We would normally have been out and about with our little house on wheels a couple of times at least by this time of year. This year however circumstances have dictated a later start to the Road Snail's season, which is why posts have been so thin on the ground around here lately.
We really can't put off our first foray into the highlands any longer though, so as I write we're pitched up at the Altnaharra (nee Grummore) Caravan Club site on the banks of Loch Naver in the central Highlands.
As ever, we didn't come here in one bounce, following the long high road to Bunree just south of Fort William for a two night stop over on the way.
Now, I've talked at length about Bunree before, so I won't waste your time repeating myself. The site is still a real gem of a place, nestling against the shores of Loch Linnhe just to the west of the Corran Narrows.
Once again we were lucky enough to secure a lochside pitch, and were quite content to spend our one full day in Lochaber looking at the view watching the boats sail past.
We did need to eat though, and we find it impossible to stay so close to the magnificent spectacle of Glencoe without driving through it a couple of times, so after a lazy start we set out into a grey overcast morning to see what we could see.
Glencoe never disappoints - whatever the weather, whatever the season, whatever the time of day there is always something to catch the eye. On this occasion it was the sheer volume of water cascading down the slopes of the Glen. Great white torrents roared and gurgled from the melting snow on the peaks down every stream and channel, swollen still further by the not inconsequential rainfall "enjoyed" by this part of Scotland in recent months.
From there we ventured a little way down the picturesque Glen Etive and spent an entertaining half hour watching a group of canoeists shooting an impressive set of rapids. Well, I say shooting the rapids - they were clearly new to the sport and what they were mostly doing was falling in with a flurry of paddle and a slightly shocked expression. They did it with enthusiasm though...
The time was ticking inexorably on towards lunch o'clock - which regular readers may remember is pretty much the most important time of day aboard the Road Snail, so we left the canoe novice s to their literal baptism into their chosen sport and headed back into the great gouge of Glencoe in search of food.
Regular readers may remember the meal we had at the duck egg blue "Glencoe Gathering", which we enjoyed in spite of the fact that one of the lumps of chicken in her kebab was raw in the middle. That's the kind of kitchen faux pas that would without question normally ensure that we'd never even consider returning, so the fact that we did consider giving the place another go should tell you something about how much we liked it.
On this occasion however we decided to try somewhere new. The site at Bunree sits a fraction north of the little settlement of Onich, which means that over the years we've driven past the Onich Hotel many, many times and every time we've done so we've said "we should try lunch there sometime" but for some reason never had.
This trip we decided to rectify that. We'd heard good reports of the place, and as we pulled into their little lochside carpark our expectations were high.
The hotel sits demurely on the shoreline of Loch Linnhe, it's neatly kept gardens leading down to a small crescent of beach set in a sheltered bay. We made our way through the main doors into a dimly lit lobby and were directed into the restaurant. "We normally serve lunches in the lounge bar, but we've a wedding in toady" explained the smiling waitress who showed us to our seats.
The restaurant was a long narrow room with one wall taken up almost entirely with windows offering views of the loch which on a fine day must be stunning. Since we were there on a gloomy day of slate grey water, steel grey skies and drizzle filled air our attention was focused more on the interior and our corridor like surroundings.
They were, to be frank, little more inspiring than the weather beyond the window. Everything was clean, but the decor could most generously be described as "tired". The dark floral print curtains were a little faded and nothing quite matched anything else.
Things started to look up when the menus arrived however. Even before we read them they were impressive documents. Each was a large rectangle of card printed on one side with the bill fayre on one side and a beautifully composed photograph of the small standing stone which occupies a nearby field on the other. Clearly whoever designed the menu has not yet been let loose on the interiors. If they ever are I confidently predict that the results will be spectacular.
Far more important than what a menu looks like of course is what it actually says. We've seen many a flash looking menu in places where the the food has been dull - you always have to beware of places where style is given priority over quality. I wasn't worried though - if this were an establishment which placed style over substance they would have redecorated a decade ago. No, this this is a menu that got even better when you read it. Whoever put that collection of dishes together really cared about food, which of course makes them our kind of people.
Perhaps it was because this was the first real day of our first excursion of the year, but I was feeling extravagant enough to plump for a rib-eye steak. Because she is more sophisticated than me Mrs Snail opted for a Bourgenoin style shin of beef. Because she isn't much more sophisticated than me she did, however, ask if she could have it with chips rather than the fondant potatoes the chef prescribed.
When the food arrived it surpassed every expectation. I'd ordered my steak medium, which seems to be something chefs of all calibres seem to struggle with. Rare and extra rare seem to be the default position, and if you order well done they just assume you have no idea and cook it 'till it's like boot leather.
Medium though, that they all seem to struggle with. Over the years I've been served "medium" steak that has been rare enough for a good vet to get back on its feet, and so overcooked and dried up that it would have served as body armour.
This though, this was perfectly judged. Just the faintest hint of pink in the middle, juicy and succulent and bursting with flavour. It was accompanied by crisp golden chips, roasted tomatoes and a pile of garlic mushrooms that were almost as meaty as the steak itself.
Mrs Snail's shin of beef was even more impressive. Shin is not the easiest cut to cook well, but this was spot on. Slow cooked and literally falling apart at the merest touch of the fork, served on a pool of thick and unctuous sauce.
Both meals were unbelievably good. We're a demanding audience where food is concerned and we were totally blown away. About the only criticism I can level at the place is the fact that I couldn't wash it all down with my customary glass of Coke.
The hotel has a passable wine list - as she doesn't drive Mrs Snail was able to enjoy a juicy Shiraz with lunch. As I'm always driving wine is never on my lunch menu. I don't really mind this because I have a passion for Coca-Cola which borders on the unhealthy. Sadly the Onich Hotel offers only Pepsi, which I'm afraid just won't do at all, or worse something on draft referred to as "Cola", which generally speaking is an abomination.
As a result I was forced to go for the tea totallers default beverage and have a glass of lemonade. It's a long time since I had lemonade. I can't imagine it's an experience I'll repeat any time soon...
That's a pretty churlish criticism though. The bottom line is that the Onich Hotel was spectacular and we'll definitely be returning.
Then it was off to what I still think of as the real Highlands. More on that next time - hope to see you all then.
