Monday, May 22, 2000
Fort William
South it was to Fort William and on the way I got to practice my left-handed driving skills on tight curves and hills like a roller coaster, although I think I was the only one amused by the little car’s workout. Highway A86 went to the West of A9 at Kingussie and took us over Spean Bridge and on into Fort William.
I shouldn’t have been surprised to see road construction in progress along the route. After all, if man made it, it’s going to break sometime. The construction sites were well marked with warning signs and most of them were controlled by electric traffic lights at each end. Only once did we see the need for flagmen and that was a very busy site near a tourist attraction. In keeping with the ideal of British propriety, each construction zone sported a sign that read, “We’re sorry for any delay.” Now, that was just too…British.
The country roads provided a keen insight of rural life that caters to residents of the larger cities who seek refuge in the Highlands on weekends and holidays. Most of the small towns we visited had a hotel or at least some sort of self-service accommodations available. There was no rush hour and any sign of impatience drew stares from the locals. As tourists, we had little trouble adapting to this unhurried existence.
Each new town we passed through was similar to the one before, but it had its own character that made it unique. Instead of the preponderance of signs advertising brand name merchandise and names on businesses that echoed trademarks of chain stores, commonplace titles, many unfamiliar to us, stood out against the well kept exteriors. Some were generic like the “Butcher” sign or the “Caf�.” And some sported the names of what must have been the current or previous proprietors. But the collection of shops varied from town to town and I wanted to stop and just amble down the sidewalks to savor the freedom of unhurriedness.
We were becoming dependant on visitors’ centers and that is the first thing we tried to find. I had not anticipated difficulty but the signs we saw directed to the bus station just off a dreaded roundabout. On the second pass we found a parking spot and walked no less than three fourths of a mile into a cold blast of wind through crowded streets to find the information center discretely hidden a block off of High Street, the main shopping thoroughfare, and obviously, the tourist section. I purchased a street map of Fort William to learn our way about.
Fort William punctuates the north end of Loch Linnhe (pronounced ‘lock linny’) and the Crannog Seafood Restaurant hovered over the water on stilts of age-old timbers that support the pier. An excursion boat, Souter’s Lass, would take us on a tour of Loch Linnhe, but first the word “seafood” was like a magnet to us. The restaurant was not overly busy and we were seated immediately and looked out over the sky gray water that was alive with pulses of ripples dancing beneath the wind that tunneled between the mountains at either side of the loch. We were not disappointed with the fishcakes, scallops, langoustines, and oat breaded haddock and I was especially complimentary about the malt whisky that accompanied my meal, although the others complained of a foul odor that emanated from my glass.
Before boarding Souter’s Lass, I returned to the car and exchanged my tweed blazer for a light parka since I noticed many of the passengers squinting from the bite of the hostile wind. After we launched, I knew this was not a mistake because the now freezing gale was aggravated by the icy spray from the bow.
Aside from the dismal weather the cruise was a pleasant journey through an ancient span of the Great Glen. The mountains bordering the loch were like giant cairns reaching for the ominous black-bottomed clouds that shielded the expanse of water from the sun. Ben Nevis to the east of Fort William is Britain’s highest mountain and from a particular spot on the loch, it appears to be the top of a large elephant plodding through the mountains. The gray-blue surface of the loch looked like rippled steel stretched between its banks and it seemed to curve downward away from the path of the boat. We turned around just past a fish farm and after stopping for a moment at Black Island so we could observe the population of common and gray seals that were sprawled on the rocks.
Back at Fort William we hurried to High Street and a caf� where we warmed ourselves with hot tea and pastries. The shops on High Street had curious items and, of course, the tourist trivia. Most shops closed at five-thirty which left us with a little time to kill before dinner at McTavish’s Kitchen.
With only one waitress, we did not expect punctual service. And we were not disappointed. When our food did arrive, it was worth the wait. We elected not to stay for the show that featured traditional Scottish musical talent. We headed back for Aviemore before darkness made the difficult road even more so.