By Claire Chapman
Glassie bunkhouse is surprisingly remote, considering how close it is as the crow flies to Aberfeldy. At the end of a rather steep, hair-pin bend road, one is met by this magnificent glass window, which looks out on the view, and a well-equipped kitchen. The latter is essential for the cooking acrobatics to follow…
We were fed a rather fine pasta dish on the Friday night, and the usual discussion of route choices for the Saturday followed. The weather forecast was pretty dismal, so limiting the more exciting choices.
Rufus and I were determined to at least try and work up an appetite for the meal on Saturday, so we bundled up Sophie and Joshua into the bicycle seat and bike trailer, and ventured forth around Loch Tay. We ended up spending quite a lot of time at the Crannog centre, avoiding downpours (whilst the more intrepid adventurers in the club were apparently dodging snow and sleet showers!). However, we did learn how to make fire the iron-age way, which impressed me considering the poor guide had to do it in rain and howling wind.
On our return to the bunkhouse, it was to a private viewing of paintings that some club members had splashed out on from a local gallery. They involved cabbage pickers or was it broccoli – I forget…anyway, I digress.
Pre-dinner entertainment had been arranged of a most lavish fashion. The local castle was having a ceilidh, complete with nibbles and drinks. Someone in the club has friends in plush places. It is the first time I have tried to dance in my hiking boots, but at least no-one could stand on my toes.
We raced back to the bunkhouse, ready to sit down for a feast of gargantuan proportions. The salad and lentil starter was so good it proved necessary to have second helpings. Big mistake. The rest of the night, the food just kept flowing. The wild boar was something else, and the accompanying vegetables were predominantly home-grown and magnificent. The cheese platter was suitably smelly and the puds were to die-for. For the wine-tasting session, we were attended by a knowledgeable sommelier, who kept filling our glasses with a range of new and old world wines (notable absence of South African wine though – need to correct that!).
The following morning, it was a rather a quieter collection of folk around the breakfast table. Our party went off to walk up the Birks of Aberfeldy, which was lovely resplendent in full autumnal colours, and I think quite a few others used the same route as a starter for greater things.
Thanks for a great weekend.