IN SEARCH OF NESSIE AND OTHER EPIC BATTLES – SEPTEMBER 1999

During our time in Scotland from the years 1998 thru 2002, we spent out leisure time exploring Scottish history. There were a myriad of places to visit and snoop around in. Deysi and I chose a different place to look at each weekend. Ron “passed” on all of our attempts to have her do some co-exploring with us. She would mostly just roll her eyes and make a “shooting like motion” to her head, whenever invited. Ange was not quite so lucky. She was still of an age, where she did not yet get a vote on our weekend excursions. For the most part, she was stoic, and I believe, negotiated herself some “treat” for each trip she attended. We would load up the trusty Honda CR-V and head out.

Much of the time, we would go to places, I had studied about in Canada. As I said before, we did not yet have enough of our own history, to stretch through grade 12, so borrowed a lot of British, Welsh, Scottish and Irish past. Some of my favorite historical legends came from Scotland. They included well known places like Culloden, Sterling, St. Andrews, Hadrian’s Wall, and Loch Lomond, all within easy reach of where we lived. To put perspective on our travel range, it must be noted that, you could fit Scotland 8 times into the province of Alberta. This made any historical site of interest, very reachable for us. And much to Ange’s delight, we attempted to see them all.

For this post, I am going to use old photos, of places we went, to help me visualize our time based in Edinburgh. Deysi as always, studied each and every place of interest, before deciding what we wanted to look at. She would gather information, find accommodations, pack food, clothes and games and get everything 100% ready. I, as usual, finished work, came home, shed my jacket and tie and got into my sightseeing garb. Perhaps, everyone may have noticed by now, that I was not really a “blue jean” type of guy. That kinda meant that even when I changed to my casual outfit, I still looked a little dressed up. Some might say I looked like a dork. However you might not want to say that in the presence of Deysi. Anyway, car packed and off we went on this particular Saturday morning.

Within a few miles of where we lived in Edinburgh could be found any number of famous historical sites. It was not entirely necessary to jump in the car and leave town. However, it seems that we did spend a great deal of our days off, on the road, seeking adventure. I will always remember one of our earliest trips. I mean, even in a place like Scotland, with endless things to see and do, who had not heard of Loch Ness, and the famous lake monster Nessie. So, one fine day, we were off to have a look at this place and, perhaps, catch a sight of the famous monster. I was very eager for this trip, because it also happened to be very close to one of my favorite history stories of all time. A place (and battle) that I had studied, and dreamed of, since my high school days in Canada.

Locked and loaded, we headed west for Glasgow and then turned north and east to find Loch Ness. Even though Edinburg and Glasgow were bitter rivals in almost everything Scottish, with a completely different dialect of the same language, they were only 35 miles apart. Geezus, some cities like London were double that, just to cross. So to keep things in perspective, we were not very far from home when we turned north into the Scottish Highlands and took the “low road” towards Loch Ness. Almost immediately we came upon Loch Lomond, the erstwhile stomping grounds of Robbie Burns and the like. Well it had been a long day at this time, we were all of 50 miles from home, but I was ready for some good ol’ Scottish haggis. The lake was cut off from the Irish Sea by no more than a few miles, so it was obvious that once upon a time it was a fiord (or loch). Now it is a land locked lake.

Now fully fortified with the sights of Loch Lomond, some shopping treasures and a wee snack, we pile back into the car and set out for Loch Ness. The road from Loch Lomond to Loch Ness, heads northeast and changes elevation and scenery frequently. Now I fully understood the meaning behind the song, “you take the high road and I’ll take the low, and I’ll be in……. before ye”. I gave Deysi a couple of rousing verses, until she gave me “the look”. Then I settled in for another 50 mile drive. The scenery was spectacular, we followed the shore of Loch Lomond for a while, then climbed up the hills and drove along the side of the ridge overlooking Scotland, in all its glory. Our speed was not fast, the road had many, many twists and turns to it, so even 50 miles took a couple of hours. Of course we stopped frequently to look at any ruins we encountered on the way. I was getting my camera warmed up for the real sights.

I’m positively salivating waiting to catch sight of the famous lake dweller. Loch Ness is another long skinny, body of water, cut off from the North Sea by a piece of land, at Inverness. Except for a few miles of rock, Loch Ness would be a part of the Firth (inlet) of Moray. So in some ways it makes sense, that perhaps, eons ago, when, what is now Loch Ness, was connected to the sea, a prehistoric sea creature came there to live. Then, over time, its offspring became land locked, as the lake was sealed off from the sea. Could be right? Well you need to tell yourself something, or it would be like hunting the Sasquatch, if you were a non-believer or naysayer. So, armed with our cameras Deysi and I set off in search of this monster. I am kinda happy to say we didn’t find it. So, I don’t have to listen to another round of Ron and D2 calling bullshit on me.

We drove along the north shore of Loch Ness, and passed some ancient Scottish castles. One of them the Castle of Urquhart, sits about halfway along the lake on the north shore. We just had to stop for some pictures and perhaps another snack. By this time I would have been on about my tenth Diet Coke, and was probably getting a little hyper. The setting for this castle right on the shoreline of Loch Ness is spectacular. We have visited many, many castles, but this one still remains one of my favourites. It is absolutely magical. Ol’ Jimbored could have stayed here, just dreaming of Scottish highlanders, in their wee skirts attacking the ramparts. Deysi got me up and moving again, before I spun her another story of Scottish lore.

