|
|
 |
|
Travel Guides: All Countries / Europe / United Kingdom / Scotland
|  | Travel Reviews : Scotland |
|
| | | | More Royal less ancient
From the Daily Mail
As Prince William puts his gap year behind him and prepares for student life at St Andrews University, the town is getting ready for a media scrum.
And if the Prince does for tourism a fraction of what he's done for the university's appeal, then the tourist industry has much to look forward to.
St Andrews is a quaint, seaside destination, full of flash-with-cash Americans who have flown in just for the golf.
Back in the 4th-century, Saint Rule, a custodian of the bones of Saint Andrew on the Greek island of Patras, had a vision in which an angel ordered him to carry five of the saint's bones to the western edge of the world, where he was to build a city in the saint's honour.
The conscientious courier was shipwrecked on the rocks close to the town's present harbour and struggled ashore to build his shrine.
The site subsequently became the cathedral; Saint Andrew became Scotland's patron saint; and the town assumed the mantle of ecclesiastical capital.
Tourism began in 1840, when Provost Playfair broadened the streets and created a seaside retreat for genteel folk in search of 'the ancient and healthful exercise of the gowf'.
The elegant North and South Streets became favourite haunts of intellectuals such as Thomas Carlyle and Anthony Trollope, and Victorian hotels began to line The Scores above the expansive beach.
But the centre of St Andrews still follows the medieval layout, built around the university, which was founded in 1411.
Travel Guide: Scotland
Tee and sympathy
From the Daily Mail
Presumably in the hope that I wouldn't take note, my husband had announced, in a throwaway manner, that he was off to play golf in St Andrews. 'I think it's best if I go with a friend,' he said. 'There's not much to interest you or the children, and that cold easterly wind won't be much fun.'
I had different plans, insisting that I went, too. Next time I'll take the children as well for, along with 99 holes of some of the greatest links golf in the world, this beautiful east-coast Scottish town has a much wider appeal. Here is my guide for golf widows and their children.
First, the town is made up of four main streets built with elegant grey-stone town houses - many dating from medieval times. Best for shopping are Market Street and North Street and the smaller streets, such as Greyfriars Garden, which intersect them. Get your bearings at the excellent Tourist Information centre which hands out free town maps.
If you have children in tow, ask for the 'Maisie goes exploring' leaflet - a self-guided discovery walk for children. There's a quiz that goes with it, and under-12s can win a prize at the end of the walk if they return with the correct answers.
To get a feel for the town's history, visit the atmospheric remains of the 12th-century cathedral. St Andrews was the centre of the Scottish Church as early as the 900s, and became one of the most visited sacred sites in Scotland.
In the visitors' centre you can see some of the ancient carvings and gravestones. Don't miss the 157-step climb up St Rule's Tower - you get a wonderful view of the town, beach and surrounding hills. St Andrew, Patron Saint of Scotland, was said to be buried in St Rule's church, which has now been demolished.
Next stop is the medieval castle, which stands on a dramatic cliff edge a short walk from the cathedral. Throughout its turbulent history, the castle has been invaded and captured many times by the English, Scottish and French. Highlights include abandoned mine shafts dug by guards to meet tunnels being burrowed by attackers, a dank bottle-shape dungeon and a garderobe (lavatory) suspended precariously over dark rocks.
For a taste of more recent history, pop into the Preservation Trust Museum on North Street, a pretty Merchant's House containing local information and reconstructed shops. The torturous early dentistry equipment and old pill-making machines would appeal to younger and older children.
If the weather is wet, head for the western side of town, where St Andrews Museum charts the story of the town from the Middle Ages to the present day. Another good rainy day option is the Sea Life Centre near Bow Butts. There are three resident seals - Laurel, Hardy and Rocco - and you can watch the midmorning and afternoon feeding times.
If the weather is fine, a visit to West Sands beach is a must. It stretches for about two miles so there is plenty of scope for losing the crowds.
Travel Guide: Scotland
Why Skye's the limit
Drive 650 miles south from Calais and you'll get as far as Aix-en-Provence. If you drove the same distance north from Bristol where do you think this would take you? Off the mainland of Britain and well towards Iceland, I might have guessed.
Not quite. Last week a 650-mile drive took me to the Isle of Skye, a stint at the wheel of roughly 11 hours including stops for fuel and refreshment.
I left the house at 5am and was driving over the bridge to Skye at around 4pm. Just over two-thirds of the drive - as far as Perth - was on motorway.
It was such a wonderful trip, probably one of the most spectacular drives I've ever taken, that I can't understand why I've never thought of doing it before.
I've driven the length of France on many occasions but, like most British people, have never thought of tackling Britain.
More than anything, the trip through the Highlands of Scotland gave me the feeling of being 'abroad' in my own country.
Skirting the western fringes of Loch Lomond, for example, I found the scenery to be as lovely and dramatic as anything you'll experience along the Rhine Valley. The climb to the summit of Rannoch Moor offered views to rival the Alps.
Skye seemed so exotic, basking last week in a 21C (70F) late April heatwave, the steepling island seascapes tempted comparisons with Corfu or even Bora Bora.
And Plockton, the picture-perfect seaside place made famous by the BBC series Hamish Macbeth, is unrivalled by anything you'll find on the Med.
It all felt so foreign that on occasions I almost found myself wanting to drive on the right-hand side of the road.
The long journey north was made more manageable by the fact that I had the use of the new Volvo XC90 SUV (sport-utility vehicle), Volvo's impressive answer to the likes of the BMW X5.
Travel Guide: Scotland
Lairding it up at Castle Madonna
From the Daily Mail
Madonna and Guy Ritchie got married there. Catherine Zeta Jones, who stayed recently with Michael Douglas, called it the 'most romantic place in the world'. And its former owner, the Scottish-born American tycoon Andrew Carnegie, described it as 'heaven on earth'.
Hitting golf balls on Skibo's private course, flanked by the still waters of Dornoch Firth, with a backdrop of autumnal foliage and snow-capped mountains, my mind was also full of superlatives. Yes, it was icy cold and raining, but that only added to the pleasure, afterwards, of entering the estate clubhouse and kicking off my shoes by the fire to read the papers with a Skibo whisky before lunch.
Today, Skibo is owned by the entrepreneur Peter de Savary, who calls it a residential sporting club. It's also the home of his Carnegie Club - a private club, based in London, whose members come from America and Europe. Non-members can also be treated like Scottish lairds at Skibo, but only for one weekend. If they want to come again, they have to become members.
The idea is not that you are in a hotel, but rather that you have joined a private house party for the weekend. As such, there are some people who might not enjoy Skibo as much as we did. It's a sociable place - you are expected to mingle with other guests, at least some of the time.
Meals are communal, served at long tables. There is no choice on the menu: although dietary requirements are catered for, you basically get what you are given. It would be unfair to describe the Skibo experience as a cross between the Garrick Club and Club Med - but you get the idea.
Certainly it's geared to wealthy American members. On Saturday nights before dinner, Robert Burns's Ode To The Haggis is recited and the dish is toasted with much Glenmorangie before it's eaten. Each morning you are woken at around 8 by the wail of bagpipes. The towelling bathrobes and hot water bottle left in your bed at night are tartan.
Travel Guide: Scotland
We're orf on our hols to Balmoral
From the Mail on Sunday
Strange though it might seem, the Queen Mother's death has lent even greater significance to the Golden Jubilee year.
Critics who predicted indifference were confounded by the overwhelming reaction from the public.
There was tremendous sympathy for the Queen. The Monarchy became interesting again. Prince Charles looked pole-axed throughout and fled to Balmoral as soon as he could.
Balmoral, a 50,000-acre estate of heather-covered hills, forests and rivers on Royal Deeside, 53 miles from Aberdeen, has always been a place of royal refuge. It's somewhere they can be themselves.
After Prince Albert bought Balmoral for Queen Victoria in 1852, seven generations of royals have used it as their holiday home. Now you can, too.
The Queen is allowing the likes of us to stay in cottages and lodges previously reserved for Royals, courtiers and VIPs.
I thought it would be rather good in Golden Jubilee year to mention one was 'orf to Balmoral for one's hols'.
It certainly stopped next-door going on about Costa Rica. The properties had a low-key launch on the Internet. Colt Cottages, two semi-detached homes, are a few hundred yards from the castle.
But though each half is described as fully equipped and furnished for five people, that meant one double bedroom, one single and a sofa bed in the lounge/dining area.
My friend, whose daughter was coming with us, said it looked like army accommodation.
Travel Guide: Scotland
Castaway heaven in the Outer Hebrides
There is always a certain amount of excitement when a large estate comes on the market. Throw in a few famous names and the hysteria can only mount.
So it was that weeks before Jonathan Bulmer (of the cider family) actually put up the 'For Sale' sign on his 50,000 acre Amhuinnsuidhe Estate names of celebrities who were apparently interested in this Gothic pile had been hurled around with reckless abandon.
Madonna, rock star Jim Kerr and golfer Nick Faldo are among those whose very mention has made this £4.5 million estate on Harris the property of the year.
For this sort of money you could buy a swathe of villas in Spain or a grand house or two in the Caribbean where the sun is guaranteed and the signposts easier to read than the Gaelic ones here.
So what is it that might prompt the super-rich to spend millions buying - not to mention maintaining - a home in the Outer Hebrides?
Part of the undoubted appeal is its remoteness. Indeed one of the islands, Taransay, was the scene for the BBC's survival series, Castaway.
The best way to get to Harris - unless you are rich enough to buy Amhuinnsuidhe and have your own helicopter - is on the ferry from Ullapool, in the north west of Scotland, to Stornoway, the main town of Lewis.
Harris and Lewis are in fact one landmass, with the bleak hills which make up North Harris separating them.
The ferry left on a cold, drizzly morning. But, 20 minutes from landing, the approach was quite perfect. Sheep dotted the land which gently jutted out like fingers around the natural harbour to welcome us in. The distant hills were lit up in the sunlight and our spirits rose.
Stornoway, however, is not the most charming of towns. The best thing to do there is drive away, as we did southwards.
Travel Guide: Scotland
Scotland from a squashy sofa
Outside the happening cities of Glasgow and Edinburgh, holidays to Scotland veer towards coach trips and B&Bs.
Anything more chic is a bit of a rarity especially if you want fabulous food and a hotel to write home about - the kind of place where you are just as happy to stay indoors as go out.
Once you have found a place like that, you're willing to go a long way for it - and you may have to.
To reach the Ardanaiseig Hotel it is a two-hour drive from Glasgow to the end of the winding road, and then some.
At the very end is a large, grey stone baronial manor house set at the edge of the picturesque and tranquil Loch Awe.
The hotel itself is grand in a quirky way. It has a huge drawing room in shabby-chic style with loads of comfy sofas to sink into and a great view of the loch and gardens.
The hotel's owner is a shy but enigmatic character who has given a definite personality to the place.
Each of the 16 bedrooms is different, the poshest is dark red, next door to one in lime green. There are some four-posters, fabulous bathrooms and some very unusual paintings.
