Episode 1 Grand Tours of Scotland

200 years ago, the landscape of Scotland was regarded as hostile and dangerous.

This was a place to avoid, a land where famine and poverty worked hand in hand with armed rebellion.

But then something remarkable happened -

Scotland was reinvented as a place to visit.

Landscapes that once seemed threatening suddenly had an appeal

for a new breed of traveller - the tourist.

To help meet the needs of these new visitors, special guidebooks began to appear,

and this is perhaps the most influential of them all - Black's Picturesque Guide to Scotland.

Published in 1840 by Charles and Adam Black, it contains various itineraries that allowed

the tourist, really for the very first time, to explore the exotic and romantic landscapes of Scotland.

My own well-thumbed copy of Black's Guide has been in my family for generations.

It was always in the glove compartment of my father's car when we went on holiday

and now it's inspired me to make six journeys of my own.

Letting Black's guide me, I want to retrace the steps of the early tourists,

to find out how Scotland became a jewel in the crown of tourist destinations.

On my way, I'll meet some extraordinary characters and visit some truly world-class locations.

On my first journey I'm in search of the romantic ideal - travelling to places that inspired

tourists as well as artists, musicians and writers with the magic of Scotland's unique landscapes.

My first excursion takes me into the heart of the Trossachs,

where I hope to unlock the area's romantic secrets

before travelling North and West to Oban, Mull, Iona and on to the fabled Island of Staffa.

This is Callander, where for the last two centuries, travellers have departed

to visit Scotland's earliest tourist destination, the romantic heartland of Loch Katrine and the Trossachs.

Now according to my copy of Black's, "Callander offers the tourist a convenient centre from which

"to make various excursions, particularly to the Trossachs."

Now this is what's brilliant about using the old guide,

because it shows what's changed and what stays the same.

There's a lovely drawing of the old Dreadnought Hotel which is still here, with a coach load of Victorian

tourists about to leave on just such an excursion, pretty much

as they continue to do today, although sadly, of course, without the horses.

To have a more authentic experience of early travel

I've turned my back on the diesel coach and boarded this fantastic horse-drawn brougham carriage,

exactly the sort of conveyance the Victorian tourists would have used.

What better way to be taken up the Trossachs?

Beautiful Loch Katrine and the Trossachs has been a must-see tourist destination

for the last 200 years, and is,

without doubt, the most significant location in the whole story of Scottish tourism.

Black's Guide gives a clue to what started the great rush to the Trossachs.

The pages are scattered with literary quotes and nearly all or them

from the pen of one man - Sir Walter Scott, literary virtuoso and wordsmith wizard of the North.

Born in 1771, Sir Walter Scott became a hugely prolific and influential historical novelist.

In 1810 he wrote The Lady Of The Lake, an epic poem set right here in the Trossachs.

The poem became a runaway bestseller, but its success had unforeseen consequences.

To find out more, I'm meeting up with Canadian historian and Scott aficionado, Kevin James.

Kevin, the poem was enormously influential, was it not?

It was. It was published in 1810

and within the first 8 months, some 25,000 copies were sold.

Within a few years this place had become popularised as a district

that had been so magnificently described by Scott in The Lady Of The Lake.

So why were people coming here? What were they expecting to see?

They were expecting to see, I think, a lot of the sights that he described, and they were expecting

also to kind of inhabit the world, however fantastical, that the poem laid out.

And what was the poem actually about? What was the story of the poem?

Well, it was a very romantic and fantastical story about an ethereal

beauty who inhabited this region, and it was about lovers, rival lovers.

It was about romance, it was about violence and a King in disguise.

And it really did bring in the tourists?

It did - it brought in a 500% increase in tourists in the first year alone.

So in some ways the tourists who were coming here weren't coming to see the landscape,

they were coming to see a literary landscape, a kind of a fantasy landscape that Scott had created.

I think that's very true.

Because Scott's poem was written with real locations in mind, it became a sort of guide to the area,

and my copy of Black's exploits this, quoting verses that lead the literary tourist onward.

To discover for myself how the places mentioned in the poem

correspond with the landscape, I'm leaving Kevin James to continue my Trossachs journey on foot.

Now Scott describes Loch Katrine as a sort of

enchanted never-never land, far from the realities of the modern world.

Hidden away, it was only possible to reach the loch

by means of a sort of ladder made of heather roots and branches.

But of course there is no such ladder, there never was, and access

to the Loch has always been pretty straightforward, so Scott definitely used poetic licence here, and when

the modern tourist arrives at Loch Katrine, the scene isn't quite the tranquil one depicted by Scott.

Perhaps it takes the imagination and the eyes of a poet to see the magical realm he described.

"Loch Katrine in all its extent Bursts upon the view,

"With promontory, creek and bay And Islands that in purpled bright

"Float amid the livelier light, And mountains that like giants stand,

"To sentinel enchanted land."

To find out why Scott and my guidebook

felt the need exaggerate the scenic qualities of the landscape,

I've come aboard the aptly named steamer Sir Walter Scott, which

for a century has been the most popular way to explore Loch Katrine.

