Today was a late start for a late starting time at a very special Speyside golf course called Boat of Garten. There used to be a small ferry across the Spey River and so the town and golf course were named for the boat. We have known about this course since our first visit when we stopped by on a very rainy afternoon to have a look at here and at Granton on Spey. All these years, we’ve been thinking about the special magic of the Spey Valley, but we were set on playing only links courses, so these “parkland” courses were out for us. Last year changed all that. I booked us a darling B&B in Kingussie, and we did it all and loved it so much that this year we decided to come back. Yesterday, it was Granton on Spey. Today was Boat of Garten. The people here are so kind. The starter gave us the member discount. Our hostess gave us a bag of giant homemade muffins, and the bookshop lady, Margie, gave us a discount on our huge purchase. I stopped a young man on the street, finally, to ask about the Art Gallery. He said that the owner, Angus, was his teacher. I’ll take you right there!” And I’m delighted to say that in the Spey Valley, there are no 9-passenger vans full of large Americans anywhere in sight!
We started Boat of Garten in a light shower and remembered almost every hole and pin placement from last year. I’m happy to say that we both played so much better this time. Our Stableford games resulted in another tie and we both played below our handicaps. Hooray! The conditions were quite difficult because when the showers stopped, the wind started—great when it comes from behind. Horrible to hit into.
So much of Scotland is a fairytale. The little villages with identically pointed roofs (which I call “chimney towns”), the winding streets, the cheerful faces, and now a steam train! On the 6th hole, the Speyside Train came chugging down the tracks, parallel to the course. Puffs of steam, the thump-thump-thump of the wheels, and the toot of the whistle were so iconic. We dropped our bags and started photographing.
And a new word, if you haven’t heard of it—bothy. A bothy is a little building meant to shelter travelers from the weather and perhaps offer a little comfort. Last year, we played behind the ladies’ club and so when we reached the bothy, they urged us to finish off the whisky and muffins. This year, we just filled our water bottle and moved on, but it’s a darling bothy just the same.
When we got to hole 16, my mind was blank. I remembered nothing but on 18 it all came back to me. “Don’t put your ball in the trees!” I shouted through the wind. Neither of us did and we finished nicely. We went right from the course to the restaurant. Golf course food is always right for a blustery day.
From there, we made directly for the local distillery. It was a race to beat their closing time. Cairn Distillery is just two years old and completely cutting edge. The building is huge, full of windows looking out at the scenery, and a bit of steam coming out of the great chimney. Everything is automated. As we approached the building, an elderly man pulled open the door with a big smile. His boss already knew we wanted the tour and started right in, listing all the tastes we were going to get, though we’d have to hurry through the tour because of the late hour. No mention of any kind of pay. Then to reassure herself, “You are the Morrisons, aren’t you?” When I said we weren’t, there was a hush. “We were expecting the owner’s investors. Our mistake. We’ll give you the quick tour, as an apology, but sorry, no tastes.” Indeed, we had a lovely quick tour and were quickly ushered to the exit afterwards with “Please come back tomorrow!” We were very content with the tour and hospitality, and being taken for dignitaries, indeed!
From there, we shopped the High Street and went from the bookshop to the art gallery, chatted and made more friends, then home to teas, soda, whisky, and cozy shelter from the wind and rain.
Good night.
