Tags
Anagach Woods, bird cherry, bog cotton, Caledonian forest, Clan Chattan, Clan Grant, Clarsach, Cromdale brooch, Curling, Decimalisation, dipper, Grant Arms Hotel, Grantown-on-Spey, Grantown-on-Spey-Museum, grey wagtail, James Grant, James Grant of Grant, mallard, pied wagtail, Ramsay MacDonald, River Spey, Spotted flycatcher, Springwatch, Strathspey, Treecreeper, wild lupin
Friday 31st May. On offer this morning was a walk in the local woods, led by Simon, one of the experts on hand in the hotel. With three other residents, I availed myself of it. We started at the local golf course,
where we saw nothing of interest, though Simon did his best to convince us that this was a rare Scottish wild cat.
The Anagach Woods were established in 1766 by James Grant of Grant (more later), but they look very natural, and provide excellent habitat for local fauna.
And flora.
As we walked through the woods, for much of the time to the right was acidic boggy land with stunted trees that could be 200 years old.
To our left, classic Caledonian forest, (the BBC’s ‘Springwatch’ is currently coming from just a few miles away) allowing lots of light through to nourish berry-bearing plants, good food for native species.
We emerged from forest into more open land, and I learned that this native tree was called bird cherry.
We reached the River Spey, and went on to a bridge. (Of which, annoyingly, I did not think to take a photo when we later went down to the path on the right hand side.)
You don’t often get the chance to see a mallard’s orange feet so clearly.
On the far side of the bridge I was able to see this bird, identified for me as a spotted flycatcher.
I said that I couldn’t see any spots, even when it obligingly turned round for me.
But spotted flycatcher it was, I was assured.
From the bridge I was also able to wonder at these wild lupins, through which we were to wander minutes later. We also saw a very newly fledged grey wagtail.
Once down there, along the bank we watched a fledged pied wagtail being fed. Its parent was too quick for me.
Further along was a dipper, again it was thought, newly fledged, not least because it was showing a marked reluctance to dip.
And then there were two, sibling fledglings. Believe it or not.
As we started to walk back, completing a loop, it started to spit. I was able to notice and admire these patriotic finials.
By the time we were back at the hotel, via the Post Office in my case, it was pouring.
And still was in the afternoon, so instead of pursuing my rural intentions, I did that standby of wet afternoons, the local museum.
Which was small and perfectly formed. I learned that the Clan Grant had been around for a few centuries when Sir James Grant of Grant, he of the Anagach Woods, and known as ‘the good Sir James’, decided, in the mid-eighteenth century, to create a town on the River Spey. It didn’t become quite the boom town he had hoped, because it was too distant from anywhere, but it throve nevertheless, especially once it had become such a sought after place for holidays and leisure a hundred years later.
I learned about the superclan (that’s my word) Chattan, and its motto ‘Touch not the cat bot [without] a glove’, meaning that they were fierce fighters. This was a confederation of clans and large families with origins at least as far back as the fourteenth century. The wild cats engraved on this large 1600s brooch, the Cromdale brooch, suggest it may have a connection to the Clan Chattan.
Alone in the museum, for 15 minutes I got quite emotional as I took up the invitation, below, to try the clàrsach, which was perfectly in tune, picking out tunes and even singing with it. (In the evening, I spent some time researching the cost of and how to play the instrument, I had been so moved by the experience, but have reluctantly come to the conclusion that I am unlikely to be any more successful with this instrument than I have been with any requiring the co-ordination of more than two fingers!)
Tearing myself away – I felt I could have stayed there for hours – I perused the rest of the museum, which featured various professions and achievements of the town’s residents, including the inventor of the flush toilet. (No pictures!)
I was fascinated by these next two images when I came to see them on screen. The light was flickering a little on the display of the curling stone, but my eyes did not see the complete darkness the camera did as it took the photos on burst.
Finally, the 1970s are clearly history to some, though I can remember the day we converted to decimal coins as if it were yesterday. Ironically, I was working in H M Treasury in Whitehall at the time. The lady on the sandwich kiosk was having a terrible time with the new coinage, and the queue was very long indeed!
At the end of our walk was a tunnel, through which the levada continued, and along which we had been intended to walk, but I was glad that that thought had been abandoned – it would have meant uncomfortable bending over for 800 metres. 