Douglas Gifford has written about the enduring appeal of Scottish scenery and its relationship

to Romanticism, a revolutionary artistic movement that swept Europe in the 19th century.

Douglas, what were the basic principles of Romanticism?

It's nothing about being romantic, these are not love stories we're talking about.

Romanticism had a quite a precise meaning - what was that?

I'm sure you're right to say two different meanings for romantic.

You know, we're so used to the soppy one,

whereas Romantic was quite,

not a hard word, but it was a very, very ambitious word in these times.

Suddenly the poets and the painters and the thinkers are switching on to a new tack, that maybe they'd

been looking in the wrong place into prudence and reason and orderliness and society, and instead they should

be taking inspiration from the wilder places, the more

extreme imaginative thoughts, the mysteries of the human mind as well.

So in that sense Romanticism is the rediscovery both...

in a sense, you could say the rediscovery of another kind of God,

of another kind of morality, another kind of aesthetics, and it stands everything on its head.

Suddenly you're pushing people out into these places of history

and places that are wild and natural and...

Places like Scotland, places like Loch Katrine?

Exactly so, exactly so. Scotland's a suitable candidate for treatment by Romanticism, yes.

Romanticism had a profound influence on the way people responded

to landscape, and Scott's writing helped focus these ideas,

leading tourists to see what they expected to see - the Romantic ideal.

Painters were also inspired to produce images of an idealised Trossachs, making wee Ben Venue,

at just 2,300 feet, look more like an Alpine peak, and Loch Katrine resemble an Italian lake.

The reason why artists transformed landscapes like this had to do with

ways of seeing the world, and to do that required certain techniques.

Some artists believe that to truly appreciate a scene, you first had to

frame it and then accentuate its features artificially to truly see the essential,

romantic, picturesque qualities in what they were looking at, and to do that, they used this special

dark piece of glass - a Claude glass - it's like a dark mirror.

The idea of the Claude glass was to hold it up and to look at the view

you wanted to appreciate as a reflection over your shoulder.

Now this revealed the essential romantic picturesque qualities

of the scene that you couldn't see with the naked eye, as it were.

Bizarre.

Views that had a calming effect on tourists were called "picturesque",

while more dramatic landscape was called "sublime".

In the 18th century the word "sublime"

had a quite precise meaning - it meant to be awe-inspired by the wild, untamed forces of nature.

One of Scotland's earliest tourists and devotee of sublime beauty was the traveller Sarah Murray.

In 1796, she came to the Trossachs and wrote breathlessly about the beauties of Loch Katrine.

"The awefulness, the solemnity and the sublimity of the scene

"is beyond, far beyond description, either of the pen or pencil.

"Nothing but the eye can convey to the mind such scenery."

I love Sarah Murray.

A widow in her early 50s, she spent three months rattling around Scotland

searching for the sublime, which for her usually meant finding a waterfall somewhere.

In 1799 she published a book, A Companion And Useful Guide To The Beauties Of Scotland.

Full of helpful tips and advice on all things Scottish, Sarah urged the would-be tourist,

"to provide yourself with a strong, roomy carriage and have the springs well corded.

"Take with you linchpins and four shackles, a hammer and some straps."

Sounds like the tourist was in for a bumpy ride.

Continuing my journey through the Trossachs, I follow the road as it leaves Loch Katrine,

heads overland and down to the harbour at Inversnaid, nestling on the shores of Loch Lomond.

For many years, Inversnaid was a significant tourist hub.

According to Black's guidebook, steamers left here for destinations North and South

or West, crossing the Loch and on to the coach road to Oban, which is where I'm heading next.

Sadly, such a bewildering choice of routes is a thing of the past,

and the Loch can no longer boast of regular steamer links.

However, there is now a faster, more efficient and exciting way of getting to Oban - by sea plane.

For a country with a disproportionately long coastline, and hundreds of inland lochs,

I've often wondered why Scotland never really capitalised on its sea plane potential.

But recently a Scottish-based company is rectifying this with a network of air routes.

My flight today from Loch Lomond to Oban takes less than 20 minutes.

Back in the days of Black's guidebook, this journey was a two-day coach ride.

This is absolutely exhilarating. What better way to see the West Coast of Scotland than by sea plane?

It's all down there - mountains, lochs, rivers,

glens, spread out like a map. It's absolutely magnificent.

It's quite awe-inspiring.

It's actually quite sublime.

Had Sarah Murray been able to exchange her carriage for this sea plane ride, I'm sure she

would have been more than thrilled as we skim across the waters of Oban Bay.

In Victorian times, Oban was the Charing Cross of the West Coast,

the centre of an integrated transport system

that connected steamers, trains, carriages and charabancs

to places as far afield as Glasgow, Fort William, Stornoway and Orkney.

A German tourist arriving at this busy port in 1858 provides a rather early example of his nation's

unfortunate desire always to be first.

