Highland Holiday

The Covid crisis had put paid to our planned German trip and a short "staycation" was to be the sum total of this summer's holidaymaking. Not to worry, there is never a shortage of places in your own country to explore and we decided to take a trip up north. Premier Inn were offering good deals on their hotel rooms and we duly booked four nights in Inverness. The hotel bar and restaurant would be closed for the duration of our stay and there would be no cleaning or any other type of room service due to the pandemic. That was neither here nor there to me. As long as I had a comfy room with wi-fi and a TV, I'd be perfectly happy. We left after Nicole finished her home office shift and were up in Inverness around 8pm. Early to bed in preparation for the next day's activities.

First on the list was a trip to Cawdor Castle in Nairnshire. The journey was just 15 miles and we soon pulled up in the car park. It was pre-booking only and a limited number of people were being admitted at at time for social distancing purposes. We were immediately struck by the beauty of the building and the grounds were very pleasant. With two large gardens to explore, there would clearly be a lot to see, even though the castle interior was off-limits due to the virus. The wee corner of the courtyard containing the gift shop had been kept open and access was via an ancient wooden drawbridge. Certainly and impressive piece of engineering. The name Cawdor reminded me of studying Higher English in 87/88. We read Macbeth and one of the characters in the Scottish Play is the Thane of Cawdor. The castle however is never referred to in the text. Unsurprising, as it was built hundreds of years after the 11th-century setting of Shakespeare's romp. A 15-century tower house forms the core of the castle and many additions have been bolted on over the years. A Category-A listed building, the grounds are included in the culturally significant Scottish Inventory of Gardens and Designed Landscapes. It was impossible to argue against this as we strolled into the flower garden. Beautifully tended and manicured, the displays were breath taking and composed of every conceivable colour. The sort of place where you could sit on a bench on a warm day and just let the surroundings soothe your soul. It wasn't really lounging weather today and we kept on the move. A doorway from the garden led into the woodland where an extensive network of trails awaited discovery. We contented ourselves with one of the shorter circuits as the uneven ground didn't agree with Nicole's achilles tendon injury. Ancient trees abounded and I'm sure a botanist could have had a field day studying the array of plant life and fungi. Apparently the woods contain over 130 species of lichen.

The area near the castle is styled as the Wild Garden which extends into Big Wood. This contains more tree varieties than you can shake an, er, stick at, including birch, aspen, rowan, wych elm, holly and juniper. Also present are Scots pine, oak and beech. That's a serious amount of arboreal action! For those who lose their way under the thick canopy, the castle website has a stunningly simple - but no doubt extremely effective - piece of advice. Walk until you come to a burn or brook and follow it downstream – all water leads to the Castle. The Flower Garden dates from 1725 and the Walled Garden goes back even further. Following the petal extravaganza I'd just witnessed, I didn't expect to be blown away as I strode into the next compound. Developed over the years and with the addition of a host of exotic seeds in the late 17th century, the Walled Garden morphed into one of the finest Victorian spaces of its kind. Due to increasing number of visitors to the Castle, with some of them helping themselves to the garden's treasures, it was eventually closed to the public. The top half of the Walled Garden was later transformed into a maze, taking inspiration from the mosaic floor of the ruined Roman villa of Conimbriga in Portugal. As recently as 2015, American-born sculptor Gregory Ryan created the Minotaur that stands visibly and proudly in the middle of the Cawdor labyrinth. There were many surprising pockets to discover. A nice change from the usual open layout of a traditional walled enclosure. Fully satisfied with our Cawdor Castle experience, we drove the few miles to the town of Nairn. Passing the football stadium with the club's name - Nairn County - emblazoned along the boundary wall was a reminder that this area is a historic shire of Scotland. Other than passing through on the A96, I'd never been in Nairn before. It was time to go and have a look around.

