cleared off afterwards. We saw the woods of Lord Huntly’s forest, and
the hills which one sees from the road to _Aboyne_. Instead of going
on to _Aboyne_ we turned to the left, leaving the _Bridge of Aboyne_
(which we had not seen before) to the right. A little beyond this, out
of sight of all habitations, we found the postmaster, with another
carriage for us. This was 22 miles from _Fettercairn_. We crossed
the _Tanar Water_, and drove to the left up _Glen Tanar_--a really
beautiful and richly-wooded glen, between high hills--part of Lord
Huntly’s forest. We drove on about six miles, and then stopped, as it
was past two, to get our luncheon. The day kept quite fair in spite of
threatening clouds and gathering mist. The spot where we lunched was
very pretty. This over, we walked on a little, and then got into the
carriages again, and drove to the end of the glen--out of the trees to
_Eatnoch_, on to a keeper’s house in the glen--a very lonely place,
where our ponies were. It was about four when we arrived. A wretched
idiot girl was here by herself, as tall as Lady Churchill; but a good
deal bent, and dressed like a child, with a pinafore and short-cut
hair. She sat on the ground with her hands round her knees, rocking
herself to and fro and laughing; she then got up and walked towards us.
General Grey put himself before me, and she went up to him, and began
taking hold of his coat, and putting her hand into his pockets, which
set us all off laughing, sad as it was. An old man walked up hastily
soon after, and on Lady Churchill asking him if he knew that poor girl,
he said, “Yes, she belongs to me, she has a weakness in her mind;” and
led her off hurriedly.
We walked on a few hundred yards, and then mounted our ponies a little
higher up, and then proceeded across the other shoulder of the hill
we had come down yesterday--crossed the boggy part, and came over the
_Polach_ just as in going. The mist on the distant hills, _Mount Keen_,
&c., made it feel chilly. Coming down the peat-road[54] to the _Bridge
of Muich_, the view of the valleys of _Muich_, _Gairn_, and _Ballater_
was beautiful. As we went along I talked frequently with good Grant.
[54] Grant told me in May, 1862, that, when the Prince stopped behind
with him, looking at the Choils which he intended as a deer-forest for
the Prince of Wales, and giving his directions as to the planting in
Glen Muich, he said to Grant,—“You and I may be dead and gone before
that.” In less than three months, alas! his words were verified as
regards himself! He was ever cheerful, but ever ready and prepared.
We found my dearest Mother’s sociable, a fine large one, which she
has left to Albert, waiting to take us back. It made me very sad, and
filled my eyes with tears. Oh, in the midst of cheerfulness, I feel so
sad! But being out a great deal here--and seeing new and fine scenery,
does me good.
We got back to _Balmoral_, much pleased with our expedition, at seven
o’clock. We had gone 42 miles to-day, and 40 yesterday, in all 82.
EXPEDITION TO LOCH AVON.
_Saturday, September 28, 1861._
Looked out very anxiously. A doubtful morning; still gleams of
sunshine burst through the mist, and it seemed improving all round.
We breakfasted at a quarter to eight, with Alice and Louis, in our
sitting-room; and started at half-past eight. Louis and Alice with us,
Grant and Brown on the box, as usual. The morning greatly improved.
We drove along the north side of the river, the day clearing very much,
and becoming really fine. We took post-horses at _Castleton_, and drove
up to the _Derry_ (the road up _Glen Luie_ very bad indeed); and here
we mounted our ponies, and proceeded the usual way up _Glen Derry_,
as far as where the path turns up to _Loch Etchan_. Instead of going
that way, we proceeded straight on--a dreadfully rough, stony road,
though not steep, but rougher than anything we ever rode upon before,
and terrible for the poor horses’ feet. We passed by two little lakes
called the _Dhoolochans_, opposite to where the glen runs down to
_Inchrory_, and after crossing them, there was a short boggy bit, where
I got off and walked some way on the opposite side, along the “brae”
of the hill, on the other side of which the loch lies, and then got
on again. It was so saturated with water, that the moss and grass and
everything were soaked,--not very pleasant riding, particularly as it
was along the slope of the hill. We went on and on, nearly two miles
from the foot of this hill, expecting to see the loch, but another low
hill hid it from us, till at length we came in sight of it; and nothing
could be grander and wilder--the rocks are so grand and precipitous,
and the snow on _Ben Muich Dhui_ had such a fine effect.