Now we all know that Germans hate standing in queues and absolutely hate being last, and the same was

true back then, so when the German tourist Theodor Fontane disembarked from a steamer and

saw a large group of people moving towards the hotel, all his instincts told him to hurry on ahead.

Fontane later described how he and his friend trotted along the quay

in a sort of race with a number of Scots to secure accommodation at the Caledonian Hotel.

In their unseemly haste, the Germans got to the hotel first,

but their efforts were all in vain - it was fully booked.

If only they'd made a reservation, they were told.

A rare example of poor German planning.

Oban is still a very busy place, but the steamers that once shuttled back and forth have been replaced

by the ubiquitous CalMac ferries, taking islanders and tourists to the Hebrides.

But the golden age lives on in the shape of the lovely old paddle steamer Waverley.

I'm boarding her to sail to the Island of Mull.

In Victorian times, paddle steamers were the life blood of the West Coast.

Without them, mass tourism would have been impossible.

On board the Waverley, the world's last ocean-going paddle steamer, you can still get a glimpse of the

old magic, a time when Macbrayne steamers were famed for their luxury.

Orchestras played while silver service waiters fawned over diners in the restaurant.

There was a book stall, fruit stall, post office, and for those in need

of some remedial follicle care, there was even a hairdressing salon.

This was the modern world, and the Industrial Revolution

that made it all possible also created the modern tourist.

Enterprising Victorians were quick to see the potential of mass transportation,

and one man in particular seized the opportunities to become an unlikely tourist innovator.

To find out more, I've come below deck to meet the travel historian Nikki MacLeod.

Nikki, it seems to me that the Industrial Revolution was a

crucial factor in the development of tourism in Scotland.

Here we are on the Waverley, an example of the early steam power that drew people to the area,

but as I understand it, there were some key personalities that latched onto the idea that this

new technology could be harnessed to bring people to the Highlands.

Exactly, and the most famous of those was Thomas Cook,

now a household name.

Thomas Cook was one of the very early pioneers, one of the first people to actually take

those transportation modes and sort of package them together into easy itineraries for people to follow.

Up until then, the only people who could really have afforded to take a trip to Scotland

were those with the money or the leisure to make what was a difficult journey.

Remember at this time, there was no direct rail link between England and Scotland.

What kind of character was Cook?

He was a Baptist and a very, very keen worker for the Temperance Movement.

And much of the impetus behind arranging these excursions was the idea that if you provided rational

improving entertainments for people, it would keep them away from the gin palace.

Now as I understand it, Thomas Cook was someone with

a social conscience, and he brought that attitude into the Highlands with his tourists.

Yes, in fact it was really in Iona.

He was horrified at the poverty he found on the island, and he set up there a fund

which his tourists subscribed to year upon year, and in a number of years they'd actually raised enough money

to buy the islanders a fleet of fishing vessels, 24 fishing vessels in fact, one of which

the islanders named The Thomas Cook in gratitude, really, to their benefactor.

So not only did he invent the package tour, he invented tourism with a conscience?

Exactly, yes, a very influential figure.

History is nothing if not ironic.

For most early tourists, including those on Cook's Tartan Tours, coming to Scotland was an escape

from the new industrial cities of 19th-century Britain, which were the

very antithesis of the sublime they were looking for in nature.

But to reach the romantic landscapes of Scotland, tourists increasingly depended

on inventions like the steam engine, a potent symbol of the industrial world they wanted to leave behind.

This is Tobermory on the Isle of Mull - in my opinion,

the prettiest harbour in Scotland, but then I'm biased - I have family here.

Black's guidebook sings the town's praises too, but can't refrain from

seeing the place as if it was somewhere else, describing it like a fishing village in Italy.

But why would Black's want to compare Mull with Italy?

Because, let's face it, they're pretty dissimilar.

Well, the answer reveals a kind of cultural snobbery.

In the 18th and 19th centuries, aristocrats on the Grand Tour

travelled to Italy to absorb the culture of classical Rome.

Anything Italian, therefore, acquired an added value.

By extension, anything that looked Italian was also worthy of consideration, even here on Mull.

This no doubt explains why Black's guidebook

makes the unlikely comparison of the island's Ben More with Mount Vesuvius.

I've come to the west of the island to visit a place forever bound up

with ideas of tragedy, romance and the awful power of nature.

This is Gribun, lying beneath the forbidding cliffs of Ben More, the wildest mountain on Mull.

The story concerns an event that took place some 200 years ago and features this enormous boulder.

Now according to local legend, it was a

"dark and stormy night" as they say, and a young couple were consummating their marriage in their new home.

They were in a state of nuptial bliss when high on the mountain,

this enormous boulder was dislodged by torrential rain.

With a furious roar, the boulder smashed its way down the

mountainside, landing on the young couple's cottage, killing them both.

And this is where they still lie, crushed beneath the boulder

that destroyed their home and their hopes.

Ever since it's been known as Tragedy Rock.

Now I big fan of Mull and despite the salutary tale of Tragedy Rock, even felt brave enough

to get married here, which I suppose is endorsement of a kind for the island's romantic charms.

