The Last Wolf

There are monuments all over the Highlands commemorating the 'last wolf', but it is generally agreed that the last wolf was actually killed by a man called MacQueen on the upper reaches of the River Findhorn in the year 1743. A lone wolf had attacked a woman and her children so the young laird and clan chief, Angus Maclntosh of Moy, arranged a "tainchel" or gathering to hunt it down. MacQueen, a well-known hunter, was ordered to attend; having asked a few questions about the alleged attack and sightings of the wolf, he promised to be there.

On the day Maclntosh and the local men gathered promptly at Moy Hall, but MacQueen made a casual and belated entrance, dogs at his heel. He was upbraided for his lateness by a scowling Maclntosh.
“Ciod e a chabhag?” “What was the hurry?” came the nonchalant response. MacQueen then lifted his plaid and drew forth the bloody head of the wolf, which he tossed at the laird's feet.

I passed the place a couple of weeks ago. But sadly the Moy Hall of that day burnt to the ground in 1800. It had, unlike so many others, survived the Battle of Culloden and its aftermath. The clan, recruited by his glamorous wife Anne, was 'out' at Culloden, but Angus MacIntosh himself (most strangely to our 21st century eyes) was on the opposing side having become a Captain in the British Army. Not a bad call as it meant that his home was safe.

The wolf would not have believed his eyes today - the green
flood plain of the Upper Findhorn was covered in several hundred deer, almost delicate in their part grown velvet covered antlers!

Further up near Coignafern the river was alive with noisy waders but we failed to see the small herd of wild goats that is normally there or even the golden eagles so beloved of landlord Sigrid Rausing, millionairess and enthusiasatic environmentalist.

Further north at Alladale estate, another landowner with plenty spare cash, Paul Lister has big plans for his 23,000 acre estate. He is going to reintroduce elk, lynx, bear, bison and... wolves.

Goodness knows what MacQueen would have made of it all!

Proud to be North British

A group of our clients returned to the excellent Castle Stuart by Inverness this weekend. Today I took them on a trip eastwards with stories of Brodie Castle, Picts, the burning of Elgin Cathedral, weaving, and early distilling. But they wanted to know my view of the Scottish Nationalists' victory in our recent election; I said that, whilst not in favour of independence, I thought a change of administration was probably healthy.

We were approaching Forres, and I broke off to talk about the tower above the town. 'Nelson's Tower' was erected in 1806 by prominent members of the community of Forres as a memorial to the naval hero.

But why?

After all, Forres has no naval tradition, Admiral Nelson lived in Norfolk and never visited Scotland.

The answer is that Nelson was a British (not a Scottish) hero and in 1806, prominent members of this Highland town wanted to be associated with Britain. They were impatient to move on, leaving behind all the embarrassing, historical Highland baggage of clan feuds, cattle stealing, and Jacobite Risings. Just five years previously the Earl of Moray had knocked down nearby Darnaway Castle, replacing it with a mansion house - a building better suited to the time.

In 1807 some subscribers to the cost of the monument went on to form a Trafalgar dining club. It met annually on 21st October. James Brodie of Brodie took the chair at the inaugural meeting. And as they passed around the snuff (in a box modelled on Nelson's death mask) and used the spittoon (a chamber pot decorated with the bust of Napoleon), when they stood and raised their glasses to drink the the good health of King George, they no doubt felt extremely proud to be British.

After all, this was the exciting, new, industrial, 19th century!
In Edinburgh the 'Scottish Enlightenment' was in full swing - an intellectual movement led by those who, ironically, considered themselves 'North British' and went to some lengths to speak English and not Scots! The North British Fusiliers were already defending these islands against Bonaparte; the North British Railway was born in 1844, as was the North British Advertiser, the North British Distillery followed in 1885, and I can remember when the Edinburgh hotel now known as The Balmoral was still known as the 'North British'.

In the 19th century, 'North Britain' was the spirit of the age.

Something's changed then!

...