The owner also has a smart antiques market in London and each room in the hotel has stunning old furniture.
The food in this Scottish hideaway is really something to remember. The chef, whose partner and mother-in-law also work in the hotel, is not yet 30 but produces food which could compete with any London restaurant. Dinners are six courses but you never feel stuffed.
Travel Guide: Scotland
Memorably romantic
From the Mail on Sunday
From the comfort of my home 700 miles away, a stone chapel in the middle of a field in the Outer Hebrides seemed a memorably romantic place to get married.
But finding myself with a flower in my buttonhole, shivering at the end of the long muddy track to what looked like a tiny stone hut, I wondered what on earth I was doing.
The wind was howling down from snow-capped mountains. There wasn't a tree or even a bush in sight.
Thankfully as my bride Joanna and I walked into Britain's most north westerly church, St Moluag's, on the tip of the Isle of Lewis, my spirits began to lift.
The undecorated stone interior was lit by candles and oil lamps, sun shone through one tiny window on to the altar - and half a dozen strangers were smiling at me.
I wasn't at the wrong wedding - St Moluag's has only hosted three in living memory. Locals had heard about the rare event and decided to join the service. Some even brought presents.
'We just wanted to wish you well and see the church being used like this,' whispered one chap in a broad Hebridean accent as he shook my hand.
Of course, nipping off to Scotland to marry is not new. Madonna was only following a trend by marrying Guy Ritchie at Skibo Castle last year.
Scotland has been deemed romantic since Robbie Burns wrote love poetry. More practically, a couple could be married in Scotland before 1940 simply by making a declaration before witnesses. This encouraged a stream of couples to cross the border.
Nowadays, Scottish wedding tourism is a little more sophisticated, although Gretna Green still rubber stamps 4,000 espousals a year.
Scotland is dotted with hotels offering kilt-wearing, bagpipe-blowing nuptials. We were after something less artificially colourful - a real adventure tinged with romance and escapism.
Travel Guide: Scotland
Natural living on the Isle of Skye
The drive to the Isle of Skye is a delight for first-timers to Scotland - famous Loch Ness and Eilean Donan Castle, seen in Hollywood film Highlander, line the way for motorists.
In September, one of the best reasons to make the journey is the Skye and Lochalsh Food and Drink Festival, a four-day celebration of local fare.
From Inverness, the Western Highlands and Skye Bridge are three hours away.
Skye's food festival takes in mainland locations as well as island stops.
Spread over a dozen venues, its scope is ambitious. Sit-down meals, cookery demonstrations, food displays, real ale festivals and a "classic malts dinner" were part of this year's packed agenda.
At £3, a tea at Plockton on the mainland was excellent value. Plates of cakes, local cheeses and creme fraiche and seafood rolls covered every table.
On Skye itself, the annual food festival covers every corner of the island.
East coast capital Portree is Skye's hub, and reasonably lively with pubs.
Broadford, further south, is home to fresh fish exporter Skye Seafood.
Dunvegan, north west, has a must-see castle and good food at The Tables.
Sligachan boasts the Cuillin Hills.
Haggis, neeps and tatties (turnips or swede and potato) is on every Skye menu. A food festival banquet in tiny, publess Staffin had meat and veggie versions, and an elegant classic malts whisky dinner at Greshornish House Hotel served only the real thing.
About 1,000 visitors attended this year's festival.
Carole Inglis, of organiser Kyle and Lochalsh Enterprise, says: "We have great produce like local seafood, lamb, herbs, cheeses. Now we need exposure."
The event is big on community spirit. Leading chefs Wendy Barrie and cookery book writer Lady Claire Macdonald, wife of clan chieftain Lord Godfrey, roll up sleeves yearly to give demonstrations.
Travel Guide: Scotland
Take the snooze cruise
On a train journey once I sat opposite a sleeping man whose combed-over hair had become disastrously detached, waving about like weeds in a garden pond.
His head looked like a lightbulb that somebody had been scribbling on with a black felt-tip pen. He was snoring gently.
We pulled into Loughborough in Leicestershire and then, just as we were about to leave, he woke up suddenly, shouted: 'Jesus Christ, Loughborough!' and ran from the train, strands of hair hanging in the breeze.
He would have enjoyed the Caledonian Sleeper. He could have slept for hours and then woken up in good time to arrange his hair before walking into the breezy Scottish morning. That's the theory, anyway. The reality is a little different.
The Caledonian Sleeper is run by Scotrail and you can choose to go from London Euston to Edinburgh, Glasgow, Aberdeen, Fort William or Inverness, with calls at wonderfully romantic destinations like Blair Atholl, Arrochar and Tarbet and perhaps less evocative places like Arbroath and Montrose, although the wide streets in the centre of Montrose give it a European feel.
And an Arbroath Smokie is one of the wonders of the world.
My wife and I chose to go to Edinburgh. The sleeper leaves at 11.40pm and we went first class.
As you wait for the train you sit in the first-class lounge and try to guess which of your fellow passengers will be making the trip north.
Could it be that actorish man with the old-fashioned suitcase? The quiet girl reading Bill Bryson? That young couple with the matching umbrellas, oblivious to everybody else?
It's an Agatha Christie scenario. Suddenly, the Caledonian Sleeper comes up on the departure TV screen as you are getting another cup of coffee and it's a magical moment.
Other trains are going to places like Wolverhampton and Northampton, but we're going to be rolling from night into morning, from darkness to dawn, from one land to another.
Travel Guide: Scotland
All aboard the big sleeper
Thirty-odd years ago, the overnight sleeper from London to Edinburgh was the pinnacle of childhood excitement.
My sisters and I would be woken by our mother, have outdoor clothes pulled on over our pyjamas and then, soft toy and toothbrush in hand, we'd be piled, half asleep, into a London taxi.
'King's Cross please, driver,' Mum would say and we would snuggle back in the bench seat, knowing that our near-magical journey north had begun.
Half a lifetime later, and with children of my own, I thought it might be interesting to see if the overnight magic still worked, particularly in these dark days for railways and their passengers.
My sisters were doubtful - it won't be the same, it can't be - but I was determined.
One phone call to the National Rail Enquiry Service and I began to think the sisters had a point.
Yes, there was still an overnight sleeper to Edinburgh but these days it goes from Euston and not King's Cross, which as Harry Potter and architecture fans will tell you is not the same thing at all.
And no, sir, it didn't operate on Saturday nights. If we needed more information we should ring ScotRail's enquiry centre which, bizarrely, is in Cardiff.
There Gareth, bless him, couldn't have been more helpful. He booked us in for the Sunday night and recommended we took two adjoining compartments with an interconnecting door.
I still had my doubts but we were back on track.
Travel Guide: Scotland
A monster attraction
From the Daily Mail
The A82 that snakes along the side of Loch Ness is a road to be travelled carefully. It's not that there's anything wrong with it, just that people-carriers laden with holidaymaking monster-watchers are liable to pull in to one of the lay-bys at a moment's notice.
And all because one of their hysterical children 'thought they saw something'.
That's the way it is at Loch Ness, the most famous lake in the world. It has a spooky, captivating atmosphere. Loch Ness feels as if it has a secret.
Something about the place stops you from wanting to throw off your clothes and jump in for a dip.
My daughter, enthused by the myth of the monster, was keen to have a look at the eldritch loch.
There's something about the beast that gets under the skin, and it seems to be universal.
Already, at the breezy new airport near the city of Inverness (don't call it a town - its status was recently upgraded), there was a large congregation of Japanese, French and Italian tourists.
Would they see it? Highly unlikely, but I bet that few have visited the loch without having a hopeful squint across its waters.
And if anything, the Nessie industry has grown.
There is now a dedicated Loch Ness monstercam, a 24-hour digital sentinel that scans the loch for signs of life.
Travel Guide: Scotland
My fairest prospect is for the Highlands
From the Mail on Sunday
Since I was a young girl I've found the train the most exciting way to travel - it's the sense of adventure and the self-indulgence of a long journey spent talking and reading, snacking and sleeping. My fondness for trains grew into full-blown love affair last autumn when I took the night sleeper to Inverness.
Everyone knows the Scottish landscape is beautiful, but nothing prepares you for the awesome experience of waking up in the middle of the Highlands. Any fuzziness from lingering too long in the snug buffet car the night before is forgotten as you sip your coffee, watching the brown moors, navy blue lochans and purple-ribbed hills whizz by.
A gang of us had decided to escape from frantic London. We'd booked a Scotrail bargain sleeper ticket and a cottage in Glenelg.
At Inverness station our hire car was loaded to the roof and we were off on the road west via Loch Ness, Glen Shiel and the insanely twisting road to the pass of Man Ratagan and its astonishing view of the Five Sisters of Kintail. Then the curling road down to Glenelg Bay, where the car ferry leaves for Skye.
We were staying on the mainland and finally we reached the Ferry House, perched on a rock overlooking the green waters of Kyle Rhea. Had we worked our way through every Scottish holiday brochure in existence, I doubt that we could have discovered a better location. The owner, Jimmy Watt, lets out the adjoining coach house, and contemplating the views in the changing light from the Ferry House is a pastime in itself.
Travel Guide: Scotland
Mackintosh is worth the queue
Glasgow had never appealed to me before I visited a friend there - now I can't wait to go back. It has great shopping, restaurants, bars and museums, not to mention the people.
We shopped till we dropped then recovered in the lovely Willow tearooms. These are a must for fans of art nouveau designer Charles Rennie Mackintosh as it's a reproduction of one he designed, although we did have to queue to get in.
On the art trail, we took a bus out to see the fantastic Burrell Collection of paintings, porcelain, furniture and other treasures. A beautiful building, set in a country park - you can picnic there, but we ate in the cafe. Well worth a visit.
We took another bus to Stirling, where the castle and its dramatic setting really give you a feel of olden times - very Braveheart country. Definitely one of the best castles we've visited.
Travel Guide: Scotland
Wild on Eriska
From the Daily Mail
Any toast you can't finish, the badgers will snap up for supper, said the waitress at the family run hotel on Eriska, a tiny island off Scotland's craggy west coast. And she was quite serious. 'Wait until 11 tonight, and you'll see them on the library steps.'
Eriska links Loch Creran to the Lynn of Lorn in a part of Scotland where grand sea lochs that cut into this coastline come dotted with dozens of islands. These are not the big ones like Mull or South Uist that travellers sail to from Oban, the genteel Victorian town that lies 20 minutes from Eriska.
Indeed, most would be better described as islets - little more than mossy rocks surfacing above the silvery sea, where seals bask in the rare sunshine and cormorants circle the waters for fish.
Even Eriska - though larger than these outcrops - manages to make the likes of the smallest of Hebridean islands look massive. The isle's curved shingle beaches front a gently domed, ragged-shaped triangle of land that extends to just 400 acres - for peace and solitude it's hard to beat.
Despite its somewhat dour baronial architecture, Eriska is no ordinary hotel - the atmosphere is more house party than formal hotel, which probably owes something to Robin Buchanan-Smith and his family who have run Eriska as a hotel ever since they bought the island 25 years ago.