But not every visitor has been quite so well disposed towards Mull's romantic beauty and allure.

John McCulloch, a 19th-century geologist and

friend of Sir Walter Scott, whinged on about almost everything.

"Mull is a detestable land, trackless and repulsive, rude without beauty, stormy and dreary."

Doctor Johnson, the great man of letters, was similarly unmoved.

"It is natural in traversing this gloom of desolation

"to enquire whether something may not be done to give nature a more cheerful face."

There wasn't an ounce of sensibility in either of these men.

Their eyes and minds were entirely closed to romantic ideas of the

sublime and the power of nature, unlike the wonderful Sarah Murray,

who wrote rapturously about the magnificent scenery and her first view of Iona.

"My eyes were fixed on a view so wild and yet so sublime.

"Huge fantastical rocks of fine red granite standing and lying in every imaginable form,

"and then the ruins of the Abbey that made the mind reflect

"on how frail and uncertain is human greatness."

Iona Abbey was restored in the 1920s and 1930s,

but when Sarah Murray came here, the great ecclesiastical buildings were in ruins.

Now if anything, this made them even more attractive to the Victorian tourists who came after her.

There was something exquisitely romantic about the shattered remains of a lost world,

and walking amongst the broken stones,

some tourists felt close to the Celtic twilight of myth and legend.

They were also moved by the idea of Iona as the cradle of Celtic Christianity.

1600 years ago, St Columba arrived from Ireland, bringing the faith to the heathen.

This struck a chord with Victorians, who were inclined to describe the

ambitions of the British Empire as "illuminating the darkness".

Iona, like Imperial Britain, was a civilising beacon in a vast sea of superstition and ignorance.

High-minded ideas like this brought Thomas Cook to the Island.

Standing in the ruins, he educated his tourists about the strength of religion,

the evils of drink, and the frailty of mankind.

But Cook's doctrine of temperance wasn't to everyone's taste.

There was another wilder destination to head for, one that spoke to the seeker of the Romantic ideal.

In 1796 Sarah Murray braved the elements, and made the pilgrimage to visit the most dramatic

and sublime spectacle on Scotland's West Coast - the island of Staffa.

Getting to Staffa has always been something of an adventure.

The island lies eight miles off the west coast of Mull, and even on a calm day,

the swell and the tides make for a bumpy and exciting crossing.

But why would a small uninhabited lump of rock lying in the

turbulent North Atlantic become a mecca for early tourists?

Well, the answer goes right to the heart of the Romantic ideal and the Romantic way of seeing the world.

In 1762, James Macpherson published what he claimed were fragments of ancient Gaelic poetry.

Macpherson said they'd been composed centuries earlier by the blind bard Ossian, who celebrated the deeds of

Fingal, a bold hero who lived in the Celtic twilight of a pre-Christian world.

MUSIC: "Fingal's Cave" Overture by Felix Mendelssohn

In 1772, just 10 years after the publication of the Ossian poems,

the explorer James Banks of the Royal Society

was forced to shelter from a storm and discovered the island of Staffa and its unique and marvellous cave.

Although Banks was a scientist, he was greatly influenced by the romantic cult that had

grown up around Ossian's poems, and named the great cave Fingal's Cave, and you can see why.

It's a place of truly heroic proportions.

The cave is 75 metres long and the roof rises 20 metres above my head, seemingly supported by hundreds of

angular basalt columns, reminding me of the vault of a Gothic cathedral.

It's an inspiring place and sums up everything the early

Romantic tourist was looking for - wild, remote, spectacular and full of heroic associations.

When Sarah Murray came here in 1796, she could hardly contain herself.

"The atmosphere of the deity filled my soul.

"I was lost in wonder, gratitude and praise.

"Never shall I forget the sublime, heaven-like sensations with which Fingal's Cave inspired me.

"I was in ecstasy."

Just about everyone who considered themselves to be someone

made the difficult journey to this improbable rock in the Atlantic.

Artists, writers, composers and musicians came to gape in awe at the sublime power of nature.

The poets Wordsworth and Keats came.

Sir Walter Scott came.

So too did the early French science fiction writer Jules Verne.

Robert Louis Stevenson made the journey.

So too did the young Queen Victoria, who thrilled at the sound

of the National Anthem played in Fingal's Cave.

But perhaps most famously, the 20-year-old composer Felix Mendelssohn

wrote his celebrated Hebrides Overture after a stormy but inspiring visit in 1829.

Mendelssohn's overture is the first piece of classical music I remember as a child.

Listening to it during school assembly, we were encouraged to

let our imaginations wander to the Hebrides, and in my mind's eye

I could see the bow of a boat pushing its way through a green sea towards an enchanted Island.

Now that's what I call a romantic image, and

that's why people still come here searching for the romantic ideal.

On my second Grand Tour of Scotland,

I'm going in search of the sporting life,

travelling from Perthshire to Royal Deeside.