We proceeded all the way along the north shore to the top of the lake and crossed over to see what was on the south shoreline. So far, I don’t think we had seen Nessie, however I’m a little timid to bring up what might have been sightings, for fear of the naysayers within my reader’s group. Every time I thought I spotted something, Deysi always had an answer. I would say, “look, look, do you see that over there?” She would come up with things like, “that’s a duck”, or “it’s a log”, or a snort and, “you’re looking at a rock”. I just could not get her into “a sighting”. So, about mid afternoon, I stopped along the south shore, and chased Deysi thru the bush on the shoreline for a while. I took pictures of her looking at me like the Loch Ness monster.

We visited a very old Scottish Pub during mid afternoon for another snack on the side of Loch Ness. The pub was festooned with Nessie photos, stories, lore and legend. It was almost as good as seeing the real thing. By now we had put in a full day of searching and were starting to tire. We then turned back northeast and followed the lake to its head. A few miles from there was the small city of Inverness, where Deysi had secured us lodging for the night. Its also just so happened that Inverness, was only a short distance, from one of my favorite high school study subjects, the Battle of Culloden. I could hardly wait and spent dinner filling Desyi in, on all the legend around this place.

Culloden was the name of the place, and fair enough, it was not on everyone’s lips when they came to visit Scotland. I could hardly wait to get there. Deysi humoured me, and we spent the first night in a hotel very near the site of a major Scots/Brit battle. In my mind, I envisioned a magnificent battle field with hoards of proud Scots, in their skirts, faced off against rows of “red coated” brits in white wigs. Both sides “chomping at the bit” to get engaged and settle once and for all, who should be King of England. On the Scottish side they were Jacobites (Catholics), lead by Bonny Prince Charlie. The brits were lead by one of their endless princes, lords or dukes. This one, I believe, was named Prince William Augustus, Lord of Cumberland (Protestant). What a magnificent vision I had. Deysi, of course was used to my dreams, by this time. She knew, that mostly, everything I cooked up in my brain was magnified about 10 fold.

I’m like a little kid, when we arrive to an open field of gorse, about knee high and stretching across and area covered in brush filled hummocks. I’m talking about thousands and thousands of waist deep indentations in the ground covered in nasty, tough, twisted shrubs. On the far side, this area was boarded by a copse of trees. In front of the trees was a yellow flag on a tall pole. If you look closely at my picture, a bit to the left of centre, and just in front of the trees, you can make out this marker. That apparently was where the Scots lined up after an all night ‘forced march”. They had planned to arrive early and launch a surprise attack on the brits, while they were still in their cots, dreaming of English damsels. However, they were poorly lead and arrived after sun up, tired and somewhat grouchy.

Apparently, the Scots clan leaders were not unified under one command and stood around arguing whether to attack or not. The cursed English, on the other hand, were being told, by their leaders that the Scots had been ordered to massacre all of them. Therefore, surrender was out of the question. That meant, clean and prime your guns, while waiting for the Scots to charge. Finally at about 9:00 in the morning, after a wee breakfast, the Scots decided to charge. Therein lies the first problem. They were about 1000 yards (meters) away from their foes, separated by thousands of pits in the ground. The English calmly awaited them, in fine rows bristling with muskets (guns).

With a howl on came the Scots. Their charge was loud and famous. It was meant to scare the hell out of their foes. I expect that it did. Who wouldn’t be afraid of a wild long haired, wild eyed, maniac dressed in a skirt, with everything loose and flopping in front of him, shrieking and screaming and running right at you. I know exactly what I would have done, right there and then, in my diaper. Again, the problem; they had to run 1000 yards, through all sorts of shite, just to get near their enemy. They were already tired, and by the time they had run through the obstacle course in front of them, were pooped and perhaps not screaming and shrieking quite as loud. The English waited and when the highlanders were within a few yards of them, mowed them down, with musket fire.

To say the Scots had any chance would be untrue. They lost about 1700 of their men in that charge. This out of a total of about 5000. In addition, the same number were wounded and about 300 of the more wealthy or famous ones were taken prisoner. Those captured were the ones, considered worthy of ransom, by their families. In this battle, the English numbered about 7500. Hardly an epic battle. I felt a touch of disappointment that my dream of large armies, faced off, was somewhat out of proportion to reality. Geezus, either side could have fielded more fighters than this for a good Saturday football (soccer) match. And more than likely, caused as much havoc. We walked around the battleground for a while. Deysi never said anything, but I expect was unimpressed. There were no ruins, no castle, one small monument and basically a big gorse filled field.

With another of my visions destroyed, we clambered into the car and went off in search of some golf at St. Andrews. I have bittersweet memories of our famous visit to Culloden. On one hand, I am happy that I got to see, something that I studied in my youth. On the other, I far more preferred how my mind’s eye, envisioned this confrontation. I write it down in order that I remember this rude destruction of my vision. Ok, “now where’s this famous golf course”? One last parting thought. Although I have said Angela accompanied us on all of our weekend trips, I do not remember her on the trip to Loch Ness. Perhaps she had been allowed to stay at the Hotel for the day. Maybe Deysi will refresh my memory. Stay tuned for our next compelling adventure.