Scotbytes Weblog

Four Million trees in a new forest

Sun, 02 Dec 2007 11:46:11 +0000

The Scotsman reports today that a whole new forest is to appear near Loch Katrine, bringing back native species and offering a unique experience and the chance to see how Scotland looked like 500 years ago before sheep started to graze the lands.

Nothing like it has been seen for centuries. A new forest of four million trees is to be planted by the side of a famous Scottish loch in the UK's biggest woodland restoration scheme. The ambitious 20-year project to create a wooded wonderland will cover around 8,000 acres of land to the north, south and west of Loch Katrine with native species such as Caledonian pine, Atlantic oak, birch, hazel and alder.

Costing more than �3m, it will provide a new tourist attraction at the heart of the Loch Lomond and the Trossachs National Park, and create new habitats for native wildlife. Project managers hope that species such as wild deer, otters, pine martens and red squirrels will move in, while birds of prey will take up residence on the open fringes

Money talks - But not Always

Fri, 30 Nov 2007 12:05:12 +0000

The US billionaire Donald Trump has announced plans to build a new world class golfing centre in Aberdeenshire. The development could bring �150m to the local economy over the next decade, creating 400 jobs. The complex is planned for the Menie Estate, close to the North Sea coast between Balmedie and Ellon. First Minister Jack McConnell welcomed the move, but Scottish Natural Heritage (SNH) stressed the local countryside would have to be protected.

The Aberdeenshire Council's infrastructure committee however rejected (on the casting vote of its chairman) the plans by US tycoon Donald Trump. The plan had been earlier approved by local councillors, by seven votes to four, but the infrastructure committee seemed to hit the project into the long grass. However, there appeared to be a public outcry from those who saw the economic benefit of the scheme disappearing to another part of the world.

Now a special meeting of the full Aberdeenshire Council has been called to "reconsider" the decision. The time and place of the meeting have yet to be announced. The Aberdeen City and Shire Economic Forum and the local Chamber of Commerce view the Trump development as a golden opportunity to boost leisure tourism and raise the area's profile around the world. Refusing planning permission was therefore seen by them as a blow to the long-term prosperity of the region. Protesters have claimed that the resort would have a major impact on wildlife and destroy a beautiful part of Scotland. The Trump International Links scheme includes two championship golf courses and 1,500 homes. It is claimed the houses will pay for the development at the 1,400 acre site near Balmedie.

The decision also delighted Michael Forbes, 55, a local resident who refused to sell Mr Trump his 23 acres of land on the edge of the scheme. Mr Trump said on his last visit to Aberdeen that the small farm was an eyesore, and Mr Forbes responded by telling him to "stick his money". He was not at the meeting but his wife Sheila said they were "surprised but happy". Mr Forbes said he was "over the moon" after hearing the result. He added: "Hopefully, Trump has now got the message that we're not a bunch of cabbages up here. "We've managed fine without him up to now and we'll get on just as well without him." To be continued...

Local Hero Inn for Sale

Tue, 24 Apr 2007 15:43:24 +0000

The Pennan Inn, which was featured in the 1983 movie "Local Hero" starring Burt Lancaster, is up for sale. Fans still visit the village on the Moray Firth coast to see the 200-year-old inn - and the red telephone kiosk across the road, which was the focus of communications in the film. Lancaster played the part of an American oil company executive sent to buy up the entire village so they can build a refinery. The present owner of Pennan Inn is now going off to a job in the food service industry in Canada.

The movie Local Hero however is not entirely filmed in Pennan. The parts that were shot on Ben's Beach were filmed near Morar and the beach is known as Camusdarach beach. This is clearly visible in one of the last shots of the movie when MacIntyre leaves Ferness by helicopter to Aberdeen. In the first shot you clearly see the Isle of Skye and Rum in the background and one shot later you see Stella looking at the helicopter and the view over the sea is completely different. The movie is wonderful and the story behind it is classic with lots of humor in it. The views from Camusdarach Beach towards Rum and Skye are one of the finest in Scotland, and so are the sunsets in this lovely area. Also worth mentioning is the relaxing and excellent music from Mark Knopfler throughout the movie.

A Walk in Scotland Loch Leven to Inverness

Mon, 23 Apr 2007 09:17:45 +0000

In 1863 Elihu Burritt, an English writer, made a walk from London to John O'Groats in the north of Scotland. He made a very comprehensive travelogue and gives a nice view of Scotland in the 19th century. I made an extract from his first stage; Loch Leven to Inverness. Have fun reading

LOCH LEVEN-ITS ISLANDCASTLE�STRATHS�PERTH�SALMON-BREEDING�THOUGHTSON FISH-FARMING�DUNKELD�BLAIR ATHOLL�DUCAL TREE-PLANTER�STRATHSPEYAND ITS SCENERY�THE ROADS�SCOTCH CATTLE AND SHEEP�NIGHTIN A WAYSIDE COTTAGE�ARRIVAL AT INVERNESS.