The first tourists to come here were attracted by the magnificence of the scenery,

a land where deer roam free, eagles soar and salmon fill the rivers.

But not all the visitors wanted to commune with nature. Many sought to conquer it.

Victorian men came here to prove themselves, challenging nature,

savage in tooth and claw, to become masters of all they surveyed.

My route begins in the heart of Scotland, in Dunkeld, then travels north

through Perthshire, before climbing the mountains to Royal Deeside.

From Balmoral, my journey continues to Glenmore, through one of my favourite parts of Scotland,

the famous mountain pass of the Lairig Ghru.

In the spirit of Victorian sportsmanship and manliness, I've accepted the challenge

to follow this route as far as I can, using a conveyance of the period.

Now, this is probably a foolhardy enterprise, but I couldn't resist

the opportunity to try out an authentic Rudge lever tricycle from the 1870s,

and what better way to explore Scotland's sporting heritage

than on such a fabulous machine?

Well, to be honest, I can think of one or two.

The first stop on my muscle-stretching, buttock-bruising journey is Dunkeld,

on the banks of the River Tay.

Black's is fulsome in its praises.

"There are few places of which the first sight is so striking as Dunkeld.

"Its finely-wooded mountains, its noble river, its magnificent bridge

"and its ancient cathedral combine to form a picture of rare beauty."

Although the charms of Dunkeld weren't entirely lost on early visitors,

the town didn't really take off as a tourist destination

until the arrival of a very special couple of holidaymakers, Prince Albert and Queen Victoria.

'In the summer of 1842, Victoria was just 23 years old,

'recently married and very much in love with her new husband.

'The couple embarked on a tour of Scotland,

'which they described as "the northern portion of their kingdom".

'When they arrived in Dunkeld, they were treated to a spectacular Highland welcome,

'which had a great impact on the young monarch.'

The Queen was very impressed, and both she and Albert were "highly amused", which no doubt encouraged

their subsequent love affair with Scotland and all things Scottish.

'Victoria and Albert's expedition north would play a hugely-important part

'in promoting Scotland as THE fashionable tourist destination of the era.

'Historian Eric Zuelow has studied Victoria and her obsession with all things tartan.'

The thing I'm interested in is Queen Victoria.

-She was a very young woman when she came to Scotland for that first time in 1842.

-She was, she was just 23.

So when the Queen got to Dunkeld, what did she see?

She got a real Highland spectacle.

She rolls through this triumphal arch, she sees 900 Highlanders,

all decked out in their Highland finery, all of their tartanry, the full outfit.

They were dancing reels and, most important to her, dancing the sword dance.

And she hears bagpipes, which of course is one of those things she wants to see.

And it's set, you know, in this fabulous scenery, right.

In the hills. When you travel, that's what you want, you want to find something different.

-The exotic, in other words.

-The exotic, and Scotland was exotic, because it had this...

this Highland culture.

'Victoria and Albert were the celebrity couple of the day,

'and their every move was reported by the press.

'Thanks to the publicity that surrounded their northern tour, Scotland was seen in a new light.'

We've got here a copy of The Illustrated London News,

and it's using all the latest Victorian technology of line drawings and etchings

to show the public the sights that the Queen was presented with.

It is. We have the piper, we have the sword dance, we have the landscape.

Very romantically portrayed as well, isn't it?

Very romantically portrayed,

and you don't just get these great expanses of Scottish hills or lakes

or big houses or cathedrals, you get little tiny people in the foreground,

fishing or gazing or hunting.

-Dwarfed by the magnificence of the landscape.

-That's right.

But also showing that you can be part of that landscape, you can be there and participate.

And Scotland simply takes off as a really wonderful vacation destination.

Queen Victoria's trip to Scotland was an enormous success

and gave the Highlands the royal seal of approval,

transforming the country into the place of choice for discerning tourists and sporting gentlemen.

Thanks to the royal endorsement, lots of adventurous types were soon venturing north to explore

the Queen's favourite holiday destination, and in 1881, a very intrepid tourist indeed,

by the name of Commander Reade, travelled all over Scotland,

2,462 miles to be precise, on his tricycle.

'He wrote about his amazing adventures

'in a beautifully-illustrated book called Nauticus In Scotland,

'an original ripping yarn, full of the thrills and spills of the open road,

'and full of useful cycling advice.'

-UPPER-CLASS ENGLISH ACCENT:

-'"On the road, go easy for the first mile or so,

'"until the muscles are fairly in tune."'

Uphill, come on, get up, up, up!

'"This allows the independent wheelman to select his pace, and thus take in the beauties of nature

'"according to his own individual taste."'

Thoroughly sound advice.

Of course, when a sporting gentleman sees a river meandering through the countryside,

his fancy turns naturally to thoughts of fishing,

and of all the rivers in Scotland to get a man fumbling for his flies,

the River Tay excites the most.

NEWSREEL: 'In some of the finest scenery in the world,

'the thoughts of climbing, walking and fishing take first place.'

'Where the Scottish rivers tumble into falls, you can see the salmon leap.'

