Scotland

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Saints, Kings, Vikings and Shipbuilders. Govan and the Clyde

Although almost on my doorstep, I have to admit it was years before I discovered the magnificent carved stones housed in Govan Old Parish Church. Hundreds of years of history, belief and kingship set in stone and preserved for all to see in the heart of Glasgow. The Govan Stones are an exceptional array of early medieval Christian sculpture that show clearly the importance of this place to the Kings of Strathclyde.

According to tradition, the original church on this special site was founded early in the 6th century and dedicated to St Constantine. Built of wood and close to a holy well (a location much favoured by the Celts) it was surrounded by an almost circular wall.

The people who lived here at that time were neither Scots nor Picts, rather Old-Welsh-speaking Britons, part of a powerful kingdom ruled from Alt Clut – Dumbarton Rock. But then came the dreaded Vikings who sailed up the Clyde and in 870 AD the mighty fortress of Dumbarton fell to those ferocious Norse warriors.

One of the hogback Viking Stones

However, Dumbarton’s loss was Govan’s gain as it was to Govan that the new kings of Strathclyde looked to establish their power base. Already an important religious site, Govan now grew as a political and administrative centre: the Christian and the secular powers in the kingdom very closely intertwined. A growing sign of that increased status and subsequent wealth is reflected in what became known as ‘The Govan School’ of carving, which flourished between 900 and 1100 AD. Swirling snakes, elaborate interwoven decoration, mounted warriors, biblical scenes, huntsmen and saints – it’s all there!

As are five massive Viking hogback grave markers, which are truly monumental! At first glance they look like huge humpbacked beasts, but on closer inspection you can see that some are carved to represent wooden-tiled roofs; copies, possibly, of the wooden houses of important Viking chiefs of settlements or bases further west, who recognised the immense spiritual prestige of St Constantine’s Church at Govan and who craved the recognition burial at such an important Christian site would give them.

The Tall Ship reflected in the dramatic windows of the Riverside Museum

Not far from the Govan Stones you’ll find Fairfield Heritage Centre which tells the story of Govan’s long shipbuilding tradition. It also tells the story of brave and determined women like Mary Barbour, a leader in the Rent Strikes of 1915, when, during the First World War, the women of Govan courageously stood against corrupt landlords.

Cross the mighty River Clyde over the brand new pedestrian bridge linking Govan and Partick, and you reach the Riverside Museum, with the Tall Ship berthed in front of it. Along this short stretch of the river there’s much to see and discover. Govan and the Clyde have a long and fascinating history – some good, some not. But all part of the past that has led to the Govan of today where change is afoot. Govan’s story is not done yet!

The full article can be found in issue 98 of iScot magazine, available through Pocketmags.

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Scottish islands in crime fiction

A question: What do William Shakespeare, Jules Verne, Agatha Christie, Peter May and Enid Blyton all have in common? And the answer? They’ve all used islands as settings for some of their most exciting and memorable works.

Just think of those raging storms of Shakespeare’s The Tempest. Or the terror of being trapped on an island with an unknown murderer as in Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None. Then there’s those bleak, elemental, wind-swept landscapes of Peter May’s Lewis trilogy. And of course, that youthful delight in sailing, swimming and the great outdoors (with a smuggler or two thrown in for good measure) in Enid Blyton’s The Island of Adventure. All examples of that long-standing urge authors have to set their writings in a self-contained and very specific world. And islands fit that bill perfectly.

Scotland’s islands are no exception. We’re blessed with a great many of them. Some lie close to the mainland and so-called civilisation. Others lie far out to sea, beyond the distant horizon. Some sit almost within striking distance of their neighbours. Others in splendid isolation. Yet all with very different landscapes, customs, beliefs and even language. Perfect settings to fuel the imaginations of authors. Over the centuries they’ve provided inspiration for myths, legends and even today’s crime writers. And it’s the works of some of these that I examine in this article in issue 96 of iScot Magazine.

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Coire Fhionn Lochan – an Arran gem

‘Climb every mountain …’

… and take this walk to the beautiful Coire Fhionn Lochan on the west coast of Arran. Its name means the Little Loch of the Pale Corrie, and its crystal-clear water is fringed with white granite sand.

