A Gate to the Highlands

Silence is what strikes you in the depth of the highlands. A silence so profound in the early morning that you wonder if you've side stepped the planet.

In town there is a constant backdrop of noise: cars, buses, bin lorries, things tooting, car alarms and people going about their business earlier than you would expect.
Here on an early morning walk up cycle route 7 from Boat of Garten to Carrbridge, all there was to hear was my heart beating and the odd lamb calling for its mother.

The morning was still with no wind rustling the birch trees and nothing moved except me and the lambs. There was no one about. The cottages and houses seemed empty as if their owners were elsewhere. Holiday lets, I expect; a problem for locals without the city salaries to afford to live in the area.

The views from the high point over to the Cairngorms were breathtaking. The mountain tops were wreathed in cloud, but the large patches of snow below showed up white against the blue/black of the hills not yet in the sunlight.

Coming back downhill to breakfast, a cuckoo called from a stand of birch trees beyond the steading.

The peacefulness continued to permeate the morning. His Lordship and I walked the half mile into the village to buy some Sunday papers, and then read them leisurely before lunch, sitting outside for a while, before gravitating inside to more warmth.

Last night we dined in a very progressive restaurant in Boat of Garten. The food was much better than anything we have had in the city. It was imaginative, delicious and beautifully presented. The place was busy and I'm glad I had reserved our seats beforehand.
I would say it is most unusual to have such a high standard of cuisine in such a little rural spot. Five*'s to Andersons.