King of the Road
Trip Start
May 19, 2008
1
9
24
Trip End
Jun 02, 2008
Loch Rannoch,
United Kingdom
Saturday, May 24, 2008
We came back down to follow a road which led us to the abandoned ruins, deep in a copse, of one of the Campbell castles, Finlarig. It was not even visible from the track below. It felt like I imagined the four children must have felt like discovering the ruins of Cair Paravel in Prince Caspian. I don't think Cair Paravel had a beheading pit, though. Next to Finlarig stood a mausoleum. Both were overgrown with years of vegetation, and in the clearing with them stood the celtic crosses atop the tombstones of a relatively recent Lord and Lady Campbell, buried there in 1922 and 1932.
After climbing all over, we went out the other side of the wood where we saw a wider road leading to the ruins, full of dire warnings of death, maiming, dismemberment and other serious injury to those foolish enough to climb all over, or indeed, even go near, the ruins. I am glad to say we survived, and I now feel entitled to star in the next Indiana Jones movie.
We added to this walk a trip of another couple miles out to a longhouse, which would have been somewhat like a community center in days of old.
Deep in what's left of Finlarig Castle
However, it was locked up tight, so we could only look in the windows. On returning to the town, we stopped at the Coach House Hotel where I had prawns in marie rose sauce with melons. I have no idea what marie rose sauce is, but it is very tasty. The owners' two long-haired collies joined us for lunch, although we were not kind enough to actually share any of our food. Next, we walked back through town, along the River Dochart and past the Falls of Dochart again, to the Breadalbane Folk Museum. Hopefully I have the name right. It's inside an old mill. Of interest, we learned from a shopkeeper that this region of Scotland, home to the Campbells for many years, is not pronounced "BREAD ul bane," but "bre DAHL bin." In the Museum, we learned about the various clans who had lived in the area, primarily the Campbells, Gregors, and McNabs. Also of interest is Clan MacLaren, which maintains that their clan was founded when a mermaid fell in love with a man. The actual, original Laren, or Labhran, was a real 13th century hero (though I'll have to look on the internet to find out what he did), whose descendents fought with Robert the Bruce.
The Museum also has a fantastic display and presentation of St. Fillan, who is said to have spent time in the area. He built a church in Glen Dochart, as ordered by God. Still kept today are his armbone, crozier, bell, Meser (probably his writing?) and his fairge. Do you know what a fairge is? Neither do I. Neither, say my notes, does anyone.
Finlarig Castle
But it is one of St. Fillan's relics.Robert the Bruce carried a silver case, that which usually held St. Fillan's armbone, to the Battle of Bannockburn. He brought only the case, for fear of losing the actual relic. One night, he heard a crack as he prayed. Looking in the case, he found the saint's armbone.
There are many more interesting stories about St. Fillan's miracles and life, too many to write here. Here is one link that tells a little about his healing stones and shows pictures of the museum: http://www.simegen.com/writers/nessie/stones.htm
Also available from the Museum is the key to the McNab burial grounds. It is said that one McNab wooed his prospective bride by promising her, if she should marry him, that she would be laid to rest in the most beautiful cemetery in Scotland! The burial grounds are on an island, Inchabuie, in the middle of River Dochart. It is indeed a beautiful area, very quiet despite being in the middle of a small village, surrounded by pines and the sound of rushing water.
Later that day, climbed a 'hill.' I understand it comes nowhere near the size of a monroe. And what a climb! It started off by going through a small village park, then into a pasture with a couple of the long-horned shaggy highland cattle that are everywhere here. We climbed the first, relatively easy slope and reached a fence with a stile over it. From there, we climbed a wooded slope and on up into a small oak wood.
High atop Sron a' Chlachain
Past that, we started the real climbing, and from then on, it seemed each time we looked up and saw "the summit," we'd finally reach it, only to find that "the summit" had obscured our view of the next... real... summit rising above it. Towards the end, we were almost literally walking up the mountain as up a staircase, using the indents from scores of boots that had gone before ours. About the fourth time this happened, there was enough of a steep downslope between us and the next summit that I figured if we could only go downhill from there, we must be at the real summit. Close enough. We celebrated with a granola bar... chock full of chocolate chips! The view of Loch Tay and the town of Killin was incredible from up here!
It was today that I broke out Jan's medieval leather boots. They really did very well taking me to the top of what I think was called... phonetically... SLEEG na KLAH kin. In fact, I really think I liked them better than my modern boots. They tend to move with the foot, so there's no problem with heels pinching or rubbing; absolutely no chance of blisters. The only drawback was that the soles did not have quite the traction that my modern boots have, and that made a couple of spots a little dicey, but there was usually something to grab onto for support.
We drove around Loch Rannoch today, across the northern shore and down to the Bridge of Gauer, then back east along the southern shore. The Bridge of Gauer is one of the points my characters cross on their way to raise armies to save Scotland at the Battle of Bannockburn.
I've got Stile, yes I do!
The scenery is beautiful, but after climbing just one hill yesterday-- and I'm starting to feel it today!-- I'm really glad I don't have to make a 4 or 5 day hike up and down all these hills!On May 24, we took another long walk out to see some standing stones. This was nothing like Stonehenge, but an experience all the same. Once again, the official walk involved walking right through someone's gate, across someone's property, and into someone's field with someone's sheep. It is hard to adjust my American mindset to the lack of trespass laws, but it was also very pleasant to be able to go where we wanted and see what we wanted. It was also pretty neat to hear an actual, real live cuckoo... saying... cuckoo..cuckoo... from far across the fields.