There is a daily help-yourself-tea of warm scones and sandwiches in the hall and they bang the gong for supper at 8pm. Wellington boots are stacked against the doorway, should you feel like a stroll round the island. For a townie like me, staying here evoked vivid childhood memories of seemingly endless holidays.
Travel Guide: Scotland
Our best beach hotels
From the Daily Mail
A 'beach', to me, is a place where the water, be it sea or lake, meets the shore; as long as one can get to it and enjoy it, it is a beach.
A bucket and spade come in handy, but so can a crab-line, a dinghy, thick-soled footwear or a wine glass.
People are happy wherever there is water, so my selection of beach hotels from our book on British hotels is a bit unorthodox - but it offers something for everyone.
I try, as I write, to untangle myself from the memory of my perfect 'beach hotel'. It was a house in north-west Crete, alone on a white beach that stretched beyond sight.
There I spent some of my happiest days, sleeping beneath the gaze of a gargantuan retsina barrel. The owners cared for me like grandparents. Its simplicity, with the beauty of the beach, seduced me utterly.
It is easy to be seduced, too, by the Priory Bay Hotel on the Isle of Wight. Medieval monks thought it was special. So did Tudor farmers and Georgian gentry, who helped sculpt this landscape into a rural heaven.
From the main house and tithe barns the parkland rolls down to a ridge of trees and drops to long clean sands and a shallow sea.
It is all owned by the hotel and is as Mediterranean as you can find in the UK. There's a summer beach cafe, boats for hire, and fishermen land their catch here. You may even tire of fresh mackerel for breakfast.
The hotel has huge rooms that fuse classical French with contemporary English styles. The furniture is exquisite and the rooms are luxurious.
Some have oak panelling, some have fresh modern colours, one has a crow's nest balcony and telescope. In the grounds are red squirrels, peregrine falcons and badgers, and much of the hotel's food is home- grown. It is worth every minute of the ferry crossing.
Travel Guide: Scotland
We do like to be beside the seaside, if it's in Scotland
From the Daily Mail
When my daughter was two, my mother phoned to say that she had booked a house in Elie, a holiday village in the implausibly named East Neuk of Fife. My heart leapt at the thought of returning. When I had been a similar age my family had regularly gone to that very same place for our summer holidays.
In later years we tried Arran and then Nethy Bridge, but somehow Elie had a magical place in my memories. I had returned occasionally during my teens and 20s, usually for a party, just for the night.
When we arrived, the house my mother had rented was down by the quay, right beside the famous Ship Inn. I sat on the beach and told her that I had remembered the beach at Elie with stone steps coming down to it and a man selling donkey rides.
She pointed to another stretch of the waterfront and I could see the steps. 'You were three when we stayed near that bit of the beach'.
Elie is not a large place; it really hasn't grown much since my first trips there in the early Sixties. Half of Edinburgh, it seems, transports itself there during July and August. Places to rent in Elie are not plentiful and not cheap, but it's paid for memories that no Zoo season ticket could give my children.
I've travelled the world, staying in some of the most sumptuous hotels, from the Metropole in Moscow and the Pera Palace in Istanbul to La Mamounia in Marrakesh. However, taking children abroad is not easy, as anybody who has tried to get a travel cot on a plane will tell you. Packing everything you need in the back of a car and driving for an hour to a place that is a lifetime away is a much easier option.
I have to admit this ease of travel is a recent thing. For the first three years I drove up from London, sweating away on the M6 to give the kids the holiday of my childhood dreams. This year, having moved back to Edinburgh, many of my friends think I am potty going over the Forth Road Bridge for my summer holidays as they talk of Thailand and Goa.
But going every year with my mother and the rest of her grandchildren is more than holiday, it's like going to the life everyone wishes they could live. It's a bit like Darling Buds of May meets Brigadoon.
Travel Guide: Scotland
An elegance that's just behind the city's fringe
From the Daily Mail
Every August, Scotland's capital city throws off any vestige of elegant torpor to become centre stage for the largest festival of arts in the world. Transformed into a city that never sleeps, high tea gives way to high art as culture vultures from around the globe visit Edinburgh in search of edification.
Back in 1947, in a mixture of postwar euphoria and civic pride, Auld Reekie - as the city is affectionately known to her residents - decided to throw a festival.
Over the years, this annual shindig has metamorphosed into a lavish - some would say outrageous - celebration of theatre, music, art, literature and film. The evermore avant garde Fringe, established as an offshoot of the mainstream festival, has launched such household names as Emma Thompson and Rory Bremner.
Swathes of Bohemian types party in the streets alongside performers who, for the first time this year, are forced to register their acts in an attempt to prevent spectacles which could be regarded as offensive or so extreme as to be tasteless.
And all this takes place against a backdrop of neoclassical splendour and dreamy spires - little wonder that Robert Louis Stevenson's Jekyll And Hyde was based on a real Edinburgh character.
The festival city is pretty pleased with itself these days. Once tourists suffered a surfeit of Jean Brodie, the castle, bagpipes and sticky-pink rock. Now this streetwise city is the home of the new Scottish Parliament, pubs with late licensing hours, a vibrant club scene and a cafe society that matches Europe's finest.
Travel Guide: Scotland
Great days out
From the Mail on Sunday
You could convince any child that science can be thrilling by taking them on a visit to one of the lively and informative special attractions around Britain during the school holidays.
ExploreatBristol, Harbourside, Bristol (tel: 0117 915 5000, www.at-bristol.org.uk) This is 21st Century technology at its stimulating best. Test your reactions, activate brain cells to move a skeleton, or walk into the eye of a tornado. Old technology - pumping pistons, operating lock gates, building bridges - is equally popular. Explanations of complicated processes - for example, what keeps planes flying - are masterly. Open daily 10am-6pm.
Woolsthorpe Manor, Colsterworth, Lincolnshire (01476 860338) Isaac Newton discovered gravity when he was hit on the head by a falling apple in his garden. At his delightful birthplace visitors can try his discoveries - test the law of gravity, pass a beam of white light through a prism to break it into a rainbow, and use calculus to work out the speed of a bungee jumper's fall. Open daily (not Mon or Tues except Bank Holiday Mon) 1pm-5.30pm.
Satrosphere - Science and Technology Expo, The Tramsheds, Constitution Street, Aberdeen (01224 640340, www.satrosphere.net) Heat, light, sound and energy are the themes here. Become a human battery, or watch a transparent sheep light up when it is fed and digests its food. But don't try the spin chair just after lunch. Planets hang from the black ceiling of this former tram depot. Open Mon-Sat 10am-5pm, Sun 11.30am-5pm.
National Space Centre, Exploration Drive, Leicester (0870 607 7223, www.spacecentre.co.uk) A 136ft rocket launcher towers over this exhibition dedicated to space. Ethereal music envelops you as you launch a rocket and find out what it takes to be an astronaut. You might even discover how the universe will end. The Russian Soyuz T space capsule, moon rock and our own Blue Streak technology. Open 9.30am (Mon noon) - 4.30pm.
Magna Science Adventure Centre, Sheffield Road, Rotherham, South Yorkshire (01709 720002, www.magnatrust.org.uk) The former Templeborough Steel Works now contains two multimedia shows, pavilions dedicated to earth, air, fire and water and is packed with interactive games. Dodge water cannon, drive a JCB, blow up a virtual rock face, experience the power of lightning, get close to a tornado and feel what it is like to fly. Open 10am-5pm.
Electric Mountain, Llanberis, Gwynedd (01286 870 636, www.fhc.co.uk) Dinorwig power station - inside a man-made cavern on Llanberis mountain - is reminiscent of a James Bond film. When they start the turbines - electricity is generated by pumping water between two reservoirs - feel the vibration through your feet. A film show and interactive displays set the scene before a tour. Open daily 9.30am-5.30pm.
Explosion, Priddy's Hard, Gosport, Hampshire (023 9250 5600, www.explosion.org.uk) Seeing how many shells they can load in 60 seconds is popular with competitively-minded fathers and sons in this interactive museum in Priddy's Hard, a store for gunpowder since l777. It tells the story of naval fire power from the time of Nelson to the atom bomb and the Exocet. Visitors can walk on a mine-strewn seabed or stand on a heaving deck to fire a naval gun. Open daily 10am-5.30pm.
Travel Guide: Scotland
Discovering Galloway
We wanted a nice, relaxing few days away from the hustle and bustle of working life but spending hours queuing at an airport or stuck on a gridlocked road didn't appeal, writes Teletext viewer G Thompson, of Clitheroe.
We spotted Galloway on a map of Scotland and despite not knowing a lot about this part of the world, decided to give it a go. An immediate plus was that it's easy to access thanks to the M6.
Civic pride is abundant. Each town or village has its own bowling green and you rarely see litter on the streets. If history's your thing, all the towns in the area seem to have their own well-kept museums but it's the countryside that is the main draw.
It's possible to escape into the hills for the day and scarcely see another human being. Wildlife is another story. Deer are easy to spot and, if you're lucky, you might even see an otter splashing about in a pool, almost within touching distance.
The massive Galloway Forest Park stretches all the way up towards Ayr and has walks suitable for everyone. We stopped off during one of the forest drives for a picnic by a meandering river and jumped from stone-to-stone across the water.
Being less adventurous souls, we stuck mostly to the well-designed and sign-posted routes but there are no shortage of these.
Every town also has its own handy booklet detailing a wide range of walks from a gentle riverside amble to a cross country trek.
Away from the hills, Galloway has miles of largely undiscovered coastline.
There's no better way to end the day than watching the sun set, with some good company and good food and drink, listening to the waves lapping onto a deserted beach. The sun also seems to linger that little bit longer in the clear air before dipping below the horizon.
A real highlight for us was the journey to the southernmost point of Scotland down to the Mull of Galloway. The lighthouse itself is impressive enough but it's the view that makes the trek up the 115 steps worthwhile.
On a good day, if the heat haze isn't too bad, you can see the Isle of Man, the Giant's Causeway coastline and the Lake District fells. The certificate you get when you leave makes you feel that your short clamber to the top has really been quite a mountaineering achievement.
Galloway is a place where time hasn't stood still exactly but certainly the hustle and bustle of everyday living doesn't seem to matter. Total strangers even stop on the street just to say hello.
All in all, this largely overlooked part of the British Isles is ideal for a break to get away from it all. It's a bit like the Lake District, but without the traffic and the crowds.
- Feeling inspired? Book a UK break.
Travel Guide: Scotland
Take some walks on the wild side
From the Mail on Sunday
Walking is the new jogging - health experts reckon it's the best way to get fit and lose weight.
It's also the best way to see some of the finest places in Britain. With a stout pair of boots (break them in beforehand), an Ordnance Survey map, a compass and a packed lunch, the most glorious hidden corners of the UK are at your disposal.
If you're keen to take a trial dip into the wonderful world of walking, here are a few of my favourites that you should consider. Good hiking...
BRECON BEACONS, WALES
'Do you want the hard way - or the harder way?' asked the tourist board man. 'Unless you prefer the easy way. That's by helicopter.' So we walked up Pen y Fan (2,907ft above sea level) the highest place in southern Britain.