We saw the spot at the foot of _Loch Etchan_ to which we scrambled last
year, and looked down upon _Loch Avon_. It was very cold and windy.
At length, at a quarter-past two, we sat down behind a large stone a
little above the loch (unfortunately, we could not go to the extreme
end, where the water rushes into it). We lunched as quickly as we
could, and then began walking back, and crossed the hill higher up than
in coming. I walked for some time, but it was not easy, from the great
wet and the very uneven ground. Good Louis helped me often; Albert
and Alice running along without assistance. Remounted my pony, which,
as well as Albert’s, went beautifully, carefully led by that most
attentive of servants, Brown. I had again to get off before we crossed
by the _Dhoolochans_; but after that we rode back the whole way.
We had the same guide, Charlie Stewart, who took us to _Glen Fishie_
last year, and who walks wonderfully. We had two slight showers going
down, and saw that there had been much more rain below. We found the
_Ford of the Derry_ very deep, nearly up to the ponies’ girths; and
the roughness and stoniness of the road is beyond everything, but the
ponies picked their way like cats. We were down at the _Derry_ by
nearly six o’clock; the distance to _Loch Avon_ being ten miles. Found
our carriages there: it was already getting darkish, but still it was
quite light enough to enable the post-boys to see their way.
At the bridge at _Mar Lodge_, Brown lit the lanterns. We gave him and
Grant our plaids to put on, as we always do when they have walked
a long way with us and drive afterwards. We took our own horses at
_Castleton_, and reached _Balmoral_ at ten minutes past eight, much
pleased with the success of our expedition, and really _not_ tired. We
dined _en famille_.
THIRD GREAT EXPEDITION:--TO GLEN FISHIE, DALWHINNIE, AND BLAIR ATHOLE.
_Tuesday, October 8, 1861._
The morning was dull and rather overcast; however, we decided to go.
General Grey had gone on before. We three ladies drove in the sociable:
Albert and Louis in a carriage from _Castleton_. The clouds looked
heavy and dark, though not like mist hanging on the mountains. Down
came a heavy shower; but before we reached _Castleton_ it cleared; blue
sky appeared; and, as there was much wind, Grant thought all would
be well, and the day very fine. Changed horses at _Castleton_, and
drove beyond the _Linn of Dee_ to the _Giuly_ or _Geldie Water_--just
where last year we mounted our ponies, 18 miles from _Balmoral_. Here
we found our ponies--“Inchrory” for me, and a new pony for Alice--a
tall grey one, ugly but safe. The others rode their usual ones. The
same guide, Charlie Stewart, was there, and a pony for the luncheon
panniers, and a spare one for Grant and others to ride in turn.
We started about ten minutes past eleven, and proceeded exactly as last
year, fording the _Geldie_ at first very frequently. The ground was
wet, but not worse than last year. We had gone on very well for about
an hour, when the mist thickened all round, and down came heavy, or
at least beating, rain with wind. With the help of an umbrella, and
waterproofs and a plaid, I kept quite dry. Dearest Albert, who walked
from the time the ground became boggy, got very wet, but was none
the worse for it, and we got through it much better than before; we
ladies never having to get off our ponies. At length at two o’clock,
just as we were entering that beautiful _Glen Fishie_, which at its
commencement reminds one of _The Burn_ (McInroy’s), it cleared and
became quite fine and very mild. Brown waded through the _Etchart_
leading my pony; and then two of the others, who were riding together
on another pony, dropped the whole bundle of cloaks into the water!
The falls of the _Stron-na-Barin_, with that narrow steep glen, which
you ride up, crossing at the bottom, were in great beauty. We stopped
before we entered the wood, and lunched on the bank overhanging the
river, where General Grey joined us, and gave us an account of his
arrangements. We lunched rather hurriedly, remounted our ponies and
rode a short way--till we came near to a very steep place, not very
pleasant to ride. So fine! numberless little burns running down in
cascades. We walked a short way, and then remounted our ponies; but as
we were to keep on the other side of the river, not by the _Invereshie_
huts, we had to get off for a few hundred yards, the path being so
narrow as to make it utterly unsafe to ride. Alice’s pony already
began to slip. The huts, surrounded by magnificent fir-trees, and by
quantities of juniper-bushes, looked lovelier than ever; and we gazed
with sorrow at their utter ruin. I felt what a delightful little
encampment it must have been, and how enchanting to live in such a spot
as this beautiful solitary wood in a glen surrounded by the high hills.
