Sometimes you can be really lucky and find a corner of the world where you are truly and madly at peace. While Chris and I continue to put off renting a car, we decided to see if we could explore a bit more of Scotland by train, which brought us to our quick early winter trip to Pitlochry. Nestled in Perthshire and lying on the River Tummel, Pitlochry is just a couple of hours by train from Edinburgh. We found an amazing deal and were able to snag two first class seats on the train, which we were well and truly excited about. Our excitement inevitably heightened by the free wine and biscuits along the way. We left after work on a Friday and promptly checked into the Old Mill Inn. We had a room right at the top, complete with a bathtub deserving of its own post and, yes, even more shortbread. As it was the lead up to Christmas the Old Mill Inn had up all its Christmas decorations, and the main street was awash in the glow of tinsel and twinkly lights. The next morning, we awoke to a mist suspended just above the chimney tops which had just about dissipated by the time we’d tucked into our hearty Scottish breakfast. We decided to go for a walk and made our way towards Ben Vrackie. We had no intention of climbing the entire Ben, just wanted to wander and see where we’d end up. Well. We ended up quite high. I blame the charm of the walk. It was very distracting. We passed through the town, winding our way through fields of grazing sheep and singing birds. The whole thing was very bucolic. We passed by the stream, and the sign that eloquently spoke about how this trickle of water was later turned into the local whisky once it had made its way to the local distillery. The weather was unusually clear and crisp and bright, and we found ourselves walking into what childhood me truly imagined the secret garden to look like. We continued on the upwards path, half expecting a faerie to poke out from behind the bushes. Before we knew it, we had reached the top of a very tall hill, greeted with a sign detailing the danger if we were to continue. Turns out we were climbing Ben Vrackie all along and just didn’t realise it. We spoke to some very helpful hikers, all about 40 years older than us and all equipped in some serious ice climbing equipment. They said it could be quite treacherous at the top and that the weather could turn dramatically quickly. We decided to give it a go anyway. After all, we didn’t have much water, we certainly didn’t have hiking boots or any other appropriate equipment, but we did have percy pigs. And what more do you need. Up we went, marveling at the views as the air grew slightly chillier and the smell of coal fires was replaced with the taste of the wind blowing over ice. We made our way right to the base of the final peak. The loch was completely frozen over and, although there were people around, it really did feel like you were alone in the world. Our rational brains kicked in and we decided that climbing a very precarious and slippery looking set of stairs to the top probably wasn’t the best idea, so we memorised as much of the view as possible before beginning the walk down. Fingers slightly numb, cheeks flushed, and completely pleased with ourselves. I’m very much a city dweller and you couldn’t pay me to go camping but my goodness were we both completely and utterly charmed by Pitlochry. A trend which continued into the evening as we wandered the town to admire the river. Pitlochry has a salmon ladder, and although not operational that time of year, it made for a very interesting walk. The weather was unusually still and the water looked like glass before plummeting down to the level below. At this point we decided that this would be somewhere we would come back to every year for as long as we live in Scotland. While I can’t imagine that we will ever be as lucky with the weather, I’m still very excited for this tradition.
The next day we walked up to see Black Spout Wood, once again surrounded by the most beautiful light bouncing off the falling leaves. We wandered around the grounds of the hydro hotel before tucking into a delicious Sunday roast back at the Old Mill Inn. Before we knew it, we had hopped on the train back to Edinburgh, sad to be leaving, happy to be headed home, feet completely sore, and both of us well and truly content.
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