Pen y Fan is a great sloping shoulder of a mountain, topped with a ridge as sharp as a knife. No need for a map on a fine day - stop climbing only when you can't see anything higher up ahead.
An excellent path to the top switches gears - the final stretch is in steepest mode. It must make even the SAS, who train here, pause for breath. Reaching the top gives you the right to stroll about looking smug.
We gazed over half a country, a patchwork quilt of fields, and into a blur of hills lost in blue mist. Then back to our hotel in Brecon, an easy-paced market town of Georgian and Jacobean streets and passageways with interesting shop-fronts and a splendid traditional ice cream parlour.
Next day we sampled the easiest route, a wonderful seven-mile flat walk, of zooming kingfishers and gently phutphutting narrow boats. In the distance, those famous peaks.
Tourist information: Cattle Market Car Park, Brecon LD3 9DA (Tel: 01874 62248)
Travel Guide: Scotland
Where a Scotsman's castle is his home or his hotel
From the Mail on Sunday
Those of you who saw the film Mrs Brown, starring Judi Dench as Queen Victoria and Billy Connolly as her loyal equerry, may know it was set against the stunning backdrop of Balmoral Castle on Deeside. But what you probably don't realise is that this north-east corner of Scotland, the Aberdeen and Grampian region, is home to more castles per acre than anywhere else in the world.
It boasts 70 altogether in an area dense in history, folklore and magic. The Castle Trail, a 150-mile circular tour of six major castles and three historic houses from Norman to Renaissance, is Scotland at its finest. Each property is unique and all are run by fascinating custodians, who, like all true Scots, myself included, are eager to share their heritage and their hearts.
Following the distinctive blue and white Castle Trail road signs, you go from dark romantic ruins to magnificently furnished castles, all in the perfect setting given by the unique luminescent Grampian light. Heading towards my first stop, I could almost hear the garrisons of soldiers marching to protect this vital corner of Scotland against invasion from its foes and prepared to open my lungs to the freshest, cleanest air found anywhere in the world.
En route the scenery changes - rising from the sandy estuary of the River Ythan in the east, through the green and brown rolling fertile farmlands and up to the high purple heathered slopes of the Cairngorms in the west. Driving along the narrow winding roads you are far more likely to encounter a brace of grouse or a stag or three standing in the road than another vehicle.
First stop is Haddo House, built in 1731 and home to Lord and Lady Aberdeen. It is a superb example of a William Adam design - combining a fine Georgian exterior with Victorian interior comfort - and very much a feature of local life. It is home to all kinds of artistic pursuits - even Prince Edward has acted here. The grounds are an extensive mix of wild parkland and formal gardens. At this time of year, the driveway is festooned with riotous rhododendrons and budding beech hedges.
It is a short drive from Haddo to Tolquhon Castle, which is a ruin of winding staircases, towers, cellars and vaulted halls eerily decorated with gargoyles and statuettes. Extensively rebuilt in 1584 by William Forbes for his spouse Elizabeth Gordon, it includes, for some dark, unknown reason, a trapdoor in his bedchamber.
Lynn Laughton is custodian here, living in the castle with her dog - as do all such office holders on the trail. 'The castle is the most fantastic teaching tool for children,' Lynn says. 'They become immersed in the fabric of the place and the stories from its past.' She says the area is popular with New Age culture for the property is surrounded by stone circles - the original scenes of fertility rituals and sun worship.
Travel Guide: Scotland
|
|
|
|
|
| | | | A round of strenuous idleness
Today, there can be few tourist haunts offering the peaceful alleyways, leafy quadrangles and hidden gardens that have become synonymous with this ancient seat of learning.
During term time, the scarlet undergraduate gowns billow in the wind on Sundays as students parade along the pier that juts out into the harbour.
Mingling with locals and students, tourists and golfers enjoy an enigmatic interface between town and gown.
When not exploring the dramatic, yet doleful ruins of the 12th-century cathedral - or standing above the harbour - most visitors either head for the first tee or the 19th hole.
Now the 'Prince William factor' will attract day trippers as never before.
'Golf is a day spent in a round of strenuous idleness,' said William Wordsworth. Another commentator on the noble game, Mark Twain said: 'Golf is a good walk spoiled.'
Many visitors to St Andrews are pilgrims flocking to the birthplace of their own object of worship. These Pringle-clad disciples will willingly sell their soul for a round on the legendary Old Course beside the famous Royal and Ancient clubhouse.
For those that don't know their nine iron from their niblick, there's always the New Picture House, one of Scotland's original, non-multiplex cinemas; the Sea Life Centre or the 50-acre Craigtoun Country Park, where there's a miniature train ride, trampolines, boating, crazy golf and several landscaped gardens.
Country house hotel
It chewed up the mileage with impressive Scandinavian disdain (the satellite navigation system stopped me getting lost, even in the remotest corners of Skye).
The eight-speaker sound system stoutly worked its way through a CD version of Crime And Punishment (I'd need to drive to Ulan Bator to finish the bag full of discs).
With concern about Sars and anxiety about post-Gulf conflict travel, this summer - perhaps more than any other - is the time for all of us to take the chance to discover more of our own country.
My first stop was with Lord and Lady Macdonald (Godfrey and Claire, as I've come to know them), hands-on owners of Kinloch Lodge, an attractive country house hotel 15 minutes' drive across the new Skye Bridge from Kyle of Lochalsh.
Food writer Claire boosts visitor numbers at the hotel with her famous cookery demonstrations. Godfrey is chief of the Macdonald clan - nominally Lord of the Isles - and the old ancestral castle at nearby Armadale provides an excellent history of the Macdonalds.
The Macdonalds say that after a number of lean years, Scotland, like the rest of Britain, seems set to enjoy a bumper year for tourism.
'Bookings are up. The word is beginning to spread about how wonderful it is here. People who have never been to Scotland are just amazed at the beauty of it all,' says Lady Macdonald.
She believes that the biggest impediment to increasing the number of visitors has been price: 'It costs so much to get here. But with easyJet operating cheap flights to Inverness, two hours away, people are being encouraged to discover their own country.'
The lack of good places to eat tends to be another reason why people say they choose abroad.
But again, my experience on Skye suggests that you could eat as cheaply and as well here as you could in Aix-en-Provence (and, speaking as a vegetarian, Skye food is much more congenial).
The food at Kinloch Lodge, cooked under the expert eye of Lady Macdonald, is as excellent as you might expect.
Luxurious attention and care
It would be easy to be scornful except that everything is executed so perfectly, by such cheery staff, and with such attention to detail, that only the most hardened cynic could criticise.
My husband, Dan, and I were collected on Friday night from Inverness airport for the hour's drive to the castle. After being greeted, with the first of many drams of whisky, we were escorted through the castle and shown to our suite with a large lounge, spacious bedroom - even access to the castle roof for fabulous views over the estate.
Cocktails, we were told, would be served at 7.30pm downstairs, giving us enough time for a soak in the free-standing Victorian-style bath and to change into smarter clothes. That first night, there were only 12 people staying at Skibo (it can hold 100) with 97 members of staff looking after us.
Dinner is a formal affair. We were piped in and sat down, according to the table plan, to three courses served with plenty of decent wine, specially chosen to complement the meal, and lots of jolly chat.
Dan and I retired early, but were regaled the following morning with tales of the night before, while the others nursed their sore heads. I watched the resident falconer's demonstration with his owl and falcon, then took off to the spa for a facial while Dan went horse riding. We met back at the castle, took a couple of bikes from the rack outside and went to explore the estate, before golf lessons and a late lunch at the clubhouse.
Terry Waite stayed there
Garbh Allt Shiel Lodge, a single-storey granite house, sleeps six. Queen Victoria would often spend the night there and the Queen let Terry Waite and his family use it for several weeks after he was freed as a hostage in Beirut.
The wood-panelled sitting room looked very appealing, but it was already booked.
The Old School House, where the Queen and Princess Margaret went to lessons during the Second World War, is a few hundred yards from Birkhall, the Queen Mother's lodge. It's considered outside the grounds and available throughout the year.
The Queen Mother loved Birkhall and Prince Charles, who took himself to the impressive Jacobean mansion after her funeral, has called it a 'unique haven of cosiness'.
He has spent time there with Camilla and it will become his in the Royal homes reshuffle.
Alltnaguibhsaich Lodge, overlooking stunning Loch Muickis, is the largest property for rent. Nine bedrooms, three bathrooms and a drawing room as well as a sitting room make it perfect for 12 people. Too large for us. Which left Connachat Cottage.
We turned the key in the lock as dusk fell. Fires had been laid in the sitting room and dining room.
There were fresh daffodils on the table and ample room for six. The kitchen was quite well equipped, though I did burn a hole through Prince William on a Royal lineage tea towel, trying to get sausages off a grill pan with no handle.
Prints of stern-looking ghillies adorned some walls, pin art and a large handwoven rug from Lesotho others.
Connachat, a stone cottage, sat beside an estate road the Queen uses on the edge of the Ballochbuie Forest.
Next morning I startled two deer and a red squirrel as I opened the curtains.
Awe-struck silence
The journey to the mountains is quite spectacular. The flattish land of Lewis has stone jutting through the gorse terrain; tiny lochs are scattered about, the light shining off them like sequins sewn randomly on to moss green velvet.
Then suddenly the scenery changes with the mountains of North Harris, the car climbing up steep, winding roads with silvery burns cascading alongside. It is inhospitable, but stunning too. The sort of drive that inspires awe-struck silence.
Slowly meandering our way to the bottom of the island on the only main road, which for some reason is given A status even though it is reduced to a single lane for several miles at a time, we were suddenly stopped in our tracks.
Ahead, lying incongruously between the dark green peaty hills, were acres of golden sand ringed in the far distance by a perfect line of turquoise. This is Losgainter Bay, where the beaches of the west coast of Harris are shown at their finest. We had been told of this Hebridean phenomenon and had seen photographs, but nothing prepared us for the reality.
The beaches here really are something else. I've been to islands in the Indian Ocean which have been labelled the best in the world, but what Harris has to offer can hold a candle to any of them.
Taking the road down to Luskentyre, we came to what is the end of Losgainter Bay. Apart from one woman walking her dogs we were alone on the vast stretch of perfect sand.
The sea is as clear as possible, over which the Castaway island of Taransay sits proud and high. The children rolled up their trouser legs and started to build sandcastles.
Further down the main road are more beautiful beaches. Believe it or not there is a golf course here, although not of the standard Mr Faldo will be used to playing on. But what the greens lack in lawn care is more than made up for by the view down to the sands of Scarista.
Beyond Amhuinnsuidhe the road takes you to Huisinis beach. By the small car park, hens run riot and the steps down aren't well maintained but hours could be spent running in and out of the gentle waves. OK I wasn't in a bikini but, believe me, it was fun.
A fine place to marry
All this good living needs to be offset with a bit of exercise and the lobby has a row of green wellies to borrow.
