ROWAN LOCH MORLICH, ROWAN UATH LOCHANS, ROWAN LOCH AN EILEIN, ROWAN TREE.

 DAY ONE FRIDAY 2ND DECEMBER

Time for another getaway. A bit later than normal, but we are nothing, if not impetuous free spirits. Besides, the hotel was closed at the end of November, so we would have been looking for a stable or somewhere biblically similar to rest our weary heads.

Sharon and I could not attend the walk on the first day as I have been having problems with my back after slipping on ice earlier in November. Bravely, I have decided that I can just about record the blog of what went on.

So, here they are setting off through the gates. I was going to say the gates of hell, but that would take me down the road of good intentions, and I'm not known for good intentions.

Striding purposefully it would seem.

Loch Morlich translates from Gaelic to Loch Mhurlaig, meaning the loch of the wool basket. Presumably, this is because the loch sits in a bowl surrounded by much higher hills.

It is also the first, and, I think, the only freshwater loch in Scotland to have its beaches awarded with a Seaside Award from Keep Scotland Beautiful. Being 300 metres above sea level, it is also the highest beach in the country to hold such an award. Certainly on a sunny day, you could be forgiven for thinking you were on the shores of some Italian lake. This was not such a day.

The sands of the beaches have deposits of broken glass. This is not some form of vandalism by modern day visitors, but actually dates back to the Second World War, when the area was used as a commando school, especially for Norwegian soldiers. Just what they did with the bottles to leave so much evidence behind, I can only guess at.

Of, course, there is always time for a bridge photo. As always, only a proportion of people are actually looking at the photographer.

Swans - always graceful looking until they upend themselves to have a nibble at some weed. There is something faintly ridiculous about a swan's arse.

But, you can't spend your day staring at a swan's behind. Onwards.

There is, however, a bit of time to stand and have a bit of a blether.

An army of mallards on the beach. Almost all domestic ducks are descended from Mallards and they are very successful, being found over a huge swathe of the world. Perhaps one reason for their success, is that they can sleep with one eye open and half their brain still alert. Who knew there was an advantage to having half a brain?

Lunchtime, and the rustic crowd find a seat.

The sophisticates find a proper table.

I think Robin is being a little ambitious in trying to summon a waiter.

Jimmy is banished to a seat on his own. He doesn't seem to have any lunch either.

Whenever you see a a gaggle of dinosaurs like this, it means that Maureen has opened up the sweetie tin and the hordes gather at the sound of the first wrapper rustling.

Nearly the end of another walk and they seem pretty fit, striding out. Either that, or they are needing a cup of tea and the comfort of our hotel. You will notice that a lone walker had seen them coming and has decided to scarper in the opposite direction.

The hotel it was, but only after a cup of tea and some cake at the Barn in Rothiemurchus, where Sharon and I finally met up with them. Given my aching back, genteel handshakes were exchanged rather than full on hugs.

Our chosen lodging for the weekend was the very good Rowan Tree Hotel, which some of us remember as the Lynwilg Hotel from many years ago.

After a bit of a rest and a change of clothes, a drink in the lounge, it was time for more food.

Certainly, my dinner was very good and well worth me copying it to my food chat, where a number of sad old gits send each other pictures of food porn.

We managed to play some games and quizzes in the lounge after dinner, before it was time to call it a day and head for bed after a good start to our trip.

DAY2 SATURDAY 3RD DECEMBER

After a very fine breakfast, it was time to get ready for the next day's walking. Well, at least it was for most of us. I was still not up to walking for miles. Hugh also had some issues with his feet, which required a degree of medical attention and Liz had had a disturbed night and felt off colour in the morning, so decided against the great outdoors. I do hope this is not a precursor to the toll of advancing years.

Here they are getting into the cars.

Here they are getting out of the cars and ready to walk in Glenfeshie.

And, off they go.

Into the wilds.

The Monarch of the Glen surveys the river.

Robin no Hood surveys the Monarch surveying the river.