Task completed - Bannockburn to Culloden Moor

Well, I made it! About 190 miles from Bannockburn to Culloden Moor on a bicycle. I can recommend the cycle routes through Scotland to anyone. They are on old railway lines, forestry tracks, minor roads and some dedicated cycle tracks. Away from the traffic there is masses of wildlife, and at this time of year primroses and wild hyacinths everywhere. I felt like a bit of a fraud on my first full day, cycling through such lovely countryside and being sponsored for doing so. However on Day Two I probably earned my money as the wind and rain were in my face as I toiled over remote the Pass of Drumochter in the middle of what ended up as an 80 mile day. The total raised now stands at over GBP 800 which will pay for board, lodging, education and clothing for a child in Dr Graham's Homes in Kalimpong, India for a year and a bit.

This spring the choir from the Homes were in the UK and sang quite beautifully. But it was seeing smart, enthusiastic, children who clearly loved singing and loved life that was most impressive - especially in the knowledge that many would probably be on the bread line, or below it, were it not for this school. The sore bum and stiffness seem like a small price to pay.

I took a little time off as I went to visit Doune Castle and the McNab burial ground at Killin. Of these more later, (even after a couple of days, I still feel like heading to bed a bit earlier than usual!)

Many thanks to all those who sponsored me and also to those who provided food and accommodation en route.

Usher's Old Vatted Glenlivet

'Freedom and Whisky gang thegither', wrote Robert Burns in 1786. The fiery local spirit that he enjoyed so much now boasts worldwide brands, each with a sophisticated baggage of wood finishes and production techniques.
Burns would have been amazed!

So was I, by the schedule for a day guiding an Australian couple: Glenfiddich, Macallan, Glenlivet. But all became clear, since Jarrod, bartender at the Castle Hill Tavern, Sydney, knew whisky and this was the highlight of his European trip!

They enjoyed each distillery, but The Glenlivet seemed to take the honours. Glenlivet is also a favourite of mine for different reasons.

In Scotland we don't use the expression 'single malt'. It's either malt (from one distillery) or it's blended (many whiskies including grain whiskies). But it was not always so. To produce a consistent, and palatable brand in 1853 was a challenge and led to the first mixture of malts, known as a vatted malt (as opposed to a single malt). It was called Usher's Old Vatted Glenlivet or 'OVG' and is arguably the only vatted malt ever to have become an established brand.

Andrew Usher established himself as the pioneer of whisky blending: he already held the exclusive right to distribute Glenlivet south of the Highlands and in 1885 he founded a grain distillery in Edinburgh, so building the twin pillars of his success. In 1890 the firm of Andrew Usher & Co. of Leith had the largest bonded warehouse in the world.

I have only seen one Old Vatted Glenlivet bottle, and that was in my sister's farmhouse kitchen in East Lothian where it was filled with paraffin. It may still be there, but its presence was no coincidence, as Andrew Usher was our great grandfather.

My connection with the great man promoted me, I think, from an average tour guide to an exceptional one in the view of these particular clients. And it may contribute to a good story one Burns Night, back in Sydney.

It seems 'Whisky' is still a little used word in the USA. I normally hear 'Scotch' or 'Single Malt'. So "Freedom and Whisky gang thegither" probably never resonated over there, even in 1786 when Freedom was quite an issue. But later, in the 1860s, whilst Andrew Usher was working his alchemy in Scotland, Abraham Lincoln was carrying a leather bound volume of Burns works with him wherever he went. When asked to propose a toast to the bard, he replied, "I can not frame a toast to Burns. I can say nothing worthy of his generous heart and transcendent genius."

Some might say the same of Andrew Usher whose generous heart stretched to bequeathing the City of Edinburgh with its fine concert venue, The Usher Hall. All on the back of The Glenlivet!

Bannockburn to Culloden Moor

Why, I am asked with reference to my last post, is an apparently sane man bicycling 48 miles round the Highlands? Some may say that I am not actually sane, since in May I am bicycling even further - from Bannockburn to Culloden Moor (about 180 miles) in aid of Dr Graham's Homes in Kalimpong. I hope to raise £650 which will keep an orphaned Indian child at a boarding school for a year. Here is the link!