I knew, too, that we must soon be on the fringes of Rannoch Moor, that wilderness of peat-bogs, water, heather and evil repute, but it was when I became aware that we must have covered a good deal more than the two and a half miles between Bridge of Orchy and Inveroran that it was borne in upon me that, with the mist thickening every minute, we must, at some time after leaving the village, have deviated from the signposted Way.
It was Hera who gave voice to my misgivings by observing that it seemed a long time since my torch, which I had needed to switch on, had picked out any markers.
‘I suppose we’re on the right track?’ she said.
‘I’ve been wondering that,’ I answered. ‘Perhaps we’d better go back to the village. It’s easy to get lost in a mist like this, and I’m beginning to think we’ve gone wrong somewhere.’
‘Oh, no, don’t let’s go back. We’re on a route of some sort. It must lead somewhere. Besides, we might not strike the road back. If we’re lost now, we could get lost again and might be worse off than we are at present. I’m sorry I ever mentioned a short cut. I don’t somehow think this is one.’
4: Shelter — at a Price
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There seemed no doubt that we were out on Rannoch Moor and my heart began to fail me. Who could tell what treacherous morass or small but dangerous lochan awaited us? It was all right, I supposed, so long as we could keep to what must, in old time, have been a drover’s road, or perhaps a stretch of a military road long since abandoned or, possibly, never completed, but what was to happen to us if, at some time, it petered out or if our legs refused to allow us to walk any further? It was not as though we were seasoned hikers accustomed to bad weather and other hazards. We had nothing with which to make camp or any other kind of bivouac. Hera guessed what I was thinking and spoke cheerfully and with optimism.
‘We’ve got food, thank goodness,’ she said, ‘and this track may be rough, but it seems firm enough. I expect it leads to a bothy or a disused shepherd’s hut. There will be some sort of shelter where we can lie up until the mist clears.’
‘I’m very sorry I’ve landed you in this,’ I said. ‘I ought to have realised ages ago that we’d come off The Way.’
‘Why do you blame yourself? It’s my fault. If I’d listened to you, we should have been safe and snug at Bridge of Orchy. You’re right. I am obstinate and wrong-headed. You should be firmer with me.’
‘Some hopes! You’re a law unto yourself.’
‘Oh, well, I suppose this is our testing-time and we shall have to survive it. It may prove to be a blessing in disguise. Who knows?’
As though her optimism had wrought some sort of magic, shelter came halfway to meet us, as it were, for we almost walked into a wall. Just in time, the torch I was using picked out the obstacle. I put out my hand. It met rough stone and my torch, which had warned me, showed us great slabs of what looked like granite.
‘If there’s a wall, there must be a door,’ I said. We groped our way to the right and, at thirty stumbling paces, found an opening. ‘Stand still while I explore. When you hear me call out, switch on your torch so that I can find you again.’ (We had agreed not to use her torch unless this was absolutely necessary, because we did not know when we would be able to buy any more batteries.)
‘Don’t be long, then,’ she said. ‘What do you think this place is?’
‘Goodness knows.’ I left her and felt my way along the wall until my hand suddenly encountered nothingness. I stopped short and shone my torch into what seemed a man-made aperture. I groped my way in, picked out another wall, felt my way along it and moved the torch up and down. Suddenly I found that I was looking at an unglazed window. It was not very large and it was rounded at the top. I groped my way back to Hera, but caught my foot on a chuck of stone, fell and hit my head. I picked myself up and got to her, but felt rather dizzy.
‘I think it’s a house of sorts,’ I said, ‘but I doubt whether it’s occupied. I’ve found an entrance and a window, but there’s no glass in it and I couldn’t see any lights. There must be a door further on. Mind how you go. It’s a bit rough underfoot.’ I felt my head, but it was not bleeding.
With her at my heels, I moved forward again. Then I stopped, after warning her that I was going to do so, and shone my torch in at the glassless window. It was as misty inside the building as outside it. I felt certain that the place, whatever it was, was empty, but I called out to ask whether anybody was at home.
There was no response, although I called out more than once, so I told Hera again to stay where she was while I tried to find a proper door to the building.
‘If I can’t,’ I said, ‘we shall have to scramble in through this window. Think you can manage?’
‘If you can, I can. Why don’t we do it? Even if you do find a door, it will probably be locked and I don’t much want to be left alone here while you go exploring. Besides, you might fall down a well or some other awful thing, and then what should we do? Please let us stay together.’
There seemed common sense in this. I told her to pocket her torch and I handed her mine with instructions to light me while I scrambled in. Then I took the torch from her and, with my help, she managed the climb more easily than I had done.
We both used our torches when she had joined me inside, and found that we were in a dark bare room with a fireplace opposite the window. The roof was low and, so far as I could tell, it appeared to be sound.
‘Thank God for that,’ I said. ‘We can roost here until the mist lifts.’
‘What’s the time?’
‘Half five. We must have come a mighty long way since we left Bridge of Orchy.’
‘If I didn’t already know that, my legs would tell me,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t walk another step until I’ve had a rest. We shan’t see Inveroran tonight or any dinner. I’m going to get out of these wet things and put on my spares. You’d better do the same. The mist seeps into every kind of clothing.’
‘If only we could make a fire,’ I said, ‘we could have a shot at drying our trousers and socks.’ But, although there were ashes in the grate, there was no fuel. We ate some of our emergency rations and I set light to the paper bags in which the food had been packed, but they only flared up and, for an instant, showed not only more of the primitive bareness of the room, but an opening in one of the inside walls.
‘We’ll explore this place before we leave,’ said Hera. ‘I believe it’s a ruined castle. All the same, I don’t much want to spend the night here. If only the mist would lift!’
There seemed nothing to do except settle down and wait, so this we did for what seemed a very long time. Then Hera, who (both of us having changed into dry clothes), had been stretched out on the floor with her head pillowed in my lap, sat up and said, ‘Oh, look, Comrie! The mist’s lifting. I can see the outline of the window. Let’s go.’
‘I’m as thirsty as Tantalus,’ I said. ‘Do you mind if I look around for a well or a tap or something?’
‘I’ll come with you.’
‘No need. I’ll take your mug and bring you a drink of water if I can find any which seems drinkable.’
‘No. I’ll come. I don’t much like this place.’
I went to the aperture and looked out. The mist had given place to steady, relentless rain, but there was daylight again and I found myself looking out on to a small, paved yard with a high, retaining wall. I could see the archway by which we had groped our way into the yard and when I put my head out of the window I could see another archway at the further side of the enclosure. Hera joined me and I made way so that she could look out.
‘Yes, we must be in the ruins of a castle,’ she said. ‘That means we are miles off our track. There is no mention of castle ruins in the brochure, is there?’