For the next three and a half hours Ducky drove through the highlands, finding it a rather circuitous route, weaving past the many bodies of water. At Loch Ericht, he stopped in the village of Dalwhinne at the northeast end of the loch, to stretch his legs and grab a bite to eat, though it was only an hour and a quarter out of Perth. He found the fresh Scottish air had given him quite a hearty appetite.
Loch Ericht was surrounded by a number of Munros, including Ben Alder and Geal Charn, traditional hunting areas bordering the loch, chief of which was Ben Alder Forest.
The loch itself, being part of a hydro-electric scheme, was dammed at both ends, with water flowing into the northern end via the Cuaich Aqueduct. The southern end was linked to a hydroelectric power station at Loch Rannoch by the 4-mile long River Ericht. The northern dam protects the village of Dalwhinnie from flooding.
Ben Alder, one of the most remote and isolated of the munros of the Southern Highlands, miles from any public road, was guarded on each side by mountains, lochs and great moors. It required considerable effort to see, much less climb, but gone were those days, Ducky sighed. If he were a much younger man, he might have taken that challenge, but given his age, he resigned himself to the fact there were just some things in life he'd have to give up as the foolish meanderings of an old man.
Glimpses of Alder's dark shape were usually glimpsed from the A9, as it passed the Dalwhinnie Distillery. Here the long glacial trench which held Loch Ericht, and provided one brief line-of-sight through the tangled mountain architecture to great Ben Alder beyond. Still Ducky looked down Loch Ericht, and longed to be heading out into the mountains and the sight of distant Ben Alder in the rugged distance would stay a challenge unmet.
Then he smiled, remembering the distillery at Dalwinne, and he decided to make that a side trip. It was the highest-elevation working distillery in Scotland, making Dalwhinnie Single Malt...a light, heathery whisky. There he enjoyed a bit of a nip before proceeding on the last leg of his journey, and engaged in conversation with some hikers who'd stopped for a whisky tasting; the topics ranging through history, faith, politics, the Bible, children, business, education, and the foolishness of falling into fast-flowing rivers..
Ducky bid his farewells, but not before purchasing a case of the famed scotch, for it to be shipped home to the States. It would arrive well after he'd returned, since the shipment would take time to clear customs. He took a few extra bottles with him for the cousins as well.
He finally reached one of the more stunning parts of the drive, over the 1100 ft. hairpinned pass of Mam Ratagan down to the village of Glenelg on the Sound of Sleat.
The road itself brought him to a stop at the summit to take in the view, seeing Loch Duich on the near side and and down the glen to Glenelg. The Saddle and Sguirr Fharan on the other, with a surprising bit of early snow on the ground, but then he supposed at this elevation, it was highly likely.
"And here you are," Ducky smiled to himself as he entered the village nestled at the bottom of the glen overlooking the water to Skye – the Misty Isle. Cottages, peat smoke, a pub and a shop, no more than thirty or so houses, that was Glenelg.
The village had little to offer the hedonist, apart from the odd ceilidh, it was more for someone who wanted clean, fresh air, beautiful scenery, and quiet. There were all manner of sporting distractions, shooting, fishing, sailing, biking and walking – but just a walk around Glenelg itself and feeling the serenity it offered, that was what made it special.
Ducky smiled and sighed, supposing this was as close he'd get to being home. He didn't feel that way in Edinburgh; he knew he wouldn't find it in Kilsyth. Reston in Virginia was the only home because of mother, Georgetown...it was a place to hang his hat, but it didn't feel like home. Glenelg, that was what brought back memories, warm and happy ones. Innocent ones. He wondered why he really left so many years ago, and supposed it was simply the restlessness of his youth. He'd spent so many years in school, then to come to Glenelg, a sleepy place and his medical practice lacked excitement...that was it. He went off into the world to do good and to find some excitement in life.
And now he was coming full circle, back to Glenelg to forget his troubles for a bit and find some serenity. That realization he thought rather profound.
He pulled up the Aston Martin onto the driveway to Fidelma's house, one of the larger ones in the village. Like many others she let out rooms, running it as part of a bed and breakfast for visitors heading over to Skye. Since her husband Malcolm had passed, she did it for extra income as his pension wasn't enough to maintain the house. She hadn't the heart to sell it and the reality was that she simply had nowhere else to go.
There were the cousins Argyle and Ewan not far away, but the life on a dairy farmer was not one for Fidelma. She was the woman of the house, and was, like mother had been, accustomed to a certain lifestyle.
The fact that she took care of guests in her home, was a major change in character for her, yet he supposed it was just like entertaining friends. She did adore her parties.
A grey haired woman stepped out the front door, her white apron flying in the chilly off-shore breeze.
"Och! Donald!" She cried out, throwing her arms in the air. Fidelma rushed forward, nearly knocking him to the ground as she grabbed hold of him.
Tears filled both their eyes, as it had been just too long since they'd seen each other, and they walked into the house arm in arm. Ducky pausing for a moment, envisioning mother standing in the doorway smiling at him.
