I enjoyed my drive to the north of Skye. Stopped at the Grand Design grass roofed house that looked so different to what I expected; quite tiny, and on a very small plot of land, but still pretty cool. The drive through Portree with the colored houses hugging the port continued the great scenery. A stroll around the town and the history of Flora McDonald and Bonnie Prince Charlie reminded me that I was indeed on the path to the Jacobites and the wonderful, if somewhat macabre, tales of the uprising. Flora was buried in Kilmuir cemetery and a visit started my journey on the path to Culloden Moor.
The drive back from the wee island was easy and stopped for a while at Glen Shiel, the site of the battle between the British and the Jacobites that occurred in 1719. It was slightly fitting that amongst the hills of the battle there was a large YES sign and the Scottish flag. I have become quite interested in the upcoming referendum for Scottish independence and it has been the topic of conversation amongst lots of people that I have met; most have said they will vote YES. The general consensus is that they are all well and truly sick of Westminster – I was thinking maybe we should join forces with Scotland. It has intrigued me that everyone here, on hearing my accent, wants to tell me how disgraceful Tony Abbott is!
I arrived at the wee loch late afternoon and expected to see the beastie out for an afternoon swim; but alas Nessie was elusive.
Cill Chuimein or Fort Augustus is a pretty village on the edge of the wee loch and I had a comfortable bed in the lovely Bank of Scotland building. I quite enjoyed watching the boats out the window going up and down through the series of locks. Had great fish and chips at the pub and had a long walk along the canal thinking of the Jacobites who captured the fort just before the battle of Culloden.
The drive along the loch was beautiful but the wee beastie was shy, as surprisingly, the only sighting I had was on the numerous tourist signs.
I find Drumossie Moor an evocative place and yes I am still convinced that I was there at the battle of 46. I told Jane how at home I felt in Inverness and she asked me whether it was because it was like Bendigo or whether it was my past life – my past life of course. Well I have always had a strange reaction on the Moor and this time was no different. The Moor is a peaceful place in some ways but there is a certain eeriness and feeling of dread that seems to cling in the air if you stand and listen. The young pretender escaped but the reprisals through the highlands are legendary.
Sleeping under the stars 