Loch Ness and Environs

I could have stayed a week or two at the Nethybridge Hotel, walking through the gardens where I went out to do my Tai Chi this morning, or curled up in a quiet corner of one of its living room. She was like an elegant older woman dressed in vintage clothing, still retaining her modest beauty.

It was another beautiful morning as we drove north on the A9 toward Inverness.  On the way, we stopped at the moving Culloden Battlefield, where the Jacobite forces of Bonnie Prince Charles were defeated.  It was a bloodbath, and Steve described it in blow-by-blow detail; they would have been sitting ducks in this open field.

It was a peaceful place this Wednesday morning, the sun brightly shining and a light breeze rippling the heather, which was growing everywhere.  There were even some hairy coos grazing in an adjoining field, and Martha took this picture.

We drove farther north toward Inverness, its beautiful castle on a hill as we drove through the city.  Canals connect three lochs (or "lakes") in this part of the country, some of the prettiest scenery we have seen.

By lunchtime, we were driving along Loch Ness, home of its famed "monster."  The area does cater  to tourists, and yes, we stumbled upon the monster herself outside a cafe and gift shop that was doing a brisk business.

There is even a Loch Ness Brewery, which makes a dark stout called DarkNess and a hop-filled IPA called HoppiNess - the label reads, "Vast and unfathomable, Loch Ness has long held its reputation as a dark, mysterious stretch of water, blessed with mythical healing powers, and home to the world's most famous monster - Nessie."  But the clever marketing was really unnecessary, because the lake itself was so beautiful, gleaming brightly between the surrounding hills.

We drove along the shore of the lake, Steve pointing out a simply stone monument to Roderick MacKenzie, famous for his brave but ultimately unsuccessful attempt to protect the life of Bonnie Prince Charles while he was fleeing and being hidden by sympathizers in one small village after another.  He strongly resembled the prince, and when he was spotted he ran away in feigned guilt, crying out, “Now you have killed your Prince!” before dying.

We stopped to take a photo of Eilean Donan Castle, on a small tidal island where three sea lochs meet, Loch Duich, Loch Long and Loch Alsh.  Steve told us it was one of the most-photographed castles in Scotland.

The weather had turned a little colder and there was a brisk breeze blowing from the water when we stopped on the east coast of the Isle of Skye.

Steve played us a CD of traditional Scottish songs, and we were surprised that many of those on the bus were singing along.  Do they sing these songs in Australia, or Canada, we wondered?

At the end of a long day, we stopped at the Gairloch Hotel, perched high above Gairloch Bay, with spectacular views of the North Sea.  Like the Nethybridge and the MacDonald Cardrona before it, I would gladly have stayed here for another day, another week . . . another month?

We walked down to a pebbly beach and there I picked up a smooth round rock still wet form the North Sea, and put it in my pocket to take home.