An Evening at The Lovat

In Fort Augustus, on the edge of Loch Ness, history is easy to miss unless you look for it. Just behind The Lovat, part of an old stone wall still stands from the barracks built after the ’45. The canal gates, designed by Thomas Telford, still move boats through the centre of the village. Down by the loch, where I walked after dinner, the names of Benedictine monks are cut into stones now green with moss. The past is here, but without announcement.

The Lovat sits in a white Victorian building a little back from the canal. I arrived in the afternoon, parked outside and went up to a room with a view over rooftops towards the jetty where the cruise boat waited for the next day. Everything felt steady and well considered.

Later I took the short walk down to the water. Past the final lock, Loch Ness opened wide. That evening there was no wind, no sound, only still water between dark hills. I stayed a while before heading back as the light dropped.

Dinner at Station Road began in the lounge. One of the team explained the menu, what was coming and how the night would go, before setting down Shetland crab with apple and seaweed. Fresh, balanced and full of flavour. The dining room is small, simply lit and free of distractions.

The bere bannock came with sea salt butter and wild garlic pesto, along with a few words about the barley, grown in Orkney as part of work to keep one of Scotland’s oldest grains alive. The recipe was printed on seeded paper to take home and plant. Then came Jerusalem artichoke with king oyster mushroom, deep in flavour without weight, followed by Highland spring lamb, pink and rested, with bashed neeps, wild garlic and a rich reduction. It was one of the best plates I have had in a long time.

Dessert was built around Perthshire heather honey and forced rhubarb. Then, just as I had settled in with the last of the wine, a warm rowan financier arrived. Small, simple and just right.

The next morning, the cruise boat was still moored at the jetty below my window. After breakfast I walked to the abbey ruins. Behind the old monastery buildings, the monks’ graveyard lies in long grass, names worn by time. A few steps beyond, the loch begins again.

The Lovat works with care. You notice it in the pace of service, the calm of the rooms and the way the food speaks for itself. In a village built around movement, of boats, visitors and seasons, it offers something steady.

To find out more or to book a stay, visit thelovat.com, where you’ll also find information about Station Road, their in-house restaurant. Dinner reservations are recommended, particularly in the summer months.