I did venture a very little way into it, and if this photo is viewed on a big enough screen, the light at the end of the tunnel can just be seen.
My memory of this place in November 2016 was of a meal taken in a revolving restaurant. This time our stop was for coffee, and then for a very short exploration of the local geology. I nipped off at one point to buy some cherries from a stall, and when I rejoined the group they were all staring at the beach. I could see a tern or to. 
And I liked these contrasting grey textures. 
Only on looking more closely did I see that some of the stones were in fact terns, roseate terns I was informed. 
From here we were taken just a very short distance westwards, and deposited to walk along the old coastal road (closed to traffic) for about a mile.
Two of us were ahead of the others, so we were the first to venture in to this tunnel, which we could see was dripping wet for the first and last several metres. 
It was fun, once emerged from it, to see the others noticing the ‘hazard’ and then venturing in. 
From here we were taken via Seixal to Châo da Ribeira, where there were picnic benches. The sun had gone in again, and it was again a little chilly. We were joined by 5 feral cats and a kitten, all very wary, but won over by gifts of ham and cheese. 
From here we went for a short walk in the 
Lunch had been late, and we were running later. We made just one more stop on the way back to the hotel, to see the rare Madeiran saxifrage. Here it is: 
and here are some of us looking at it. 
Another lovely dinner in a Funchal restaurant, another fitness session back up to the hotel. Then watching a fireworks display taking place back down in the harbour, an event which the town of Funchal lays on every Saturday evening in June.
Perhaps it was my mood, certainly not helped by the dull weather, but I felt decidedly grumpy and unimpressed as I entered the cathedral, even if it was dedicated to St Cecilia, the modern-day patron saint of musicians. I knew that the ticket I had bought would get me in to the ‘Grand Choeur‘, but the high altar seemed to be to my left as I walked in, whereas the layout of the building would lead me think it should be to the right. No-one was checking my ticket either, which was puzzling. 
Anyway, I did like this modern altar and lectern. 
And I was impressed by the rood-screen behind me, of which this is just a segment. 
Once I had the audioguide all became clear. The west-facing worship is the result of the desire to save the very intricate and huge rood-screen, carved from a limestone which hardens over time. At the time when Catholic worship changed to include the congregation, not just the monks and priests, most rood-screens were destroyed. Here, however, they decided to turn worship round, and have the congregation facing west – most unusual. What I had seen already was not the Grand Choeur. My ticket was to get me into that – facing East – and the treasury, and supply the audioguide. I visited the treasury first. 
This window on the way up the steep spiral staircase to get to it is a reminder that churches were fortified in those turbulent days of the 
Then I moved into the Great Choir itself, which was very ornate, a great contrast with the outside of the basilica. 
On emerging from the cathedral into the wet again, 
I went back to the previous café for a bowl of soup, though on seeing the menu I had a very nice salad instead. Clever clogs then thought she would try another, seemingly more pleasant, route back to the car to feed the meter. And couldn’t find the car. Found herself outside the metered area, so knew she had gone too far. Felt very frustrated, not yet despairing, but really didn’t want to go all the way back to the centre and out again. Then….. I remembered that I had my satnav with me, and that I had registered on it where the car was parked! Only three minutes’ walk away but I would never have known.
This was established by T-L’s mother, after her son’s early death, in the 
Another audio-guide took me round. I did much enjoy this visit, and here’s just a small selection of pictures I saw.
I drove on
By now it was nearly lunchtime, so I looked out for either something to buy or somewhere to eat. Everything shut – it was Monday, as I explained to some Canadian (?) tourists who approached me to ask firstly if I spoke English and then if I had seen an open restaurant. I walked up to one of the two castles. Given the age of each, I was not sure whether this was the old one or the new one, but I took a few more photos up there. 
When I eventually found parking, I saw from my satnav that the interesting old town was pedestrianised, and a five- to ten-minute walk away. I didn’t get out of my car. 
A further long drive followed, and I was delighted that the satnav took me off the main roads and by some fields of wildflowers, and between rain showers. Sadly, I don’t think these photos do justice their prettiness.
As I was gasping by now for a drink, I just parked in the centre of 