In the early days we tended to book one place, and stay the week. Thus we had caravans in 1977 at Glenbrittle, 1978 at Inveralligan, 1979 at Letters and 1980 at Roy Bridge. Once we started in earnest then it was B=B, Youth Hostels, Camping, with know and then, the car or a bunkroom. Bunk rooms were few and far between, and amongst the earliest were Kinlochleven and Bridge of Orchy. Since then the number has increased rapidly as has the standard, with pine furniture, ensuite and colour TV all making an appearance. In the 1980's several hotels had a bunkroom or Chalet facility, including the Cluanie, the Clachaig (Glencoe), the Alltguish.
Ian was originally "Accommodation Manager" and we regularly waited until we arrived before finding a bed. £10-£12 per night was the target for B+B, with a caravan for a week at around £50 in winter.
Amongst my favourite places has to be the Cluanie, particularly in the early days of Danny and the Bunk Rooms with the generator that switched off around midnight, the great bar snacks and substantial breakfast. Unlike some, I have a soft spot for Gerrys, despite, or perhaps because of, its Spartan layout. It usually had a cracking drying room, a facility much lacking at most hotels and B&B's. Muriel Grey's "Homagen" also deserves a mention. We enjoyed a whisky with them when they first moved in (opposite the Roy Bridge Hotel), we visited them when their garden was under flood, we took her camera onto the fells and took shots for her. It was always warm and cosy, with hot baths and a teasmaid. Bridge of Orchy, in the hotel itself, was a good night, with a first class breakfast down the stairs, watched over by a wall mural of Rob Roy and his gang who lived just across the road past Auch. And don’t forget Catwomen, Miss Marquee of Killin, who joined us at table for breakfast although not eating herself, ever ready with a large pot teapot and extra toast. We were put up in the lounge one night when she was full.
Where was it we played football on the landing with a pumpkin ?
Don’t forget the difficulty we had finding beds on Arran when we went over on foot, to find that Arran Golf Week had taken every available space. We slept in the basement of a seafront B+B when the proprietor and her daughter took pity, and rigged up new beds amongst the junk. This night Nev locked himself out in the freezing cold, to climb in via an upturned dustbin and a small upper window, upsetting a trestle table of potted plants, but not disturbing the sleeping beauties.
The Munro Hotel at Strathyre, and the nearby "New Inn".
The Inn near Balmoral where we couldn’t get out in the morning. The Schiehallion B+B in Braemar on the Ultimate Challenge when we met the sky instructor "Tammy, "Swish", "Swish. Another good night on the Challenge was at the Tomdoun, still set in another century. Not to mention the hotel at Montrose at the end of the challenge and Ian's famous answer to "Have you a family". "Yes" he replied, "I don’t really know how it happened, but we have three. It was just like that, Bang, Bang, Bang".
The Inverarnan and the Inveroran, and a sickly stuffed swan and a midge infested camp.
The Clachaig at Killin. It was hear that Ian left his room in the extension, for a nocturnal walk down the road into the main hotel, to try to find a toilet. His bedroom was in fact ensuite and he had not realised.
The times we gently rearranged Malcolms ever so neat Case so we could watch his furrowed brow when he opened it. The times we spent hours, not counting sheep, but discussing steam train names, from Jubilees to A4 Streaks such as Dominion of South Africa, Mallard, Golden Eagle, India, Barham etc. (45653 for those who have forgotten).
Campbelltown Cottages at Inverlael near Ullapool, and stalking the grounds for deer at dead of night, or trying to break the record for a child's jigsaw after a pint or so.
The Ferryboat at Ullapool. Wonderful location, pity about the price and the fact that they never gave you a room with a view. Ullapool YHA, again, right on the seafront.
The Aultguish. One night we arrived enroute for elsewhere, to find a stocky Dutchman holding court (and buying drinks). We joined him as he bought yet another round. He had arrived that day, minus some belongings that had gone astray on the plane. He tried to coax the landlady to lend him some pyjamas, having given her a huge cheese, with fags for the husband a stalker. After he had dozed off for a while, the landlord said "Wake that Dutch bugger, its his round again" So we did. It turned out that our foreign friend was a hunter and shooter, and a taxidermist. He was to shoot rabbits and grouse early in the day, then go deer stalking later. "If the poor Robin flies into a window and kills himself, then I will stuff him poor thing". We were obviously a little sceptical about him having "Stuffed" and elephant, so he left us for his room to reappear with photos of himself stood on a dead elephant, with implements in hand. "I stuff it for the Queen of Elizabeth and it know at her castle." His final retort was "If you have the enemies, I will stuff them for you !!" Best to keep on his good side !.
Everytime we visited the Aultguish it seemed to have a new owner. All reported that "It was in such a state. We have a lot to do." There were never any signs of "doing". One night hear Ian fell asleep by the fire and the landlady said we could leave him, and call back next morning, but we shook the youngster gently and led him to another pub.
Some nights we would visit Ullapool, Aultguish and Dundonnell just for a change of scenery. It was surprising how empty some Scottish hostelries could be in winter.
Another night, in the Aultguish bunkrooms, Dave Southern almost choked as his sleeping bag draw string had tightened. It was a toss up whether to slacken it off or get the camera.
The Kylesku Hotel received our custom once or twice. Ian left his pyjamas in the bed, and they got washed. The beds were a little damp, and this was often a problem when hotels left beds made up for weeks on end with no heating in the room. The dart board received some attention.
A good find in the late 1990's was the Affric Hotel at Cannich. They had rooms along a maze of corridors which they classified as Bunk Rooms, at £10 for Bed & Breakfast. It was here we met an assortment of characters including a Midlands Fire Chief who commuted weekly, a blind man and his Rotweillers who guided him to the pub each evening, snow and all, a distance of around 4/5 miles. Then there was the artist, in both senses of the word. He had paintings for sale all over the hotel, and had a number of hobbyhorses. Nev persuaded him out of £5 for charity raffle tickets one night and he was not amused. Another "local" was an amputee who had bought a caravan in the area, having lived in Blackpool.
The Ben Damph, and the man in white have been mentioned in the text. Years later there was also the night Nev did a clairvoyant act and reminded one local ( originally from Fylde) of parts of his past he had forgotten. The man in white story was retold, only to find that one of the small number of listeners was the man in white himself.
Kinloch Castle on Rum cannot be forgotten, with its evening Bistro, singalong with Ian, Treasures Galore, historic photo albums, amusing organ, and old fashioned bedrooms.
The Isle of Islay Hotel, empty even at half term, and the gales that nearly kept us on the Island.
The Cobbler Hotel at Arrochar. A good fire, a good bar, and often live accordion and fiddle music. We stayed hear a few times.
The YHA's .
Self Catering stays have also included a week in a chalet at Cannich, The Old School House at Carbost, and a caravan at Kinlochbervie.