Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
'Awright. I just thought when it said “Palm” it might mean …'
'What?'
'Nothing.'
* * *
Next day is Friday and we have to leave; originally we'd meant to have the whole week
but Jim has to be back home for the weekend so we settle up and head south through an-
other Whew-it's-a-scorcher-sez-the-Scum-stylee day.
However we get to see wolves, which is entirely the coolest thing about this day.
They're at the Highland Wildlife Park, between Aviemore and Kingussie, along with
enormous black Highland cattle, European bison, Przewalski's horse and just about every
animal presently or ever associated with Scotland. The wolves have their own big en-
closure so they don't eat the other animals, and they pad quietly along their bit of green
hillside like grey ghosts, stealthily impressive. We investigate the smaller forest enclos-
ure where various birds and polecats, wildcats and pine martens hang out, some of the
latter in caged areas linked by a complicated system of aerial runs made of wood and wire
mesh, reminding me oddly of a train set. Mostly the animals are pretty quiet, but they
look dozily content on this hot day.
The golden eagle does not look happy; it has a fair-size rocky bit of hillside fenced
off for its use but it keeps launching itself at the hessian side netting as though trying to
escape, and its enclosure just isn't big enough, not by about a mountain range or so. I'd
rather see some well-shot high definition film of an animal like this than have to watch
it suffer in what must seem to it like a punishment cell. Actually I'd rather see a grainy
black and white photo than this; it's the only off-note in the park, which otherwise seems
well set out for the comfort of the animals. Well, having said that, the café isn't great
either, but we have a snack that is at least edible and head for our homes through what
feels like summer heat.
Even the Jag is sounding like it's got all cranky in the high temperatures, idling at
1500 revs and running on after the ignition's been switched off, coughing and popping
before spluttering to a stop. I contemplate trying to fiddle with its carbs, maybe adjust the
slow running jets, but I'm worried I'll just make matters worse, so just let it rev away; I'll
book it in for a service tomorrow.
We take a certified long-distance multiple GWR; the great A9 short cut, leaving the
main road just before the end of its longest dual carriageway section to head over the
hills for Trinafour, Tummel Bridge, Schiehallion and the Appin of Dull (for about three
decades I've meant to stop and take a photograph of me standing to the side of the sign
that says 'Dull'; finally I get to). Past Castle Menzies and through Weem for Aberfeldy.
Near the Castle is the House of Menzies, which is a sort of combined art gallery, coffee