Yes, he was home at last. He suddenly had the image of 'Brigadoon' in his mind, a village lost to the mists of time. Glenelg was like that, as little seemed to have changed.
"Delma, it's so good to see you again my dear." Ducky grinned at her, running his hand along her cheek and looking into her blue eyes.
"And yew as weel. Aye it's be tew long."
"Oh before I forget, I met a friend of yours in Edinburgh...at her restaurant."
"Och, dinna tale me, Glenna?"
"Yes, yes!" He pointed, quite animated that his cousin had guessed. "She said to give you her regards and that she'd be home for a visit soon."
"She's haed a hard life tha' one, it'll be gewd ta sae her again." Fidelma's eye's glazed over for a moment, then focused again, returning to her task at hand.
Ducky watched as she made a pot of tea for them, and thinking it was so nice to see someone brew it properly, none of that tea-dust nonsense.
Delma readied the loose tea leaves, while boiling the water in a modern convenience, an electric tea kettle.
She warmed the teapot with hot tap water and let it stand, covered with a lovely blue cozy, no doubt hand stitched by her. She assembled all the serving accessories, before the water came to a boil...sliced lemons, sugar and honey as well as readying the strainer. She warmed some milk in a small saucepan, putting it on very low heat.
He was delighted to see his cousin measured out the tea leaves into a tea ball, and once water had boiled she immediately poured it into the teapot, covering it again with the cozy while the tea steeped for nearly four minutes.
"I'd know that scent anywhere, Darjeeling?" He smiled.
"Aye, 'tis a rare pleasure as wi' most thae toorists, I use the Brodies tea bags. Tsk, saves a wee bit o' time when there's a fair few ta serve thae meals ta. Och, but they're a bonnie crewd, they are. Nae trable atall.
She poured the milk into a serving cup, then set out the fine china cups and saucers. Ducky held his cup, looking at the design. It was the Royal Albert regency blue design, and no doubt the cup was older than he was. It was stunning with its royal blue, gold and red floret patterns. He remembered them well, and again he had a vision of mother sitting in this very kitchen sipping her tea and laughing and Uncle William's lunatic stories. He swore he saw Nessie once, but that was a night of too many pints at the pub, and he was at the wrong loch.
Delma produced some nice scones fresh out of the oven and those along with some coarse cut marmalade and the tea; Ducky was completely relaxed and feeling the happiest he'd felt in a long time.
The tea and scones finished off, and Delma suggested he might want to freshen up.
"Yes that would be a good idea, you don't have to show me to my room," he smiled, "I remember the way. I just need to get my suitcase and my laptop."
"Nae, Robbie'll dew that."
"Robbie?"
"Poor wee lad, his parents died last year out on the loch, drowned they did. He had nae kith or kin, so he came here ta live wi' me. He's a grand help he is."
A young toe-headed boy, maybe around the age of fourteen peeked his head into the kitchen. He gave Delma a freckle faced smile, and greeted Ducky.
"Haigh, aim Robbie." He held out his hand in a gentlemanly manner and Ducky took hold and shook it.
"It's a pleasure to meet you young man."
"Thank yew, it's a braw place Fidemla has here and aim graetful fer her takin' mae in."
"And I'm happy tha' yer here boy. 'Tis a comfort tae an auld woman."
"You're not old, " both Ducky and the boy chimed in together, followed by a hearty laugh.
Ducky handed the boy the keys to the car, and Robbie disappeared, returning in minutes carrying the suitcase and computer.
"Is this a real computhar?"
"Aye, 'tis," Ducky answered, using the local vernacular. "Have you never seen one?"
"Nae, we dinna have that internet thingy here yet, and can barely get the cell-phone service. But good news is tha' Argyle and Ewan ha' tha' internet thing-a-ma-bob up theer way."
"Good, that's good to know. I may want to contact my assistant at work, just to see how he's doing. This is his first time soloing without me." Ducky winked at her.
"Aye like yer car, posh it 'tis." Robbie smiled ",Are ye a rich mon?"
"Robbie, dinna talk tha' way, 'tis rood." Delma chided.
"No Robbie, I'm not rich, but fairly well off. I've worked hard all my life and after my mother died I came into some money. The car is a rental, that's all. A bit of fun for...an old man."
"Och but it's the car tha' drive in the James Bond movies isn't it?" The boy smiled."Aive seen them on the telly."
"Yes it is," Ducky answered. "If you like, tomorrow we can take a wee ride in it and you can reacquaint me with Glenelg, it's been a long time since I've been here."
The boy looked to Delma for permission.
"Aye," she nodded, ruffling his hair. Och ya wee numpty!
.
numpty - idiot, it's almost an affectionate term of endearment!
* A Munro is a mountain in Scotland with a height over 3,000 ft. so named after Sir Hugh Munro, who produced the first list of such hills, known as Munros Tables, in 1891.