As a sidenote, our host at the Braveheart Backpackers Hostel was a very interesting man who told us about a phenomenon known as 'lay lines' which happen, he said, in places of spiritual power. He specified the stone circle and the "Praying Hands of Mary," although we never actually found what or where the Praying Hands of Mary are. He specifically mentioned 'time slips' happening on this particular road we were planning on traveling later in the day. Since my story involves what could be called a very extended time slip, this was good news to me.
After our walk to the Standing Stones, we stopped walking and started driving along the road he mentioned, on to the Bridge of Balgie. This is the very road that is known for strange and inexplicable incidents.
Loch Rannoch
I am sorry to say we had absolutely nothing strange or inexplicable happen to us. To my writers' group, despite my promise to try to wake up in another century, our car and I stayed firmly in the twenty-first. But it was a beautiful drive, along which we saw Ben (Mount) Lawers and drove through Ben Lawers National Park. There were lots of sheep, including many lambs, here, and they were not at all afraid of people or cars. (The ones as we climbed Sron a Chlachain were.) The hills here became rockier and steeper than what we'd seen previously, and my ears popped as we drove higher and higher.
I got used to it, so almost didn't think to mention, but many of these roads I'm talking about are very narrow. They're literally only wide enough for one car, so they have lots of 'passing places,' where you can pull to the side to let someone pass. Sometimes these passing places edge right up to drop-offs of varying degrees of steepness. It can be a little nerve-wracking. And because these roads are also more often than not-- far more!-- very twisty and curvy, I found myself more than once jolted against the seat belt as we and another car rounded a curve, headed towards each other, at the same time! Then one or the other would have to back up, or creep forward, into a passing place, and off we'd both go until the next time! I can't believe there aren't more accidents and cars falling off cliffs there.
At this point, we were driving through Glen Lyon, a beautiful place that follows a rocky stream running down between mountains on either side, and everything strewn with boulders.
Loch Tay
When I got out to walk from the road to the stream, I found the ground very marshy. It feels a bit like walking on sponges, never knowing which is dry and which is wet and will sink down under your feet. Little rivulets criss-crossed this land between the road and creek, so that I had to watch my step and keep jumping over these tiny little channels of water that ran everywhere.A sign told about the wildlife in the area, although I'm not much of a wildlife spotter. But if I were, I might have seen: ptarmigans, kestrel, golden eagle, falcon, buzzard, peregrine, hen harrier, and merlin; Scottish crossbill, badger, red squirrel-- looks a little different from the gray ones we're used to in Minnesota-- pine marten, otter, voles, red and black grouse, fox, deer of both the red and roe variety. Also, I might have seen the capercaillie, one of the largest birds in Britian. Unfortunately, I can't tell you anymore than that about the capercaillie. Well, I could, but I'd have to go look it up on the internet. It wouldn't be from personal experience.
This area we drove through was also the birth place of Rob Roy's mother. Rob Roy is sort of a Scottish Robin Hood, although he is an actual historical figure. Much more is known factually about him than about Robin Hood. This is also the area where the ancient kings of Scotland hunted deer.
Of interest on our drive today was the small town of Fortingall. Matt, our host back at the Braveheart Backpackers Hostel, told us about it. I was inclined to skip it, because it wasn't on my research list, but as we were going so close, we stopped anyway.
Looking out from the Bridge of Gauer
Fortingall has a 5,000 year old yew tree... and a tradition that Pontius Pilate played under that tree.In a story that apparently has some substantiation, his father was a Roman envoy visiting a local king on behalf of Caesar Augustus. During the course of negotiations, he took up with a local woman, who had a child.... It is also said that after ordering Jesus' crucifixion, Pontius Pilate was charged and put on trial himself (for what, I either don't remember, or it didn't say) and he returned to Fortingall, Scotland to finish out his days. Historical accounts, by the way, also say that Pontius Pilate later became a Christian.
Also in Fortingall is a field with standing stones: three sets of three. Interesting.
We traveled west along the north shore of Loch Rannoch, drove across the bridge of Gauer, and headed back east on the south shore. We passed a place called Kinlochleven, which had one of the few sandy beaches we saw during our trip. Most beaches were rocky.
Next, we drove up the Road to Dalna Chardoch. This was the steepest road I encountered on the whole trip, in addition to being twisty and curvy. It took us quite high, and to another of the moorland pastures up in the mountains. I found that walking through heather and moorland is not so easy. The ground is rough and uneven and sometimes unexpectedly sucks your foot down. Walking through it involves paying a lot of attention and lifting your feet high, trying to step over it or through it. I think of heather as flat and close to the ground, but at times it reached almost to my knee, and if the ground was particularly uneven, bunches of it were almost to my hip.
Finally, we came out on the A9, an actual highway with separate lanes for cars going opposite directions! From here on, it was a quick and easy drive to Strathspey, where we stayed at Strathspey Mountain Hostel. We were given a room to ourselves, although it had six bunks. But due to miscommunication between the hostel owner and his wife, they both promised another room to someone and a couple from Australia found themselves without beds at nine o'clock at night on a bank holiday weekend. We of course said there were plenty of beds in our room, and the hostel owner was so grateful that he gave them a somewhat reduced rate-- and told them to pay it to us. As a result, our beds were almost free that night! We enjoyed listening to stories about their month-long trip around Italy and other parts of Europe.
