The Herald - The Herald Magazine
and Sean Guthrie visits a Highland hideaway on
HANDS up all those who greet the onset of autumn and winter with the same relish a turkey greets Christmas. Is that you? Your husband or wife? Your folks? The inky black suffocating the light, growth ceding to decay as the inescapable cycle of the seasons ploughs into its least forgiving phase: it’s enough to choke your spirit.
The easiest thing to do is yield to it and mump your way through to spring, emerging with more wrinkles and fewer friends. The preferred option for more practically-minded types, however, is to stock up on feelgood food and drink, boxsets and Gore-Tex-lined footwear.
On this, my 46th descent into the abyss of winter, I add to that inventory a short but profoundly reviving break in what is best described as an extreme log cabin. I don’t mean to conjure images of gory horror flicks but rather a degree of comfort more commonly found in a four or five-star hotel, but infinitely cosier than Claridges or One Devonshire Gardens could ever hope to be.
The cabin, called Strix – named, like its six counterparts, after a genus of birds, in this case owls – sits on a hillside in Strathglass, the low river basin that links Glen Affric in the west to the mouth of the Beauly Firth. The roof is blanketed by grasses. All around loom drooping birch, wildflowers and reeds. Roe deer browse nearby with an air of utter indifference to their human cohabitants, while goats mooch around in a pen over by a pond groaning with ducks. Crossbills and tits flutter in and out of the eaves of the cabin. It’s September, meaning there is not a midge to be seen. Result.
While the Eagle Brae site exhibits minimal human meddling with the natural world, indoors is all about mollycoddling guests. Call it hygge max. Underfloor heating bolstered, should you need it (we didn’t), by a wood-burning stove; handcarved wood panels; Himalayan rugs; antlers mounted at every turn; old spinning wheels – the list goes on.
Like the cedar logs from which the cabins are built, the stairs to the mezzanine are as substantial as any you’ll find in a modern building, and each step is indented with a deer hoof print. Once upstairs, besides the lure of the paradoxically chilling Nordic drama boxset we have brought there is an impeccable vantage point from which to appreciate the meticulous construction and furnishing of what is ostensibly no more than a log cabin.
White trash that we are, we slip a pizza in the oven, settle down to have our dreams infected by the aforementioned DVD and warm our bellies with strong liquor. That night’s sleep is flawless but for the odd creak from the cabin flexing with the fluctuating temperature.
The next day sees us take a pootle by car up tranquil Glen Strathfarrar, Strathglass’s nearest neighbour to the north. The glen is owned by a low-profile Malaysian businessman whose home, a handsome former hunting lodge two-thirds of the way up the road, is said to be permanently staffed and ready for him to visit whenever he wishes, which we’re told amounts to three days a year. Given the bountiful splendour on tap here, such a schedule seems a shade ill-conceived.
On rejoining the A831 – a motorist or motorcyclist’s dream, for the most part – we scoot up to Beauly for lunch and Sunday papers before investigating a sleepy antiques shop on the road back to Eagle Brae, stumbling across a piece we deem worthy of transporting back to grim reality.
We’re soon drawn back to the cabin, though, for snoozing, supping and snacking before dining on hearty meals prepared by owners Mike and Pawana SpencerNairn: Himalayan venison curry (his) and vegetarian lasagne (hers). It is their shared Himalayan experiences – the couple met while Mike was travelling in Himachal Pradesh – which, cross-bred with Scottish traditions, inform so much of the Eagle Brae ethos: sustainability, craftsmanship, hospitality.
It’s a vigorous cocktail, and one which fortifies this correspondent as he stands on the brink of the dreichest time of year. Come ahead, winter.