...between Guadalquivir and old Seville

18/09/2015
Glenfinnan to Inverie

If you recall the story I spent the night having nightmares in which I lost my wife and my job.  Then i woke up and found out it was true.  And my knee hurt.
I was getting good at strapping it up, so did so swiftly then went to talk to John at the station.  He said could get me on the outward steam train to Mallaig.  He was as good as his word and I got a seat with a charming family from Caste Cary. Lovely people, lovely kid.  The countryside on that journey is fabulous.  You have to try it.
The only flaw for me was that the carriages they were using in the museum were ones I remember riding in as a child in the BR Western Region.  That made me feel old.

Mallaig station

Mallaig, at the far end, was a lovely fishing and ferry port.  Full of tourists but it would be hypocritical to complain.  I got some fish and chips then took the ferry to Inverie.

The packet to Inverie

The approach to Inverie goes past a lovely set of pink gypsum rocks fronted by a statue known to the locals as Plastic Mary.

Inverie in the distance

Plastic Mary on her rock

The sea loch you head into is wonderful, sheltered glassy waters and hills around.  The whitewashed cottages of Inverie in the distance.  The local Co-Op where I had stocked up in Mallaig had sent bag after bag of goods, and the women of Inverie were there on the dock to meet it and collect the shopping.  It felt like something from the 19th century.  the main street with its pub, cafe and shop is like something from the 18th century.  It is classic Celtic Fringe fishing village.

I was aiming to stay at the bunkhouse run by the Knoydart Foundation.  This was set up to buy up the peninsula so that the locals could run it for themselves.  Booking in is possible in advance but you can just turn up and fill a space.  There are 4 bunkrooms.  A folder by the main door has the days in it, you write your name down in a slot in a room and its yours.  I arrived at the same time as a geologist called Annie and we both signed in to Room 2.  I plumped for the only single, Annie a lower bunk.  The kitchen was extensive and well equipped, the dining room was a bit cold and uninviting.  There was a big lounge with a woodburner in it that was quite lovely.  Also showers.
Another 3 girls arrived and signed in, meaning I was sharing a room with 3 ladies.  How would they contain themselves?  The smallest room was taken up by a boisterous family whose patriarch, Gordon hailed from Leeds but had been Scottenated to Edinburgh.
Having dumped my stuff, which took the weight off my knee, I went up to the Cafe.  This, with the pub, was the only eaterie available.  The pub was booked out so I went into the Cafe and had the fish Lasagne which was remarkably good.  The ladies there were laughing and joking about which flowers to have in a bridal bouquet.  One suggested thistles and nettles.  I said Sea Buckthorn because its spiky and it stinks, which summed up my marital stuation.  I folded a few flowers for them from my stock of paper, which they really liked.  One of them was single apparently...
Anyway the day ended round a log fire in the lounge drinking whiskey with Gordon.  And so to bed.