The town was bustling and we had a quick wander around the central streets, popping into a couple of shops. It transpired the harbour was around a mile distant and offered the prospect of some decent birdwatching. We hopped back into the car and drove down to the quayside, parking close to the beach and grabbing an ice cream. There is a useful phone app called Where to Watch Birds in Scotland. A simple set-up, the map of the country is covered in pins marking potential viewing spots and you can zoom in and click for more detailed information and directions. The pier apparently provided a good vantage point to see wading birds going about their business. We weren't disappointed and saw a slew of redshanks scuttling around the rock pools and also several curlew. I love the way the latter bird pokes about the stones with its long curved beak. It's one of the first species I photographed in earnest and I do occasionally style myself as the Curlew King! A great shame that numbers are declining on a national basis. Don't be fooled into thinking the population is secure because you often see them wandering about on the coast. The real problem is the destruction of inland breeding habitat. The mass grazing of sheep causes curlew eggs to be trampled upon, as does the sheer number of people stomping about off-path. When will we ever learn? The remainder of the day was spent on the Black Isle - a peninsula just north of Inverness. A spit of land extending into the Moray Firth is known as Chanonry Point and is often visited by a pod of dolphins. Many people go - with all manner of photography equipment - to try and catch sight of the elegant marine mammals. We had previously been lucky on a couple of occasions and hopes were high for today. The car-parking facilities at Chanonry are now inadequate for the volume of vehicles making their way down the single track road through the golf course. A couple of cars ahead of us turned back after failing to find a space. We hung around more in hope than expectation and fortunately a couple of families departed. We gleefully filled the gap.

The most common time to see dolphins is on a rising tide. They follow the fish brought by the incoming currents and the sloping shingle beach at Chanonry offers a good view of the surrounding deep water channels. There are however no guarantees and we are no strangers to hanging around by the water's edge, only for nothing to appear. When the dolphins do arrive, the results can be spectacular and they can be observed leaping out of the sea. Lady Luck was with us and it wasn't long until we saw the tell-tale fins protruding above the surface. Not an amazing show but a solid 7 out of 10 and well worth the journey. Trying to capture a dolphin in flight is a haphazard process at the best of times but I think I achieved pass marks for this shot. Once the excitement had subsided, we decided to drive across the Black Isle to the town of Cromarty on the northern shore. Nicole's friend had recommended an artisan pizzeria and we booked a takeaway slot. Many restaurants were still not ready to begin admitting seated customers. I'm more than happy to munch away in the car however and it's certainly a cheaper option. By this time the rain was battering down and there was no serious prospect of finding a spot by the shore for an alfresco dinner. A pity, as the view of the oilrigs in for repair is surely unmissable! Nicole even brought me a bottle of Cromarty ale which was quietly secreted on the back seat for consumption back at the hotel. I later read on the restaurant's website about the attached off-licence purveying a healthy range of craft beers. I guess that means we're coming back at some point! A good range of activities for the first full day away and tomorrow we planned to head up to an old stomping ground and take advantage of the most promising weather forecast.

Dornoch is the county town of Sutherland and it's a place we used to visit while on holiday at the caravan park in the village of Embo a couple of miles up the coast. My parents had a static van there for many years until it became too old for the site policy. They subsequently had it moved to Monifieth, near Dundee. Despite the more lenient rules here, the caravan eventually reached the age limit and my folks sold it to a local farmer. It probably now houses berry pickers who come to Scotland every summer from Eastern Europe in their thousands. Who will pick the fruit if the impending Brexit makes it difficult for migrant workers to travel to the UK? Dornoch has a population of just a couple of thousand but - rather like Kinross nearer home - has a disproportionate amount of services and businesses due to its administrative status. Thankfully the place has not yet been invaded by Tesco or any other supermarket chain (they can be found across the Dornoch Firth in Ross-Shire). It's a delight to visit the traditional butchers and bakers along with other independent retail outlets. Special mention must go to the charming bookshop which continues to trade defiantly in face of fierce competition from Amazon. I can't visit the place without making a purchase. I wonder how many others adopt this attitude? Does the "well you've got to buy something to support them" argument help keep these places open? It must surely have some effect. The only thing missing from the bookshop nowadays is the presence of Gilbert the cat. He used to sleep in a basket on the counter before passing away a few years back. As we left Inverness and crossed the Kessock Bridge, I turned off the A9 and pulled into the Black Isle Brewery. My last visit had been almost 15 years ago and we had taken the short tour. I remember seeing the bottles being capped by hand and thinking that working in beer production isn't always glamorous.