We got off, and went into one of the huts to look at a fresco of stags
of Landseer’s, over a chimney-piece. Grant, on a pony, led me through
the _Fishie_ (all the fords are deep) at the foot of the farm-houses,
where we met Lord and Lady Alexander Russell last year--and where we
this time found two carriages. We dismounted and entered them, and were
off at five o’clock--we were to have started at four.
We four drove together by the same way as we rode last year (and
nothing could be rougher for driving), quite to the second wood, which
led us past _Loch Inch_; but we turned short of the loch to the left
along the high road. Unfortunately by this time it was nearly dark,
and we therefore lost a great deal of the fine scenery. We had ridden
15 miles. We drove along the road over several bridges--the _Bridge of
Carr_, close below the ruined _Castle of Ruthven_, which we could just
descry in the dusk--and on a long wooden bridge over the _Spey_ to an
inn at _Kingussie_, a very straggling place with very few cottages.
Already, before we arrived there, we were struck by people standing
at their cottage doors, and evidently looking out, which made us
believe we were expected. At _Kingussie_ there was a small, curious,
chattering crowd of people--who, however, did not really make us out,
but evidently suspected who we were. Grant and Brown kept them off
the carriages, and gave them evasive answers, directing them to the
wrong carriage, which was most amusing. One old gentleman, with a high
wide-awake, was especially inquisitive.
We started again, and went on and on, passing through the village of
_Newtonmoore_, where the footman McDonald[55] comes from. Here the
_Spey_ is crossed at its junction with the _Truim_, and then the road
ascends for ten miles more to _Dalwhinnie_. It became cold and windy
with occasional rain. At length, and not till a quarter to nine, we
reached the inn of _Dalwhinnie_,--29 miles from where we had left our
ponies,--which stands by itself, away from any village. Here, again,
there were a few people assembled, and I thought they knew us; but it
seems they did not, and it was only when we arrived that one of the
maids recognized me. She had seen me at _Aberdeen_ and _Edinburgh_.
We went upstairs: the inn was much larger than at _Fettercairn_,
but not nearly so nice and cheerful; there was a drawing-room and
a dining-room; and we had a very good-sized bed-room. Albert had a
dressing-room of equal size. Mary Andrews[56] (who was very useful and
efficient) and Lady Churchill’s maid had a room together, every one
being in the house; but unfortunately there was hardly anything to eat,
and there was only tea, and two miserable starved Highland chickens,
without any potatoes! No pudding, and no _fun_; no little maid (the two
there not wishing to come in), nor our two people--who were wet and
drying our and their things--to wait on us! It was not a nice supper;
and the evening was wet. As it was late we soon retired to rest. Mary
and Maxted (Lady Churchill’s maid) had been dining below with Grant,
Brown, and Stewart (who came, the same as last time, with the maids)
in the “commercial room” at the foot of the stairs. They had only the
remnants of our two starved chickens!
[55] He died at Abergeldie last year of consumption; and his widow, an
excellent person, daughter of Mitchell the blacksmith at Balmoral, is
now my wardrobe-maid.
[56] One of my wardrobe-maids--now dresser to Princess Helena
(Princess Christian). Her father was thirty-eight years with my dear
uncle the King of the Belgians.
_Wednesday, October 9._
A bright morning, which was very charming. Albert found, on getting up,
that Cluny Macpherson, with his piper and two ladies, had arrived quite
early in the morning; and, while we were dressing, we heard a drum and
fife--and discovered that the newly-formed volunteers had arrived--all
indicating that we were discovered. However, there was scarcely any
population, and it did not signify. The fat old landlady had put on
a black satin dress, with white ribbons and orange flowers! We had
breakfast at a quarter to nine o’clock; at half-past nine we started.
Cluny was at the door with his wife and daughters with nosegays,
and the volunteers were drawn up in front of the inn. They had all
assembled since Saturday afternoon!
We drove as we did yesterday. Fine and very wild scenery, high wild
hills, and no habitations. We went by the _Pass of Drumouchter_, with
fine hills on both sides and in front of us; passed between two, the
one on our left called _The Boar of Badenoch_, and that on the right,
_The Athole Sow_. The _Pass of Drumouchter_ separates _Perthshire_ from
_Inverness-shire_.
