For the past couple of weeks, we have been pottering through Scotland, from south to north, enjoying hairy Highland ‘coos’ and plenty of tartan. There’s barely a real Highland cow to be seen, though – just a multitude of the soft toy, made-in-China variety in twee souvenir shops. Oh! And water. Water, water everywhere…in the sky, in the lochs, (and the locks!), in the rivers, the canals and the sea. And there were several castles, but I’ll get to those later.
Weather plays a major role in any trip to Scotland. So far, we have been lucky, dodging in and out of rain bursts that blow over quickly – but it’s wise to take those waterproofs for those just-in-case moments.
Our first night in the land of my ancestors was spent on a small and pretty loch, south-west of Gretna Green, and included a fleeting visit to Kirkcudbright, pronounced, most confusingly, Kir-coo-bree, a pretty, coastal town that has become something of a haven for artists, where the One & Only was keen to meet a local print maker. By lunchtime, we were en route to meet friends in Glasgow.
Glasgow, once labelled the European City of Culture, is certainly rich in art galleries and museums. There are also many elegant churches and plenty of beautiful red sandstone buildings from the 19th century. Sadly, many are derelict, or heading that way, and it is a shame to see such elegant architecture deteriorating before my eyes. Oh! for the wherewithal to return them to their former glory. Local artists have tried to pep them up with some super murals, but unfortunately, ‘tagging’ is almost as popular here as it is in Melbourne.
I am not one for pounding pavements indefinitely, so was delighted to find a wooded path along the Kelvin River, that took us on a gentle stroll from the Botanic Gardens to the Kelvingrove Art Gallery & Museum – a sumptuous and palatial building nestled into a soft curve of the river. Lord Kelvin is to Glasgow what Macquarie is to Sydney. We passed a plethora of streets and parks, a bandstand and a statue, all named for this eminent Victorian inventor and scientist. Although not a native Glaswegian (he was born in Belfast) he had a life-long association with Glasgow University. His father was appointed Professor of Mathematics when Kelvin was only six, his older brother James was a Professor of Civil Engineering and Mechanics, and Kelvin himself would be Professor of Natural Philosophy at the University of Glasgow for forty-three years. He also became the first British scientist to be knighted. A studious family to say the least!
Leaving Glasgow and the illustrious Lord Kelvin behind, we headed north again, swiftly passing Loch Lomond and several smaller lochs with great names, such as Loch Oich and Loch Lochy. Yes, really. Apparently, there are more than 31,400 freshwater lochs in Scotland, which includes thousands of smaller ‘lochans’ (or puddles!). We eventually reached our destination, just shy of Inverness, the capital of the Highlands. Drumnadrochit has become a tourist town, its northern end packed with souvenir shops touting tartans, Highland ‘coos’ and Loch Ness monsters, in every imaginable format. Our end of town is somewhat quieter, and has proved a good central spot for touring the region, and we soon headed out to explore.
On one blowy afternoon, we walked to Urquhart Castle. Once an important stronghold in the wars for Scottish independence, it is now a crumbling ruin moated with vivid green lawns. According to the locals, it’s also the best place to see the Loch Ness monster, which is probably why the carpark was seething with tourists. From a look-out point on the high road, we admired the blue-black inky waters of the loch feathered with white-caps, and decided to forego the age-old search for an elusive ‘Nessy.’ The next day, the surface of Loch Ness was like polished pewter, quiet and calm, as if it had been ironed flat. The clouds had rolled across the sky like a giant quilt, and the loch was spotted with paddleboarders far braver than I, as the water must be icy.
We are en route to Brodie Castle, a National Trust of Scotland property, twenty-three miles east of Inverness. The Brodie Clan has occupied this land for over 800 years, although the present castle was built in the sixteenth century. It is a Z-plan tower house with 17th and 19th-century additions. “Z-plan?” you ask. As did I. It is a common design in Scotland, where there is a central rectangular tower with two smaller towers attached at diagonally opposite corners, so enemies can be seen approaching from all directions without the need for four towers. The original design was completed in 1567, but it was later converted into a Scottish Baronial Hall, more fashionable in the nineteenth century.