There’s something quite strange about coming to a beach up in the hills, but it’s a lovely spot for a rest or a picnic. It’s not a long walk, but it can be steep. And for the more energetic, there are walks that head further into Arran’s stunning mountains.

It’s a walk rich in history, with clues to the past in the place names that describe the natural features of the surrounding landscape. Place names with a mixture of linguistic roots, that tell of the invaders from other lands, who descended upon these shores. Often arriving as deadly raiders, then returning as settlers, marrying into local communites and eventually adding to the genetic mix that makes up who we are today.

Whose blood flows through your veins? Are you descended from dark-haired Celts, or fair-haired Norse Vikings. Or even those unfortunate Spanish sailors whose ships floundered in the stormy waters off the Scottish coasts in the aftermath of the Spanish Armada of 1588 and stayed on (think of Jimmy Perez!).

This walk has echoes of St Columba, as well as tales of a visit from Robert the Bruce. It’s a walk in the present that resonates with the past. A lochan at the top of the world. Not a bad place to be at all!

Full article available in issue 95 of iScot Magazine

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Eileach an Naoimh

Ancient beehive cells still exist of Eileach an Naoimh

There’s something about islands. That unique sense of wholeness, containedness, apartness. A sense that you can really get to know a place where the borders are so clearly defined by the surrounding water.

But islands have also long been seen as places of retreat from the demands of life. As places of sanctuary, where peace and tranquillity allow time for reflection and decision.

Early Christian monks favoured islands. Partly because the sea was the way people travelled, especially between Ireland and the western seaboard of Scotland. It’s not surprising therefore, that so many Scottish islands have been – and some still are – home to monasteries, chapels and religious settlements of many different shapes and sizes.

Reconstruction of an ancient curragh, a larger version of a corracle

Reconstruction of an ancient curragh, a larger version of a coracle

Though these early travellers still had to live. They had to grow food, build shelter, survive wind, weather and ill-health. So not an easy life in any physical sense, as few lives were in the past. But a way of life chosen by them: living with a purpose, which in all probability, made a difference.

Today many people choose to visit these remote islands to see where these early Christians lived. What is it draws us? There’s the excitement and sense of adventure of the journey at sea in a small boat. Then there’s an interest in history and archaeology, for it’s fascinating to see how others lived in the past without the many resources we see as essential to life today. Life pared down to the minimum.

St Brendan voyaging: from a 15th century German manuscript

But there’s also something about setting foot on an island knowing that others have done exactly that all those centuries ago and felt this to be a special place. A holy place. A place where they could live and talk to their God. Be apart for a while and re-connect to what is essential in life. I suspect that’s a longing many of us feel at times throughout our lives.

Eileach an Naoimh is a good example of one of these islands. Favoured by Brendan, Columba and also his mother, Eithne, it was seen as especially holy – hence it’s lasting name, which means Rocky Island of the Saint(s). A visit there is one that offers a real adventure, especially if you choose to reach it by crossing the Corryvreckan Whirlpool, as we did.

And it’s a place to explore and spend time on. To stop for a while and ponder on the lives of those men and women who chose to live here in the past. And perhaps even to wonder what they would make of our lives today? Of our priorities and beliefs? Of our feelings and actions towards our fellows? What would they think of us, I wonder? Now that would be interesting!

The full article is available in issue 94 of iScot Magazine

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Forteviot and the Southern Picts

If the 8th century sculptured stone at Fowlis Wester is anything to go by, the Picts were a dapper looking bunch. The men, that is, as they’re the ones depicted on the carved stones we see today. With razor-sharp beards and nifty topknots, they’d be quite at home amongst today’s hirsute males. And as both mirrors and combs feature among the symbols carved on Pictish stones, they must have been deemed to be of great importance to be given such lasting status. Cool dudes, indeed!

Yet they’re an elusive bunch, our Pictish ancestors. We know they were tribes in northern and eastern Scotland who spoke a Celtic language and flourished from the 3rd to the 9th centuries, spanning the late Iron Age and the early medieval period. Yet there’s still much about them we don’t know.