Even though some time has passed, I instantly realised the brewery was now located in larger premises. The old site had been a glorified wooden barn but the business was now housed in a gleaming modern building. I strode into the shop and this would be the limit of my exploration as brewery tours were on ice due to Corona. Straight away I noticed the output was almost exclusively canned, with a few token bottles cowering in the corner. I must admit it took me a while to embrace the new style tinnies as this container was historically associated with mass produced industrial beers. Serious ale drinkers always consumed their passion from a bottle was my line of thinking. As the so-called craft beer revolution went global, it became clear there was artisan product to be sampled, however there was an economic factor at play. A can typically holds a third of a litre while a bottle usually offers 500ml. The chic factor of craft often pushed the price of a can higher than glassware and you were paying more money for less ale. A mug's game, I concluded. I did eventually dip a toe into this new market (at a quid a pop from Aldi) and there's no doubt the trendy brews are refreshing and tasty. A million miles removed from the ocean of fizz poured upon us by mainstream brewers in previous decades. I remember dropping into the new craft-beer shop in Dunfermline and the proprietor mentioning that brewers would eventually all go down the can route. Well Hipster Joe would say that, I thought. But having spoken to a friend in the industry (who actually used to work at Black Isle) - I have revised my opinion somewhat. For transportation purposes, the bottles alone account for a significant amount of weight, leading to increased shipping costs. On the production side of things, cans create a completely airtight seal and block all light from ageing the beer. Okay, maybe there's something in this. Plus you don't need to hunt for a bottle opener! Converted to canning - for the day at least - I loaded up and was happy to pay £1.80 a tin.

After a stroll around Dornoch (where the bookshop was unfortunately closed), we drove the short distance to Grannie's Heilan' Hame campsite. I had written a letter of support to the bookshop during lockdown and had received a rather nice email in return. Doing my bit and showing that customers were still out there. Embo sits right on the coast and some of the caravans overlook the expansive beach. We had spent many happy holidays here and it was good to visit on a glorious day. As a child, my parents had brought us to Embo in their touring van and I used to love throwing myself off the sand dunes (charge-a-boom-ba was the battle cry) and exploring the rock pools. As an older teenager I saw the legendary folk duo Gaberlunzie perform up here while having a few pints with my dad. Happy days indeed. As expected, the beach thronged with people but the crowds quickly thinned out as we left the caravans behind. We walked a good mile and a half to the point where Loch Fleet meets the open sea. We witnessed plover chicks scuttling about in the sand and that was the birdy check-box well and truly ticked. On the way back, we cut through the site and had a look at the pier, now sadly fenced off due to erosion. I remember catching a couple of coalies here with a fishing line as a young lad (fried and eaten naturally). The static vans are obviously there all year round but the tent field and touring pitches were eerily vacant. It did seem rather harsh when my folks were "evicted" but I guess part of the business model is sustained by the continuing sale of new (and refurbished) vans. I don't know if I would ever take the plunge and buy a static. They depreciate at a frightening rate and you really have to be sure you're in it for the long term and have a base in mind that you'll happily visit time and time again. It's like having a holiday apartment and having ample space and mod-cons is certainly welcome when it rains heavily which - funnily enough - it does quite often up here.

We drove down to the viewpoint on the banks of Loch Fleet. When the tide is out you can nearly always see groups of seals lounging on the sandbanks. I always get the impression they have a great life, mainly consisting of eating and sleeping. Not too many predators either unless you swim out to shark-infested waters. I think I'll come back as a blubber boy after reincarnation! Having seen all our favourite sights, we headed back down the A9 to Inverness and settled in for the night. A longer expedition was scheduled for the following day. We'd be west-coast bound for the ferry port of Ullapool. I remember doing this drive way back in 2005 and being astonished that petrol was priced at over £1 a litre in these remote parts. I also recalled a fish and chips shop right on the seafront. Well that was lunch sorted! Before setting out on these long Highland drives, I tend to check the map for interesting stops along the way. I noticed a car park for Rogie Falls and investigated further. A short walk would take us down to the tumbling rapids where salmon could be seen leaping against the current during August and September. Might as well check it out! We duly arrived around 10am and already the car park was filling up, despite the obvious reduction in tourist numbers this year. Must be hoaching here during normal times. Several forest walks were signposted but we only had time for the quarter mile stroll down to the Black Water. We could hear the roaring torrent before we reached the river and the sight was spectacular. The churning waterfalls threw up a white spray and a suspension footbridge across the narrow valley offered a ringside view of the action. I checked the calendar and today was the 1st of August. Would the salmon stick to the timetable and respect the fact I'd travelled many miles to see them jump? Amazingly, they did! Even better - I managed to capture an iconic image of which the great David Attenborough would have been proud. You'll see my work on Blue Planet soon enough!