The grounds are extensive, ranging from lawns to stroll round admiring the rhododendrons and more than 60 species of tree, to dark woods and streams.
The more energetic might take out a boat and go fishing. Swimming in the loch is allowed but if it's warm enough to swim it's probably midge season.
So what else is there to do? If doing nothing wears thin you can get out and explore and if you don't fancy driving local man Andrew Gray will drive you wherever you want to go.
There is the age-old problem of things not opening until Easter so many attractions are still closed.
The Sea Life centre near Oban is good for a couple of hours and the drive is scenic with a picnic stopover.
There are several gardens to visit locally, a few nice beaches and of course a ruined castle to contemplate.
The Scottish Tourist Board is big on promoting romance at the moment and Ardanaiseig fulfils that role well.
It has a wedding licence and can even hold them on its own tiny island. It is rumoured that TV actor Robbie Coltrane tied the knot here and many wedding parties take the whole hotel.
Prices at the Ardanaiseig are not as steep as you might think, especially if you go out of season and midweek.
It has an offer for three days for the price of two with dinner, bed and breakfast from £221 each before Easter.
The Ardanaiseig is great for a country house type of holiday to escape the tensions of today and to do as much or as little as you choose. Details on 01866 833 333. www.ardanaiseig.com
Meaningful spirituality
I'd heard about the Episcopalean church of St Moluag's when I interviewed vicar Barbara Morrison, a 71-year-old grandmother, about the best locations to celebrate Midnight Mass at Christmas.
We stayed in touch and three months later she agreed to marry Joanna and me at the church I had researched but never visited.
St Moluag's was founded in the Sixth Century when the Hebrides were Norse-owned. It still stands alone among crofters' fields, has no heat or lighting and is too cold and exposed to be used in winter, apart from special occasions, like candlelit carols or the wedding of a mad couple from a long way south. It sounded ideal.
Barbara was very encouraging. 'It's a beautiful spot for a wedding, where the romance of the Hebrides combines with meaningful spirituality,' she said.
This windswept spot in the shadow of the Butt of Lewis lighthouse is 30 miles from the nearest town, Stornoway, where Barbara and most of the congregation live. It's even further from the rest of civilisation.
The Isle of Lewis is the most northerly of the Outer Hebrides, the string of islands lying off Scotland's north west coast now called the Western Isles.
After a day's drive through the Highlands, crossing to the Isle of Skye, there's still a two-hour ferry to the Isle of Harris, followed by an hour's drive through mountains, lochs and desolate moorland to Lewis.
The landscape is a mix of barren rock, windswept peat bog and forbidding mountains. The coast relents into rocky lochs or long, sandy beaches. It's often spectacular but rarely pretty.
Masses of attractions
For an island only about 70 miles long, Skye isn't short on attractions.
The Cuillin Hills are a huge draw for walkers - although main hotel The Sligachan is an overpriced letdown. Its generous breakfasts are, however, perfect for hungry guests.
Dunvegan Castle has seal boat trips, nearby woods offer strolls and mushroom hunts, and a walk to Neist Point lighthouse in the north is stunning.
Whisky drinkers can sample Skye's very own single malt, Talisker, at any pub on the island.
Scotland's five other classic single malts - Cragganmore, Oban, Lagavulin, Glenkinchie and Dalwhinnie - are sure to be lined up at the bar next to it.
Don't expect a pub on every corner, though. Skye's hilly landscape is often empty of all else but sheep, Highland cattle, lochs and squat, sturdy houses.
Evening entertainment typically involves a rousing ceilidh.
The traditional bash with live band and dances is a great way to meet Skye's people. Real ale venue Seamus' Bar, in Sligachan, holds them regularly, with barbecues featuring heather-fed lamb.
A Scottish dance like Strip the Willow - all hooking arms and twirling - leaves you breathless, with a pounding heart, and laughing hard.
Visitors to Skye travel by road, ferry, or trains to Highlands city Inverness.
The Caledonian Sleeper to Inverness is a misnomer - service is good but the train jerks constantly. (08457 550033).
Driving is the best way to see Skye. The Skye Bridge toll is £5.70 each way.
For details about Skye and Lochalsh Food Festival, held every September, car hire and more, call Visit Scotland.
Haggis, neeps and tatties
A cheerful Australian in a crisp, white jacket helps us to our berths. To be honest, we'd been a bit nervous because the brochure had said that first-class cabins were single berth.
We had visions of being separated by cabins full of sleeping blokes with collapsing comb-overs.
But the Australian did a couple of simple tricks with a screwdriver, some doors and walls and our single cabins became a double.
Just as the first few minutes in a hotel are the best, when you examine the trouser press and the soap and turn the TV on, so the first moments in your sleeper cabin are ones to remember.
You get your complementary toilet pack, your welcome brochure and, most wonderfully of all, your free book of Muriel Spark short stories to while away the hours.
Then there is the cabin service. I ordered a bottle of beautiful borders Traquair House Ale with haggis, neeps and tatties while my wife read the stories.
As the food came, the man in the white coat took our breakfast orders. I pulled up the blind and looked out of the window; we were still at Euston, perhaps a little late setting off, but somehow the journey had begun.
I pulled the blind down again, sipped on the ale and suddenly, with a jolt, the journey really did begin.
I remember once before we had the kids, we went with another couple to a holiday cottage somewhere in the Scottish Highlands.
In the manner of young people, we decided to drive through the night and somewhere in the border hills in the early hours I woke up on the back seat and saw a train cutting through the night with a light on the front.
That's the sleeper train,' said my wife, yawning, 'and some day we'll go on it.' I nodded. Well, it only took 20 years! I finished my neeps, tatties and ale and then, in the interests of journalism, visited the saloon car.
Snug sleeper compartments
Less than a week later, all remaining doubts disappeared. When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life, said the overquoted Dr Johnson. Rubbish - when a man is tired of London, he should simply pile two sleepy children into a black cab and drive across the capital at night.
They were enraptured - by the buildings, the lights. 'Look at that,' gasped our three-year-old, as we swept past an illuminated Harrods. His more sophisticated, five-year-old sister preferred Harvey Nichols and the tree outside the Dorchester festooned with lights.
Even the eyes of a child would struggle to make Euston an exciting place to go to, but it wasn't long before we'd found our way to Platform One.
It was hardly the same as King's Cross's Platform 9¾, but there was a big red locomotive waiting for us.
As we paused to look, a stream of hitherto stern-faced grown-ups melted at the sight of a serious-looking little boy clutching his panda and his sleepier sister holding tightly to her dinosaur. 'Oh, I remember doing that,' said one woman delightedly, 'and having to wear my pyjamas too.'
Off we set in search of our carriage, pushing past the lounge car that was already doing a brisk but civilised trade in liquid night-caps. We found coach N, and after the children had mountaineered their way up the steps over that thrillingly big drop to the dark tracks below, we were greeted by an efficient attendant.
And there it was - almost exactly as I remembered it - two snug sleeper compartments, made-up bunk beds, with the interconnecting door open and the children's door to the corridor locked shut.
'We wouldn'a want you wandering off on your own, son,' said the attendant, fixing my son with a firm look. William solemnly shook his head... and rushed off to explore. Ten minutes later, the train gave a gentle jolt.
'Mummy, the bedroom's moving,' shouted Nancy from the top bunk next door, where she and her brother had decided they would be travelling with the blind open.
Gateway to the Highlands
Inverness, self-proclaimed gateway to the Highlands, is neatly bisected by the River Ness, which runs from the loch to the dolphin-rich waters of the Moray Firth.
We traced our way back along the river and loch side to Drumnadrochit, the heart of the Nessie industry.
Even in Inverness we had seen a fibreglass monster, and by the time we reached 'Drum', we had added two more roadside beasts to the list.
Indeed, by our second day, we had seen an extended and undoubtedly dysfunctional family of fibreglass monsters around the loch: mostly fat-bellied, small-flippered plesiosaur types, rather than members of the four-tyres-in-the-ground serpent school.
Yes, this was Nessiesploitation, and the guidebooks sniff at it. 'The monster hype is almost overpowering,' says the Footprint Scotland Handbook - not entirely fairly, in my opinion.
OK, the shops are full of green furry Nessies, but as I drank a couple of Nessie Monster Mash ales at sundown, I concluded that the monster industry wasn't that bad.
It didn't compromise the wilderness, or the eerie sense you get on the banks of Loch Ness that you are the only people in the world.
Nor did it matter to my two juvenile Nessie-watchers, daughter Matilda and her friend Charlotte - although with one a monster believer and the other not, it was a bit like having two clerics in the car fighting about whether the Resurrection actually took place.
A boat trip is a necessity in Loch Ness. There are a handful of operators that take tourists onto the loch - where they can look for monster-shaped lumps on a sonar screen.
On our boat was Richard McDonald, a local monster-believer who claimed he had seen the beastie in 1986.
'Just yesterday a cruiser had a sighting,' he said. 'They were relaxing on deck, then felt a wave and saw something slip away, down into the water.'
Eating the week away
But, be warned: a week just isn't long enough in Glenelg. With its vast green sea lochs and tiny dark lochans, the monumental splendour of the mountains and the clusters of small whitewashed cottages, this is a magical place and we fell under its spell. We enjoyed plenty of warm autumn sunshine, but you don't really need the good weather - moody skies and passing squalls actually add to the Gaelic drama of the place.
You could stay in Glenelg for a year and go on a different walk every day, such is the sheer variety of coastal, mountain and forest scenery. Some days we simply pottered about along the vast sweep of Glenelg Bay, enjoying delicious long lunches in the loch-hugging Glenelg Inn or taking tea and the best scones in Scotland in Strupag Cafi on the shore.
For a special treat we'd go up the hill to Glenelg Candles and sit in the beautiful grass-covered pine and glass building scoffing mounds of home-made cakes. I would walk a million miles just to have another slice of their amazing Queen Mary tart - the moistest, fruitiest, nuttiest and nicest tart you will ever taste.
I have never come across so much good home cooking in such a small locality. From Sheena's Tea Hut in nearby Corran to the wonderful four-course suppers in the inn, we were spoilt for choice.
The day we hired bikes in the village and rode into Glen Elchchaig, we picnicked so well on barbecued Aberdeen Angus beef steaks, oatcakes and Scottish cheeses, and a home-made buttery tablet bought at Glenelg post office, we had to take a siesta afterwards in the whispering green grass close to the stream.
What with the food and fresh air, we slept for a couple of hours and had to rush back to get to Eilean Donan Castle before it closed for the day. This romantic stronghold on Loch Duich is on more postcards, calendars and shortbread tins than any other Highland castle, and nowadays makes an almost nightly appearance in the BBC hot air balloon clip logo.
In fact it's mostly a 20th-century reconstruction from stones of the original destroyed by the Royal Navy in 1719, but it's well worth seeing. We sat beneath the arrow-slit windows toasting the majesty of the Highlands with a bottle of champagne.
Home-grown delights
Midnight walks along pebbly beaches were rendered magical by an enduring velvety twilight. There was a simple delight in spotting stars through unpolluted skies. And there were other pleasures: hearing the creak of ancient cypress trees while lying in an old-fashioned mahogany bed and food that tasted real; new potatoes full of earthy flavours, bacon that crisped rather than oozed water, and home-made shortbread that really melted in the mouth.
