' heads, heavily draped four-poster beds and pictures of Queen Victoria everywhere else, this is a castle that feels real and lived in, steeped in the history not just of a family but of a whole nation. The grounds are pretty impressive too, although if you're not visiting in summer I wouldn't bother with the Hercules garden. Soggy plants in muddy borders don't really do it for me. The tea shop comes highly recommended though…
Fish and fudge
On the way back we took in the delights of Pitlochry: the Fish Ladder - which rather disappointingly turned out to be a series of water-filled steps for enterprising salmon to make their way through the dam, and not a single acrobat fish leaping up the rungs of a ladder to be seen - and the amusement arcade. The lure of the falling pennies became too much for us… Pitlochry is extremely highland woollen mill touristy, and is also the only town in Scotland which doesn't sell food - unless you count tablet and fudge as part of your staple diet. Which if you're Scottish I suppose you might…
Dunkeld
Monday and it was time to head home, but on the way we stopped in Dunkeld, a beautiful town on the banks of the Tay. If you look on the map you'll realise that Dunkeld is pretty much slap bang in the middle of Scotland, which is why St Columba chose this spot to found the oldest cathedral in the country. This historic building now lies mostly in ruins and, set on grassy lawns on the banks of the river, is wonderfully peaceful and romantic. Built into the grey stone walls is a smaller church, which includes an interesting museum about the cathedral and some cool effigies, but is the coldest building I've ever been into. Good job there was a nice pub nearby with a fire to warm us up…
So there you have it, my first foray into Bonny Scotland. Big thanks to Emma and Stephen for inviting us, and for providing me with the photos on a disk, thus saving me the tedium of scanning them in. Digital cameras rock!