Fortunately, there have been a number of Pictish-related archaeological projects in recent years. These excavations have unearthed (and are still unearthing) finds that have added greatly to our knowledge and understanding of the Picts. And as knowledge of the past is not static, as any archaeologist worth his or her salt knows, there’s always more to discover.

East of Fowlis Wester is the village of Forteviot: a small, unassuming place, yet one with a remarkable past. It was once the heart of the mighty kingdom of the southern Picts and would go on to be acknowledged as the ‘cradle of Scotland’. The place where the Scots and the Picts finally came together as the Kingdom of Alba, which in turn gave birth to the nation that would become Scotland.

That transformation is a fascinating story. And one which I examine in this month’s article. The story of our Pictish ancestors is riveting history. And slowly but surely, bit by bit, we’re learning more.

iScot issue 93

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The Earthquake House

The first time I experienced a serious earthquake was in 1984 in Soviet Central Asia. We were in Uzbekistan, an area of high seismic activity, and though the local people took the quake in their stride, it left us more than a little shaken. It was soon obvious that the older, traditional, mudbrick houses ‘moved’ with the quake, thereby suffering little damage. But for the more modern Soviet buildings of concrete, steel and chrome, it was a different story altogether. Buckled metal and twisted doors were followed by a fair amount of consternation as to how, or even if, the damage could be repaired.

Fast forward to October 2005 and a family holiday on the Greek island of Zakynthos. On hearing a growing rumble, my first thought was that a very large plane was flying directly overhead. Living as we did then under the flight path to Glasgow airport, my initial reaction was one of annoyance – why was it that even on holiday we couldn’t escape the noise of those wretched planes! It didn’t take long however, to realise this was something very different, not an aircraft but an earthquake of magnitude 5.7.

Earthquakes can be fearsome things even when we know what’s causing them. But imagine what it must have been like for our ancestors as they tried to make sense of the mysterious and often destructive heaving of the planet. We can see their attempts to explain earthquakes in primitive myths and legends: those frightening tales of titans, giants and monsters. Tales of fearsome and unpredictable entities forever fighting, hurling huge, mountain-sized boulders at one another – causing, it was believed, earthquakes. And if not that, then blame the Wrath of God!

Fortunately we now have a far greater understanding of what causes earthquakes: of the geological forces behind Continental Drift and tectonic plates. Yet, the story of how we reached this understanding and the role played by the 19th century ‘Comrie Pioneers’ is a fascinating one. And one that I tell in issue 92 of iScot Magazine.

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Cultybraggan

It’s not often that you get the opportunity to spend the night – or several nights, come to that – in a prisoner of war camp. A former POW camp obviously. But one that retains much of the look and feel of the original. Self-catering with a difference!

In some ways it might seem to be a bit of a time warp, but that would be deceptive. Cultybraggan started life as a POW camp and eventually housed some of the most brutal, die-hard Nazi prisoners – with grim results.

That was followed by nearly sixty years as a MOD training camp. Not only for regular army troops, but also for members of the Territorial Army, University Officer Training Corps and school cadets. But it’s a different being now. A community buy-out in 2007 saw to that.

Cultybraggan is an interesting example of how places change as time passes. It’s also interesting as a place where the past is still very visible.

And it’s also a place where good men, the likes of Germany’s Herbert Sulzbach and Scotland’s Hamish Henderson, worked with Nazi prisoners to try and break the mindset that had led to such barbarity and so much death.

Everywhere has its own unique history and its own story to tell. Cultybraggan certainly has a very unusual one. Hopefully one that will continue well into the future.

My article is in issue 91 of iScot magazine

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Scottish Pilgrim Routes

In 2019 I came across a book called Travels with A Stick, written by Richard Frazer, the minister of Greyfriars Kirk in Edinburgh. It describes his pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela, one of the oldest, and best known, pilgrim routes in Europe. Not a controversial topic you might think, yet it’s one which, until recently, would have been frowned upon by many protestant denominations.

For the Reformers, pilgrimage was regarded as little more than a money-making enterprise, the proceeds of which made their way to Rome, leaving poor peasants even poorer: part of a church-run money-making scheme to encourage people to buy their way into heaven. A commercialising of Christianity and definitely not in keeping with the gospels. With the Reformation the medieval heyday of pilgrimage came to an end.

Yet for our ancestors pilgrimage was important – and no easy matter. It involved hardship and expense, often travelling long distances over land and sea in the hope of a cure for illness, or enlightenment, or to atone for sins, or for protection against the vagaries of life. Sometimes simply a sense of freedom from very restricted lives – a holiday. Their destinations were the shrines of saints noted for specific powers. To see, touch and be blessed by proximity to holy relics. To us this may seem more like superstition than belief. Yet, despite that, our modern world has seen a renaissance of pilgrimage.

The 19th century saw changes in the understanding of spirituality. While material progress was evident in the Agricultural and Industrial Revolutions, there was still a hunger in many people for something more in their lives. And this was not necessarily a need that was being met in conventional religion. Bodily needs were acknowledged (though all too often not met), but what about spiritual needs?

By the 20th century some of the older pilgrim routes in traditionally Catholic countries were slowly revived and today they are flourishing. One of the best known is undoubtedly the Camino de Santiago, The Way of St James. It’s made up of a vast network of smaller pilgrim trails, trails that flow like burns into an ever-widening river. A river that leads in this case to the shrine of St James in the cathedral of Santiago de Compostela in northwestern Spain. With the collapse of the Soviet Union, ancient routes from the Baltic states have rejoined the trail, running through Poland, Germany and France on their way to Spain.

But what of Protestant attitudes to pilgrimage? One man who has been instrumental in the revival of pilgrimage in Scotland, and in particular the Church of Scotland’s decision to reverse 450 years of opposition to it, is the above-mentioned Richard Frazer. For him the journey, wherever it is made, is less about religiosity and more about spirituality: our faith seen as an ongoing journey. “Pilgrimage,” he writes, “If undertaken with an open heart can offer profound spiritual renewal, bring us to the mystery of what it is to be human and vulnerable, and open us to the gifts of the new and the unexpected.” And it’s a search that’s not exclusive to Christians.

Despite the Reformers historic disquiet with pilgrimage, we’re surprisingly fortunate in Scotland, where many places combine the ‘ingredients’ of pilgrimage. Landscapes rich with spiritual significance, be they megalithic stone circles, caves, beehive Celtic cells, monasteries or cathedrals. Places where peace and stillness prevail. Places where generations have prayed and sought God. Places that have become regarded as special, holy sites. Sacred because of their closeness to something other, something spiritual. The thin places of the Celts. Intangible, yet definitely there, the power of place can be very strong indeed.

When we think of sacred sites in Scotland, Whithorn and Iona are two that come to mind. But there are others, and the Scottish Pilgrim Routes Forum is a fascinating source of information on these. The physical act of walking these routes allows a re-discovering of the landscape, a re-connecting to the natural world. And (thankfully!) they need not always be long-distance routes!

Take for example, Faith in Cowal, a direct response to the General Assembly of 2017 which encouraged congregations to embrace pilgrimage locally. The project focuses on the exploration of the early Christian landscape of Cowal, linking fifteen sites, all with ties to Celtic or Medieval Christianity. One is Ardtaraig Chapel, another Ardnadam, just north of Dunoon, one of the earliest Christian sites in Argyll. As well as the footings of the ancient chapel walls, burials were found, marked with primitive cross-carved stones. The chapel and graves sit within in the middle of a pre-Christian Iron Age enclosure. Layer upon layer of history in one place.

Faith in Cowal is only one of a growing number of local pilgrim trails, and is an opportunity for a break with a difference, a walk with a purpose. Time for reflection and to enjoy the glorious landscape. To walk in the footsteps of other Christians, with a sense of pilgrimage to add a spiritual dimension to the journey.

Scotland may have come late to this particular party, but we’re definitely making up for lost time now!

https://www.faithincowal.org/

https://www.sprf.org.uk/routes

(This article first appeared in Jordanhill Parish Church Link Magazine, March 2023)

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“Hunting the Shark”: or Bearsden’s oldest resident!

Walking alongside the Manse Burn as it flows through Baljaffray to the north of Bearsden, it can be hard to imagine that 330 million years ago the land here not only lay close to the Equator, but was covered in tropical lagoons and teeming with marine life!  But thanks to Bearsden’s oldest known resident – the Bearsden Shark – it’s possible to know what kind of creatures lived here and what sort of environment they lived in.

The first indication that the Manse Burn was a rich source of fossils came in 1981 when a young boy found something that he couldn’t identify and took it to Stan Wood, a local fossil expert.

The Bearsden Shark fossil can be seen at the Hunterian Museum in Glasgow, while a replica is now on display in Bearsden Library

Not long after, the Hunterian Museum of Glasgow University organised an excavation and began to unearth an abundance of fossils which eventually included the most complete and best preserved fossil shark of its kind in the whole world!  In fact the area along the Manse Burn turned out to be so rich in fossils that it was declared a Site of Special Scientific Interest (SSSI) and is one of the best Carboniferous fish sites anywhere.

Dr Neil Clark’s reconstruction of the Bearsden Shark

From the reconstruction it’s easy to see that it was a strange looking beast and scientists have discovered that not only did it have teeth in its mouth, but also along the top of its head and around its distinctive dorsal fin!!  A formidable foe indeed!

It was identified as a male shark belonging to the group known as Stethacanthidae: and not only was the Bearsden Shark fossil complete – or as ‘complete’ as a fossil can be – but it was so well preserved that it was possible to identify muscles, blood vessels and even his last meal!  However, even though unearthed forty years ago, it took nearly twenty years to finally decide that it was indeed a new species and in 2001 it was given the name of ‘akmonistion zangerli’: though most people (understandably) still refer to it simply as the Bearsden Shark!

The new ‘Bearsden Shark’ fencing across the Manse Burn in Baljaffray

Such is his fame that he has had a poem composed about his life (The Bearsden Shark by Edwin Morgan), as well as a number of PhDs written in his honour! And thanks to the work of the Bearsden Shark Group, volunteers who have done so much to keep the shark in the public eye, there’s now a cairn and information board beside the Manse Burn in Baljaffray. The board, which marks the shark’s importance in our understanding of life all those millions of years ago, was unveiled by Dr Neil Clark, curator of Palaeontology at Glasgow University’s Hunterian Museum, whose reconstruction of the Bearsden Shark is shown above.

The cairn and information board beside the Manse Burn

And should you visit the library in Bearsden you’ll be able to view the display set up by the Bearsden Shark Group, complete with a replica of the fossil. You can also buy a small booklet telling his story.

So there you have it. A cold-blooded killer from the Carboniferous Era, our shark, like millions of other creatures “softly and suddenly vanished away”.  So suddenly in this case that he didn’t have enough time to fully digest his final fish supper – made up of shrimps! – but nonetheless he did leave a lasting legacy from 330 million years ago.  Not bad for a Bearsden Boy!

The Bearsden Shark by Edwin Morgan

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Stoneymollan Coffin Road

Our earliest ancestors were nomads, so it’s not really surprising that we humans have always been on the move, one way or another. I’ve written previously about old ways through the glens: drove roads, drowned roads, and one type of old road that served a very particular function: coffin roads. Though I have to say right away that they weren’t ‘roads’ in the sense we understand them, rather narrow tracks or paths, often over harsh and hostile terrain. (You can read more here: Old Ways through the Glens)

A recent edition of the BBC Radio 4 Sunday programme, hosted by Edward Stourton, looked at an excellent new book by Professor Ian Bradley; ‘The Coffin Roads: Journeys to the West’ and I was delighted to be asked to contribute to the item. I chose a route not too far from my home which we’ve walked many times: The Stoneymollan Road. It’s a former coffin road that runs from Balloch, at the foot of Loch Lomond, to the burial ground at St Mahew’s Chapel in the clachan of Kirkton, not far from Cardross. You can listen to Professor Bradley and myself in the coffin roads item here (at 18.04 minutes in): Scotland’s Ancient Coffin Roads BBC Radio 4 Sunday, 31/07/22

While Stoneymollan may no longer be used as a coffin road, it’s a fascinating part of our country’s history. One that ties in with Scotland’s long maritime past that saw early missionary monks travelling the sea roads of the west, bringing Christianity with them. It also shows the importance of landscape in shaping the life of a nation. And, for me at least, knowing the history of this route adds a very memorable element to walking the Stoneymollan Road.