Tootsies & Trossachs

What is the etiquette with B&Bs? When there are many small tables it seems fine to just shoot a ‘good morning’ at whoever enters the room, but what about in smaller places when there’s just one table?! If you’re not a morning person then its really not the time or place to make new friends. Anyway, I focused on my scrambled eggs and sausage and let Ben talk bikes. It was a lovely B&B with rather intriguing photos and rock memorabilia on the wall. Elton John, Midge Ure, The Bee Gees…clearly someone in the house (and we think it was the unseen husband) was a big shot in the 70s music scene. Still, I was happy to leave because it meant a trip to Maryhill, Glasgow to catch up with a friend from school and her two girls. It was a lovely few hours of coo-ing, play acting and catching up and I think a quick whizz round the crescent in the van will have fuelled little Katie’s imagination for a while to come. Sorry Esther!

I think I got a bit carried away though because it soon became apparent from the sat nav that Ben would actually beat me to the lunch point. The roads leading through the Trossachs and up the side of Loch Lubaig made it impossible to make up the extra time. I did resist many photo opportunities, otherwise I’d have been seriously late. The most wonderful view emerged from thick forest north of Glasgow – suddenly the whole horizon was just peak after peak after peak, stretching back into the mist as far as the eye could see. The whole journey was breathtaking and I particularly liked the look of the Falls of Dochart, it felt like a little Austrian village. But I ploughed on up the banks of Loch Tay to meet Ben in the rather swish restaurant of the Kenmore Hotel, overlooking the River Tay. I think he was rather relieved when I turned up, sat there on his lycra-clad own among quite posh surroundings! Kenmore was a beautiful village, all black&white, even the Spar sign! I think that’s when you know there must be some serious conservation orders in place. The whole area seemed interesting, lots of little villages and crafty places. I was really flagging behind the wheel (loch-side roads require a LOT of concentration) and was lucky to stumble across a gorgeous little coffee shop on the way to the A9. It was full of wonderfully mis-matched furniture and nick nacks. Not kitsch in a Cath Kidston way, but just lots of really interesting bits from the 1920s and 30s. I was revived after a cafetiere of Clan House coffee and homemade shortbread and ready to start the rest of the journey to Invernahavon. On this leg of the journey I DID allow some photo stops. At times it felt like the snow-capped peaks were close enough to touch! You could certainly feel the chill in the laybys, but it was worth it for the dramatic views. The campsite at Invernahavon was wild and free and we had a really wonderful evening there. The huge trees and mountains dwarfed the near-empty fields, just us and a few caravans dotted around. No barriers, no STOP signs, no toilet keys. Unfussy, simple and quite awesome! Owls started hooting once dusk fell and, because of the thick mist around the mountain, it was pitch black in no time. I tried to scare myself thinking of animals coming out of the wood, but being in the van is just too snug and cheerful!

Political thought of the day: I only saw Conservative/Liberal/UKIP banners the whole way up the country, until I drove through Lanark and saw the first Labour banners (and SNP). Based on the wholly unreliable method of keeping a loose count of banners...Cameron & Clegg coalition! hehe.

Best driving song: Limited to local radio which does produce a few gems, namely Glorious by Andreas Jonsson.