Again, a little farther on, we came to _Loch Garry_, which is very
beautiful--but the mist covered the furthest hills, and the extreme
distance was clouded. There is a small shooting-lodge, or farm,
charmingly situated, looking up the glen on both sides, and with the
loch in front; we did not hear to whom it belonged. We passed many
drovers, without their herds and flocks, returning, Grant told us, from
_Falkirk_. We had one very heavy shower after _Loch Garry_ and before
we came to _Dalnacardoch Inn_, 13 miles from _Dalwhinnie_. The road
goes beside the _Garry_. The country for a time became flatter; but was
a good deal cultivated. At _Dalnacardoch Inn_ there was a suspicion
and expectation of our arrival. Four horses with smart postilions were
in waiting; but, on General Grey’s saying that this was _not_ the
party, but the one for whom only two horses had been ordered, a shabby
pair of horses were put in; a shabby driver driving from the box (as
throughout this journey), and off we started.
The _Garry_ is very fine, rolling along over large stones--like the
_Quoich_ and the _Fishie_, and forming perpetual falls, with birch
and mountain-ash growing down to the water’s edge. We had some more
heavy showers. A few miles from _Dalnacardoch_ the Duke of Athole (in
his kilt and shooting-jacket, as usual) met us on a pretty little
chestnut pony, and rode the whole time near the carriage. He said,
there were vague suspicions and rumours of our coming, but he had told
no one anything. There was again a shower, but it cleared when we came
in sight of _Ben-y-Ghlo_, and the splendid _Pass of Killiekrankie_,
which, with the birch all golden,--not, as on _Deeside_, bereft of
leaves,--looked very beautiful.
We passed by the _Bruar_, and the road to the _Falls of the Bruar_,
but could not stop. The Duke took us through a new approach, which
is extremely pretty; but near which, I cannot help regretting, the
railroad will come, as well as along the road by which we drove through
the _Pass of Drumouchter_. The Duke has made great improvements,
and the path looked beautiful, surrounded as it is by hills; and
the foliage still full, though in all its autumn tints--the whole
being lit up with bright sunshine. We drove through an avenue, and
in a few minutes more were at the door of the old castle. A thousand
recollections of seventeen years ago crowded upon me--all seemed so
familiar again! No one there except the dear Duchess, who stood at the
door, and whom I warmly embraced; and Miss Mac Gregor. How well I
recognized the hall with all the sporting trophies; and the staircase,
which we went up at once. The Duchess took us to a room which I
recognized immediately as the one where Lady Canning lived. There we
took off our things--then went to look at the old and really very
handsome rooms in which we had lived--the one in which Vicky had slept
in two chairs, then not four years old! In the dining-room we took some
coffee, which was most welcome; and then we looked at all the stags’
horns put up in one of the corridors below; saw the Duke’s pet dog, a
smooth-haired black terrier, very fat; and then got into the carriage,
a very peculiar one, viz., a _boat_--a mere boat (which is very light),
put on four wheels, drawn by a pair of horses with a postilion.
Into this we four got, with the Duke and Duchess and the dog;--Lady
Churchill, General Grey, and Miss Mac Gregor going in another carriage;
with our two servants on the box, to whom all this was quite new and
a great treat. The morning was beautiful. It was half-past twelve--we
drove up by the avenue and about a favourite walk of ours in ’44,
passed through the gate, and came on to _Glen Tilt_--which is most
striking, the road winding along, first on one side of the _Tilt_, and
then on the other; the fine high hills rising very abruptly from each
side of the rapid, rocky, stony river _Tilt_--the trees, chiefly birch
and alder, overhanging the water.
We passed the _Marble Lodge_, in which one of the keepers lives, and
came to _Forest Lodge_, where the road for carriages ends, and the
glen widens. There were our ponies, which had passed the night at the
_Bainoch_ or _Beynoch_ (a shooting “shiel” of Lord Fife’s). They came
over this morning; but, poor beasts, without having had any corn!
_Forest Lodge_ is eight miles from _Blair_. There we took leave of the
dear Duchess; and saw old Peter Frazer, the former head-keeper there,
now walking with the aid of two sticks! The Duke’s keepers were there,
his pipers, and a gentleman staying on a visit with him.
It was barely two o’clock when we started. We on our ponies, the Duke
and his men (twelve altogether) on foot--Sandy McAra, now head-keeper,
grown old and grey, and two pipers, preceded us; the two latter playing
alternately the whole time, which had a most cheerful effect. The wild
strains sounded so softly amid those noble hills; and our caravan
winding along--our people and the Duke’s all in kilts, and the ponies,
made altogether a most picturesque scene.