Scottish rivers are amongst the best in the world for salmon fishing, and I've come to meet

angling instructor Jock Monteith,

who's going to initiate me in the dark art of fly-fishing.

The best conditions for catching salmon are when they're there

and in the right frame of mind to take a fly.

-It doesn't matter if it's raining or not?

-No. They're already wet.

They are wet! I think I'll be joining them in the wetness stakes at the end of the day!

'With hundreds of rivers and more than 35,000 freshwater lochs,

'it's little wonder that fishing has been popular in Scotland

'since the 1700s.

'For anglers, the Tay is a river of superlatives,

'and it occupies a very special place in the history of the sport.'

That's it!

The Tay's been a very famous fishing river for many years.

What do you think makes this river so world-renowned?

Such a large catchment off the hills here,

it drains about 2,500 square miles of Scotland.

-That's huge.

-Huge. So there's always enough water coming down

-for fish to move, even in the height of summer.

-Right.

Also, the fact that the British rod-caught record salmon was

landed on the Tay in 1922 by Georgina Valentine.

The famous Georgina Valentine?

About 64 lbs, I believe.

-That's what you call a whopper, isn't it?

-No' half!

But she wasn't a very big woman.

No, but she must have had a very good osteopath!

PAUL LAUGHS

It's a very pleasant pastime, standing here in the Tay,

casting hopefully.

-And you're casting well there, Paul.

-Thanks very much.

The last time that I went fishing with a fly, Jock,

I was about eight years of age, and I only managed to hook my pants.

Who landed you? THEY LAUGH

I think I landed myself, actually. I was that surprised.

'Of course, I didn't catch a salmon. I didn't even get a nibble.

'Leaving the river and the art of fly-fishing to more appreciative souls,

'I mount my tricycle to continue my journey.'

I've no idea how he could cycle 2,500 miles.

I'm exhausted doing...200 yards.

Heading north towards the Spittal of Glenshee,

I pass through a stretch of country much admired by Queen Victoria

for its rugged grandeur and high passes.

Although I doubt SHE ever attempted this journey on a tricycle.

HE PANTS

Tackling these hills is incredibly hard work.

And with no gears, it's almost impossible to make any headway at all,

which is why, when the going gets tough...

well, frankly, it's time to get off.

'I take heart form the words of Commander Reade.

'When he cycled across Scotland in Victorian times,

'he saw absolutely no point in working up a sweat.

'"Directly you begin to feel distressed, either in mounting a hill

'"or on heavy ground, at once get off and push."

'How unlike today's self-punishing age.

'"From the top of the pass, tired limbs are rewarded

'"with a glorious descent into Royal Deeside..."'

Woo!

'..and the destination made famous by Scotland's royal love affair.

'The romantic novels of Sir Walter Scott may have raised Scotland's profile

'in the 19th century, but it was the real-life royal romance

'that was played out here in Balmoral

'that consolidated the country's reputation as a place to visit.

'After falling in love with Scotland, the young Queen Victoria

'and her husband Albert decided to establish a family home in the Highlands.

'In 1848, they bought the Balmoral Estate,

'which occupied a special place in both their hearts.

'Victoria wrote in her diary,

-UPPER-CLASS FEMALE ACCENT:

-'"All seemed to breathe freedom and peace

'"and to make one forget the world and its turmoils."'

Victoria loved it here. In fact, they both did.

Scotland gave them the time and the space to be a family,

and the opportunity to reinvent themselves.

Albert had modelled Balmoral on his romantic idea of a Highland castle,

and it was here that the royal couple

acted out their own fantasy version of Highland life.

She wore tartan, and he learnt Gaelic.

They ate bannock, oatcakes and haggis.

'And the vast Balmoral Estate provided Albert with the opportunity

'to indulge one of his greatest passions -

'hunting.

'Although he is reported to have been a rather poor shot.

'But there can be no doubting the Prince's enthusiasm for the sport,

'and the Queen, too, often accompanied her much-adored husband,

'gamely crawling through the heather as Albert stalked his prey.

'Of all the places associated with Victoria and Albert,

'Balmoral represents the consummation of the love they had for each other,

'and for Scotland. In many ways,

'it's a symbol of the triangular relationship

'between Victoria, the Prince and the landscape of the Highlands.'

You can see evidence of this symbolism in the fabric

of the castle itself.

Up there is a frieze

depicting scenes from romantic legend,

while over here is the foundation stone, laid by Queen Victoria herself in 1853,

with the initials V for Victoria and A for Albert.

Like lovers, entwined forever in stone.

'Sadly, just five years after the completion of Balmoral Castle,

'Albert was struck down by typhoid and died.

'Victoria was alone.'

After Albert's tragic and untimely death at the age of just 42,

Victoria went into lifelong mourning.

Walking around the estate today,

you can clearly see how she turned the whole place

into a kind of memorial to her lost husband.

Up on the hill are cairns and stone pillars that mark the places

where the family picnicked and shared other happier times.