It is one of nature's great wonders that salmon make an arduous journey from the sea back to their spawning ground. Constantly battling the adverse currents and having to scale waterfalls where man has selfishly declined to build a helpful ladder. The amount of energy expended must be enormous. I think I'd be tempted to stay in saltwater and not worry too much about passing on my genes. Particularly when you consider that those who actually make it back to their birthplace usually die after spawning. With odds like these, I'd give fatherhood a miss. Seems to have served me well enough in the human world. Existential musings aside, I caught sight of a black flash against the foaming waters and yes indeed the salmon had arrived bang on cue. I was close enough to take a worthy photograph but actually capturing the subject would be a tough challenge. I resorted to the tried and tested method of point, click and hope. The stroke of genius was to press the shutter button as soon as I detected any hint of a fish about to spring. The theory and practice melded together well and I wowed social media with this stunning shot of a scaly one launching itself vertically. I don't think it made its target and was sent tumbling back down. How many attempts to they normally need? Do they sometimes meet an insurmountable obstacle? Do they ever say bugger this, I'm going back to sea? The questions a naturalist must pose! A great result and one that certainly set me up for the day. The winding road continued towards Ullapool and we stopped at a café and craft shop for a nose around. Upon arrival at our destination, we availed ourselves of the parking and toilet facilities provided by Tesco and ambled down to the shore. The ferry terminal is right in front of you and not the prettiest of backdrops but it provides jobs and vital transport links to the islands. The town is located on the sheltered banks of Loch Broom and if you look past the shipping activity there are lovely views of the surrounding hills.

First things first - hit that chippy! There was plenty bench seating around the harbour and we relaxed and replenished energy reserves while taking in the mixed atmosphere of industry and countryside. A wander along the seafront took us to a candle workshop staffed by vulnerable adults within the community. A worthy enterprise and again the type of place where you feel obliged to make a contribution. There but for the grace of God go I, and all that. We then found ourselves in a bookshop contained within a large entertainments venue known as the Ceilidh Place. In order to browse the books, plastic disposable gloves had to be worn which was an unusual experience. Great to see the place trading though. I picked up an award-winning account of race relations in the UK, by Afua Hirsch. An eye-opening read for sure and one that forces you to re-evaluate the way you think about supposed equal rights in the 21st century. The lady behind the counter turned out to be German and we chatted for a while in her native tongue. A really friendly place and I must send a Christmas card to wish them well. We strolled around the town and I noticed the little museum was open but a visit would have been rushed and I decided to leave it for another day. Perhaps it's desirable to have a reason for returning. The woman in the bookshop had recommend a lighthouse to visit, a few miles long the shore of the sea loch. We found the relevant single track road but turned tail at a farm half a mile in. It clearly wasn't going to be a leisurely driving experience and sheep were wandering free across the tarmac. We've seen many lighthouses and decided this one wasn't worth the hairy drive. We had earlier witnessed a car across the water slowly descending the steep face of a hill on a series of switchbacks. The Evel Knievel stuff is for the locals. I was here for a chilled-out potter around.

Time to hit the long winding road! We had one more stop planned on the way home. A gander at Corrieshalloch Gorge - a mile-long deep narrow canyon now designated as a national nature reserve. Carved by glacial meltwater, the natural feature is managed by the National Trust and a rather bouncy suspension bridge allows you to cross the gorge and gaze into the depths below. Only ten people are permitted on the bridge at any one time. A restriction you don't argue against! As expected, the roar of the waterfall echoes all around but what you maybe don't anticipate is the blast of cool air created by the micro climate in this truly spectacular place. No doubt Corrieshalloch attracts geologists and entomologists from across the globe (it's home to a rare species of crane fly, which benefits from the wet dead wood in the shaded areas) but as a layman it's wonderful to simply marvel at this force of nature. A path on the opposite side leads to another viewpoint which lets you look along the gorge and see the footbridge strung precariously above. On the return route we walked downstream after re-crossing rather than head straight up the staircase to the car-park. This path looped around in a mile-long circuit and climbed steeply to offer fine views of Loch Broom and the enveloping hills. Another action-packed day and a welcome rest back at the hotel. The next morning we were homeward bound but couldn't resist another trip to Chanonry Point to see if the dolphins would bid us farewell. Alas, we were all out of luck and nothing emerged from the waves. No guarantees in this game. We hit the A9 and stopped for a snack at the House of Bruar which was unbelievably busy. Those pesky staycationers no doubt!