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We headed south and east this morning, continuing our vague clockwise tour of Scotland. Driving down the side of the Cromarty Firth, the oil rigs stood guard in the falling rain. We finally got to travel across the bridge as Nicky had intended on the Friday previously. Our luck also held this time, finding (and keeping) the A9! and drove along the opposite coast to look back fondly at where we had come. Noticing the brown signs indicating Culloden we took a short detour to visit them.
Our National Trust cards finally came in useful, as there was consequently no entrance fee or parking tickets to pay for. Nicky decided to remain in the museum shop and neighbouring tearoom, but sent us in to tour through Scotlands last battle between the Jacobite rebels and the Hanovarian Government troops. Then goosebumps when we realised it had all happened only 2 days previously (ok, and 270 years earlier) - on the 16th April 1746!
It was amazing to stand so close to items from such a significant event, like the elaborately embroidered doublet and the satin star worn by Bonny Prince Charlie himself! The all-surrounding submersive computer generation of the battle itself, played out on 4 walls of a room while you stood in the centre of the action, came with a much needed warning sign as being quite confronting and viewer advice was recommended. You had to restrain yourself from flinching and ducking for cover.
From a period-dressed gentleman we learnt the intricacies and stressed of loading a heavy rifle (slow and easy to mess up and kill or injure yourself), how light a broad sword actually is, and how to use the targe (leather shield) and dirk (short sharp dagger-like knife) to protect yourself during hand to hand battle. We stayed way back from the doctor, with his array of "surgical equipment" which looked far more like handtools from the garden shed or the machinery workshop - terrifying prospect.
Sad reminders of the aftermath of the battle included a picket fence panel made from the swords of dead of Jacobite soldiers, removed as trophies of war.
Then out to the site of the battle itself, wearing audio guides which were GPS activated to explain what had happened at particular points of the field. It is a wild, windswept undulating area, much of it wet and boggy, covered in heather, gorse and long grass. You cannot see the Government line from most of the Jacobite area, so hearing but not being able to see what you were about to be confronted with must have simply added to the terror. At the bottom of the field, walking along the Jacobite line, we were instructed by our audio guide voice to turn and look back up the slope, imagining the chill wind biting our skin and the rain lashing our cheeks as the battle began and being asked to run up the boggy slope and fight for your life. We had no need to imagine this - the wind was gusting against us and bitingly cold and the rain was coming down almost horizontally!! To think young Charlies pig-headedness and invincible belief that nothing could hurt him (being the chosen and true ruler), and that so many men had died and it was all over, sadly, in less than an hour, is nauseating.
Then off we set across the top - past Findhorn, a sustainable community which, on an internet search, comes up with both some quite interesting ideas and instalments, but also a little too much 'weird' for us to actually turn off the road and visit. But we did wind the window down in the hopes of catching some of the good spiritual guidance which may have been floating about. Maybe it worked, as Karen then noticed not far off the road we were on, a little stone circle in the middle of farmland. So a detour down a quiet country lane past many happy and contented pigs - maybe the wind was blowing in their direction too?
This circle was very small, maybe 10 metres in diameter, in the corner of a ploughed field and an easy climb over the fence and across the grass - no bog this time! We still didn't feel compelled to dance around naked, either. It was very sweet and a nice drive. Next to Spey Bay and its wide pebbly beach, where the stiff breeze meant a quick run up the slope to admire the view and absolutely NO stopping to collect rocks!
We made a strong decision to stay on-track from then on, as the day was slipping away fast, and so, just as the sun was setting, we arrived at Pitbee Mill, and the home of Nicky and Pauls good friends Andrew and Ruth. Although once again, Nickys "impeccable sense of direction" meant we took the scenic route across the back of the hills and through the village to get back down into the valley again……… Andy was more than happy to show Karen around his lovely garden, and despite Ruths insistence there was nothing much to see, it was an hour later that the cosy warmth drew them inside.
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