Meall Fuar-mhonaidh

A perfect day on the hill today, not a cloud above us, but it was blanketing the glens below. To the west we could see the familiar line of Ben Nevis above Fort William on the west coast (below), to the east the Moray Firth; beyond Loch nam Breac Dearga to the north was Ben Wyvis and to our south the Cairngorms. We were on Meall Fuar-mhonaidh, 'the rounded hill on the cold moor'. This is a perfect five mile walk for anyone staying in the Inverness area: you are at the start point in half an hour, the walk takes less than four hours, you have the satisfaction of reaching the summit of a significant hill, and down below you throughout is Loch Ness. Choose a day like today and you won't forget the experience quickly!

Above photo of Ben Nevis in the far distance taken by my walking companion Tim Honnor of Piccolo Press!

Burgie Castle Saved for Posterity

One night in January 2006, a crashing sound reverberated round the small Moray town of Rafford. Next morning the last remaining five storeys high tower of Blervie Castle, built by the Dunbars in the 16th century, had been replaced with a pile of rubble and the stump of one wall.

In the same century, the family had built another fine castle just two miles away. This is Burgie, and like its sister Burgie was once a 'Z' Plan castle with towers on diagonally opposite corners of a central keep. Now the keep is destroyed and just one tower remains. I visited Burgie on a clear frosty day last February and could not fail to be struck by its height and authority, but also by a long ominous crack in the west wall.

Happily now, it looks as if Burgie is saved. A private trust to consolidate the building has been set up and the Highland Buildings Preservation Trust, are arranging funding and will project manage the work. Emergency works to stabilise the tower start late next month. This will buy time for a full feasibility study into options for a permanent solution.

More castles will doubtless crumble this winter but Burgie will stand for a few centuries more.

Skye and Pennsylvania 1706: Norway and France 2007

Earlier today Margaret, an American in Norway (below) emailed Harriet, an American in Paris as follows:

This morning I googled "James Anderson Isle of Skye 1706" and found your September 2003 letter of appreciation to Alastair Cunningham on his Clans and Castles website, in which you mention a James Anderson in your ancestry. I wrote to Alastair, asking him to help me locate you, and he immediately wrote back that he had sent my e-mail on to you at your 2003 address. We are related, Harriet! I googled your names myself, and found your incredibly rich and fascinating website and all the proof I need to say that we are related via Andersons and Schencks. My father was Jerome Schenck Anderson III, born in Stonington, CT, in 1906.
I am Margaret Marion Anderson, born 1958, eight generations after James.

They realised that both descendants had lived for a lengthy period in Iowa.

James Anderson probably took three months to reach Chester County, Pensylvania from Skye. Now, three hundred years and eight generations later, his descendants have been able to find each other in different parts of Europe within a matter of hours!

Who knows? There may be a whole lot more of you out there waiting to be linked up.

I hate self congratulatory blogs!

You know the ones I mean? A cross between a Press Release and the worst Christmas letter. I try to avoid this.

But just now and again it is good to congratulate oneself. Briefly.

The first snow appeared on Ben Wyvis on Friday, and the Scottish Clans and Castles team of five went off for a long lunch by the log fire in The Cawdor Tavern, a brilliant pub/restaurant which really should have its own website. We were celebrating results that surpassed the plan, more clients, happy clients, and a busy year in the office, resulting in this expanded team.

In the picture above you see from left, Brian Stewart, Alison Fraser, Johanna Campbell from Extra Mile Scotland and Helen Jenkins. Missing is Ulrike Davies who looks after our German visitors.

Many thanks to all those who entrusted us with their valuable holiday time.

Where do tour guides go in winter?

Well, the free spirits head for sunnier climes, but those of us with roots enjoy expanding our local horizons and knowledge.

So yesterday, along with others in the Highlands of Scotland Tour Guide Association, I was at Isle Maree, Eilean Ma’ Ruibhe, named after the 7th century Saint Maelrubha, who established his cell or chapel here.

A rainy November day may not sound the best way to enjoy Loch Maree and its many islands, but a flat calm and the autumn colours made for a memorable trip. Most islands are rocky and covered with pine and juniper, but Isle Maree, above, has gravel shores, (incidentally the wooded far bank is accessible only on foot or by boat). Its trees are oak, alder, larch and impressive old hollies, quite strange on the windy west coast. In the centre we found an evocative druidic circle studded with the graves of a few whose families have burial rights there.


Like other disciples of the young Celtic Church, St Maelrubha may have deliberately sought continuity by adopting this druidic site for Christian purposes. Apparently he also allowed existing customs to continue: the sacrifice of bulls here would last for a further thousand years.

Within the circle are two prominent grave slabs, one of which seems to have a Viking battle axe motif engraved on it and may be that of a Viking prince. The other is said to be his Celtic princess; and thereby hangs a touching, but lengthy, story.

But Isle Maree is probably best known for its 'money tree'. Standing by a well (always a spiritual place for Celtic people) is an oak tree. Well, it was once a tree, but so much money has been forced into its trunk and branches that it is now dead. Only if a coin remains in the tree, so it is believed, will a wish be granted.

One last thing: nothing may be taken from the island. Stories of misadventure should this convention be flouted, stretch back into the mists of time. Just recently our guide had a stone sent by post from England with an impassioned request to return it to the island, in the hopes of stemming a catalogue of disasters.