A Tale of Two Countries – Austria and Scotland

The High Alpine Road at the Grossglockner Glacier

“Comparisons are odious” wrote John Lydgate in his Debate between the horse, goose, and sheep, circa 1440. While it’s clearly not a new sentiment, and in many cases a valid one, there’s no doubt there are times when comparisons can be a timely wake-up call to matters that can, and should be, dealt with.

After a recent trip to the Austrian Alps, I certainly felt that in comparison to Austria, with its excellent rural bus services, good rail network, welcoming tourist facilities, and well-maintained roads (not a pothole in sight), Scotland definitely comes a very poor second.

No country is perfect, no country gets everything right. But at the level of a country’s basic infrastructure – roads, railways, bus services – then right now Scotland is definitely getting things very wrong.

Take the appalling delays in dualling that ‘killer road’, the A9. Or the endless landslips and closures on the A83 at the Rest and Be Thankful – problems that have dragged on for decades and seen millions of pounds wasted on consultations and temporary fixes. Then look at how similar problems are dealt with in Austria – the point being that over there they are dealt with. None of it is rocket science, and it’s particularly galling when you think that Scotland once had a world-class reputation for its civil engineering skills.

Is it incompetence, neglect or sheer stupidity that stops our government dealing quickly and efficiently with essential matters of infrastructure? Matters that are vital for the sustainability of our rural communities.

These are fundamental issues that need to be addressed if rural Scotland – or indeed all of Scotland outwith the Central Belt – is to thrive. Even a quick comparison with how the Austrians deal with their challenging terrain and keep their many rural settlements well-connected, could provide answers to Scotland’s problems.  If they can get it right, then there’s no real excuse for us not to.

Austrians take a real pride in their country. They want visitors to see it at its best too. We could learn a lot from them.

Examples of how the Austrians have tackled similar problems to ours are outlined in my article in issue 99 of iScot Magazine.

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.

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

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

Island Tales

I once found a list of diseases as yet unclassified by medical science, and amongst these there occurred the word Islomania, which was described as a rare but by no means unknown affliction of spirit. There are people … that find islands somehow irresistible. The mere knowledge that they are on an island fills them with an indescribable intoxication.” Lawrence Durrell, from Reflections on a Marine Venus.

At a very young age I too was diagnosed with islomania. And it seems there is no known cure. Not that I’d want there to be one, as it’s a malady I’m more than happy to suffer from. Rarely fatal, though often chronic, it means, basically, you can’t get enough of islands! And as there is no known cure, the only way to live with it is to visit as many islands as you possibly can. And I do.

The Colonsay Hotel

What is it about islands? They come in all shapes and sizes. Even continents are little more than enormous islands. Land surrounded by water. There’s a children’s book by American writer Margaret W. Brown called The Little Island and a line in that sums up beautifully what it means to be an island: “A part of the world and a world of its own.” I suspect that also sums up the way many of us feel at times! An island offers that bit of distance, that apartness that we often need to slow down and deal with all that goes on in our busy, and at times stressful, lives.

Not that life on an island is without its ups and downs. Wherever people are, there will be challenges and tensions along the way. You only have to look at William Golding’s chilling novel Lord of the Flies for a horrific example of what can go wrong! I doubt there’s a perfect utopia for any of us. But I do find that people I’ve met on islands, or remote communities, often have the ability to apply ingenious lateral thinking when need arises.

The landing strip on Barra

And it’s this ability to look at things differently that I write about in the current issue of iScot Magazine (issue 79). Whether it’s that narrowly avoided storm in a communion cup, or the young doctor who appeared on a boat out of nowhere, or getting the right patient to hospital, or even defining ‘Mañana’, there are very many wonderful stories to tell!

Inverie and Scoraig – defying the odds

As land ownership in Scotland clings grimly to its feudal roots, there are still far too many obstacles that make it hard, if not impossible, for Scots to live on and work the land. But it’s not only who owns the land that affects people’s lives, it’s also access. Access is vital for communities to survive and there can’t be many places in mainland Scotland that are as inaccessible as Inverie and Scoraig! Yet these two communities have shown that it’s possible to defy the odds and to thrive.

It’s not been an easy journey for either community. Neither have what we would consider ‘ease of access’, nor, until fairly recently, the opportunity to own the land they live on. However, you may have noticed that Inverie has been in the news again recently with talk of a community buy-out of the ‘remotest pub in mainland Britain’, which happens to be none other than the Old Forge in Inverie.

