THE DINOSAURS LIVET UP IN THE GLEN

April - and it is time for the Dinosaur's spring break. At least that is what the calendar would suggest. However, the weather thinks differently. This is the view from the car window as we headed towards Glenlivet for a fun-filled weekend.

Things appear to improve as we reach the venue for our usual game of golf before the weekend really starts. This is the entrance to Ballindalloch Golf Club. No snow - at least not at the moment.

After a decent lunch of soup and sandwiches we decide to brave the elements and get going - just in time for another snow shower to blow in and make it altogether a bit miserable.

It did actually improve and became quite pleasant as the round wore on - and for me it did wear on. You will note the blue sky - something we didn't see much of over the weekend.

Once the gents had completed their round they formed an appreciative and complimentary gallery to watch the ladies come home. They were well spread out across the fairway as you can see, but they did come together on the green.

Here they are with their popular caddy, Dave.

Eventually the intrusions of the paparazzi become too much for Sandra to bear. 

No such inhibitions for the gentlemen - always happy to pose for the cameras.

From the golf course to our cottage home for the rest of the weekend. These photos were actually taken at the end of our stay, when the weather had got a little better.

No doubt the cottage was well named, but it didn't live up to it at the start of our trip. You could hardly see across the next field, never mind get a view of any hill.

The cottage did come equipped with some hired help and they (and others) set about making us a rice and couscous based dinner. It was, of course, much better than that sounds. No coriander was harmed in the making of this meal.

After a fine dinner, we retired to bed and prayed for a nice day. Clearly we are a bunch of sinners, because our prayers went unanswered and it was still the depths of winter. At least you could actually view a hill.

Undaunted we left the warmth and comfort of the house and headed into the wilds for our first walk of the weekend. This was the Bochel Circuit. Bochel derives from the Gaelic Buachaille, meaning shepherd or cowherd. This is a fairly common Gaelic place name used to refer to prominent stand alone hills. Here it refers to the hill we walked around.

This is us getting ready for the trek. Note the snow all around us and the heavy weather gear being worn by us all. There is a clue there as to how this walk might be going to go.

Robin emphasises the weather for our walk leader.

Off goes the happy band round the bend in more ways than one.

Just as we left the car park area we were faced (actually not faced) by the currently disused Catholic Church of the Incarnation. For those heathens among you, the Incarnation is a fundamental of Christianity and refers to the belief that Jesus was both fully man and fully God at the same time.

When I say that we were actually not faced by the church, that is because the main elevation and, indeed, the main entrance to the church faces away from the road. This is because the River Livet was once spanned by a bridge and the main elevation was designed to face that bridge, which no longer exists.

Dave also told us of the Battle of Glenlivet which was fought on 3rd October 1594. This was a battle ostensibly fought between Catholic and Protestant forces fairly close to the site of the church we were looking at. I say ostensibly because it wasn't as simple as a religious fight. There were all sorts of political machinations going on in the background. In the event, the Catholic forces were outnumbered 10000 to 2000, but they prevailed on the day. Not so much through Divine Intervention - although that is what they believed - but because they had artillery and armoured cavalry. The losing Protestant army was led by the 7th Earl of Argyll and the winning Catholics were led by the Marquess of Huntly and the remarkably named Earl of Errol. The victory was not repeated in the Scottish Cup semi-final game live on the telly the next day.

Now that we were suitably informed, we made our way along the public road over which only 2 cows had previously passed.

The roadside daffies had suffered a bit in the snow.

We would soon know how they felt.

It was pretty miserable. but when we did lift our eyes up there were some nice sights to see.

It was also the case that we were seeing and being seen.

The snow did abate a little to allow me to take the first bridge photo of the day.

We could even see some scenery.

There was soon another bridge, but no posed photo this time, we all merely walked across.

Well all except for Robin, Maureen and Hugh who stopped for a game of paper/scissors/stone.

Shortly after we crossed the bridge, we actually saw some blue sky.

Another bridge to cross.

Another snow covered path to follow. Notice, however, that Pam has put down her hood - a sign of improving conditions, perhaps.

There were some interesting views across the glen to the other side. We would eventually find ourselves over there. When I say find ourselves, i don't mean that in a metaphysical sort of way, merely that this was a circular walk and we would be there in due course.

Before we could get to the other side of the glen, we had to trudge across a fairly featureless stretch of moorland. It reminded me of the Paratroopers yomping over the Falkland Islands.

We stopped for a break from the yomping and the snow continued to fall.

Robin's toorie, in case you were wondering what this actually was a photo of. It appears I am wrong (not words you will hear me say very often) in describing Robin's hat as a toorie as that word actually refers to the pom-pom on top of a hat rather than the hat itself.

Our esteemed group leader ponders whether it is too late to turn back and head for the pub, or would that be an admission of failure. "Press on!", he says with conviction.

On we press to be rewarded with some fine views, albeit a bit on the monochrome side.

Sandra and Dino. Some of the sharper readers will have noticed that we had been followed by a strange woman and a dog. The woman is Sandra, Sharon's wee sister, who has joined us before, as has Dino, the dog. I don't know why there was an arrow pointing to her bum.

This was allegedly halfway round the walk, but as with all of Dave's walks it was further than any official notification would have us believe. It certainly was longer than 6 kilometres and we did in all truth know that, but I feel it only right that I traduce someone in the blog.

There were lots of newborn lambs about. I bet they wish they had held on a bit longer.

Their plaintive cries followed us along the fenceline for some distance. It would almost bring a tear to a glass eye.

Once we had left the lambs behind to freeze in the snow, we stopped to look at a map. Happily Hugh was not allowed to hold the map and we carried on in the right direction.