Like its neighbouring islands, there's a virtual nature reserve on your doorstep, but alongside seals and badgers there are otters and Icelandic ponies, red deer and donkeys - even the chance to see a golden eagle soaring in from the mountains of Morvern to the west.
Provided the tides are out, you can walk round the island in roughly two hours, aided by a map that, with its compass markings and signs for Shell Point, Rowan Tree Point and Badger's Set, looks remarkably like a child's drawing of Treasure Island.
For pre-teens, it's the perfect place to play pirates or learn about plants and wildlife. And if all this emphasis on back-to-nature basics proves too much, there is a golf course, and a mini health club and pool, discreetly tucked away in the old stables.
That evening, wafting back to the main house in a blaze of bergamot oil, I chatted with Chay, the Buchanan-Smith's youngest son, who looks after Eriska's grounds. 'We're not entirely self-sufficient' he explained, 'but we grow a lot. All the salads you eat here come from the island, and the herbs. The fishermen sometimes leave bags of oysters for us on the pier, and mussels, too. And we've got raspberries, horseradish, apples, plums, loganberries - even peaches.'
A sudden commotion coming from the library distracted Chay. 'Ah, that'll be the badgers' supper time,' he laughed. And, sure enough, oblivious to his human audience, there was the male badger - a large plump creature called Sammy, busily tucking into his high-fibre snack.
'The others better hurry!' worried the barman. 'There'll be none left. Badgers have not quite mastered the art of good manners.'
Eye-drenching beach
Another ferry - across to the Isle of Harris off the west coast of Scotland - will get you to the Scarista House Hotel. The views are eye-drenching. The beach is two or three miles of pure white sand and you will probably be the only person on it.
The bay curves away in a gentle crescent, with ridges running down to a turquoise sea and golden sunsets. Ian (an ex-merchant banker) and Jane (a mildly eccentric artist) Callaghan abandoned London to retreat here.
There are shuttered windows, coal fires, rugs on bare oak floors, driftwood and cricket bats in the lobby, and superb organic food.
There are books into which you may retreat and the nicest Gaelic-speaking staff. Had this place been little more than a shack I would have included it - for that beach.
The beach below the Romney Bay House on the South Coast is not in the same league. It is mere shingle. Yet some of us delight in sinking our feet into shingle.
The house was designed by Clough Williams-Ellis, the creator of Portmeirion in North Wales. He did it for the Hollywood gossip columnist Hedda Hopper.
The whole building, now owned by Jennifer and Helmut Gorlich, has a lingering Twenties house-party feel.
You help yourself to drinks, unwind with a book in front of the fire, go for long beach walks and fall in love - with the place or with fellow guests.
The sofas are deep, the conservatory is where you eat Jennifer's afternoon tea and superb dinners.
Jennifer's enthusiasm mingles with Helmut's sense of humour to make this a very special place indeed.
Old-fashioned adventure for 21st-century kids
To be honest, there isn't much to do in Elie, but that's its attraction. There's a long, sandy beach where the children spend most of the daylight hours. There is a golf course, where the fathers seem to spend most of their time, and a couple of tennis courts.
The children never get bored. They are left to their own imagination, to build sand castles and bury each other in the sand, then wander off to the rocks when the tide is out with little fishing nets looking for crabs. Occasionally a dead one is washed up on the beach, which causes incredible excitement.
There is an innocence to Elie, a feeling that children on holiday in the 21st century can enjoy the freedom that we would have had in the 1960s. Like a Famous Five book set in Fife, children hurtle around on bikes, walk to the Post Office to buy sweets and collapse at night exhausted and happy.
This year, taking a walk up to the Lady's Tower up behind the Ship Inn, we came across a cave where ten children snuggled inside and discussed what kind of bears lived there. By the look of the beer cans and cigarette stubs around, it was more plausibly a den for the local lads. On the 40 minute walk we passed one other family whose children immediately started playing with ours.
For the past four years there have been other families we know also staying, and groups of us get together to look after each other's children whilst some of us nip off to Anstruther, a veritable metropolis compared to Elie. Anstruther has the cheapest shoe shop, a few antique shops and one of the most famous fish and chip shops in Scotland.
While I was queuing up to buy 12 fish suppers, an old chap behind me started to talk to me. Every Saturday, he told me, he and his wife come up from Kirkcaldy, about 20 miles away, for their lunch. I pointed out that it was, in fact, Friday. 'Aye,' he said, 'but tomorrow it's our 51st wedding anniversary so I thought we'd do something special.'
It's hard to explain to people who go abroad every summer what makes Elie special. It's not the weather. If it doesn't rain it's a bonus. However, when the sun does shine it's quite enough. One day of hazy glow had me sporting two lobster legs and praying for milder weather.
This year a friend of my daughter's came up for a few days as both her parents were working. On her first night there they phoned and said they were going to visit later in the week. It appeared that, being good Edinburgh folk, they, too, had spent youthful summers in Elie and wanted to come and see the place after 30 years.
They arrived at our house, which was about ten yards from the beach, and stood looking at the children playing on the dunes below. Later that night, after a few bottles of wine and a meal in the Ship Inn, they dropped me off before setting back to Edinburgh.
'We think we'll book a house here next summer' were their parting words. Well, there's only one thing for it. I'd better book early, because if we don't make it next year my children will never forgive me.
More than just the festival
And when the frisson of the festival fades, you don't have to journey far beyond the Fringe to discover some soothing antidotes to the cultural overload.
Shopaholics can while away hours in Jenners, the world's oldest department store, on Princes Street. While the lofty, wood-carved atrium conveys a sense of history, the designer labels and slick mini-boutiques reassure even the most dubious visitor that Scottish woollies and Versace jeans can coexist.
Parallel to the city's most elegant boulevard is George Street, backbone of the Georgian New Town and home to designer chains such as Hobbs, Cruise and Karen Millen.
When it comes to restaurants, Edinburgh comes into its own. The current hot ticket is a table for two at The Tower. This most talked-about restaurant in Edinburgh, if not Scotland, is on the top floor of the Museum of Scotland with stunning views across the city's skyline.
Elsewhere in the city, the cosmopolitan atmosphere of the Brasserie at The Malmaison continues to attract the cognoscenti, while the peerless ambience to be found in the Secret Garden at the Witchery by the Castle is no longer undiscovered.
Touristy but fun, the McEwan's Literary Pub Tour (0131-226 6665) is a leisurely pub crawl to some of the city's most famous watering holes. In the port of Leith, you can tour the former royal yacht Britannia (0131-555 8800). On public display are the royal bedrooms, the Drawing Room, the Queen's Sitting Room and the State Dining Room, little changed since decommissioning in 1997.
At Dynamic Earth (0131-550 7800), visitors travel back ten billion years to witness the very creation of our planet from the Big Bang to the present day and beyond - and there's not a street musician or mime artist in sight!
Streatley, Thames Valley
STREATLEY, THAMES VALLEY
Forget the dull Thames Valley of M4 gridlock and high-tech factories, and welcome to the glorious original Thames Valley - haunt of Ratty, Mr Toad and Three Men in a Boat, of fine houses and the Queen's Swan Uppers gliding by in majestic liveried boats.
The Berkshire village of Streatley, favourite of landscape artists and stopping point for Jerome K. Jerome's rollicking trio who 'stayed' at The Bull, on Streatley Hill, and companion village Goring face each other over one of the oldest crossing points of the Thames.
Two ancient ways join here. For two miles the Thames Path merges with the Ridgeway (Avebury in Wiltshire to Ivinghoe in Buckinghamshire: 85 miles).
Take the flat Thames Path to Wallingford or as far west as Oxford - you can catch the train back to Goring. Or venture east as far as Pangbourne, Henley or even Windsor.
The Ridgeway is utterly different. Up on the Marlborough Downs it trails the chalk ridge route used by prehistoric man to the White Horse at Uffington and beyond.
Heading north, the Ridgeway switches identities again, climbing into the Chilterns, past villages like Nuffield and unexpected wonders such as the Maharajah's Well, the gift of a 19th Century Indian grandee, at Stoke Row.
Tourist information: Chain Street, Reading RG1 2HX (Tel: 0118 956 6226). Thames Path and Ridgeway information: National Trails Office, Oxfordshire County Council, Holton, Oxford OX33 1QQ (Tel: 01865 810224)
A Laird of the Manor and his dog
There are many fine castle-hotels in which to play Laird of the Manor, such as Meldrum House - baronial, a little down at heel, but with great views and a great lunch by a roaring log fire. Replenished, I headed for Fyvie Castle, my particular favourite, a 600-year-old, full-blown fairytale extravaganza with five towers and a remarkable wheel staircase. Legend has it that horses were ridden up it as a wager.
Custodian Claire White - part of a heritage mother-and-daughter act (her mother looks after Castle Brodie) - was my award-winning guide with dog in tow. There is a magnificent gallery where a Spanish queen once danced, much to the horror of her husband. 'Spanish queens didn't dance,' Claire told me knowledgeably.
By the time I got to Duff House it was dark and looking baroquely magnificent in the floodlights. Custodian Charles Burnett opened the doors - no dog in sight! It is a very grand affair, and as Charles enthusiastically informed me 'the most sophisticated 18th-century pile in northern Scotland'.
Photographs give light to a theory that it was here that a group of Germans and British met to try to avert the First World War. Charles believes these places should live, so Duff House hosts art exhibitions, literary readings and weddings.
Exhausted and steeped in culture, I bedded down at Kildrummy Castle Hotel. Privately owned, this establishment, dating from the turn of the century, overlooks the ruins of the castle. Manager Tom Hanna and team make your stay a delight in what is a country house hotel at its best. I even found myself dreaming that I was a spy for Bonnie Prince Charlie fleeing the English.
My day-two highlights included Corgarff Castle, a remote garrison outpost dating from 1550 and linked to Mary Queen of Scots, which today is looked after by custodian Guy Paget and requisite dog Roddy. As the keep door opens, you are met by the pungent smell of peat smoke. Attention is paid to detail here and you often find Guy dressed in Jacobite uniform playing traditional music in the barrack room where soldiers slept two to a bed.
On the way back to Aberdeen, I visited Castle Fraser, a baronial tower house built on the Z plan, dating from the late 15th century. The rooms are on the smallish side of grand and I imagined myself living comfortably there. Drum Castle is a fine example of an original 13th-century square tower, with Jacobean and Victorian additions housing exquisite furniture and fine paintings. The grounds contain a garden of historic roses, laid out in the style of three different centuries, and walks through the Royal Wood.
I left with a warm glow, and much better informed about the land of my birth. The Castle Trail had shown me how the present can be connected to a still magical and vibrant past and as a bonus I had enjoyed kindness and hospitality in grand style. It had truly been an enchanted journey.
|
|
|
|
|
| | | | Ladies that lunch
But there's no disputing that golf is what attracts most visitors to St Andrews, and the ancient town is used to having celebrities in its midst.
