Glenlyon at Glen Lyon

2.11.19

Did I mention somebody said Glen Lyon was one of the most beautiful Glens in Scotland? Everyone we met today said the same! We’re no experts, but we think it would be hard to beat. In fact, it is also the longest, loneliest and loveliest Glen in Scotland, according to the sign! But I’m getting ahead of myself!

We’d arrived in the dark last night so had no real idea where we were. Our Airbnb is right on Loch Tay, with a road between the cottage and the loch. We have a one bedroom hideaway on the end of the main cottage, with an upstairs lounge. Very warm and comfy. Speccie views of Loch Tay.

The loch frontage belongs to the house, and is like their back/front garden. We could see evidence of a well-used holiday home. Canoe shed, badminton court, fire pit, welly boot display.

Oh, and a Zen Garden! Truly eclectic!

Our mission of course, was to find Glenlyon House. We knew it would be closed for the winter but hoped we’d get permission to take some pics of the outside. We found it easily, just on the edge of historic Fortingall village. There were several cars around, but no people. We knocked on doors, no answer. So we just wandered around and happily snapped away!

You judge…I know where I’d prefer to be!

Glenlyon, Sydney (a few years ago during renos, best we could do).

Or Glenlyon, Glen Lyon!

If, indeed, Alfred Mount had come all the way from the Glen Lyon area to Petersham, I can absolutely understand why images like these would be etched in his memory!

I felt like I’d found a long lost relative! It was a gorgeous “biggish” house, stables out the back and an ornate front door at the base of the turret, with a marble inlaid entrance foyer.

Beside the house was a roaring stream, the noise thundering in a scene that was otherwise overwhelmingly silent.

The statue at the front of the house had a Latin inscription on it that had me puzzled. I did Latin at school, and believe it or not, my teacher was Scottish, 75 year old Mrs McInnes! She would be ashamed of me! But 50 years of inactivity had left me rusty.

Horas nonnum ero nis serenas.

The best I could do was

‘My brightest hours will end here’, but I called on brains trust Chris and I like his version better,

‘Hours that will not end are bright’.

Nearby, Fortingall village lays claim to having the oldest living treasure in Europe in its churchyard, the mighty 5000 yr old Yew Tree. Big call!

But the village had much more to offer. The beautiful churchyard had some ornate headstones, one of which was dedicated to the mother, father and sister of a man who had left the village to settle in Australia.

The imposing Fortingall Inn even shared the main street with an ancient stone circle.

And then there was this.

In the middle of a paddock about 100m from the road, was a stone sticking out on top of a grassy mound. It’s inscription read:

‘Here lie victims of the Great Plague of the 14th Century. Taken here on a Sledge, drawn by a White Horse, led by an old Woman’.

What beautiful words!

It was time to start the drive up Glen Lyon.

The Autumn colours were nearly, but not completely gone.

The Glen closely followed the River Lyon.

At Innerwick there was a WW1 War Memorial. Poignant, in such peaceful surroundings.

The Glen Lyon church boasts the oldest bell in Scotland. I thought it was the one on top of the belfry, but it was actually in a niche in the church portal! The church was very austere, very Presbyterian. But in my book, that’s all you really need if you are having a 1:1 with God.

We had been told by Hilary to look out for the Post Office at The Bridge of Balgie.

The propriotress was renowned for her cooking, particularly her scones. The broccoli and stilton soup wasn’t bad either!

One of us may have indulged in a hot chocolate with loads of whipped cream and marshmallows!

And one of us thought the postbox was a hoot!

It was here, contemplating the meaning of life over scones, jam and cream, that we came up with the momentous decision of what to call our Ford Focus.

Flaunting all previous alphabetical, gender and cultural traditions in our car-naming history, the choice was obvious.

Outlander spelling.

Glen Lyon continued for another 11 miles to Loch Lyon, but as there was no access to the Loch and it was a dead end road, we peeled off over the hills. Following no more than a sheep track really, we passed, well, lots of sheep!

We also passed Lichen na Lairige Reservoir with a very impressive looking wall! Shame it wasn’t the Wall! But you have to admit there are similarities!

Our little road took us back to Loch Tay so we turned right and began a circumnavigation.

Killin was a happening town, with lots of tourists, cafes and a 30 mile Funrun just finishing. The town is joined in the middle by the Bridge of Dochart that guards over the Falls of Dochart.

We parked behind the pub intending to drop in for a wee pint, but found this instead.

Much better choice!

The south side drive of Loch Tay was very picturesque, but light was fading and we weren’t keen to drive in the dark. We made it back to Kenmore just as the sun was sinking over the hills.