Aberlour Retreat - 5 guests, 2 bedrooms, 1 bathroom, open-plan kitchen-dining-living

Aberlour Retreat was once home to the manager of Elchies Farm when it still had land on the Aberlour side of the river Spey. We have recently acquired it and are gradually upgrading it.

Aberlour Retreat is a convenient Highland village hideaway offering comfortable accommodation for up to 5 people in an excellent location.

Accommodation:

Master bedroom with 1 double bed

Family bedroom with 2 double beds

Downstairs family bathroom with shower (good water pressure)

Open plan kitchen-dining-living room

Amenities include:

• Heating: gas central heating (included)
• Kitchen: electric oven with ceramic hob, microwave, fridge, dishwasher (dishwasher tablets included), toaster, kettle, coffee machine, good selection of cookware and crockery, basic seasoning like salt, pepper, oil, vinegar provided as well as tea bags, instant coffee and sugar, cleaning products provided
• Living Room: TV with Freeview, free Wi-Fi, book swap
• Utilities: waching mashine (waching powder provided), freezer, ironing board, iron, cleaning utensils
• Bedrooms: bed linen and towels are included
• Bathroom: shower with great water pressure (soap and shampoo provided), basin and WC
• Complementary welcome pack
• Well-behaved dogs welcome on arrangement - please keep on hard flooring downstairs
• Sorry, no smoking

To get to the cottage you drive on the A95 (High Street) through Aberlour. At the square, turn in at the in towards the church and follow the signpost to the Tourist Information Centre/Public Toilets and 'Mash Tun' Whisky Bar. It is ideal if you can park your car in this area.

From here walk down the narrow lane along the left-hand side (standing in front of it) of the Mash Tun Whisky bar. Follow the lane to the blue and white striped front porch of the cottage.

This cottage was once home to Elchies Estate’s farm manager—a man who learned the Spey’s twin currents as a boy: the silver run of salmon and its deeper, darker secrets.

When the ferryman vanished after his last crossing, it was this manager who found the empty boat. His quiet testimony to the Laird did not plead for a bridge out of charity, but out of necessity. The Laird finally consented, but insisted on a lasting condition: the toll of one penny.

That coin was never a fee for crossing. It was, the managger knew, a tribute for keeping—a ritual to ensure what the river claimed that night remained settled beneath its peat-dark flow.

So when you hear the echo of footsteps on the iron bridge, remember: some debts are paid not in distance, but in silence.