A Scottish flight of fancy
JOHN SCHEERHOUT heads north to explore Inverness and the area around Loch Ness
THE engines throttle back and we descend through the thinning clouds, gawping to our port side as we skirt the edge of the 22-mile long Loch Ness, its deep blue - almost black - water glinting in the spring sunshine.
We bank steeply right and below us, through the starboard windows, slivers of snow cling to the north face crags of the highest peaks. The engines whine. We bank hard left, flattening out and swooping over the azure Moray Firth. The water hurtles towards us and, just in time, some grass and then the landing strip appears. We are down.
There can be few more thrilling descents than the one into Inverness Airport. Especially as, for one-all-too brief moment, I had convinced myself I was a millionaire in my own private jet.
In fact, I was in an Embraer 145, a small twin-engined jet with 49 seats which ferries passengers between Manchester and Inverness three times a day.
Even the smallest among the passengers had to duck to avoid the low ceiling as we make our way through the tiny cabin and down the steps onto the apron and into the terminal building.
Of course, there was no red carpet nor a bank of dignitaries waiting to shake my hand. Turns out I’m still an underpaid hack with a mortgage and three kids.
Mrs S and I walked into the tiny terminal building, collected our bag and walked out the front where our hire car was waiting.
Within the hour, we were at our hotel, the Jury’s Inn on the outskirts of Inverness.
It’s not the most handsome hotel you’ll ever experience, but we enjoyed the friendly atmosphere and facilities, especially the swimming pool and sauna.
We made our way into the city centre and dined at Riverhouse Restaurant, regarded by more than one person we spoke to as the best fish restaurant in town.
It is small and overlooks the River Ness. We shared whitebait and crab starters. I enjoyed the hake but it was out-done by the beautiful sea bass wolfed down by Mrs S. Fortified by a bottle of white, we staggered across the old Infirmary footbridge into town for a nightcap at Hootananny’s and some live music.
The next morning, we headed back to Loch Ness - this time on the ground. We drove out to Clansman Harbour close to the north tip of the lake for a 30-minute cruise south with Jacobite Cruises to Urquahart Castle, a spectacular 500-year-old ruin on what is now a finely manicured promontory.
The weather was kind, the views across the loch stunning. We cruised back to Clansman harbour, trying to comprehend just how deep it is (more than 200m).
And, for the record, we didn’t see any monsters.
We drove a little further south and the Loch Ness Centre and Exhibition reveals the story of an iconic waterway and its supposed monster. It’s obvious that some people are at least as willing to be deceived as other people are willing to deceive them.
Finally, we encountered some monsters. They were to be found when we had lunch at the Loch Ness Inn.
Mine was a sirloin steak and Mrs S had a very entertaining and not very elegant fight with her impressive langoustines. Her determined effort to prise away every morsel sent more than one fishy missile flying across the restaurant floor. Hazards aside, lunch here was a real treat.
We drove back to the city where we met Bill Taylor, proudly wearing his kilt, at the cathedral.
He escorted us on an opinionated and entertaining walking tour of the city. He is clearly as passionate as he is knowledgable about the city’s history of feuding. Those highlanders really did like to scrap and pillage.
The theme continued the next day when we visited the impressive Culloden battlefield and its visitor centre on Drumossie Moor to the north east of the city.
The significance of the battle here in 1746 is argued about to this day. What’s not in doubt is that it was the last major battle on British soil and represents the end of the highland clans.
For all his charisma and reputed good looks, this was where Bonnie Prince Charlie led so many to their deaths in the last of the great Jacobite uprisings.
The next day was spent driving down the eastern fringe of Loch Ness, a dramatic route with many stunning vistas but none better than at Suidhe which is 1,200ft above sea level. We climbed to the top, the wind whipping around and through us, gulping in the air and drama all around us.
On our last morning, we headed out into the Moray Firth on board a large cruiser run by Dolphin Spirit. Sadly, we didn’t see any dolphins but our guide Sue, an expat with a reassuring Mancunian accent, entertained us along the way.
All too soon, we were back at the airport, climbing steeply into the clouds back on board our Embraer 145 and our flight of fancy was over.