Month: July 2017

A perfect morning. Early tranquility. Blue sky. Bright sunshine. Birdsong. Breakfast. Putter round to the jetty at the castle, 8:30. Obviously made just for the passenger boats, thick mooring ropes permanently attached, no bollards or cleats. So we attached Josin to other things fairly solid and went to find somebody who could tell us when we ought to move. “About 9.30”. OK, so we can wander round til then? “Fine. We don’t open officially until then”. An enormous place, built in many stages depending who and when was King or Constable.  A new visitor center, not yet open, being built a short distance up the grassy slopes. Very well placarded with information, and we enjoyed having the place to ourselves for a contemplative hour. Eavesdropped one of the warden’s radio that there was consternation that someone had moored their sailboat where it shouldn’t, but he was able to calm things down. Yes, down to Josin, untie, back off, wait ten minutes for the trippers to disembark, catamaran disappear, then back again. Another, rather less tranquil wander until we had seen enough, thank the staff for a very well-kept place, who glady fibbed that the weather was always like this, took last pics and away, just as a Norwegian ketch arrived.

To Fort Augustus. 12:45. Long pontoons, many boats. Just room for Josin half way along in front of an encouraging Morning Star, last seen and accompanied in the first locks. Next locking? “Don’t know. Nobody knows”. So, a short walk into town. On the way, a bagpiper, in full regalia, squalking and wailing into the breeze, with partially-appreciative on-lookers. Big sign, with a clock-face. “Next locking”. Small hand pointing to just before 2. Big hand pointing to 6.  So how to interpret that?  Nobody to ask. To avoid missing out, interpreted that to be 1:30 and after a quick and unsuccessful search for a shop selling bread, (trinkets and souveneirs wall-to-wall), bought two tepid sausage rolls, sold out of anything else, ‘cos it was now after lunchtime, and went back, munching, to boat. Inactivity everywhere. Time went. 1:30 likewise. Must have meant 2:30. What? That means that the locks closed for lunch. What?. In the high season?  Ah well, this is Scotland, and we must acclimatise. (Some locks later we concluded that someone ought to take an educational trip to Sweden and go through the Gøta Canal, to learn a thing or two). A man did appear eventually, wearing a similar hat to those of the officials at Urquhart castle, tartan waistcoat plus a lifejacket. Must be an official, maritime, post lunch. Yes, he counted boats and took our names and lengths, and said he’d come back and let us know. Closer to 3, received the happy message that we were to be first into the lock on the starboard side. (Not quite comfortable about that in a queueing society). Three boats a side. Morning Star aft. Large hire boat opposite, quite dangerously incompetent in the swirling rushing waters. Five locks, well paused. Decided to let the hire boats go in front out of the way, and took up the puttering armada in the rear.

A few more locks and a swing bridge later and we were out in Loch Oich. Pretty. Less dominating. More pastural. Many sheep. One cow only, or was it a bull? Very hairy, very static. The friendly lock-keeper at the last lock recommended Castle Bay. “On the right. Mooring. Ten minutes. You can’t miss it”. More Scottish timekeeping? Must have used a fast powerboat. Eventually we almost missed it, idyllic, in amongst large and hanging trees, a pontoon, just big enough for two boats a side, one, non-hire motorboat, in residence. Approached to tie up in front. The enthusiastic helper on the pontoon took M’s baug-rope and hauled enthusiastically away. Bump. Thankyou, Well done. Kind of you. We’ll do the rest. By this time were quite ready for stop, food and sleep. It had been a tiring day, and the weather was closing in.

Thursday morning, awakened to rain, cloud down on the mountains almost to water level. Turn on heater. Snooze. Later, a sunday breakfast as it was still raining and we had decided to stay here for the day. Rain stops. On with walking shoes, Up the path the short distance to Invergarry Castle (remains). Impressive high walls shored up with solid beams between. Been there, done that. Back along the road, enormous trees, faded rhododenrons, (must be impressive in bloom), to Invergarry Castle Hotel. Quiet. Visitors book in the hall, almost all foreign names and adresses, but all enthusiastic comments. Chat receptionist. “No problem for guests to find us apparently”. Back along the grassy path to the boat. New visitorboats. Must be on their to-do list.

Sorry, the rest of the pics wouldn’t transfer, slow internet. Otherwise- All’s well.

 

 

First to go from the Seaport Marina was a Loch Ness Cruise Ship, of such dimensions that it occupied the whole four-lock staircase. We others had to wait. By the time we three boats, (plenty of room for more), had reached the top, we were just too late to reach the next hindrance, which was a swing bridge, before it had it’s one-hour lunch break. The German boat had a skipper who obviously enjoyed both giving orders to his crew, and complaining to the lock keeper. Poor Scottish, patient lock keeper. We found him most helpful and informative, but he got an earful in gebrokkent. After lunch we pottered along to that swing bridge, where the bridge crew were getting their dose too. At last, the bridge opened, and two boats went through before the bells rang and sirens went off, red light shone in the German’s face and the bridge shut abruptly. More German phrases. It was obvious to all others, patient to a boat, that there must be a reason, and sure enough, after a very short while, an ambulance and a police car went sirening and wailing  past at high speed. Longer pause. No more sirens, and we were on our way again. One more lock and we were at the level of Loch Ness, which opened up before our very eyes.

Large, very large, as far as the eye could see, (German boat in the lead). Tranquil. Notabreathof. Occasional light drizzle created action, rain clothes, but otherwise 6 kn motoring brought us steadily to Drumnadrochit, which has Urkhart castle with an amazing history of battles and changing sides. Small jetty, fully occupied by two cruise catamarans. Retire to a little harbour a bit further north. One sailing boat, from Ipswich, east England,

otherwise motor boats, suspiciously hire boats, of which we have been warned of their unpredictability. Facilities unfortunately out of order, large building works creating organised chaos, probably a boat house, and the only attraction was the main A82 road outside, with plenty of traffic roaring past at plenty of speed. Nowhere to walk. Back to boat.

Promise of better weather tomorrow. We would like that. Try to have a look at the Castle tomorrow morning before the hordes. After that, next stop Fort Augustus.

Alls well.