Highland Insider

White over in June

I usually avoid talking about the weather here, but yesterday’s was so spectacular, and apparently so localised, that it deserves a mention.

It was around five o’clock, after a dull afternoon, that we had an inch of rain dumped on us with no warning in the space of a couple of minutes. It was accompanied by enormous, pellet-shaped hailstones which left the garden white.

 I’d left my walking boots outside the back door and they were filled to the top in seconds.

 The PL was driving home at the time and missed the whole thing. He reported that, at the bottom of the hill (about three miles away) the ground was completely dry; half way up it became wet; but only at our house did the white appear.

Later, when the rain stopped, a warm mist rose up from the earth and we had a lovely soft sunset, straight out of a romantic movie.

Fast changes of weather are a feature in the highlands, but yesterday’s was so sudden it had me staring out of the window with my mouth open. 

Cawdor Castle

Cawdor Castle is billed as ‘the most romantic castle in the Highlands’. I’ve visited it a few times and I can confirm it will have you sighing and pointing at every turn. There are turrets, a drawbridge, a fine art collection and enough tapestry-draped beds to satisfy the most demanding  heritage-junkie. And yes, there are even ghosts.

But what really makes Cawdor special for me is the fact that it still feels like a home. Unlike many properties that are open to the public, the castle is still lived in for part of the year by the Dowager Countess Cawdor and is full of personal touches. So among the artefacts and paintings are family photos, shelves stuffed with books and vases of garden flowers.

If you love old houses, visit Cawdor and you won’t be disappointed. Just one tip: if you’re tempted to read the memoir Title Deeds by Liza Campbell, sister of the present earl, enjoy your visit to the castle first. The book is fascinating but it might just spoil the glorious romantic image as you look round. Every family has its darker secrets and there’s a good reason why Title Deeds is not stocked in the castle bookshop.

Ardmair Bay from the campsite

Every week The Guardian newspaper invites readers to send in travel tips. Last week’s subject was ‘Beachside Campsites Around the World’ so I sent in a tip about Ardmair Point in Wester Ross which I’ve written about before, here.

My tip was selected for printing in Saturday’s travel section and if you’re looking for a good beachside campsite, you can read it online here. You can also search for the other tips in the section, including one about Skye and one on Mull – Scotland was well represented!

Some days you can sit for hours waiting for some wild furry or feathery thing to grace you with a glimpse of its rear end disappearing over the hill, but now and again they all seem to come out and show off. Maybe just for a minute – a quick ‘Yoohoo, now you see me’ moment – but always welcome for the unexpectedness of the pleasure.

Yesterday I drove a good way across our neighbouring county of Moray, and along the backroads between Forres and Elgin I saw  a whole parade of wild critters just from the car. Here they are in order of performance.

First, early in the morning, was something I thought it was a cat until it bounced across the road with a characteristic Mexican wave motion. Too big and dark for a stoat, I’m pretty sure it was a pine marten. They’re more often seen at night but they will be busy feeding kits just now.

Next up was a brown hare sitting on the edge of some woodland, which watched me pass by with big, calm eyes. Further along was a roe deer in an exquisitely classic pose, standing in a sunny meadow looking back at me over its shoulder. There was another hare sprinting across the same meadow, and all day I dodged the usual dozy pheasants making mad dashes onto the road.

Of course, I didn’t have the camera with me; you never do on these occasions. I’ll remember each little snapshot for a while, especially the deer, then the picture will fade. But that just makes the moment more precious.

A few people have commented recently on the size of Nosy Norris’s paws. They are pretty huge and, as any Bernese owner will tell you, they’re that size more or less from the day they’re born. I said this to a collie-owning visitor the other day and got a polite but sceptical raise of the eyebrow. So, to prove I’m not making it up, here’s the proof: Nosy Norris at eight weeks old.

Yes, they really were that big

 Now those paws take her up and down hills, through burns, not very far down rabbit holes and into the sea. The hills seem to be her favourite domain though, and she loves nothing better than racing up a slope, jumping fallen logs and dodging rocks, her big floppy ears doing their own thing as she bounces. She really seems to think she’s a mountain dog.

The midges may have driven us indoors the other day but they brought the house martins out in force. A few have been swooping over the garden for a couple of weeks now, but when their favourite mobile snack arrived on the scene they brought some more pals along for the party.

There were at least thirty of them today, zipping around the sky like guided missiles, catching midges on the wing. We were down below, cheering them on.

Pied wagtail chicks in their nest on the shelf

I write a weekly nature column in the local paper and over the past three summers this has always featured the pied wagtails that have taken to nesting on a shelf in the old stone shed. They always get in there early, make a flattish nest (full of Nosy Norris’s hairs this year, of course), and are usually sitting on eggs by the time the swallows arrive. This has been bad news for the swallows, who still come looking for their old site just outside the shed and are chased off by the wagtails.

Good news for us though; we love having them there. This year, they moved to a shelf in a different corner of the shed and the PL was able to get a photo without disturbing them (this one’s zoomed in). That was last week, and today all four have fledged and are dashing around the shed and the covered walkway that joins it to the house, already wagging away whenever they stop for a rest. The PL had to rescue one that had stopped for a rest in a bucket of rainwater, but its ducking didn’t deter it one bit. That’s wagtails for you, they’re all wee daredevils, wandering about on roads and nosying into things. We once watched a pair attacking a bat that had come out of the roof during the day. They might look comical with their funny bobbing tails, but they’re not to be messed with.

We’ll keep an eye on the nest, as the parents have always got another brood off pretty quickly. All being well, we’ll have wagtails everywhere again in August.

The dreaded midges are back. Today is damp, a wee bit warmer than of late and perfect for the tiny tormentors. It’s the first day this year that they’ve been bad enough to drive us indoors, and from now until October our lives will be permeated by the smell of midgie repellant.

The PL goes for the serious, deet based stuff but I was put off that when I once left a bottle of it on a shelf and it took a ring of varnish off the surface. I prefer the more gentle ‘Wee Beastie’, a gorgeous lavender and citronella spray made by Purdie’s Scottish Soap Company. It’s a pleasure to use, I’m happy to spray it on the dog as well as myself, and I reckon it works just as well as the chemical stuff – which is to say, it’ll put the wee buggers off but won’t keep them all off forever.

Don’t believe anyone who says they have a product that will guarantee you won’t be bitten by a single midge, it just doesn’t exist. It’s well worth using something though, as without any protection you’ll be completely covered in red, furiously itchy bites that get worse the more you scratch. At least with ‘The Wee Beastie’ I know I’ll only get a couple, and around here that’s just something you have to live with.