“Easter 2012” series of articles

2012

2012 Apr

Apr 08 Easter Sun(ny)

Today’s scheduled events consisted of going to Scotland (where we haven’t been since the dawn of the New Year) after breakfast and the associated ablutions, and saying hello to Granddad (whom we haven’t seen since the dawn of the New Year).

The journey to Scotland was uneventful (don’t I always say that?), save the sightings of a couple of kestrels hunting, and thus swooping down onto a tasty tree. Then a sterling service-station served lunch to us in Stirling.

The saying hello to Granddad was interesting, due in part to his proffering of several ovoid chocolates. It’s some pagan tradition, apparently, though pagans would not have had access to chocolate with their lack of transatlantic ferries. A lame excuse for excess, it seems. So anachronistic. Perhaps we’re all going senile. (But only tourists and the Egyptians/Sudanese are going see Nile.)

Apr 09 Easter Mon(ey)

And now we’re going see Loch Insh, and the osprey nesting nearby.

The bushes behind Loch Insh are popular with chaffinches and pied wagtails, and the loch itself is popular with mallards. (I mistook one mallard for a tufted duck, due to the intense natural lighting.)

But before we arrived at Loch Insh, just after we’d left our lodgings in Kingussie, we found several partridges in the Insh Marshes RSPB Reserve. They’re likable birds; then again, I could like any bird. Dad asked us if there was a difference between partridges and young pheasants. I proceeded to ask him if there was a difference between monkeys and young peasants. The answer is too rude to publish here, and my question was too rude for me to actually say.

Anyway, at Loch Insh we did indeed see the resident osprey, on its distant nest.

Apr 10 Tue

From nest to Ness. Loch Ness. We visited that Olympic-sized swimming-pool today.
(Who’s doing the swimming? And will she be shy enough to avoid competing in the actual Olympics?)

We passed two smaller lochs on our journey from Kingussie to Fort Augustus: the snappily-named Loch Knockie and the aptly-named Loch Mhòr - “Big Loch” - which isn’t as big as a twelfth of Loch Ness, I reckon. The lochs looked very nice in the glen- and ben- covered landscape. (A glen is a Scottish valley; a ben is a Scottish mountain; a loch is a Scottish loch.)

Do ya like the looping effect on the panorama? I spent so long creating that.

At Fort Augustus it rained. (What were we to expect?)

At Fort Augustus we lunched, I on Mediterranean-style pasta (not that there’s any other type of pasta in my view).

At Fort Augustus there is the confluence between the southern stretch of the Caledonian Canal and Loch Ness. The locks looked very nice in the house- and hill- covered landscape, as did the lochs.

And then we went to the remains of Castle Urquhart (say “urr-cut”, with the final syllable curt, like the word “curt”). It rained. The view, in my view, was nice, and Nessie-less. The castle seemed like Skipness Castle, but more spread-out (it had been blown up with gunpowder), and rainier.

Finally, we returned to Kingussie. It rained.

Apr 11 Wed

When my dad asked me if I’d like to accompany him on a walk in Newtonmore Glen, I agreed. After all, a glen is a Scottish valley, so we’d be staying at low-altitude, most likely strolling alongside the river Calder, with the bumble-bees bumbling, the hover-flies hovering, and the grass-hoppers grazing contently nearby.

Or so I presumed.

Up on a mountain some-where, in a blizzard, we found shelter in a bothy (a very small hut where members of the mountain-walking public can shelter for a few minutes) with an amusing notice pinned onto a table with a spoon. Click on the photo to read the message (if you don’t want to hike to the bothy yourself). I presume that the notice was written by the Mountain Bothies Association; this presumption is probably more correct than my previous one.

Up on a mountain some-where else, in another blizzard, we found shelter behind a large stone. Below us were some mountain hares, a bird which I believe to be a meadow pipit, and, some-where in the distance, Loch Gynack, and some-where even further in the distance, our accommodation in Kingussie.

Down off a mountain some-where, out of the blizzards, we found shelter inside a house, a house which I believe to be our accommodation in Kingussie. I can’t be certain - it might turn out to be perilously close to the river Calder, with the killer bees and flies hovering ominously overhead.

Apr 14 Sat

13:30 - Dad has embarked on another walk. My youngest sister is accompanying him. Mum feels obliged to join them, as does my uncle. Haven’t a clue why.

13:50 - According to a recent phone-call (made by my mum), the four of them are experiencing a “minor white-out”. Well, at least it’s not a minor chord. That could sound really tragic.

14:20 - Am playing Monopoly with my remaining sister.

18:35 - Four tramps have just turned up on our door-step. They claim to be closely related to me. I certainly don’t recognise them, though the woman looks vaguely similar to my long-lost mother. I told them to wait outside until my parents get back.
They interpreted that as meaning “Come in”.

18:38 - Most of the radiators are covered in soggy socks, damp dungarees, moist mittens, wet shirts, wetter sweaters, and soaked coats.