On Friday, Sept. 11th, I left for the north the morning after myarrival in Edinburgh, hoping to finish my long walk before the rainyseason commenced.� My old friend and host accompanied me acrossthe Forth, by the Granton Ferry, and walked with me for some distanceon the other side; then bidding me God-speed, he returned to the city.�The weather was fine, and the farmers were very busy at work.�A vast quantity of grain, especially of oats, was cut and ready forcarting; but little of it had been ricked in consequence of frequentshowers.� I noticed that they used a different snath for theirscythes here from that common in England.� It is in two parts,like the handles of a plough, joining a foot or two above the blade.�One is shorter than the other, each having a thole.� It is a singularcontrivance, but seems to be preferred here to the old English pole.�I have never seen yet an American scythe-snath in England or Scotland,although so much of our implemental machinery has been introduced.�American manure-forks and hay-forks, axes and augurs you will now findexposed for sale in nearly every considerable town, but one of our beautifullymounted scythes would be a great novelty here.

The scenery varies, but retains the peculiarly Scotch features.�Hills which we should call mountains are frequently planted with treesas far up as the soil will lie upon the precipitous sides.� Onpassing one of great height, bald at the top, but bearded to the eyebrowswith fir and larch, I asked an elderly man, a blacksmith, standing inhis shop-door, if they were a natural growth.� He said that heand his two boys planted them all about forty-eight years ago.�They were now worth, on an average, twelve English shillings, or aboutthree dollars a-piece.

I lodged in Kinross, a pleasant-faced, quiet and comfortable littletown, done up with historical associations of special interest.�Here is Loch Leven, serene and placid, like a mirror framed with woodedhills, looking at their faces in it.� It is a beautiful sheet ofwater, taking the history out of it.� But putting that in and aroundit, you see a picture before you that you will remember.� Hereis more of Mary the Unfortunate.� You see reflected in the silversheen of the lake that face which looks at you with its soft appealfor sympathy in all the galleries of Christendom.� Out there, onthat little islet, green and low, stands the black castle in which theyprisoned her.� There they made her trembling, indignant fingerswrite herself �a queen without a crown.�� Southwardthere, where amateurs now fish for trout, young Douglas rowed her ashorewith muffled oars so softly that they stirred no ripple at the bow.�The keys of the castle they threw into the lake to bar pursuit, layin the mud for nearly three centuries, when they were found by a ladof the village, and presented to the Earl of Morton, a representativeof the Douglas family.

The next day I walked on to Perth, passing through a very interestingsection, which nature and history have enriched with landscapes andmanscapes manifold.� It is truly a romantic region for both thesequalities, with delightful views in sudden and frequent alternation.�Glens deep, winding and dark, with steep mountain walls folding theirtree-hands over the road; lofty hills in full Scotch uniform, in tartanheather and yellow grain plaided in various figures; chippering streams,now hidden, now coming to the light, in white flashing foam in a rockyglade of the dell; straths or savannas, like great prairie gardens,threaded by meandering rivers and studded with wheat in sheaves, shocksand ricks, seen over long reaches of unreapt harvests; villages, hamlets,white cottages nestling in the niches and green gorges of the mountains,�andall these sceneries set in romantic histories dating back to the Danesand their doings in Scotland, make up a prevista for the eye and a revistafor the mind that keep both in exhilarating occupation every rod ofthe distance from Kinross to Perth.

The road via Glenfarg would be a luxury of the first enjoymentto any tourist with an eye to the wild, romantic and picturesque.�Debouching from this long, winding, tree-arched dell, you come out uponStrathearn, or the bottom-land of the river Earn, which joins the Taya few miles below.� The term strath is peculiarly a Scottish designationwhich many American readers may not have fully comprehended, althoughit is so blended with the history and romance of this country.�It is not a valley proper, as we use that term; as the Valley of theMississippi or the Valley of the Connecticut.� If the word wereadmissible, it might be called most descriptively the land-bay of ariver, at a certain distance between its source and mouth, such forinstance as the German Flats on the Mohawk, or the Oxbow on the Connecticut,at Wethersfield, in Vermont, or the great onion-growing flat on thesame river at Wethersfield in Connecticut.� These straths are numerousin Scotland, and constitute the great productive centres of the mountainsections.� They are generally cultivated to the highest perfectionof agricultural science and economy and are devoted mostly to grain.�As they are always walled in by bald-headed mountains and lofty hills,cropped as high as man and horse can climb with a plough and plantedwith firs and larches beyond, they show beautifully to the eye, andconstitute, with these surroundings, the peculiar charm of Scotch scenery.�The term is always prefixed to the name of the river, as Strathearn,Strathspey, etc.

I noticed on this day�s walk the same singular habit that struckme in the north part of Yorkshire; that is, of cutting inward upon thestanding grain.� Several persons, frequently women and boys, followthe mowers, and pick up the swath and bind it into sheaves, using norake at all in the process.� So pertinaciously they seem to adhereto this remarkable and awkward custom, that I saw two mowers walk downa hill, a distance of full a hundred rods, with their scythes undertheir arms, in order to begin a new swath in the same way; four or fivemen and women running after them full tilt to bind the grain as it fell!�Here was a loss of at least five minutes each to half a dozen hands,amounting to half an hour to a single man at the end of each swath orwork.� Supposing the mowers made twenty in ten hours from bottomto top of the field, here is the loss of one whole day for one man,or one sixth of the whole aggregate time applied to the harvesting ofthe crop, given to the mere running down that hill of six pairs of legsfor no earthly purpose but to cut inward instead of outward, as we do.�The grain-ricks in Scotland are nearly all round and quite small.�Every one of them is rounded up at the top and fitted with a Mandarin-lookinghat of straw, which sheds the rain well.� A good-sized farm-houseis flanked with quite a village of these little round stacks, lookinglike a comfortable colony of large, yellow tea-caddies in the distance.

