HIGHLAND MEMORIES 159 



tells me at the time of writing these notes that the River Tay 

 is dried up in many parts, and at Blair Atholl, where, as a rule, 

 it is not less than eight feet deep, one can walk dry shod along the 

 river's bed ! 



Why I like Ben Lui is that I saw so much snow upon it. As 

 a mere southerner it impressed me very much. Even as the 

 train sped along and the West Highland train attains a splendid 

 speed at many points I was able to count thirteen distinct 

 patches of snow, all facing the exposed north. As we approached 

 Tyndrum, and for several miles after leaving it, Ben Lui became 

 more and more prominent, and the crevices containing the snow 

 were plainer to see. At Bridge of Orchy station, an isolated 

 spot of great loneliness, Ben Dowran, 3528 feet in height, rose 

 like a giant upon our right, with Ben Vannoch (3125 feet), Ben 

 Odhar (2750 feet), Ben a Chaistel (2897 feet), Ben Achallader 

 (3399 feet), and Ben Creachan (3540 feet), all in close attendance 

 north and south. 



We did not stay long at Bridge of Orchy. Indeed, if my 

 memory serves me correctly, not a living soul either boarded or 

 left the train. Thereafter, we steamed by the side of Loch Tulla 

 and Tulla Water, the grand mountains on the eastern side making 

 a fine setting to the wonderful panoramic view below. It was 

 not long before we were speeding across Rannoch Moor. The 

 line is more or less floating upon this huge stretch of waste. 

 How it was constructed is a mystery to me. Suffice it to say, we 

 traversed its entire length without mishap. It was a rather 

 desolate journey at that point. Miles upon miles of barren 

 waste were presented to view. The moor was cracked in many 

 places as a result of the prolonged drought. Not a living creature 

 was to be seen, though very occasionally a few Grouse went 

 skimming over a neighbouring brae. Old tree stumps, whitened 

 and gnarled with age, were strongly in evidence, the remains 

 of the old forest of Caledonia, and thousands of boulders dotted 

 the moor like the Sheep had done farther south. Had there 

 not been a two months' unprecedented drought, the scene, as we 

 crossed Rannoch Moor, would have been much more memorable. 

 As it was, it was an experience not to be forgotten, but if the 

 spongy moor had contained water in the pools, and the burns 

 had been in spate, the journey would have been made more 

 impressive. At one point upon Rannoch Moor, we were at a 

 height of (I believe I am correct in stating) 1540 feet, the highest 

 point of any railway in Britain. Thence, we sped on until we 