Inverie is a small settlement on the Knoydart Peninsula, and although not an island per se, it might as well be, because the only way of reaching the village, and thereby enjoying a drink at the Old Forge, is either by walking 15 miles (25km) over rough terrain or taking the little ferry from Mallaig and making a seven-mile (11km) sea crossing into Loch Nevis. The choice is yours! (tip: we took the ferry!)

The Falkirk Herald, September 1948

Fortunately, the challenge of a community buy-out is not a new one for the residents of Inverie. Like much of rural Scotland, Knoydart saw continuing depopulation throughout the 19th and 20th centuries. So much so that there was even a suggestion in the 1990s that the peninsula be turned into yet another military training area. However, the community pulled together and in 1999 successfully bought out the old Knoydart Estate. Since then, under the auspices of the Knoydart Foundation, there have been a wealth of positive changes: everything from improved housing, affordable homes, the introduction of a Ranger service, expansion of local enterprises, forestry, a community owned trading company and, very importantly, their own hydro-electric scheme, Knoydart Renewables.

Press&Journal November 1969

Scoraig likewise, saw its population dwindle and almost die out over the years.  As with Knoydart, attempts to re-populate and revive the area, particularly after the Second World War, started off with high hopes, only to come to naught because of inequitable land ownership. But Scoraig has survived, thanks in no small measure to an influx of young people in the late 1960s. Although initially greeted with scepticism, they were determined not to be defeated.

Scoraig Heritage Centre!

At the time theirs was labelled a crackpot ‘alternative’ lifestyle. But in reality their approach to crofting and self-sufficiency, along with the harnessing of wind power, was ahead of its time and is now seen as a way forward for the rest of us. So much so, that one of Scoraig’s residents, Hugh Piggott, who helped build many of Scoraig’s original wind-turbines, now writes and teaches on the subject and runs Scoraig Wind Electric.

The story of both these communities is a long, and at times depressing one, so out-dated is land ownership in Scotland. But perseverance has paid off and they’re inspirational stories well-worth hearing and that’s what I’ve looked at in some detail in this month’s article in issue 71 of iScot Magazine.

Outlander, The Eagle and the Devil’s Pulpit

Finnich Glen, The Whangie and the Auld Wives’ Lifts all feature in October’s iScot

Question: What’s the connection between Outlander and the lost Roman legion in the film The Eagle?

Answer: The dark, dank and decidedly creepy gorge in Finnich Glen, that comes complete with a  curious sandstone rock known as the Devil’s Pulpit!

Imagine you’re a film producer and you need a location that’s shadowy, murky and menacing. Somewhere timeless and atmospheric. Secret, subterranean and definitely spooky. The gorge at Finnich Glen, also known locally as the Devil’s Pulpit, fits the bill exactly.  And so it was that it came to feature in both the Outlander television series and the film The Eagle.

South of Drymen, the gorge is 100ft deep, at times very narrow, with sheer, dripping moss-covered walls. An old Victorian stone stairway is one way down to the bottom of the gorge. Over the decades the steps have slipped and become precipitous. Winter gales have brought down trees, some of which have crashed onto the steps, dislodging sections. But despite that it’s still possible to get down as ropes have been strung across the most difficult sections.

Several scenes in the feature film The Eagle, starring Jamie Bell, Channing Tatum and Donald Sutherland, were filmed in the gorge. The plot is closely based on Rosemary Sutcliff’s novel The Eagle of the Ninth, which was written in 1954, and has remained popular ever since. It was the first in a very successful series of stories set in Roman Britain and recounts the tale of the mysterious disappearance of the Ninth Legion. A mystery, and a matter of heated debate among historians, to this day.

Diana Gabaldon’s phenomenally popular Outlander series, has caught the public imagination and interest in its filming locations in immense.  Finnich Glen is the setting for St. Ninian’s Spring, where a drink from the sulfurous water acts as a type of lie-detector.  Should Claire lie to Dougal after drinking it, she will suffer dire consequences. However, she tells him again that she is not a spy and remains unharmed, at which point Dougal finally accepts this as the truth. This ‘truth forcing spring’ has brought more and more visitors to Finnich Glen.

But what does the devil have to do with it? And why his pulpit? The answer may lie close-by in another strange and outlandish geological feature known as the Whangie, a very popular local walk and climb. Legend has it that Auld Nick, the devil, finding himself very late for a meeting at the local witches’ coven, rounded the mountain so swiftly that his tail sliced through the hillside, creating the bizarre cleft called the Whangie. Perhaps the Devil’s Pulpit was where he had been lurking with dubious companions beforehand. Who can tell!