'Inspired by Victoria and Albert's love of Scotland,

'the Highlands became THE place to visit,

'and Royal Deeside became hugely popular with Victorian gentlemen

'enamoured with the latest sporting fashion - hunting.'

There was blackcock,

woodcock, grouse, capercaillie.

There was red deer and roe deer.

In fact, in the 19th century,

there seemed to be an inexhaustible supply of targets

for aristocrats and southern sporting gentlemen to choose from.

'By the end of the 19th century,

'hunting had become a sophisticated leisure-time pursuit.

'All across the Highlands, sporting estates were developed.

'These vast deer forests centred on the shooting lodge,

'offering owners and their guests

'every modern convenience of the Victorian age.

'I've come to Mar Lodge.

'Built in 1895 for Queen Victoria's granddaughter,

'it represents the high noon of Highland sporting life.

'In the ballroom, there's an astonishing visual reminder

'of the insatiable Victorian appetite for killing things.'

This has to be one of the most bizarre

and grisly spectacles I have ever seen.

There must be thousands of stag skulls up there.

'I must admit, the thrill of killing has always remained

'a bit of a mystery to me.'

'But to try and understand the elusive charms of shooting,

'I've come to meet Stuart Cumming,

'the head stalker, who's going to put me through my paces.'

I'm not going to be shooting anything today, heaven forbid,

but I'll have my camera. Do you usually get people stalking with cameras?

Not often, but we're beginning to get a wee bit more of that nowadays.

It's quite a pricey thing to do, to go stalking.

It can be pricey depending on

what deer forest you're stalking on, you know,

-£300 to £340.

-For the day?

-For the day, plus the VAT, aye.

-Plus the VAT.

And do you get to keep the stag?

-No, the stag is the property of the estate.

-Right!

It's quite an expensive day out then, isn't it?

It is, but people enjoy it, and they get a trophy, probably, at the end of the day.

What do you mean, the trophy?

-Well, the antlers, the stag antlers.

-Oh, really?

-So that tradition still continues?

-Oh, yes.

-Right.

We'll just take off in this direction here...

'For the Victorian sporting gentleman, the whole ritual of deer stalking

'was bound up with ideas of masculinity, a test of willpower,

'strength and physical fitness, to overcome fear, subdue nature and kill the noble stag,

'the monarch of the glen.

'What better demonstration of heroic manliness

'than the antlered head of a stag on the dining-room wall?

'And let's face it, it's a brilliant excuse for grown men

'to spend the day rolling around in the heather.'

(All right.)

(Oh, I see him.

(What kind of distance are we away from him?)

(Um, about 110 yards, maybe, say.)

(And if we were stalking for real with a gun, what kind of distance

(would be the optimum distance to guarantee a kill?)

(Well, certainly 110, 150 yards,

(but obviously you've got to be that wee bit more careful,

(cos move a bit closer, and they spot you very quickly.)

(Do you think he can see us?)

(Looking around, they're always very wary.)

-(Can sense there's something not quite right.)

-(Aye.)

(He's in my sights now.)

CAMERA SHUTTER CLICKS

(If that was a gun, I would have got him.)

(You would've got him, aye.)

(I've got my shot.)

(Aye, well done.)

'I may not have a set of antlers for my wall,

'but I've had a spectacular day in the hills.

'From Mar Lodge, I want to get to Glenmore, just north of Aviemore,

'but standing between me and my ultimate destination

'are the Cairngorms.

'The conventional way would be for me to follow the road

'around the mountains, but I'm keen to try a harder, more direct route.'

This is pretty much as far as I can go because the road ahead

is definitely not suitable for ancient old tricycles.

Now this glen marks the beginning of the Lairig Ghru,

which is an ancient old pass through the heart of the Cairngorms.

So if I want to get to Speyside, I'm afraid it's "goodbye, tricycle".

And "hello, bicycle".

'The Lairig Ghru is an impressive ice-scoured cleft.

'It was formed thousands of years ago by long-vanished glaciers

'that once covered the mountains of Scotland.

'Although it forms a natural pass, the top of the Lairig Ghru

'is too high and snowbound to have ever developed as a road link.

'Joining me on my jaunt through the Cairngorms

'is Scottish mountain-biking champion, Lee Craigie.'

What kind of track are we on today, do you think? Is it difficult?

The Lairig Ghru is rooty, it's rocky, it's steep up, steep down,

so if something goes wrong on a trail out here,

then it's got different repercussions to a trail centre.

-Cos you're a long way from civilisation.

-That's right.

-And rescue.

-You'll need to carry me out.

I was hoping you would carry me out!

What do you think our chances are, to get to the top of the Lairig Ghru?

-If we keep hanging around chatting, very slim!

-Right.

OK, let's see how far we can get.

Well, this is definitely easier than the old tricycle.

'It's the way mountain bikes open up the remote and inaccessible parts

'of the Highlands that makes the sport so appealing to me.

'But the term "cycling" has to be used loosely here.

'There's almost as much carrying of your bike as there is of riding it on routes like this.'