Reached Perth a little after dark, having made a walk of nearly twentymiles after 11 a.m.� Here I remained over the Sabbath, and greatlyenjoyed both its rest and the devotional exercises in some of the churchesof the city.

The Fair City of Perth is truly most beautifully situated at thehead of navigation on the Tay, as Stirling is on the Forth.� Ithas no mountainous eminence in its midst, castle-crowned, like Stirling,from which to look off upon such a scene as the latter commands.�But Nature has erected grand and lofty observatories near by in theMoncrieffe and Kinnoull Hills, from which a splendid prospect is unrolledto the eye.� There is some historical or legendary authority forthe idea that the Romans contemplated this view from Moncrieffe Hill;and, as the German army, returning homeward from France, shouted withwild enthusiasm, at its first sight, Der Rhein!� Der Rhein!so these soldiers of the C�sars shouted at the view of the Tayand the Corse of Gowrie, Ecce Tiber!� Ecce Compus Martius!�There was more patriotism than parity in the comparison.� The Italianriver is a Rhine in history, but a mere Goose Creek within its actualbanks compared with the Tay.� In history, Perth has its full shareof �love and murder,� rhyme and romance, sieges, batteringand burning, royals and rebels.� In the practical life of to-day,it is a progressive, thriving town, busy, intelligent, respected andhonorable.� The two natural features which would attract, perhaps,the most special attention of the traveller are the two Inches, Northand South, divided by the city.� This is a peculiar Scotch termwhich an untravelled American will hardly understand.� It has norelation to measurement of any kind; but signifies what we should calla low, level green or common in or adjoining a town.� The Inchesof Perth are, to my eye, the finest in Scotland, each having about amile and a half in circumference, and making delightful and healthyplaygrounds and promenades for the whole population.

On Monday, Sept. 14th, I took staff and set out for another week-stageof my walk, or from Perth to Inverness.� Crossed the Tay and proceedednorthward up the east side of that fertile river.� Fertile maysound at first a singular qualification for a broad, rapid stream runningdown out of the mountains and widening into a bay or firth at its mouth.�But it may be applied in the best sense of production to the Tay; andnot only that, but other terms known to practical agriculture.�Up to the present moment, no river in the world has been cultivatedwith more science and success.� None has been sown so thickly withseed-vitalities or produced more valuable crops of aquatic life.�Here salmon are hatched by hand and folded and herded with a shepherd�scare.� Here pisciculture, or, to use a far better and more euphoniousword, fish-farming, is carried to the highest perfection in Great Britain.�It is a tillage that must hereafter take its place with agricultureas a great and honored industry.� If the cold, bald-headed mountains,the wild, stony reaches of poverty-stricken regions, moor, morass, steppeand prairie are made the pasturage of sheep innumerable, the thousandsof rivers in both hemispheres will not be suffered to run to waste throughanother century.� The utilitarian genius of the present age willturn them into pasturage worth more per acre than the value of the richestland on their banks.� Just think of the pasturage of the Tay.�It rents for �14,000 a year; and those who hire it must make itproduce at least �50,000, or $240,000 annually.� Let us assumethat the whole length of this salmon-pasturage is fifty miles, and itsaverage width one-eighth of a mile.� Then the whole distance wouldcontain the space of 4,000 square acres, and the annual rent for fishingwould amount to over �3 13s. per acre.� This would make everyfish-bearing acre of the river worth �100, calculated on the landbasis of interest or rent.

Having heard of the Stormontfields� Ponds for breeding salmon,I had a great desire to see them.� They are situated on the Tay,a few miles above Perth, and are well worthy of the inspection and admirationof the scientific as well as the utilitarian world.� The processis as simple as it is successful and valuable.� A race or canal,filled with a clear, mountain stream, and constructed many years agoto supply motive power to a corn-mill, runs parallel with the river,at the distance from it of about twenty rods.� At right angleswith this stream, there are twenty-five wooden boxes side by side, aboutfifty feet in length, placed on a slight decline.� These boxesor troughs, each about two feet wide and one foot deep, are dividedinto partitions by cross-boards, which do not reach, within a few inches,the top of the siding, so that the water shall make a continuous surfacethe whole length of the trough.� Each trough is filled with roundriver stones or pebbles washed clean, on which the spawn is laid.�The water is let out of the mill-race upon these troughs through a wire-clothfilter, covering them about two inches deep above the stones.�At the bottom, a lateral channel or race, running at right angles tothe troughs, conducts the waste water in a rapid, bubbling stream downinto the feeding-pond, which covers the space of about one-fifth ofan acre, close to the river, with which it is connected by a narrowrace gated also with a wire-cloth, to prevent the little living mitesfrom being carried off before their time.

This may serve to give the reader some approximate idea of the constructionof the fish-fold.� The next process is the stocking it with thebreeding ewes of the sea and river.� The female salmon is caughtin the spawning season with a net, and the ova are expressed from herby passing the hand gently down the body, when she is again put intothe river to go on her way.� The manager told me that they generallyreckoned upon a thousand eggs to a pound of the salmon caught.�Thus fourteen good-sized fish would stock the twenty-five troughs.�When hatched, the little things run down into the race-way, which carriesthem into the feeding-pond.� Here they are fed twice daily, withfive pounds of beef�s liver pulverised.� They remain in thiswater-yard from April to autumn, when the gate is raised and they arelet out into the river.� And it is a very singular and interestingfact that those only go which have got their sea-coats on them, or havereached the �smolt� character.� The smaller fry remainin the pond until, as it has been said in higher circles of society,their beards are grown, or, in their case, until their scales are grown,to fit them for the rough and tumble of salt-water life.

The growth of the little bull-headed mites, after being turned intothe river-pasture, is wonderful�more rapid than that of lambsof the Southdown breed.� The keeper had marked some of them, onletting them out, by clipping the dorsal fin.� On being caughtsix or eight months afterward, they weighed from five to seven poundsagainst half a pound each when sent forth to take care of themselves.�The proprietors of the fisheries defray the expense of this breedingestablishment, being taxed only twopence in the pound of their rental.�This, of course, they get back with large interest and profit from thetenant-farmers of the river.� As a proof of the enhanced productionof the Tay fisheries under this cultivation the fact will suffice, thatthey now rent for �14,000 a year against �11,000 under theold system.

Salmon-breeding is doubtless destined to rank with sheep-cultureand cattle-culture in the future.� The remotest colonies of GreatBritain are moving in the matter with vigor and almost enthusiasm.�Vessels have been constructed on purpose to convey this fair and mottledstock of British rivers to those of Australia and New Zealand.�In France, fish-farming has become a large and lucrative occupation.�I hope our own countrymen, who plume themselves on going ahead in utilitarianenterprises, will show the world what they can do in this.� Surelyour New England men, who claim to lead in American industries and ingenuities,will not suffer half a million acres of river-pasturage to run to wastefor another half century, when it would fold and feed millions of salmon.�Once they herded in the Connecticut in such multitudes that a specialstipulation was inserted in the indentures of apprentices in the vicinityof the river, that they should not be obliged to eat salmon more thana certain number of times in a week.� Now, if a salmon is caughtbetween the mouth and source of the river, it is blazoned forth in thenewspapers as a very extraordinary and unnatural event.� Thereis no earthly reason why the Connecticut should not breed and supplyas great a number of these excellent and beautiful fish as the Tay.�Its waters are equally pure and quiet as those of the Scotch river.�Every acre of the Connecticut, from the northernmost bridge that spansit in Vermont to its debouchment at Saybrook, might be made productiveof as great a value as any onion-garden acre at Wethersfield.

The salmon-shepherd at Stormontfields, having fully explained thelabors and duties of his charge, rowed me across the Tay, and I continuedmy walk highly gratified in having seen one of the new industries whichthis age is adding to the different cultures provided for the sustentationand comfort of human life.� The whole way to Dunkeld was full ofinterest, nature and history making every mile a scene to delight theeye and exhilarate the mind.� The first considerable village Ipassed through was Stanley, which gives the name to that old familyof British peers known in history by the battle-cry of a badly-pressedsovereign, �On, Stanley, on!�� Murthley Castle, theseat of Sir William Stewart, and the beautiful grounds which front andsurround it, will excite the admiration of the traveller and pay himwell for a moment�s pause to peruse its illuminated pages openedto his view.� The baronet is regarded as an eccentric man, perhapschiefly because he has built a splendid Roman Catholic chapel quitenear to his mansion and supports a priest of that order mostly for hisown spiritual good.� Near Dunkeld, Birnam Hill lifts its round,dark, bushy head to the height of over 1,500 feet, grand and grim, asif it wore the bonnet of Macbeth and hid his dagger beneath its tartancloak of firs.� �Birnam Wood,� which Shakespeare�sgenius has made one of the immortals among earthly localities, was thesetting of that hill in his day, and perhaps centuries before it.�Crossing the Tay by a magnificent bridge, you are in the famous oldcity and capital of ancient Caledonia, Dunkeld.� Here centre someof the richest rivulets of Scotch history, ecclesiastical and military,of church and state, cowl and crown.� Walled in here, on the upperwaters of the Tay, by dark and heavily-wooded mountains, it was justthe place for the earliest monks to select as the site of one of theircloistered communities.� The two best saints ever produced by theseislands, St. Columba and St. Cuthbert, are said to have been connectedwith the religious foundations of this little sequestered city.�The old cathedral, having been knocked about like other Roman Catholicedifices in the sledge-hammer crusades of the Reformation, was ruinedvery picturesquely, as a tourist, with one of Murray�s red-bookguides in his hand, would be likely to say.� But the choir wasrebuilt and fitted up for worship by the late Duke of Atholl at theexpense of about �5,000.

Of this duke I must say a few words, for he has left the greenestmonument to his memory that a man ever planted over his grave.�He did something more and better than roofing the choir of a ruinedcathedral.� He roofed a hundred hills and valleys with a larch-and-firwork that will make them as glorious and beautiful as Lebanon forever.�One of the most illustrious and eloquent of the Iroquois aristocracywas a chief called Corn-planter.� This Duke of Atholl should benamed and known for evermore as the great Tree-planter of Christendom.�We have already dwelt upon the benefaction that such a man leaves tocoming generations.� This Scotch nobleman virtually founded a neworder of knighthood far more useful and honorable than the Order ofthe Garter.� To talk of garters!�why, he not onlyput the cold, ragged shivering hills of Scotland into garters, but intostockings waist high, and doublets and bonnets and shoes of beautifullygreen and thick fir-plaid.� He planted 11,000 square acres withthe larch alone; and thousands of these acres stood up edgewise againstmountains and hills so steep that the planters must have spaded theholes with ropes around their waists to keep them from falling downthe precipice.� It is stated that he had twenty-seven millionsof the larch alone planted on his mountainous estates, besides severalmillions of other trees.� Now, it is doubtful if the whole regionthus dibbled with this tree-crop yielded an average rental of one Englishshilling per acre as a pasturage for sheep.� On passing throughmiles and miles of this magnificent wood-grain and taking an estimateof its value, I put it at 10s., or $2 40c. per tree.� Of the twenty-sevenmillions of larches thus planted, ten must be worth that sum; makingalone, without counting the rest, �5,000,000, or $24,000,000.�It is quite probable that the larches, firs and other trees now coveringthe Atholl estates, would sell for �10,000,000 if brought to thehammer.� But he was not only the greatest arboriculturist in theworld, but the founder of tree-farming as a productive industry as wellas a decorative art.� Already it has transformed the Highlandsof Scotland and trebled their value, as well as clothed them with anew and beautiful scenery.� What we call the Scotch larch was notoriginally a native of that country.� Close to the cathedral inDunkeld stand the two patriarchs of the family, first introduced intoScotland from Switzerland in 1737.

Having remained the best part of two days in Dunkeld, I held on northward,through heavily-shaded and winding glen and valley to Blair Atholl.�For the whole distance of twenty miles the country is quite Alpine,wild and grand, with mountains larched or firred to the utmost reachand tenure of soil for roots; deep, dark gorges pouring down into thenarrowing river their foamy, dashing streams; mansions planted hereand there on sloping lawns showing sunnily through groves and parks;now a hamlet of cottages set in the side of a lofty hill, now a largervillage opening suddenly upon you at the turning of the turnpike road.�I reached Blair Atholl at about dark, and lodged at the largest hotelI slept in between London and John O�Groat�s.� It isvirtually the tourist�s inn; for this is the centre of some ofthe most interesting and striking sceneries and localities in Scotland.�Glens, waterfalls, stream, torrent, mountain and valley, with theirromantic histories, make this a very attractive region to thousandsof summer travellers from England and other countries.� The railwayfrom Perth to Inverness via Dunkeld and Blair Atholl, has just openedup this secluded Scotch Switzerland to multitudes who never would haveseen it without the help of the Iron Horse.� A month previous,this point had been the most distant in Scotland from steam-routes oftransportation and travel.� Now southern sportsmen were hiringup �the shooting� for many miles on both sides of the line,making the hills and glens echo with their fusillades.� Blair Castle,the duke�s mansion, is a very ordinary building in appearance,looking from the public road like a large four-story factory paintedwhite, with small, old-fashioned windows.� He himself was lyingin a very painful and precarious condition, with a cancer in the throat,from which it was the general impression that he never would recover.�The day preceding, the Queen had visited him, while en routefor Balmoral, having gone sixty miles out of her way to comfort himwith such an expression of her sympathy.

The next day I reached the northern boundary of the Duke of Atholl�sestates, having walked for full forty miles continuously through it.�Passed over a very bleak, treeless, barren waste of mountain and moorland,most of it too rocky or soilless for even heather.� The dashing,flashing, little Garry, which I had followed for a day or two, thinnedand narrowed down to a noisy brook as I ascended towards its source.�For a long distance the country was exceedingly wild and desolate.�Terrible must be the condition of a man benighted therein, especiallyin winter.� There were standing beacons all along the road formiles, to indicate the track when it was buried in drifting snow.�These were painted posts, about six or eight feet high, planted on therocky, river side of the road, at a few rods interval, to guide thetraveller and keep him from dashing over the concealed precipices.�About the middle of the afternoon I reached the summit of the two watersheds,where a horse�s hoof might so dam a balancing stream as to sendit southward into the Tay or northward into the Moray Firth.� Soona rivulet welled out in the latter direction with a decided current.�It was the Spey.� A few miles brought me suddenly into a little,glorious world of beauty.� The change of theatrical sceneries couldhardly have produced a more sudden and striking contrast than this presentedto the wild, cold, dark waste through which I had been travelling fora day.� It was Strathspey; and I doubt if there is another viewin Scotland, of the same dimensions, to equal it.� It was indescribablygrand and beautiful, if you could blend the meaning of these two commonly-coupledadjectives into one qualification, as you can blend two colors on theeasel.� To get the full enjoyment of the scene at one draught,you should enter it first from the south, after having travelled fortwenty miles without seeing a sheaf of wheat or patch of vegetationtilled by the hand of man.� I know nothing in America to compareit with or to help the American reader to an approximate idea of it.�Imagine a land-lake, apparently shut in completely by a circular wallof mountains of every stature, the tallest looking over the shouldersof the lower hills, like grand giants standing in steel helmets andgreen doublets and gilded corselets, to see the soft and quiet beautyof the valley sleeping under their watch and ward.� As the sun-burstsfrom the strath-skies above darted out of their shifting cloud-wallsand flashed a flush of light upon the solemn brows of these majesticapostles of nature one by one, they stood haloed, like the favored saintsin Scripture in the overflow of the Transfiguration.� It was justthe kind of day to make the scene glorious indescribably.� Theclouds and sky were in the happiest disposition for the brilliant playsand pictures of light and shade, and dissolving views of fascinatingsplendor succeeded and surpassed each other at a minute�s interval.�Now, the great land-lake, on whose bosom floated in the sunlight a thousandislands oat-and-barley-gilded, and rimmed with the green and purpleverdure of the turnip and rutabaga, was all set a-glow by a luminousflood from the opening clouds above.� The next moment they closedthis disparted seam in their drapery, and opened a side one upon thestill, grave faces of the surrounding mountains; and, for a few minutes,the smile went round from one to the other, and the great centurionsof the hills looked happy and almost human in the gleam.� Thenshade�s turn came in the play, and it played its part as perfectlyas light.� It put in the touch of the old Italian masters, givingan everchanging background to all the sublime pictures of the panorama.

I was not alone in the enjoyment of this scenery.� For the firsttime in this Walk I had a companion for a day.� A clergyman fromnear Edinburgh joined me at Kingussie, with whom I shared the luxuryof one of the most splendid views to be found in Scotland.� Indeed,few minds are so constituted as to prefer to see such natural picturesalone.� After a day�s walk among these sceneries, we cameto the small village of Aviemore in the dusk of the evening.� Herewe found that the only inn had been closed and turned into a privateresidence, and that it was doubtful if a bed could be had for love ormoney in the place.� The railway through it to Inverness had justbeen opened, and the navvies seemed still to constitute the largestportion of the population.� Neither of us had eaten any dinner,and we were hungry as well as tired.� Seeing a little, low cottagenear the railroad, with the sign of something for the public good overthe door, we went to it, and found that it had two rooms, one a kindof rough, stone-floored shed, the other an apartment full ten feet square,with two beds in it, which occupied half the entire space.� But,small as it was, the good man and woman made the most of it in the wayof entertainment, getting up a tea occasionally for persons stoppingover in the village at a meal-time, also selling small articles of groceryto the laborers.� Everything was brought from a distance, eventheir bread, bacon and butter.� Their stock of these fundamentalswas exhausted, so that they could not give us anything with our teauntil the arrival of the train from the north, which we all watchedwith common interest.� In the course of half an hour it came, andsoon our cabin-landlord brought in a large basket full of the simplestnecessaries of life, which we were quite prepared to enjoy as its bestluxuries.� Soon a wood fire blazed for us in the double-beddedparlor, and the unpainted deal table was spread in the fire-light witha repast we relished with a pleasant appreciation.

My companion was bound northward by the next train in that direction,and was sure to find good quarters for the night; but as there was notan inn for ten miles on the route I was to travel, and as it was nowquite night and the road mostly houseless and lonely, I felt some anxietyabout my own lodging.� But on inquiry I was very glad to find thatone of the two beds in the room was unoccupied and at my disposal.�So, having accompanied my fellow-traveller to the station and seen himoff with mutual good wishes, I returned to the cottage, and the mistressreplenished the fire with a new supply of chips and faggots, and I hadtwo or three hours of rare enjoyment, enhanced by some interesting booksI found on a shelf by the window.� And this is a fact worthy ofnote and full of good meaning.� You will seldom find a cottagein Scotland, however poor and small, without a shelf of books in it.�I retired rather earlier than usual; but before I fell asleep, the tworegular lodgers, who occupied the other bed, came in softly, and spokein a suppressed tone, as if reluctant to awaken me.� And here Iwas much impressed with another fact affiliated with the one I havementioned�that of praying as well as reading in the Scotch cottage.�After a little conversation just above a whisper, the elder of the two�andhe not twenty, while the other was apparently only sixteen�firstread, with full Scotch accent, one of the hard-rhymed psalms used inthe Scotch service.� Then, after a short pause, he read with alow, solemn voice a chapter in the Bible.� A few minutes of silencesucceeded, as if a wordless prayer was going upward upon the still wingsof thought, which made no audible beating in their flight.� Itwas very impressive; an incident that I shall ever hold among the mostinteresting of all I met with on my walk.� They were not brothersevidently, but most likely strangers thrown together on the railroad.�They doubtless came from different directions, but, from Highlands orLowlands, they came from Bible-lighted homes, whose �voices ofthe night� were blended with the breathings of religious lifeand instruction.� Separated from such homes, they had agreed tomake this one after the same spiritual pattern, barring the parentalpresence and teaching.

The next day after breakfast, took leave of my kind cottage hosts,exchanging good wishes for mutual happiness.� Went out of the amphitheatreof Strathspey by a gateway into another, surrounded by mountains lesslofty and entirely covered with heather.� For several miles beyondCarr Bridge I passed over the wildest moorland.� The road was markedby posts about ten feet high, painted white within two feet of the topand black above.� These are planted about fifteen rods apart, toguide the traveller in the drifting and blinding snows of winter.�The road over this cold, desolate waste exceeded anything I ever sawin America, even in the most fashionable suburbs of New York and Boston.�It was as smooth and hard as a cement floor.� Here on this treelesswild, I met several men at work trimming the edges of the road by aline, with as much precision and care as if they were laying out anaisle in a flower garden.� After a walk of about seventeen miles,I reached Freeburn Inn about the middle of the afternoon, and as itbegan to rain and to threaten bad weather for walking, I concluded tostop there for the night, and found good quarters.

The rain continued in showers, and I feared I should be unable toreach Inverness to spend the Sabbath.� There was a cattle fairat the inn, and a considerable number of farmers and dealers came togethernotwithstanding the weather.� Indeed, there were nearly as manymen and boys as animals on the ground.� A score or more had comein, each leading or driving a single cow or calf.� The cattle generallywere evidently of the Gaelic origin and antecedents�little, chubby,scraggy creatures, of all colors, but mostly black, with wide-branchinghorns longer than their fore-legs.� Their hair is long and as coarseas a polar seal�s, and they look as if they knew no more of housingagainst snow, rain and wintry winds, or of a littered bed, than thebuffaloes beyond the upper waters of the Missouri.� One would beinclined to think they had lived from calf-hood on nothing but heatheror gorse, and that the prickly fodder had penetrated through their hidesand covered them with a growth midway between hair and bristles.�They will not average over 350 lbs. when dressed; still they seem tohold their own among other breeds which have attracted so much attention.�This is probably because they can browse out a living where the Durhamand Devon would starve.

The sheep in this region are chiefly the old Scotch breed, with curlinghorns and crocked faces and legs, such as are represented in old pictures.�The black seems to be spattered upon them, and looks as if the heatherwould rub it off.� The wool is long and coarse, giving them a goat-likeappearance.� They seem to predominate over any other breed in thispart of Scotland, yet not necessarily nor advantageously.� A largesheep farmer from England was staying at the inn, with whom I had muchconversation on the subject.� He said the Cheviots were equallyadapted to the Highlands, and thought they would ultimately supplantthe black faces.� Although he lived in Northumberland, full twohundred miles to the south, he had rented a large sheep-walk, or mountainfarm, in the Western Highlands, and had come to this section to buyor hire another tract.� He kept about 4,000 sheep, and intendedto introduce the Cheviots upon these Scotch holdings, as their bodieswere much heavier and their wool worth nearly double that of the oldblack-faced breed.� Sheep are the principal source of wealth inthe whole of the North and West of Scotland.� I was told that sometimesa flock of 20,000 is owned by one man.� The lands on which theyare pastured will not rent above one or two English shillings per acre;and a flock even of 1,000 requires a vast range, as may be indicatedby the reply of a Scotch farmer to an English one, on being asked bythe latter, �How many sheep do you allow to the acre?��Ah, mon,� was the answer, �that�s nae the waywe count in the Highlands; it�s how monie acres to the sheep.�

At about two p.m., the showers becoming less frequent, I set outwith the hope of reaching Inverness before night.� The wind washigh, the road muddy, or dirty, as the English call that condition;and the rain frequently compelled me to seek shelter in some waysidecottage, or under the fir-trees that were planted in groves at narrowintervals.� The walking was heavy and slow in face of the frequentshowers, and a strong gale from the north-east; so that I was exceedinglyglad to reach an inn within four miles of Inverness, where I promisedmyself comfortable lodgings for the night.� It was a rather large,but comfortless-looking house, evidently concentrating all its entertainmentfor travellers in the tap-room.� After considerable hesitation,the landlady consented to give me bed and board; and directed �thelassie� to make a fire for me in a large and very respectableroom on the second floor.� I soon began to feel quite at home byits side.� My boots had leaked on the way and my feet were verywet and cold; and it was with a pleasant sense of comfort that I changedstockings, and warmed myself at the ruddy grate, while the storm seemedto increase without.� After waiting about an hour for tea, I heardthe lassie�s heavy footstep on the stairs; a knock�the dooropens�now for the tray and the steaming tea-pot, and happy visionof bread, oatcake and Scotch scones!� Alas! what a falling-offwas there from this delicious expectation!� The lassie had broughta severe and peremptory message from the master, who had just returnedhome.� And she delivered it commiseratingly but decidedly.�She was to tell me from him that there was nothing in the house to setbefore me; that the fair the day before had eaten out the whole stockof his provisions; in short, that I was to take my staff and walk onto Inverness.� It was in vain that I remonstrated, pleaded andurged wet feet, the darkness, the wind and rain.� �It isso,� said the lassie, �and can�t be otherwise.��She tried to encourage me to the journey by shortening the distanceby half its actual miles, saying it was only two, when it was full four,and they of the longest kind.� So I went out into the night inmy wet clothes, and put the best face and foot to the head-wind andrain that I could bring to bear against them.� Both were strong,beating and drenching; and it was so dark that I could hardly see theroad.� In the course of half an hour, I made the lassie�stwo miles, and in another, the whole of the actual distance, and foundcomfortable quarters in one of the temperance inns of Inverness, reachingit between nine and ten at night.� Here I spent a quiet Sabbath,which I greatly enjoyed.

Dawyck Botanic Garden

Sun, 11 Mar 2007 15:12:49 +0000

Scotland boasts some of the most wonderful (Botanic) gardens in Britain and the gardens from the National Botanic Gardens of Scotland belong to the oldest and most beautiful in the world, and also contain one of the richest plant collections. Their gardens are located in Edinburgh, Benmore, Logan and Dawyck.

Dawyck Botanic Garden is located in the Scottish Borders on the B712, only eight miles southwest of Peebles. This botanic garden is more than 300 years old and boasts some of the tallest trees in Britain, as well as exotic conifers. Located in a picturesque glen Dawyck is a trully magnificant garden offering spectacular displays of azaleas, rhododendrons and lovely walks on the hillside and along little burns. Themed trails provide insight into the special collections at Dawyck, and follow the adventures and discoveries of plant collector David Douglas, after whom the Douglas fir is named.

Dawyck Botanic Garden has a gift shop, conservatory and of course very nice plants for sale. Dawyck House unfortunately doesn't belong to the garden and can therefore not be visisted, but is well visible from the several trails. Dawyck Garden is open daily, starting at 10.00am, from the beginning of February to the end of November. Admission is �3.50 for adults, �3.00 concession and children pay �1.00.

New Whisky Distillery on Islay

Thu, 01 Mar 2007 15:59:41 +0000

Today is probably a historic day for Islay because it is confirmed that Bruichladdich will start a second distillery in the beautiful village of Port Charlotte. The name of this new distillery will be Port Charlotte Distillery, referring to the old distillery on the same location that closed down in 1929.

A quote from the Islay Weblog
Bruichladdich Distillery has now officially announced its plans to create the new distillery at Port Charlotte. The distillery will be built, subject to planning permission, on the site of the Lochindaal Distillery that ceased production in 1929. The new name will be Port Charlotte Distillery, one of the original names of the 1829 enterprise. The Distillery was also known as Rhinns Distillery and Lochindaal Distillery.

Glasgow Art Fair

Tue, 20 Feb 2007 18:49:27 +0000

A record number of galleries have applied for space to exhibit in the tented pavilions in George Square of the Glasgow Art Fair which takes place from April 19 to 22. A total of 43 galleries (including 11 from Glasgow) will have work from 1,000 national and internationally renowned artists on display. Last year, 16,000 visitors attended the event to admire the exhibits and to buy works ranging in price from just a few pounds to thousands. A total of �1.1 million was paid for 1,200 pieces of art, including five prints by Beatle John Lennon which sold for between �500 and �3,200.

Persabus Pottery Port Askaig Isle of Islay

Thu, 01 Feb 2007 13:17:12 +0000

In an earlier article on the Islay Weblog I wrote about the new website for the Persabus Pottery and I am happy to announce that today the new Online Shop from the Persabus Pottery came online and is now ready to use. The last weeks Arra and myself added the last items and descriptions and after a few test runs we decided that the shop is "ready for action". Payments can be made using most credit cards, Paypal and a postal form. Later an Acrobat Order Form will be added.

Persabus Pottery is a small craft shop located on the beautiful Isle of Islay near Port Askaig on the Bunnahabhain road. In their shop they have a very nice display of all their pottery items and, with their wonderful Islay hospitaly, coffee and home made bakings are always ready to serve.

The online shop contains more than 50 items in eight categories and almost every item is available in twelve different colours. The variety of items in the shop is quite large. Categories have been made for vases, kitchen ware, lamps, nightlights, wall plaques, coffee and tea-pots and of course their famous water jugs including a very special model, the greylagg water jug, which is demonstrated through an online QuickTime video (this is a large file so allow some time). The pottery has unique designs only available from Persabus and are mainly based on the carved stones and crosses which can be found on several locations on Islay.

Rosslyn Chapel Visitor Numbers Rise

Thu, 01 Feb 2007 12:05:50 +0000

The latest accounts from the Rosslyn Chapel Trust Ltd show that the profits have soared in the last year to over �500,000. The 560-year-old building was the centerpiece of the famous film "The da Vinci Code" and the publicity from that has seen the visitor numbers grow from 30,000 a year to 170,000 in 2006, with each visitor paying a �7 entry fee.. Rosslyn is undergoing a lengthy �12 million restoration programme and has had scaffolding and an unsightly steel roof to try to dry out the fabric of the building. Fortunately, the rich carvings inside are still as splendidly impressive as ever. The extra profits will be invested in the restoration programme and an extension to the visitor centre.

Antonine Wall World Heritage site

Thu, 01 Feb 2007 11:55:16 +0000

The UK government's nomination for World Heritage status was announced this week by the UK Culture Secretary. As widely expected, the site being put forward to the conservation body Unesco is the Roman Antonine Wall, which runs for 37 miles across central Scotland from Old Kilpatrick on the river Clyde to Bo'ness on the Firth of Forth. The wall was built around 140AD, in the reign of Emperor Antonius Pius, to deter warriors from the north invading southern Scotland. But it lasted only 25 years, after which the Roman occupying force retreated to behind Hadrian's Wall, across northern England. Unesco will examine the proposal and will make a pronouncement at a later date.