So I’m currently sitting outside, warming up, with my coffee looking out at a meadow at a pheasant. Our Airbnb cottage is about 5 miles outside of Inverness, in the middle of the country, and it’s just incredibly beautiful. The country is basically just like the movies; with the exception of the stark, raving terror of driving on the tiny, narrow highways. On the wrong side. With an entire carload of people telling you contradictory things to do. Did I mention driving on the wrong side? No wonder the Scots invented whisky…
Yesterday we visited the Culloden battlefield, where a whole bunch of my ancestors were cut to shreds by grapeshot. Cheery Highland fun! In all seriousness, it was profoundly moving, and It gave me a misplaced sense of pride that the Camerons were quite literally at the forefront of the charge against the “government forces.” Charging uphill into plunging musket fire through a bog…those men were incredibly brave – and also incredibly crazy. The Cameron side of the line were the only ones that made all the way to the opposing lines and into hand to hand fighting; they were all exhausted, fighting on no food for the previous three days, and nearly all of them were killed. It turns out that Bonnie Prince Charlie wasn’t much for a strategy, sadly. The whole historical context of the battle is absolutely fascinating, and the outcome affected all of Europe. The statistics quoted at the visitor center were that about 1500 Jacobites died, and approximately 50 of the government forces died. No quarter was given; all the wounded were killed, and the government forces then hunted down and killed many more of the Scots after the battle was over. Even for the times, it was a brutal suppression. The battle site is actually very simple, with a stone monument that’s about 100 years old and carved stones that mark where most of the clansmen were buried together in mass graves. It was daunting to stand where the Camerons stood at the beginning of the battle and look up the hill through the boggy, brushy ground to where the other forces were arrayed. The bravery and foolishness it took to charge up that ground is difficult to understand.
Moving on from your impromptu history lesson, I’m now hearing one of the two neighbor horses asking for an apple just around the corner of the cottage. That cheeky pheasant walking around about 30 feet from me keeps calling, too, as he struts around his kingdom. I wonder how long his ancestors have been in this same square mile.
Our next stop just down the (terrifying) road was Cawdor Castle. Literally, too many fascinating things to talk about here, but it’s still inhabited during part of the year, so it was a strange mix of 600 year old tapestries and a modern updated kitchen. Beautiful gardens, and it was set by a small stream where the boys got to explore. Mostly, it just reminded me of how little real long term history we have in the United States. We then drove just a few miles up to the coast to a small town called Nairn, where we hung out on the beach of the Moray Firth (basically an inlet of the North Sea) for a bit and then found a small local restaurant where we had some of the best fish and chips I’ve ever had, and without question the best sticky toffee pudding in the entire world.
We’ve been to the Cathedral in Inverness, where our next concert will take place, and it’s going to be incredible. Rowan and I also had a hilarious chance meeting with some…local color…in a pub (“you can’t drink all day unless you get an early start”) in Inverness and may have made a connection there to some local traditional music; we’ll see how that turns out.
Today we’re taking a boat tour on Loch Ness, and trying not to do too many things in one day. I keep forgetting that I need to practice every day… I’ll try to post again in a couple of days. Thanks for coming along!