Right, I'm gaining on you Lee. You might call yourself the champion, but I'm right behind ya.

Urgh!

'The modern mountain bike may be much more sophisticated

'than my old tricycle,

'but in trying to keep up with the Scottish mountain-bike champion

'on this rather challenging terrain,

'I manage to get my first puncture of the trip.'

Now Lee, it's a bit sad,

because my tyre has lost all its puff, a bit like me.

Look at the size of that, a huge hole.

-I always used to hate mending punctures when I was a kid.

-Yeah.

I used to always try and get my dad to do it, and he never did.

He said, "You gotta do it yourself."

Well, then why am I doing this for you?

Well, I'm sure you're more expert at this particular type of wheel.

-That's my excuse.

-OK. You've got to save your energy for the cross-drains.

I do, cos I'm absolutely knackered. It is quite tough going, isn't it?

-I'm right to feel tired.

-It's not easy terrain. You're absolutely right.

-It's to be expected.

But it's a fantastic location.

I think that's what punctures are for.

Sometimes on a mountain bike, cos you cover ground so fast...

Well, YOU might.

-..you can keep your head down, can't you?

-Uh-huh.

And you forget to look up

and it's such a shame.

What's the point in passing through all of this

unless you stop to look up?

'The landscape of the Cairngorm National Park is truly breathtaking,

'but few early visitors to Scotland

'would have ventured into this relatively unknown region.

'The Lairig Ghru has always fascinated me.

'I first came here when I was 18, and I've attempted to walk the route

'several times, but have never managed to complete it.

'I'm determined this time, with the aid of pedal power, to make it.'

-Oh!

-HE SPLUTTERS

HE LAUGHS

'Hmm, perhaps not.'

Well, here we are, Lee, I think we're only about, what,

-a third of the way through?

-Yeah, we're not very far.

And the path is just getting interesting now, isn't it?

Aye. But I think it's fair to say that you'd expected to be a bit further on by now.

-Yeah, I think if we were going to try and to Aviemore, we would need to be quite a lot further on.

-Right.

I mean do you think it's realistic?

I think we need to go away and maybe do a little bit more training and come back, Paul.

Do you feel that you're being held back in any way?

-Oh, I couldn't possibly say!

-Right.

Well, thank you very much for your advice, Lee.

But I'm made of sterner stuff and I'm going to bash on.

So I'll see you later. Farewell!

More than likely never to be seen again.

It's nothing to me, a mere bagatelle.

You know, on second thoughts, it does seem a hell of a long way.

HE GRUNTS

I'm going to head back this way.

Wait for me, Lee!

I'm coming back.

'With buttocks hideously battered and bruised, I've once more been defeated by the Lairig Ghru.'

HE GRUNTS

You've got gravity to take you back down.

-Lovely thought.

-HE GRUNTS

Ah, that's gravity!

'Mountain biking may be a great way to get out into the wilderness,

'but after another puncture and several more miles on foot,

'rather than in the saddle, I think perhaps some places in Scotland

'are just not meant to be conquered by bike.

'So it's back on the tarmac road for me

'if I'm to make the final leg of my journey

'and a bed for the night.

'Reflecting on my journey from Royal Deeside,

'it strikes me that for a long time, Scotland's sporting pursuits were very much the preserve of the rich.

'But as society began to change, a wider range of visitors came into the countryside,

'and they weren't the sort to afford plush hotels or shooting lodges.

'What they wanted was a cheap-and-cheerful alternative,

'like the youth hostel where I'm ending my trip.'

Right. Oh, wait a minute! Actually, that's one of the things about

staying in youth hostels, is that there are lots of polite notices

asking you to comply with various regulations.

Foot locker.

'Ah, the joys of the SYHA.

'In 1931, the Scottish Youth Hostel Association was founded

'to meet the needs of young folk seeking the great outdoors.

'Its aim was to promote moral and physical fitness, by encouraging

'a healthy life, through vigorous exercise and fresh air.'

Well, these somewhat Spartan surroundings at the youth hostel here in Glenmore

are a far cry from the luxury of Mar Lodge.

Although there's something appropriate about the transformation of a place

that was once a shooting lodge for the nobility

into a place where ordinary men and women could get a bunk for the night.

'The movement was hugely successful and soon the hills were alive, if not with the sound of music,

'but at least thronged with ruddy-faced youths engaged in country pursuits.

'And they could be sure that, at the end of the day, there would be cheap accommodation on offer,

'ranging from basic wooden huts to converted castles.'

It also seems quite sporting that ordinary people could now enjoy

the wide-open spaces that had previously been the preserve

of a tiny social elite, and interesting to reflect on the fact

that the great outdoors itself is such a social leveller.

But the only disadvantage of staying in a place like this is that, well, there's no bar.

And I'm exhausted and I simply can't cycle all the way to the pub, so I'm afraid it's an early night for me.

'Join me on my next Grand Tour of Scotland,

'when I take one of the most famous railway journeys in the world,

'following Black's Guide to the elements.'

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd