Demon Voices & The Demon Drink

Cameron McNeish spends a glorious afternoon visiting the Whisky Hill, Moray’s Ben Rinnes.

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GREYLAG geese grazed in the fields which rolled down to the River Spey and snowdrops and crocuses brightened the road verges. The green tint on the birches emphasised the promise of spring but less than 300m (1000ft) above, the snow was still deep and the wind had a razor edge to it.

The breezes that blow off Ben Rinnes, the northeastern terminal point of the Grampians, are legendary. Nearby Ballindalloch Castle dates from the mid-16th century but a local tale suggests the stone masons and builders had a hard time during its construction. No sooner had the walls reached a certain height than they were knocked down by some unknown force.

The Laird set up a special night-watch to discover who was responsible. Early in the morning, the story goes, a great wind swirled down from Ben Rinnes and not only blew down the newly built walls, but pitched the Laird and his cronies into a holly bush.

Three times a demonic voice was heard above the rushing of the wind, saying, “Build on the cow haugh”. The Laird, aware of what might happen if he ignored the warning, built on the lower, less attractive site instead.

It could have been the same demonic voice that was trying to convince me to stay in the warmth of the car rather than expose myself to the raw northern wind. The mischievous breeze was already drifting powder snow across the narrow Glack Harness road between Ben Rinnes and Meikle Conval, but tantalising glimpses of blue skies between the flurries were enough to cast out the demon voice and turn my thoughts to the demon drink instead.