Looking back to Feshie Bridge, which dates from the 18th Century. It is built at a slight angle to take advantage of the natural rock formations on which the bridge sits. The smaller arch on the left of the photo is a flood channel - the Feshie is well known as a spate river.

Just about the time they were at Feshie Bridge, I was getting ready to go for a leisurely wander about Loch Alvie. From the hotel car park it is hard not to to notice the monument on the top of the nearby hill. This the Duke of Gordon's monument. It was erected in 1840, being built by public subscription after the 5th Duke died in 1836. Quite why his grateful tenants felt compelled to contribute to the monument is a bit of a mystery, given that he was one of the few Tory peers to stand against the Great Reform Bill of 1832, which, of course, sought to expand the right to vote to a much wider number of the population, excluding women, naturally. Most Tories abstained, but the 5th Duke actively voted against along with a small number of other reactionary stalwarts.

He married Elizabeth Brodie. I am currently reading the Memoirs of a Highland Lady, written by Elizabeth Grant of Rothiemurchus. She has a particularly frank style and described The Duke's wife as "young and good, and rich, but neither clever or handsome". She may have had money to pay off her husband's debts, but no heir was forthcoming, despite his impressive monument..

He was the last of the line and the title died with him in 1836.

I walked down through the birch woods to the shores of Loch Alvie.

Looking across the loch to Alvie Church. This was built in 1768 and subsequently repaired in 1833, 1880 and 1952. During one of these restorations, there was recorded a number of burials of skeletons found under the floor of the church!

At the end of the loch were number of balls of larch needles washing up on the shore. These seem to be reasonably uncommon and most of the references I can track down relate to North American lakes or sometimes to the Atlantic or Pacific Oceans.

Whatever, they are pretty amazing.

This one is nestling down in the leaves like a little hedgehog.

Meanwhile, the real dinosaurs were carrying on with their walk, probably hardly giving me a second thought. At least that was what I was mournfully thinking to myself, when they sent me a little photo to remind me that I did matter after all.

So, on they went, with Dave lecturing them all on the sights and sounds of the forest.

They were not alone in the wilds. The boys from Deliverance were out on the river.

Whilst Dave was holding forth, the rest of them gathered in a wee circle and swopped stories about something else altogether

Once a teacher, always a teacher, although even with props he

couldn't get this class to pay attention.

Speaking of Deliverance, I was on the other side of the loch by now and there was this little waterside backwoods cabin, with a wee boy playing the banjo....

Well, truth be told it was an old boathouse, but the banjo made for a better story.

Nonetheless, this buzzard was keeping a close watch on me.

Back at Glenfeshie, Dave had asked them all to get their homework out of their schoolbags. That instituted a bit of panic and frantic searching, by the looks of it.

In fact, so few of them had done their homework, never mind taken it with them, so Dastardly Dave forced them all to walk the plank.

On the other hand, I was about to go through the keyhole.

Actually, this was a wee burn passing under the A9.

I, being a little larger than wee, had to go through the proper underpass.

This was a little spooky as I could hear voices at the other end of the underpass.  Luckily it turned out to be some people walking a dog. I took a photo after they passed, just because it looked good.

A flock of fieldfares were sitting in the trees on the other side.

Fieldfares are a sub species of thrush. Unlike most thrushes and blackbirds they tend to perch high in trees rather than hiding in thicker undergrowth. The name fieldfare dates from the 11th century and probably meant someone who travels through the fields. Commonly, they will all face the same direction when they perch in trees. This aptly describes the way they forage on the ground, travelling upwind all the time. When disturbed, they will take off and fly downwind to get as far away from predators as possible.

While I was watching the fieldfares until they flew away, Sandra was having a wee happy moment to herself.

Pam, as our resident bovinophobe, was less likely to be in a happy place as they came across a Heilan' coo on the banks of the Feshie as they made their way to the Uath Lochans. It had decided to stand directly in their route, just to make things worse.

But, Pam pulled up her big girl pants and steadfastly walked on. The cow wasn't going anywhere, so onward was the only option.

Well done, Pam, for getting past without the slightest hesitation. At least that's what I was told.