'Open' attracts stars such as Jack Nicholson and Michael Douglas, who regularly hole up in the town's elegant hotels in the shadow of the Royal and Ancient; while the Dunhill Cup is a perennial favourite with the big-hitters of this most alluring game.
A Hollywood idol popping into the Vine Leaf pub is one thing, but a major Royal ambling past avuncular, blue-rinsed ladies-that-lunch, en route to the Central Bar in College Street, is quite another.
But no doubt the genteel St Andreans will be as sanguine about this bonnie Prince enjoying a bit of R&R beside the R&A as they are about the fame of their home of golf.
While his prowess with the 'wee white ba' is unknown, the future King's decision to study art history at this ancient seat of learning ensures St Andrews will remain newsworthy for the next four years.
Nowhere more so than at Strathtyrum House, William's new home. It is doubtful if he'll have to put his domestic chores - so well narrated during his field course to Chile - to the test, but he'll be able to indulge in clay pigeon shooting - no doubt demonstrating his prowess to fellow freshers; and walk in solitude along Tentsmuir beach, location for Chariots Of Fire, contemplating his future.
Mistily stretching away
But a nearby local pub - at Eilean Iarmain - offered superb carrot and coriander soup in the public bar for a couple of quid.
The rooms at Kinloch Lodge are neat and comfortable. 'Do we get Skye TV?' I asked the receptionist, who smiled as if she'd never heard this joke before.
In fact, all the staff were impressively bright and amiable. 'Great day, eh?' was the universal greeting.
'Great machine you have there,' was a common observation at petrol stations (the thirsty engine on the XC90 meant I was a fairly frequent visitor to these).
From Skye we took the CalMac ferry across to Mallaig (what a wonderful institution the Caledonian MacBrayne ferry company is), then drove down to Fort William (under the shadow of the snowcapped Ben Nevis) and to the Glencoe visitor centre for lunch.
Each new vista is better than the last: the view of Loch Shiel, for example, mistily stretching away behind the Glenfinnan Monument to the Jacobite rising of 1745, is a sight I will never forget.
We crossed over to the Isle of Bute on the CalMac ferry from Colintraive to Rhubodach, stopped at Rothesay for tea, before taking another CalMac ferry from Rothesay back to the mainland at Wemyss Bay.
Our final night was spent at the Westin Turnberry Hotel, about an hour's drive on the coast south of Glasgow.
The Westin Turnberry, famous for its Open championship golf course, shows the sleek, sophisticated face of Scottish tourism.
The rooms were plush and comfortable, the food excellent and the staff were as amiable as they had been on Skye. The Turnberry's health spa rates as one of the best in Europe.
We often hear how unsatisfactory tourist standards are in the UK - how bad holidays can be compared with those available on the Continent.
Escape from reality
It was only when we were strolling back to the castle - a stunning, mile-long walk alongside the Dornoch Firth, with each view more perfect than the next - that I realised how relaxed we were.
We hadn't mentioned work all day, were giggling over how lost we had been on the bikes, and our biggest concerns were whether we should try archery or clay-pigeon shooting the next morning and if there was time for a swim in the pool before dinner. We really couldn't have felt further away from London and the stresses of day-to-day life - and we hadn't even been away for 24 hours.
Inevitably, the luxury of such a high-quality private refuge does not come cheap - far from it, in fact.
Prices at Skibo for Carnegie Club members start at £375 per person per night. That includes unlimited quantities of food and drink, golf, swimming, salmon and trout fishing, clay pigeon shooting, bird watching, snooker, rowing, tennis - the list goes on and on. But it's still a lot of money, by any standards.
But what you pay for is the use of a luxurious, Highland estate and all its staff, to do with whatever you please. Dan and I are lucky enough to have travelled widely and are demanding guests. Yet this was one of the most wonderful, memorable weekends we have ever spent. Anywhere.
Best face for the Queen
Balmoral puts on its best face when the Queen arrives for her hols in July and the flowers and fruits are on parade. We stayed in April during the 'public enterprise season'.
You can walk round the grounds and the castle throws open its door - just one - to the ballroom.
If you're expecting a glimpse of royal splendour don't hold your breath. A couple of nice Landseers, familiar photos of the Royal Family and the Queen's piper wearing a kilt of Balmoral tartan, designed by Prince Albert. That's about it.
The grounds are superb. A woodland walk took us through Scots pine, Norway spruce and larch, festooned with lichen.
In the distance: brooding Lochnagar mountain, in the foreground the Queen's TV aerial. The cottages don't have TV, so it's reassuring to know Her Majesty doesn't have to miss EastEnders.
We admired the 'Purchase cairn' raised by Victoria and Albert to celebrate buying Balmoral and strolled along tracks the Queen rides on.
She has a collection of Highland, Fell and Haflinger ponies which take parties on guided treks. Her favourite is said to be Magnus, who does his own thing. Rather like Prince Edward.
An estate road near Lochnagar distillery led, eventually, to Loch Muick, part of the wild, lonely landscape that's Glen Muick.
The more we walked towards the end of the loch, the further away it seemed. Some morale-boosting yomping songs spurred us on: 'We will reach the end of the loch. But I've a stone inside my soch!'
The surrounding hills, mirrored in its grey waters, changed from steel grey to silver as the sun went in and out. We interrupted a black grouse, but there was nothing else to disturb.
In the summer shiny Land Rovers, some towing large picnic trucks, come down the hills with Wills and Harry inside. They have barbecues outside a damp lodge built by Queen Victoria.
Balmoral is midway between Braemar, of hammer-throwing games fame, and Ballater. The town has been a discreet friend to the Royals ever since Victoria stopped the train there and wouldn't let it any closer.
In early April the mood was sombre. The Queen Mother had just died and we watched her funeral on television in a small hotel.
She and royal others bought their household basics in Ballater and rewarded the shopkeepers with enormous crests over their doors.
If you want to rub shoulders with Royalty this is your opportunity. Unlike Balmoral Castle and grounds, which are only open three months a year, the holiday properties are let while the Royal Family have their Highland fling.
Imagine the surprise of a Canadian couple in Colt Cottage who bumped into the Queen last year.
We appreciated the quieter surroundings of Connachat. Even so, we still saw Prince Charles. At Balmoral, there's no getting away from them.
TRAVEL DETAILS:
Balmoral holiday cottages are available from March to November. Connachat Cottage costs from £400 a week out of season and £630 from June 30 to August 31. Details on www.balmoralcastle.com.
The castle is open from April to July between 10am and 4pm. Admission is £4.
Perfect place to stay
At 10 o'clock one night, when the day's fresh air and exertions had rendered the rest of my family asleep, I went out for a stroll. The wind blew the aroma of rain-soaked grass, the whole place felt so clean, as if it was possible for a place to be laundered.
In the low tide three fishing boats lay drunkenly against the sheltered harbour wall; tangerine coloured clouds drifted in the pale blue sky. Oh, for £4.5 million.
But actually, I didn't need to check my Lottery numbers for that night. In the Rodel Hotel we had found the perfect place to stay on Harris.
This recently renovated 18th Century mansion house has the comforts of the 21st Century, but is steeped in history.
Harris is probably the most dramatic of the Scottish islands. Together with Lewis, it is also one of the quietest.
Both are bastions of the Free Presbyterian Church of Scotland (known as the Wee Free). On a Sunday nothing happens, or is indeed allowed to happen, except organised prayer. Playgrounds are padlocked; shops, restaurants and pubs are closed and fishing or golf is not allowed.
To prospective buyers, the lure of Amhuinnsuidhe is obvious after just a weekend. But for me it has only whetted my appetite to see more of the Hebrides.
Forget Barbados or Tuscany. Next year I'll be packing midge repellent instead of Factor 25 and heading for the ferry.
TRAVEL DETAILS:
Caledonian MacBrayne Ferries (www.calmac.co.uk tel: 08705 650000). The Rodel Hotel, Rodel, (tel: 01859 520210).
Blackhouses of stone
Ancient 'blackhouses' of stone and thatch are built low as if cowering from the wind. Road signs are Gaelic and on Sunday the strict Presbyterian Free Church insists the island virtually shuts down. Yet Lewis and Harris are strangely compelling.
We enjoyed relaxed, homely comfort rather than five-star facilities. At the elegant Scarista House a plumbing leak trickled down the dining room wall and we ate our wedding-night dinner watching the sun set over the sea while the owner chased sheep that were nibbling his daffodils.
At the warm and friendly Galson Farm, which is also a post office, Joanna prepared for her big day in the bathroom next to the counter and emerged in her wedding outfit to bump into an old chap buying stamps.
The wedding was a wonderful, fairytale event. Although I could see my breath as I repeated 'I will' in the church, the sun shone throughout our stay.
The Butt of Lewis records, on average, gale force conditions once every six days. We were very fortunate to get away with a mild but chilly skirt-ruffling breeze.
One local told me of a 154mph wind last year. 'As I was driving home I knew it was going to be a bad one,' he said 'because I saw sheep flying across the road.'
Now, that would have been a wedding day to remember.
Getting there:St Moluag's church is open from Easter Day until the end of October. Isle of Lewis tourist board: 01851 703088. Scarista House (01859 550238) and Galson Farm (01851 850492).
Pitch and roll
In the corridor, the actorish man with the old suitcase revealed, in a voice like honey on gravel, that he couldn't find his cabin; I directed him to the steward.
In the saloon car, some diehards with thick books prepared for a long night. I bought a coffee and gazed out at the beautifully starlit sky. Well, Watford Junction, Platform Four...
Back in the cabin it was time to sleep. It was a sleeper, after all. The bed is quite comfortable, although it may be a bit short if you are a six-footer.
The train appears to pitch and roll like a ferry. I have to say there were times as the night rolled on I wished I'd had the Muriel Spark rather than the tatties and neeps.
Sleeper is the wrong name for the train - really it's more of a dozer, although the phrase 'Caledonian Dozer' doesn't have the same ring to it.
I'd fall asleep for a while and then jerk awake like the bloke at Loughborough Station. I'd nod off again and then somebody would walk past in the corridor talking loudly and my eyes would be wide open.
Still, I didn't mind because I was rumbling up the West Coast main line, past Crewe, Preston and Lancaster, finally stopping at Carlisle, where the train split, the front half going to Glasgow and our half going on to Edinburgh.
My wife was asleep and I opened the blind a crack. Carlisle station was bathed in orange light and shadowy figures moved about, splitting the train in half.
I felt fantastic, realising a dream, on the edge of Scotland as the rest of the country slept.
We set off again, I nodded off and soon the man was knocking at the door with orange juice, coffee, Danish pastry and, oddly, a yogurt-covered almond bar. Must be a traditional sleeper thing.
At 8am we were on the streets of Edinburgh, buying an umbrella to keep the rain off. To be honest, we weren't fit for a business meeting or a sightseeing trip or a walk to the Castle.
My advice: get somewhere to stay as soon as you get off the train. We stayed at the fabulous Scotsman Hotel, where the white dressing gowns and the innumerable varieties of sausage were the cherry on top of an unforgettable experience.
