The Ancient and the new

We depart Mey House – an enterprise that is clearly an exercise in marketing – nice – pleasant – lovely people – an enterprise with a specific marketing plan – advertise yourself as being exclusive and charge exclusive prices – the clientele that respond to your marketing plan will be unprepared to admit that the charges they accumulated where at the upper end of acceptable but are people prepared to give flattering reviews in order to justify their expenditures – pretty soon you are classified as the best B&B in Scotland – A$250 a night – a good income for a pair of English Sea-change professionals! – my review sounds cruel – cruel – cruel – that is probably because indeed it is cruel! – the people were any absolute delight, the environs relaxing, the accommodations well designed and carefully maintained and the breakfast delightful.

We depart leaving Mey House happy and content – a short day is planned – along the Scottish 500 to Route 500 past Thurso, off in search of Broch and then south for 30 kilometres to Kinbrace before returning to the Scottish 500 and onto our accommodations at Bettyhill – The Bettyhill Hotel? – we wonder about what it will be like!

We pass through Thurso and deviate to Scrabster

We follow tourist signs to St Mary’s chapel – ancient – ancient – we photograph the ancient and modern – the chapel in the foreground – wind turbines harvesting the energy resources of the North Sea in the background.

Off towards Bettyhill – Bernie is fumbling with the tourist brochures she has acquired overnight – she in search of Brochs – see spots the tell-tale large brown tourist signs – we turn along the stone fenced laneways – past the highland cattle.

Turn again

We arrive at the Baille Wind Farm – the site of an ancient tenancy – Bernie looks away from the wind farm to the slight change in elevation on the other side of the lane  - she calls the elevation change a mountain and heads off to scale it in search of the mounds that provide the evidence of the ancient – I smile to myself about our relative descriptions of the terrain which she sets out to challenge but admire her persistence and am delighted by the reality that the fitness lost over the past couple of years is returning at a rapid rate!

Bernie challenges the rising terrain alone – I wonder off towards the wind farm – as the cluster is approached they announce their presence by slowly but surely increasing the volume of their breath as they strive to extract energy from the stiff on-shore breeze – initially the sound is pleasant but once in the midst of the cluster it become less than pleasant – “what is the sound like” says Bernie – “like a short clip of waves crashing on to rocks which is then played back on a very short repeat cycle” says I  - the noise becomes confused as each turbine emits its characteristic sound slightly out of phase with its neighbour – I now appreciate that farmers adjacent to such farms may have cause for concern!

I note that each of the constituent turbines is named after a scots person of distinction – I first encounter Shenade – she actually sounds quite pleasant but when first, William Wallace and then Andy Murray get into the act her relatively pleasant audio emissions deteriorate into just one component of the cacophony.

Shenade

William Wallace

Andy Murray

The residents of the Baille Wind Farm

Bernie arrives back at the car – she is pleased with herself – I comment that it wasn’t really a mountain – she responds in great detail to justify her claim that it was indeed was a mountain and not the slight undulation of the landscape that I ascribed to it – in any event she was quick to announce that her venture across the wilds of the Scottish landscape will be the last of this day!

Back onto the Northern 500 Route then almost immediately off it again – we head south on a narrow one lane road – towards Kinbrace through the valley of a stream of ever reducing proportions as we climb from sea level into the Northern Scottish Highlands.

As we ascend we pass cyclists all of whom appear very conscious that they are dissipating considerable quantities of human energy on their way along the A897 towards Helmsdale.

We pass streams running in the dales of brown grassed hills – streams that cry out for fishman but only a few oblige.

  

We reach Kinbrace and turn back north towards Syre – on through the Northern Highlands – not a person in sight – silent – awe inspiring – we stop at the remains of a Broch – useful now only for the protection of sheep given that it human accommodations floor and the food storage attics have long since surrendered to the ravages of time.  

Onwards – still in awe of the landscape – we pass some female deer – they looked domesticated – we push onwards - we pause – we have trouble believing – they are deer in silhouette on the skyline – we look closer – there are the stags grazing much closer to the road – we photograph.

We pass a premises promoting itself as the most remote hotel on the British mainland – we venture down the driveway – it is not yet ready for business this season.

We continue through this amazing landscape

Eventually we pass Syre and almost immediately the landscape changes as we follow the salmon stream north towards Bettyhill – the fisher-people are either already here or in the process of arriving – we photograph the early arrivals in action and pull into passing points to let other pass on their way to their favourite spots on the river.

As we appear out of the Highlands the Phesaants stroll around.

We arrive at Bettyhill –– well before check-in time – the hotel delightful – we  lunch while we wait – try the soup – the chef was having a less than auspicious day – cauliflower and broccoli soup – no broccoli – no salt – no condiments – I am afraid he forgot to taste it – nevertheless it was served with care and cheerfulness!

Room preparation is hastened - We are shown to our rooms – huge -  a delight – we look out over the Scottish equivalent of Bondi Beach!

 

“About the wi-fi” says the young Scottish part owner – “I am afraid the whole village is without internet at the moment!” - We are surprised to find that Graeme Moncrieff and Chris Harper had been to Bettyhill just a few hours before we arrived – Apparently Graeme had been commissioned to install some driveway protections when he inadvertently drove a star picket through a British Telecom fibre optic cable – the result is that the entire village of Bettyhill is without an internet service – we were advised that Chris Harper had arrived to assist but that repairs were progressing rather poorly  and they needed to consult with David Parker before repairs could be effected – in the meantime everyone in the bar at the Bettyhill Hotel had little choice other than to look away from their phones and order another drink – the result is that the bar is noisier than usual and the bartender has a smile of extraordinary proportions. While the people in the bar appear happy and content Bernadette is suffering form severe internet withdrawal symptoms and initiates an early translocation to the hotel’s restaurant.

We dine on Mussels and Steak – pleasant – none of the chef’s failures of lunchtime – we reflect on the meal – we are not certain if it was the inherent quality of the faire, the company of a pair of German cyclists or the multiple measures of 17-year-old whiskey that made the meal so enjoyable.

We retire to our rooms with a warm and contented feeling – we know from experience that Graeme will ensure that all will be well with the internet in the morning!