They had just passed Ballintean farmhouse, which is now a holiday home, and a very nice looking one as it happens. Many years ago, in a former life, I had many dealings with Jane Williamson, who owned Ballintean at that time. She was pretty famous in Highland Cow breeding circles, if I recall correctly. She was also the sister or aunt (I can't quite remember) of Jamie Williamson, who is the owner of of Alvie Estate, where I was ambling at the same time as they were passing by Ballintean.

They did manage to find a nice spot on the woods for a spot of luncheon.

I think I may have had a wee fruit pastel in sight of this lonesome pine.

From my lonely lunch location, I circled round and crossed over the A9 heading back to the hotel. On the way, I spotted these birch catkins - male ones as the female catkins only come out in spring after the ,males have been hanging around for ages. It was ever thus.

They still had more walking to do, whilst I had a wee well earned rest after the furthest walk I had done in about 4 or 5 weeks.

I had seen some real wildlife, their's was a little on the wooden side.

They had wee signs, while I had followed my nose.

Despite us being like some sort of walking diaspora we had arranged to meet for tea and cakes - always important. Sue and Charlie had arrived at the Rowan Tree and I joined them before we met up with everyone else at Loch Insh Watersports. Not for any kayaking or anything quite so energetic, but for some sticky cakes.

Oooh! Says Susan.

Mmmmm! mumbled Susan, because her teeth had stuck together.

After tea and cakes, it was back to the hotel for a rest and clean up before drinks in the lounge, and Christmas Dinner. Yipee, more food. Of course, we hadn't forgotten about Liz and Hugh, who both survived their medical travails and managed to join us.

Drinks first! Actually it looks like Sue had had a few too many already and Robin has averted his eyes so as not to embarrass her.

Of course, I could be charitable and say it was the heat from the roaring log fire that had momentarily caused Sue's eyes to slip shut.

After drinks and, perhaps a wee snooze for some, it was time for Christmas dinner.

I started with the parmesan velouté, with crispy gnocchi, which was truly delicious. As a gifted gnocchi maker myself, I would have to say they were pretty good. I may just have to recreate this sometime in the future. 

Turkey dinner must be a bit of a nightmare for chefs. Everyone knows what they are getting and they expect it to be just that. Well, this was better than your normal turkey dinner. Very good indeed.

.

The star of the show was undoubtedly the salted caramel fondant. We had enjoyed both dinners so much that we asked the chef to come to the table so that we might congratulate him and his team. He did this, most graciously and modestly.

Suitably sated, we retired to the lounge for more fun and games, before it was time for sleep.

DAY 3 SUNDAY 4TH DECEMBER

Sunday breakfast must have been one of the most hilarious meals I have ever eaten. Our server was truly exceptional with a ready wit. A joy. Indeed, all of the personnel that we dealt with were a huge positive advert for Highland hospitality. One of my abiding memories will be the young server singing "Do they know its Christmas" at the top of top of her voice as I started my walk on Saturday morning. I could hear her a couple of hundred yards away. No stuffiness and hushed tones here and so much the better for it.

The hotel itself has a bit of history. The bulk of it seems to have been built in the 18th Century, although there may have been an earlier building. The building we see today is based on the original coaching Inn built next to the old North Road. It was run by the Cumming family, who seemed to own Lynwilg Farm and also operated a post office, pub and shop at different times in the hotel building. The stage coach service between Perth and Inverness started in 1813 and mail for the village and also for Rothiemurchus Estate was dropped here. There was a ford across the Spey, but it was not always able to be crossed and a small boat crossed the Spey, more reliably. I am sure the hotel is a great deal more comfortable now than it was then, even though many of the original features still remain.

Before we left for our final walk and then home, we had a group photo in front of the Christmas tree. All very festive.

After saying our farewells and paying our tiny bar bills, we left for Loch an Eilein - the loch of the island. I dropped Sharon at the car park where she joined the rest of the group for their walk around the loch. At the car park, there is considerable evidence of an old township, including this, which is thought to be the remains of a lime kiln.