Gorge walking in Finnich Glen

The gorge is a natural sandstone canyon created over millennia by the fast-moving waters of the Carnock Burn. Over-topped by a canopy of trees, the gorge can feel very enclosed and shut-off from the outside world. It can also be strangely silent, with no other sound than that of the ever-present rushing water.

And it should be mentioned that, in-between being a spectacular film location, Finnich Glen is an equally spectacular gorge-walking and outdoor adventure site.

It’s not necessarily a place for the fainthearted, but if Claire, Esca and Marcus could all get there and live to tell the tale, then so could you!

Garioch Women for Change

Who are the Garioch Women for Change and why are they so keen for women to make their voices heard? The opening pages of my article in this month’s iScot Magazine

There’s something afoot in the Garioch! A century ago the first women on these islands got the vote: today women the length and breadth of the country are not only looking at what women achieved in the past, but also at what they hope to achieve today. And the Aberdeenshire based Garioch Women for Change group have organised a fantastic conference to this end.

A grant from the Scottish Government’s Suffragette Centenary Fund has helped finance the conference: an apt connection, as we have a magnificent heritage in the Women’s Suffrage Movement. In fact, should doubts about our ability to promote change ever assail us, it’s worth remembering that our Suffragist/Suffragette sisters were no different from us! They weren’t any braver, or stronger, or more intelligent, or more patient than we are, yet they were prepared to stand up for what they believed and face the (often unpleasant) consequences. They were ordinary women who took on a seemingly untouchable establishment and won!

The Garioch Women for Change conference organisers

There’s much we can learn from their achievements, rifts and all; much that can help us face the growing challenges to our society, and even to our democracy. Challenges which call for our engagement now, just as those women acted in their time. And the speakers at the Garioch Women for Change conference certainly reflect that engagement. Speakers whose expertise covers politics, history, communications, science, environmentalism and much more!

Among the speakers are the journalist and broadcaster Lesley Riddoch; Maggie Chapman, co-convenor of the Scottish Green Party and Rector of Aberdeen University; Prof Sarah Pederson of Robert Gordon’s University, who led the influential ‘Suffragettes in North East Scotland’ project; Aberdeenshire East MSP, Gillian Martin; Petra Pennington, Art and Community worker at Deveron Projects; Alison Evison, president of COSLA and Dr. Cait Murray-Green, CEO of a young Scottish company Cuantec, which produces compostable packaging from langoustine shells, a natural alternative to plastic. An impressive line-up!

The Garioch Women for Change are an intelligent and thoughtful group, with a clear understanding of why it’s so important for ordinary women to make their voices heard. Their conference on 15th September is free and open to all. And even if you can’t be there, there’s much to be done – so whatever we do, let’s make our suffragette sisters proud!

Registration information at Make Your Voice Heard

Behind the scenes at the museum with Dr Elspeth King

What is it that makes us who we are? What are the experiences that shape and define us? The circumstances that create our beliefs and values? What are the factors that have made Scotland the country it is today; the country we call home? Intriguing questions that lead in turn to the question of how we preserve our identity, both as individuals and as nations. How do we protect the integrity of our past, our history, our heritage? And crucially, who is it that decides what is important, or significant enough to be preserved? Why are some people and events remembered and celebrated, while others are brushed to one side, forced into obscurity? These were some of the questions I put to Dr Elspeth King, director of the Stirling Smith Museum, and her answers were enlightening.

T.S.Smith’s remarkable painting The Pipe of Freedom, 1836, celebrated the abolition of slavery in America

A woman of great erudition and insight, Elspeth firmly believes that museums are at the very heart of our national memory: the key to knowing and understanding our identity. They hold the objects that mark the great moments in our history. The moments that had a lasting impact on our parents and grandparents and beyond. Museums preserve, display and interpret artifacts that are at the very core of our lives, our values, our passions. Our tangible, but also our intangible, inheritance. And reflect our place in the world. From local to global.

We need museums. But we need to ensure the history they portray really is our history. Museums, like newspapers and television, can be only too easily manipulated to distort history, just as they were by the totalitarian regimes of which there were no shortage during the 20th century! Yet it’s a sad truth that most countries today still have their own ruling elites, those people who use their power and wealth to influence the selection and interpretation of artifacts, to create a view of history that reinforces their own position of dominance and control.

The oldest football in the world, at home and in pride of place in the Stirling Smith Museum

Stop for a moment and just think how many national museums are littered with antiquities looted from more ancient, but poorer, nations. Antiquities stolen on an international scale by European empire-builders, with the British more often than not setting the worst example. There’s nothing noble about theft under the guise of imperial aggrandisement. It would be interesting to know whether any of these national institutions are hurrying to give back what they stole: the on-going saga of the Elgin Marbles being a very sorry case in point!

But local museums are a very different kettle of fish and more likely to genuinely reflect the history and heritage of the communities they serve. Yet they are all to often neglected and underfunded. Why? Is it because the holders of the purse-strings are exactly those people who control the decisions about who or what is important, and who ensure that it is their elitist view that prevails – whether in the world of art, music or museums?

The Smith’s very own Wine Bottle Lunette by GlasWorks

It’s a challenging situation for the dedicated staff and volunteers of local museums, and there are a lot of issues involved. But, as I hope I demonstrate in this month’s iScot article, there are countries like Estonia and Australia where museum staff are showing clearly that different attitudes are possible. There’s a whole lot going on out there! And here in Scotland, Elspeth King has been at the forefront of saving the past that really is ours from oblivion.

One country which faced just such oblivion is the small Baltic state of Estonia. They finally regained their independence in 1991 and with great joy, and amidst much celebration, opened their wonderful new National Museum in 2016 (with not a stolen artifact in sight!)  At long last, after centuries of some of the most horrific foreign subjugation, they been able to present their own history, culture and identity. And it’s not without a wonderful touch of irony that the new museum is built on the site of a former Soviet airbase!

The start of a new journey: Estonia celebrates the opening of its new national museum

In the foyer are these heartfelt words: ‘Not only the Estonian National Museum but the entire Estonian people find themselves in a new era… But Estonians have not forgotten that one becomes a citizen of the world through one’s own culture, which is why it’s important to know one’s roots. And it is not only necessary, but also interesting and lots of fun.’ Then they add these lovely, hopeful, words, saying that the creation of their own national museum is ‘the end of a long journey and the start of a hopefully even longer one.’

So, if you’ve ever wondered how you became the person you are, or why you live the way you do, or why some objects fill you with joy, sorrow or pride, or why you feel so strongly attached to the values of the country that you call home, then, to misquote the immortal bard, ‘Read on, Macduff!’, for you’ll find this article a pertinent read indeed!

Scotland’s women have been standing up for their beliefs for centuries!

Gerda Stevenson is a woman of very many talents: actor, playwright, director, poet, singer, song-writer, to name but a few. Now she’s turned again to poetry to draw our attention to the lives and achievements – as well as the hardships and challenges – of sixty-seven amazing Scottish women. Women who deserve our admiration and respect. But first of all we need to know of their existence, for too often women are written out of history and allowed to become invisible.

Quines is a powerful collection of fifty-seven poems that will make you laugh, cry, rage, nod in agreement, wonder, smile and most definitely want to find out more. Poems that are accessible and manage to distill the essence of their subjects in a few short lines. And that’s a remarkable achievement in its own right!

Gerda and her husband Aonghas MacNeacail

I had the privilege of visiting Gerda to talk to her about the book: about how and why it came about; why she chose the women she did; and in what ways the women she writes about reflect her own hopes and aspirations. Like all of us, Gerda’s outlook on life is in part shaped by her family and upbringing: by her attitude to language, to poetry, to those around her, to those who perhaps see life differently. All this has gone into the mix that has given birth to this remarkable book of poems.

Her selection is highly personal. It’s not an academic tome, but rather for all of us. It’s a look across the centuries at the lives of women from all walks of life, from fish-gutters to queens, from missionaries to politicians, from the Iron Age to the present – and throughout it all is the growing realisation that time and history don’t really separate our experiences as women as much as we might have thought.

Quines: poems in tribute to women of Scotland was four years in the writing. Much reading, researching and tracking down of sources went into getting to know the women she wanted to write about. Women whom she found inspiring and hopes others will find inspirational too.

I certainly found the book inspiring and a reminder that despite life’s many hardships, particularly those faced by women, both in the past and today, standing up for your beliefs is something Scottish women have been doing from the word go. And in some remarkable ways – even to the extent of laying down their lives for others.

I’m grateful that Gerda has brought these women out of the shadows and back into the light. And we need as much light as we can get these days! But I also feel strongly that it’s Gerda’s own strength of character and determination that has achieved this. Her life and beliefs are inspirational too. She’s as much one of these Quines as any of her subjects. And I hope that’s what my article conveys.

Indeed, the March edition of iScot is a celebration of amazing women. And International Women’s Day this year has a special significance as 2018 marks the centenary of the first women in this country to get the vote. There’s still plenty to be done, but at least we’re heading in the right direction – and Quines might just be the bright star that leads others onto this path!