Driving through Perthshire you can appreciate all the descriptions you have ever read. Lush pasture, rolling hills, rushing rivers, meandering streamlets and heather clad moors at the foot of the highlands … and then there is the mist which hangs over the morning sun drift. If you are close enough you can chat with pheasants, sheep and cattle as they graze on dewy grass. A bagpiper on yonder hill is all you need to make this part of Scotland the most special of all!
Pitlochery is the tourist magnet, interesting as it is, exploring the back areas in town, the other side of the river Tummel and the roads toward Kirckmichael, Killiecrankie, Strathtay and Loch Tummel are a must.
Yes, this is heather on the hills giving a soft purple haze
Heather up close
Lock Tay valley
Fortingall …blink and you will miss it was home for 6 days of wandering, fine dining and relaxing. Pathways in Aberfeldy gave pleasant Autumn exercise in a quintessential village atmosphere ..venture further to discover hidden gems …. the birks, burns and bields
Moirlanich Longhouse with its Byre, Barn and cradle for the Bairn, is a unique experience. We often visit grand stately homes on the National register but in the beautiful countryside of Glen Lochay, a visit to this humble dwelling where winters’ hardships ring true, is truly refreshing.
Morning mist and Sunsets …
** Birk … Birch tree woods: Bield … Sunny shelter in the woods: Burn … stream, Byre … cowshed / barn: bairn… baby: Cromach … shepherds walking stick
The song Road to the Isles tracks a walking journey through parts of Perthshire, Kinross etc. and west to the Isles… Regarded as a traditional Scottish song it appears in a collection by Kennedy Fraser with lyrics attributed to Kenneth Macleod.
So with cromach in hand, sing with me as this journey steers a little to the west and then south to Ayrshire
A far croonin’ is pullin’ me away
As take I wi’ my cromach to the road.
The far Coolins are puttin’ love on me
As step I wi’ the sunlight for my load.
Sure by Tummel and Loch Rannoch and Lochaber I will go
By heather tracks wi’ heaven in their wiles.
If it’s thinkin’ in your inner heart the braggart’s in my step
You’ve never smelled the tangle o’ the Isles.
Oh the far Coolins are puttin’ love on me
As step I wi’ my cromach to the Isles.
It’s by Shiel water the track is to the west
By Ailort* and by Morar to the sea
The cool cresses I am thinkin’ of for pluck
And bracken for a wink on Mother knee.
The blue islands are pullin’ me away
Their laughter puts the leap upon the lame
The blue islands from the Skerries to the Lews
Wi’ heather honey taste upon each name.