As you had to pay at the car park, I left. Well, actually, I had other plans. I was going for a short stroll along the road to Kinrara, leaving from Dalraddy Holiday park. Again, this was going to be  deal shorter than the walk round the loch.

The weather was a bit mixed, but I had blue sky to start with as you can see in this artistic photo of wool on the fence and the sheep in the background.

Kinrara is not much visited, although I had been there often in my working days. I must go further the next time I get the chance.

As I looked back in time and towards the hill, Sue and Charlie were looking at shops in Aviemore and Hugh might well have been looking at the inside of his eyelids as he had gone home to rest his foot. The rest of the dinosaurs were looking across the loch to the castle on an island. The island is much smaller than it once was, due to a sluice being built to facilitate floating of timber down the Spey.

In the 13th century, the bishop of Moray built a hall house at the south end of the island and this was surrounded by a defensive wall. The Wolf Of Badenoch built a tower at the north end in the 1380s. Patrick Grant of Rothiemurchus joined the two together in the 1600s and these are the remains of that work that you can see today. 

Ospreys nest in these ruins today, but once there were eagles there. Elizabeth Grant recalls her and her brother walking round the loch with a cousin, who was a painter. He could hardly walk round for stopping at every minute as another view came into sight and out would come the easel. She mentions the eagles as inhabiting the tower of the castle.

There is something quite astonishing about being able to walk in the footsteps of someone from a bygone age who has recorded things that you can see to this day.

A bridge photo at the south end of the loch. I think they might all actually be looking at the photographer.

I was passing through the same kind of woodland. Kinrara is now owned by one of the richest men in the world and the estate is part of a huge rewilding long term project. While there are no wolves here, you can see why they might be needed. All the trees are of very similar age. They have probably been planted and any young trees that emerge above the herb layer will have been grazed by deer, which have no natural predators.

There are signs of change afoot on the broadleaved woodlands, where I spotted these bracket fungi. These are less common in younger, managed forests, preferring older woods with more dead and decaying trees. The fungi are extremely important in nutrient cycles and carbon dioxide recycling in woods.

Doubtless this is why this tree has been allowed to stand dead to provide a home for countless invertebrates and fungi.

The Dinosaurs, meanwhile had met a bit of biodiversity themselves. They had come across a lady with an elongated scooter that was being pulled by a dog which only had three legs!! The dog was called Minnie and seems to have been quite remarkable.

Here is Jimmy with Minnie. 

And, here is Jimmy with his owner.

If Hugh had been there, I would have thought that they were lost, but surely not with Dave in charge. In reality, it was time for another of Maureen's sweeties.

I had no sweeties and had to content myself with looking at the beads of rain lying on this oak leaf on the road. This is Sessile Oak - Quercus petraea - the oak of the rocks and hills.

More exciting than an oak leaf was this glimpse of a Goldcrest. The photo was not great, but they are fabulous little birds - the smallest in the country, weighing only 6 grams and just 9 centimetres long. They are not uncommon, but they are usually found in pinewoods. They can be shy, but not always - we have seen them in the garden, especially in winter.

My final piece of biodiversity was this lone chanterelle. December is getting to the end of the season for these highly valued mushrooms.

The next series of photos show Dave explaining a bit of woodcraft - namely how to drink out of a burn using your hands without the use of a chemical detection test to see if something has died and fallen into the water ten yards upstream. 

He started with Maureen.

Next up was Jacque.

Last I heard they were all hale and hearty.

From burn water to boiling water, it was up to Tomatin's 3 Bridges café for lunch before we all went home. It was here we saw our last bit of biodiversity - the lesser spotted Sue, camouflaged between matching teapots.

A final group photo of the weekend. 

What a weekend it was. Some fine walks, some solo walks , great accommodation and fabulous food and company. Well done to Dave and Sandra for all the organisation. I hope we can go back to the Rowan Tree again some time.

Thanks also to all of you who gave me photos, otherwise this would have been nothing but my ramblings and, I suspect, nobody would have read this far!

Next stop 2023, year 17 for us.

Looking forward to it already.