Fifty shades of Spey (cont.)

My intermittent walking of the Speyside Way continues every time I return home for a family visit. On this occasion, my route weaves in and out of the River Spey’s famous whisky trail.

Walking the old railway line

I also have company, my brother Sean and our stepmum Marion. Much of the trail follows an old railway line, one of the many that was decommissioned in the 1960s. This one connected Grantown-on-Spey with Elgin.

Marion and Sean, on track

As a former rail track, the path is often straight, much of it is tree-lined, and it takes along steep-sided embankments and across iron bridges.

Iron single-track bridge

A rare glimpse of the Spey

We walk past two old stone-built stations, now converted into holiday cottages, though the destination names are still proudly displayed. One, Blacksboat, is named after the ferry that carried people across the Spey in the days before the road bridge was built.

The station for the ferry crossing

At Ballindalloch we hit distillery country, with Glenlivet, Cragganmore, Tormore, Cardhu and Glenfiddich all nearby, then Tamdhu right by the path. We get whiffs of the aroma of fermenting grain long before the pagoda-like sheds and giant vats come into view.

Tamdhu mash tun

We’re now at Knockando, near the end of the day’s walk, and Sean has heard of a nice café in a former woollen mill just up the road. The Knockando Woolmill (knockandowoolmill.org.uk) turns out to be a fascinating – and newly operational – slice of Scottish textile history. 

Tweed bunting outside Knockando café

Back in the 18^th century, the mill was a bustling weaving hub for a clientele that stretched across the Highlands. District woollen mills were common as many homes were too small for some of the processes involved. Farmers brought fleeces to be converted into yarn, cloth and blankets. Tweed and other products were also sold. Knockando would have been a working farm, too, as textile production often went hand in hand with agriculture. But mass production in the 20^th century saw the mill decline and and production eventually ceased. Now, the original Victorian machinery has been restored so that it’s fully operational, and a variety of designers create dazzling contemporary patterns. Once again the walls echo with the sounds of industrial-scale weaving – indeed two of the looms in the weaving shed are thought to be the oldest still working in Scotland.

Revitalised Victorian loom

In the mill’s shop there is plenty to tempt us, from plaid handbags to mobile-phone carriers. But it’s the mill’s café we’re after, for its freshly made soup served with warm cheese scones and with melted butter. A treat well worth walking for.

Dreaming spires

It’s something of an achievement for the London Bulgarian Choir to have concerts in both Cambridge and Oxford, a matter of months apart. This weekend’s performance is in St Barnabas, Jericho (our most biblical-sounding venue yet).

My car-load of singers and I leave with enough time to spare for some pre-gig sightseeing. But instead of heading to central Oxford where we’ll only have parking mayhem, we drive to the village of Cuddesdon, just a few miles south east of the city. Thanks to an architectural tip-off, it’s where we find the visionary and multi-award winning Bishop Edward King Chapel, located in the grounds of Oxford’s theological college, Ripon.

The bell was cast at Whitechapel Foundry

Sitting in a clearing a short distance from the gothic-style college building and surrounded by tall beech trees, the chapel looks tiny and unobtrusive. It is circular in form, and its sandy coloured stone exterior has been crafted into a pleasing dogtooth-patterned facade.

Cleverly crafted exterior

But the impact of the skilful craftsmanship played out in the chapel’s design is truly felt when you step inside. In the central space a latticework of soaring timber columns rise up to an intricate vaulted ceiling, not unlike some great ship.

The ribcage encircles the space for worship

In his approach to the project, architect Niall McLaughlin was apparently inspired by a poem:

Lightenings viii

The annals say: when the monks of Clonmacnoise

Were all at prayers inside the oratory

A ship appeared above them in the air.

The anchor dragged along behind so deep

It hooked itself into the altar rails

And then, as the big hull rocked to a standstill,

A crewman shinned and grappled down the rope

And struggled to release it. But in vain.

‘This man can’t bear our life here and will drown,’

The abbot said, ‘unless we help him.’ So

They did, the freed ship sailed, and the man climbed back

Out of the marvellous as he had known it.

Seamus Heaney

Subtle lighting lends atmosphere to evening rituals 

This particular ‘ship’ is filled with light and a sense of space – an inspirational place in which to worship. Or sing – as I walk round, I hum the notes of Tebe Poem, one of the choir’s more orthodox numbers.

Along one side of the chapel, private prayer spaces open up, while opposite, a series of windows offer up glimpses of the world outside.

The perfect picture window

The treetops are also visible through a ring of windows that encircle the top of the chapel’s main space. And as the sun filters through the leaves, sun-dappled patterns dance across the chapel’s plain, white walls.

Dappled light plays on the wooden beams

Outside, the college’s annual summer fete is in full swing and we emerge blinking from an atmosphere of spiritual sanctuary to a maelstrom of coconut shies, welly wanging and pillow fights along the slippery pole. 

All the fun of the fete

And a stick of candy floss served by a theology student in a red-and-white striped blazer makes the perfect finale to our pre-concert detour.