Go on the sleeper - everybody should do it at least once in their lives. But don't expect to be able to sleep much. Stay awake with Muriel Spark.
TRAVEL DETAILS:
The Caledonian Sleeper (tel: 08457 550033/ www.scotrail.co.uk). The Scotsman (0131 556 5565).
Restorative bacon rolls
But it didn't matter, with the lights off and the compartment lit only by the purple glow of a night-light, Nancy was soon rocked to sleep. Her brother put up more of a fight.
'Are we in Scotland yet?' came a little voice as the train came to an early halt. I looked out of the window - 'No, William, Watford - now go to sleep.'
With the sleeper free to take seven-and-a-half hours over a journey that its daytime counterparts now do in four-and-a-half, the scope for arriving late is presumably much reduced.
Anyway, just before 7am, there was a knock on the door and four breakfasts arrived along with news that we would be arriving at Edinburgh Waverley in 10 minutes.
There is no rush. Just as you can board the sleeper up to an hour before departure you can have a 45-minute lie-in on arrival. But lie-ins and excited, well-rested children do not mix, so it was up and out.
By 8am, we were installed in our self-catering apartment, chomping on the restorative bacon rolls that, 30 years ago, my grandfather also laid on for overnight arrivals from London.
The journey was a fatigue-free start to a magnificent few days that took in the castle and its one o'clock gun, the Dynamic Earth exhibition and North Berwick, where the children were shown where their father learned to swim.
The high point had to be the children climbing unaided to the top of Arthur's Seat, the extinct volcano that dominates the skyline and which I hadn't sat on since 1968.
The low points? Truthfully, there weren't any - we went back on the sleeper too, giving us a full final day in Edinburgh and the chance for the children to double up on those magical sleeper memories. They're already talking about the next time.
TRAVEL DETAILS:
ScotRail (tel: 08457 550033) has a Family Sleeper Ticket. Single sleeper journeys can be booked on the Internet. See www.scotrail.co.uk. For details of self-catering apartments see www.visitscotland.com.
Two rival exhibitions
McDonald is adamant the loch hosts several of his large animate targets. Of course, it is biologically impossible that there could be only one. He believes there are about 18.
Then it was all to the side of the boat for the photo opportunity: a little monster shape has been stuck to the window so that tourists can take home a picture of the 'monster' against the loch.
We drove along the road that flanks the east of the loch, through the little village of Foyers, where there is a marvellous cafe on the High Street (which, trivia fans, was the first street in the UK to be electrified).
From here, there are little paths down towards the famous Foyers waterfall, and if you take it right down to the loch, you'll come to the spot where the first 'photograph' of the monster was taken in 1933.
Back at Drum, we felt it vital to visit both of the monster exhibitions.
That's right, there are two rival exhibitions next door to each other: the Original Loch Ness Visitor Centre, and the Official Loch Ness Monster Exhibition.
What's the difference? 'We believe and they don't,' said Ray Bernerdi, of the 'Original'.
Loch Ness would be a tourist attraction without its elusive hump-backed prey.
But the monster helps, and whether it exists or not, no one can deny that it works very hard for a living.
Later that day, we walked along the pebbled banks of the loch, and I got talking to a man walking his dog.
'Aye,' he said in his best Fraser-from-Dad's-Army tones. 'I believe that there is a monster.' He squinted into the distance. 'Comes out at the beginning of the tourist season.'
TRAVEL DETAILS:
Easyjet flies from Luton to Inverness once a day and twice a day at weekends (www.easyjet.com tel: 0870 6000 000).
At Inverness, Oliver Bennett hired a car from Sharp's Reliable Wrecks, which offers new and used cars and motorhomes (www.sharpsreliablewrecks.co.uk tel: 01463 236694).
He stayed with Achmony Holidays, which has chalets overlooking the Loch above Drumnadrochit: (www.lochnessholidays.com tel: 01456 450357).
Mystery, magic and mackerel
Food and drink and stunning scenery - the pattern continued when Jimmy Watt took us by boat down Loch Hourn, past Gavin Maxwell's Sandaig Bay, the beautiful villages of Arnisdale and Corran on one side and the sun-hazed mountains of Knoydart on the other.
We saw grey seals and porpoises as we fished for mackerel. A local fisherman sold us a huge basket of langoustines for a fiver and that night we had them cooked in garlic butter followed by a bowl of local raspberries and thick, fresh, yellow cream.
All the walking helped ease the guilt. We hadn't time for everything - I'd have liked to explore the rocky headlands and seen Plockton up the coast, the setting for BBC TV's Hamish Macbeth.
But we did walk up Glen Beag where, near some fine modern timber-and-glass buildings by an ecologically minded architect, stand three magnificent and mysterious brochs. These are defensive circular dry-stone towers built around the beginning of the 1st century; the craftsmanship is awe-inspiring.
More magic, more romance. As said, I love trains, but I've never been so reluctant to get on one as I was when we headed for Inverness and the night sleeper back to London and reality.
Sunsets and sea-worship
To another Scottish island - the Isle of Mull - and to the Calgary Farmhouse. On a good day you could be in Italy or France, but Matthew and Julia Reade, who have been here for 11 years, do their own thing brilliantly.
There is a tea shop, restaurant, art gallery, the occasional free-range child, a very relaxed atmosphere and tons of commitment.
The restaurant has brick arches, whitewashed walls, polished wooden floors and a simple, crisp country elegance. Matthew renovated the place himself and made the huge wooden chairs in his workshop. Bedrooms fit the mood perfectly, with pretty fabrics and whitewashed walls.
Just a few minutes' walk away is Calgary beach, for wonderful sunsets and days of sea-worshipping.
The pebble beach near the Bailiffscourt Hotel in Sussex is only 200 yards from the front door. The hotel itself is breathtaking - a genuine fake. The architect searched high and low for soft, golden sandstone.
Inside, the big rooms have a medieval atmosphere set off brilliantly by bold colours, rich fabrics and large tapestries on the walls.
There are mullioned windows, heavy, ancient beams, and an entire ceiling of wood in the restaurant.
The bedrooms are just as marvellous - carved four-poster beds, oak chests and waterfalls of cushions. Some doors are 600 years old, the bathrooms are deeply luxurious and decanters of sherry await you. It was built in the Thirties and a magnificent treat for anyone tired of London.
Helmsley, North Yorkshire Moors
HELMSLEY, NORTH YORKSHIRE MOORS
Helmsley, on the edge of the North Yorkshire Moors in Ryedale, is a little market town with big connections.
There are riverside walks, traditional tea rooms, four former coaching inns and a ruined castle - the town's Royalist stronghold was blown up by Cromwell's men in the Civil War.
The real action begins at the market cross - start of two of the finest paths in the North.
Heading south is the 70-mile Ebor Way. Officially classified as easy, it runs through the gentle low-lying countryside and woodland of the Vale of York to York (24 miles) and then heads west via Tadcaster and Wetherby to Ilkley.
Or are you tough enough for the Cleveland Way? This epic route runs for 108 miles in a broad horseshoe round the North York Moors National Park.
When it reaches Saltburn it snakes south via Whitby and Scarborough, finishing at Filey. If you want to dip in rather than walk the full distance, the entire route is accessible by buses and trains.
Pick of the public transport is the North York Moors Railway. Steam trains weave down through Heartbeat-style moors from Grosmont to Pickering.
Tourist information: Town Hall, Market Place, Helmsley YO62 5BL (Tel: 01439 770173)
|
|
|
|
|
| | | | Continued to improve
In terms of value for money, you may get more bang for your euros in Greece or Spain but Mediterranean holidays generally come as part of a competitively priced off-the-shelf package which includes a cheap flight.
Organising a UK holiday can be harder work but the trip needn't be too costly (Ryanair, for example, is currently offering flights from Stansted to Prestwick, a few miles from Turnberry, for just £4.99).
Low standards and poor quality? I found little evidence of them on my quick-fire journey through the Highlands.
One of the popular tourist attractions near Turnberry is the Electric Brae. This is a road which looks as if it is going uphill but if you stop the car and let off the brake, the car begins to roll upwards. A nearby sign assures visitors that this is an optical illusion.
This may offer a useful metaphor for UK tourism. For the past few years, the British holiday business has looked as if it has been in decline in both quality and quantity. In reality, however, things have continued to improve. And this year, numbers will surely grow too.
Take my tip: go abroad in the UK this summer.
TRAVEL DETAILS:
Kinloch Lodge (www.kinloch-lodge.co.uk tel: 01471 833214); the Westin Turnberry (tel: 01655 334136).
Easy-going panache,
Back to the bucket-and-spade type of beach: on the North Cornwall coast, we have found a splendid inn, close to the wonderful beach at Trebarwith.
It is famous for its surfing, its shallow beach, its sand and its busyness in summer. The Mill House Inn, a short walk away, is another world.
It has the mood of a stylish London bistro within an old pub. Somehow, it manages the trick of being both.
The dark bar has easy-going panache, with old floorboards, gnarled wooden tables and blissed-out tunes.
The dining room over the stream is crisp and elegant, with a tongue-in-cheek formality.
The bedrooms have the simplicity needed for a beach hotel, no pretensions but style and colour.
If you are tough enough to swim in a Scottish loch then the Pool House Hotel on Loch Ewe is one of the prettiest I know.
Britain is richer in fine beach hotels than one might imagine. Those awful beach hotels for which we are famous, with their conference rooms, swirling carpets and massed ranks of cane chairs in huge conservatories, are still here.
But if you rethink 'beach' and remember that there is more to do by the water than laze in a deck-chair, then you will discover that Britain has dozens of hidden 'beach hotel' treasures.
Alistair Sawday is the author of Special Places To Stay - British Hotels (ASP, £11.99)
Loch Lomond and the Trossachs
LOCH LOMOND AND THE TROSSACHS
The largest expanse of freshwater in Britain, Loch Lomond was designated a National Park last year along with the glens and lochs of the Trossachs.
Less than an hour from Glasgow and not much more from Edinburgh, Loch Lomond is the geological heart of Scotland where Highlands and Lowlands merge.
The Loch Lomond Shores visitor centre offers views from a seven-storey castle, explains one of the richest habitats in the UK, and proposes a feast of walking ideas. A cinema shows The Legend Of Loch Lomond. There are picnic areas, a pebble beach, children's adventure playground and boats.
Access to the loch shore used to be restricted, now much of it is open to walkers. Only your legs will tell you when to stop - preferably after you have seen one of the resident golden eagles.
One of Scotland's best long-distance trails, the West Highland Way, runs along the entire east shore of Loch Lomond on its way from Milngavie, outside Glasgow, to Fort William.
Tourist information: Loch Lomond and the Trossachs National Park HQ, Old Station, Balloch Road, Balloch G83 8SS (Tel:01389 722600)
|
|
|
|
|
| | | | Exmoor, Devon and Somerset
EXMOOR, DEVON AND SOMERSET
Its proud eyes gazing high, the red deer was as fine a sight as anything on the p |
|
|
|
| |