One of the Duke’s keepers, Donald Macbeath, is a guardsman, and was in
the _Crimea_. He is a celebrated marksman, and a fine-looking man, as
all the Duke’s men are. For some little time it was easy riding, but
soon we came to a rougher path, more on the “brae” of the hill, where
the pony required to be led, which I always have done, either when it
is at all rough or bad, or when the pony has to be got on faster.
The Duke walked near me the greater part of the time; amusingly saying,
in reference to former times, that he did not offer to lead me, as he
knew I had no confidence in him. I replied, laughingly, “Oh, no, only I
like best being led by the person I am accustomed to.”
At length, at about three, we stopped, and lunched at a place called
_Dalcronachie_, looking up a glen towards _Loch Loch_--on a high bank
overhanging the _Tilt_. Looking back the view was very fine; so, while
the things were being unpacked for lunch, we sketched. We brought our
own luncheon, and the remainder was as usual given to the men, but
this time there were a great many to feed. After luncheon we set off
again. I walked a few paces; but as it was very wet, and the road very
rough, by Albert’s desire I got on again. A very few minutes brought
us to the celebrated ford of the _Tarff_, (_Poll Tarff_ it is called,)
which is very deep--and after heavy rain almost impassable. The Duke
offered to lead the pony on one side, and talked of Sandy for the other
side, but I asked for Brown (whom I have far the most confidence in)
to lead the pony, the Duke taking hold of it (as he did frequently) on
the other side. Sandy McAra, the guide, and the two pipers went first,
playing all the time. To all appearance the ford of the _Tarff_ was not
deeper than the other fords, but once in it the men were above their
knees--and suddenly in the middle, where the current, from the fine,
high, full falls, is very strong, it was nearly up to the men’s waists.
Here Sandy returned, and I said to the Duke (which he afterwards
joked with Sandy about) that I thought he (Sandy) had better take the
Duke’s place; he did so, and we came very well through, all the others
following, the men chiefly wading--Albert (close behind me) and the
others riding through--and some of our people coming over double on the
ponies. General Grey had little Peter Robertson up behind him.
The road after this became almost precipitous, and indeed made riding
very unpleasant; but being wet, and difficult to walk, we ladies rode,
Albert walking the greater part of the time. Only once, for a very few
steps, I had to get off, as the pony could hardly keep its footing. As
it was, Brown constantly could not walk next to the pony, but had to
scramble below, or pull it after him. The Duke was indefatigable.
[Illustration: FORDING THE POLL TARF.
_After a Drawing by Carl Haag._]
The _Tilt_ becomes narrower and narrower, till its first source is
almost invisible. The _Tarff_ flows into the _Tilt_, about two miles
or more beyond the falls. We emerged from the pass upon an open
valley--with less high hills and with the hills of _Braemar_ before us.
We crossed the _Bainoch_ or _Bynack_, quite a small stream, and when
we came to the “County March”--where _Perth_ and _Aberdeen_ join--we
halted. The Duke gave Albert and me some whisky to drink, out of an
old silver flask of his own, and then made a short speech proposing my
health, expressing the pleasure with which he and all had received me
at _Blair_, and hoping that I would return as often as I liked, and
that I should have a safe return home; ending by the true Highland
“Nis! nis! nis! Sit air a-nis! A-ris! a-ris! a-ris!” (pronounced:
“Neesh! neesh! neesh! Sheet eir, a-neesh! A-rees! a-rees! a-rees!”)
which means: “Now! now! now! That to him, now! Again! again! again!”
which was responded to by cheering from all. Grant then proposed “three
cheers for the Duke of Athole,” which was also very warmly responded
to;--my pony (good “Inchrory”), which went admirably, rather resenting
the vehemence of Brown’s cheering.
We then went on again for about three miles to the _Bainoch_, which we
reached at ten minutes to six, when it was already nearly dark. As we
approached the “shiel,” the pipers struck up, and played. The ponies
went so well with the pipes, and altogether it was very pleasant to
ride and walk with them. They played “the Athole Highlanders” when we
started, and again in coming in.
Lady Fife had very kindly come down to the _Bainoch_ herself, where she
gave us tea, which was very welcome. We then got into our carriages,
wishing the good Duke of Athole good-by. He was going back the whole
way--which was certainly rather a hazardous proceeding, at least an
adventurous one, considering the night, and that there was no moon--and
what the road was! We got home safely at a quarter-past eight. The
night was quite warm, though slightly showery--but became very clear
and starlight later.