We soon  made the comparative shelter of the trees, where we could stop for lunch.

Hugh did his pixie impression.

Oh! how we laughed.

Dino waited for some food to fall to the forest floor.

Maureen decided that she would stand for lunch as sitting down ran the risk of never getting back up again and eventually being frozen to some old tree stump - or worse.

Without our usual coffee and petits fours we got going as quickly as possible before frostbite set in.

Through the silent snowy woods we went.

Once we left the trees behind we arrived in what can only be described as something from the battle of the Somme. It was a hellish place(nta), with new and I mean brand new, lambs and their afterbirth everywhere we walked. Not only that, but there was thick, sticky, black mud on the path.

It wasn't all bad as we were now on the other side of the glen from the side we were on when I wrote that we would find ourselves on the other side. So we could now see the other side of the glen, which was the side we had been on before - well you get the picture.

By now, Sharon was suffering from exhaustion and badly needed a gin.

The thought of the gin pulled her to her feet.

By now we were getting close to the cars, which was just as well as the weather took a turn for the worse on the last stretch.

We arrived back at the cottage to find that some travellers had set up camp in our driveway. It actually turned out to be Sue and Charlie who were delayed selling pegs the day before.

After we had all thawed out and removed the worst of the mud and gore, Team Pasta started to prepare a meal based on, well, pasta.

Here they are hard at work, while Sandra, Sue and Maureen argue over whose gin should be used for the next round of drinks.

After another fine meal, some drinks, sleep and breakfast, it was time for another walk. This took in parts of the Smuggler's Trail to Drumin Castle. We left directly from the house, with no car journey involved. Talk about Carbon free walking.

It was cool, but a million times better than the day before. You can see the jauntiness in our step even though we were passing through the Glenlivet distillery and not into it - well not yet anyway.

The distillery frontage.

The first photo opportunity of the day - standing in front of empty barrels.

The improvement in overhead conditions meant that we could actually see scenery. Here is Ben Rinnes. This is pronounced rinse and derives from the Gaelic for sharp or pointed hill. It is a Corbett and stands at 2733 feet high.

The chickens have taken extra precautions to avoid being eaten by the local foxes.

The geese had clearly had enough of the weather yesterday and decide to head for the Arctic Circle.

Today's walk in the woods was altogether more pleasant than yesterday's.

You could also see something when you looked beyond the trees.

It was almost spring-like.

It was also a bit like stepping back in time - there haven't been Counties since 1975.

Pam even got to see an Eagle.

Next stop Drumin Castle. Oh No! I hear you cry. This means he is going to bore us to death with lots of interesting and exciting facts about the Castle. Well, you are right.

The Castle commands a strategic, prominent position on a natural embankment overlooking the confluence of the Rivers Livet and Avon. The trees would not have been there when the Castle was built.

The original Castle was built in the 14th Century, probably for the Wolf of Badenoch. He,is the man who burnt down Elgin Cathedral in 1390.

The Wolf's grandson (should that be grandpup) is thought to have built the current Castle in the late 1400's and then sold it to Earl of Huntly - of the same family that fought at the  Battle of Glenlivet talked about earlier in case you were not paying attention. Indeed, the Earl of Argyll stayed at the Castle before the battle. The picture shows the remains of his bed.

By the late 18th Century, the Castle has fallen into disrepair. I have not deliberately used a photo of Pam to illustrate that.

I could go on about how the northwest wall has the remains of a corbelled parapet, machicolation and a bartizan at the west corner, but I thought a photo would do instead.

You can see the assembled Dinosaurs admiring and discussing these very features from the walled kitchen garden.

Here Robin and Charlie discuss the way in which the original purpose of corbelling with  machicolation was changed in later years to become purely decorative, especially in Scottish Baronial architecture from the 16th Century onwards.

After all the excitement of arcane architectural detail, it was time to turn back and head for the distillery and lunch.

On the way, we pass a giant's wooden toast rack....

...and Elvis's wooden heart.

I spied a hare hunting for moles in the field below us.

Ben Rinnes is soon back in sight.

As is the distillery.

We quickly drop off our walking stuff at the cottage and rush out to the distillery for our lunch.

There now follow some fairly unedifying pictures of people eating.

If you think they were bad, wait just a minute for something much worse.

After lunch, Dave offered us the choice of a walk round the gardens of Ballindalloch Castle or another walk like this morning or a tour of the distillery. All except Jim and Jacque predictably chose the distillery tour. Sandra and Dino wisely went home.

Glenlivet Distillery makes a light malt whisky - and here it is.

The Glenlivet is the only whisky that can claim to be The. Any other whisky that uses Glenlivet in its name must do so with hyphenation after an 1871 court case decided that the original Glenlivet was The one and all others came after.

The distillery was founded in 1824, quite controversially. At that time all distillers were illicit. The Excise Act required distillers to gain a licence and pay tax - an appalling idea. The illicit distillers wanted the Act repealed and decide not to apply for licences in the hope the legislation through not being capable of implementation. George Smith had other ideas, got his license and his distillery has operated since then, with only a break for the Second World War. The Glenlivet is the biggest selling whisky in America.

Here are two old codgers at the bar pretending they know a lot about whisky drinking.

And now the horror photos I mentioned earlier.

I make no comment on these images and can only apologise to any readers of a nervous disposition.

 After we had recovered from that, it was off to the Dalnashaugh Inn for a pleasant dinner. Except for Robin who gave his dinner to Susan and then discovered we were one meal short. He eventually got something to eat.

That was the end of our trip.

 Many thanks are due to Dave and Sandra for their organisation of everything.

Thanks also to everyone for the food, drink, cheese and conviviality.

It was another excellent trip and I am looking forward to the next one already.