Still, it is a cosy size for a castle and looks much as it did when the last laird, Montague Ninian Alexander Brodie, lived there in the mid-20th century. The house was filled with fascinating memorabilia, and paintings of generations of Brodies. Unfortunately for us, however, there was to be a wedding in the house that afternoon, and we were given limited time to skip through the place before the bride arrived to the skirling of the bagpipes at the front door. Wandered through the grounds between showers (there are about 75 acres to explore), we learned that the 24th Laird, Ninian’s father, had been something of a gardener, and had spent many years cultivating daffodils. Trillions of them. Of the thousands of hybrids he created, some even found their way to Australia. I will surely have to make a trip back in the spring to see them in all their splendour.
On the way home, we drove along the coast for a little lighthouse spotting, and dropped into a whisky distillery at Forres, both of which were at the top of the One & Only’s ‘To Do’ list in Scotland. We have come across plenty of lighthouses on our travels, including a ‘Pepper pot’ lighthouse on Loch Ness: a miniature version of the coastal variety, designed in the 19th century to guide boats into the locks. Along the north coast, the winds off the North Sea can almost blow you off your feet, but here we are protected by a tall hedge of beech trees.
It is also hard to avoid distilleries in this part of the world, especially around Speyside – a ‘protected’ whisky region in the Scottish Highlands, between Inverness and Aberdeen, and south to the Cairngorms. About 50 distilleries are located in this region, and together they produce some 50% of Scotland’s whiskies. Benromach is one of them. A family-owned distillery on Speyside, whisky has been made here since 1898, although it has changed hands a number of times over the years. According to their advertising blurb ‘we recreate the whisky character that once defined Speyside – an award-winning single malt whisky with a delicate hint of smoke.’
Well, it turns out there is zero tolerance for drink driving in Scotland so the One & Only was unable to sample a whiskey flight as planned. But don’t feel too sorry for him, he did buy a bottle of 10-year-old whisky to drink later by the fire. And rather than waste the trip, I taste-tested a flight of gins. Tasting gin at a whisky distillery in the Highlands may sound a bit daft, but I can’t abide Scottish whisky. And I, too, came home with a bottle. The Benromach Autumn Gin blends autumnal botanicals with Benromach’s Classic gin, and is most poetically described on their website:
‘Inspired by autumnal walks through local Scottish woodlands, along hedgerows laden with blackberries, this seasonal-edition autumnal gin is rich and rounded with the sweetness of wild Scottish blackberries (along with its leaves) and fresh mists of fragrant pine needles.’
We had a quiet night in…
Another day, another castle. This time, we headed north to Dunrobin Castle, the oldest and most northerly castle in Scotland. For seven hundred years, it has been home to the Earls of Sutherland, and the family still live in a wing of the castle. Boasting a ridiculous 189 rooms, it seems there is plenty of space for everyone. Perched high above the Dornoch Firth, Dunrobin has also spent some time as a boarding school and a naval hospital. And, after many a facelift, this mediaeval castle now resembles a French château, from its conical spies to its Versailles inspired gardens. No weddings today, but the arrival of four huge coaches send us scurrying for the pub.
Our last day in the Highlands was spent at Fort Augustus, at the southern end of Loch Ness. Here, a flight of five locks and a swing bridge take boats from the Caledonian canal to the Loch. We pause for a coffee by the canal, and later have lunch by the loch, thrilled to watch the passing traffic: a sailing boat, a catamaran filled to the brim with tourists, a huge Dutch barge converted into a floating hotel, a small motor-boat, a narrow boat or two. And behind us, the splendid Fort Augustus Abbey, originally a 18th-century military fort that became a Benedictine monastery and school in the late 19th century, and recently converted into luxury apartments. As we soak up the atmosphere, I nibble at my haggis and cheese panini. Life has got far more sophisticated since we stopped for a pub lunch on the Isle of Skye some thirty-five years ago. Back then, it was a simple haggis toastie!
We drive home along the more remote eastern edge of Loch Ness, through tiny hamlets and over hump-backed bridges, past heather-draped mountains looming above the horizon, the tarns and lochs twinkling in the late afternoon sun. And just in case there has not been enough water in the equation, I’m about to pour a gin and climb into the courtyard jacuzzi behind our wee Scottish cottage by the river…
With thanks to the One & Only & Google Images for these pics.
* from the poem ‘Autumn Rain’ by D.H.Lawrence.