Episode 3 Grand Tours of Scotland

Argyll on the west coast of Scotland.

This ancient landscape of mountains, islands and long sea lochs

was once the cradle of the Scottish nation.

It's also a place that's inspired visitors and tourists

for the last 200 years,

drawn here by the incomparable scenery

and a haunting atmosphere shaped by 2,000 years of myth and legend.

I've always said that if you want to experience the real Scotland,

the true spiritual heart of the country,

then you should come here to Argyll.

And even on a grey, windy day like today,

this place has a magic all of its own.

But then I would say that, wouldn't I? This is where I grew up.

As a child, Scotland remained a mystery to me

until my father rediscovered

an old copy of Black's Picturesque Guide To Scotland.

It had been in my family for generations

and, in Victorian times,

was the most influential tourist guide book of all.

'Inspired by the route suggested by Black's, my father took us

'all over the country,

'searching for Scotland's special places.

'Now, four decades on,

'I'm letting the pages of Black's guide me again,

'as I follow in the footsteps of the early tourists.

'On my grand tour,

'I'll also discover the works of some early travel writers

'who came in search of the true spirit of Scotland.'

My grand tour begins just north of the Firth of Clyde in Cowal

and follows a network of now-forgotten steamer routes

from loch to loch, finally reaching the fabled island of Islay -

the whisky capital of the west.

This is Loch Eck.

According to Black's guide,

"Loch Eck is a very pleasing miniature lake

"embosomed in green mountains of graceful and rounded outline.

"Soft it seems to lie and tenderly protected

"amongst the green hills of Cowal."

In the spirit of adventure,

I'm "paddling my own canoe", as they say.

In this case, a beautiful replica of the original Rob Roy canoe

built in the 1890s.

'Although Black's guide book doesn't have anything to say

'about canoeing as a pastime,

'increasing numbers of Victorian gentlemen

'were inspired by the daring adventures of a canoeing Scot.'

John MacGregor, inventor of the Rob Roy leisure canoe.

As a young man, John MacGregor had travelled in the wilds of Canada

and was inspired by the Native American canoes he saw there.

When he got back to Scotland, he decided to build his own

and named it Rob Roy in honour of his illustrious MacGregor ancestors.

He wrote about his travels in a ripping yarn called

A Thousand Miles In The Rob Roy Canoe.

"After taking on supplies, I shoved off into the tide,

"lit a cigar and felt I had really started.

"But then began a strange feeling of freedom and novelty.

"I was in a canoe which could be paddled or sailed

"to Rome or Hong Kong if I liked."

Ah, the freedom of the open water!

'The illustrious John MacGregor'

had much to say on the subject of canoeing,

including tips on the best attire for the budding paddler.

For the gentleman, he recommends a flannel Norfolk jacket,

flannel shirt and a straw hat,

which he says is the best of all for boating.

'With my own hat firmly clamped over my ears,

'there can be no better way of exploring these secluded waterways

'than by paddling one of Mr MacGregor's famous canoes.'

I grew up close to the shores of Loch Eck,

so I'm naturally a wee bit biased,

but for me this has to be one of the prettiest stretches of water

to be found anywhere in Scotland.

'When I was a boy, I didn't realise the role

'that Loch Eck once played in the development of Scottish tourism.'

In 1827, the genius and pioneering marine engineer David Napier

built one of the world's first iron ships

to carry tourists on the sheltered waters of Loch Eck.

Napier was a real innovator.

He wanted to open up a new route from the Clyde to the Hebrides

and saw Loch Eck as a short cut.

Napier built hotels, piers, boats and even a steam carriage

to carry his passengers on overland sections

of what became known as the famous Loch Eck route.

'Changed days.

'All that's left of Napier's dream are a few rotting wooden piers.'

The Loch Eck route could never compete

with the bulk of tourist traffic

using steamers on the Clyde as a way out to the west

and, sadly, Napier's boats

were hauled ashore and abandoned to the elements

and there hasn't been a steamer on Loch Eck for over 70 years.

For the next leg of my journey,

I follow Napier's Loch Eck route northwards,

finally emerging at the sea

and into lovely Loch Fyne.

Although the adventurous Scot John MacGregor

was the first to bring canoeing, or should I say kayaking,

to public attention,

the sport remained in the doldrums for decades.

But then, in 1936, a couple of idealistic Scotsmen

rediscovered the delights of paddling your own canoe

for themselves when they embarked on a daring trip

to discover the true spirit of Scotland.

Alastair Dunnett and his friend James Adam,

otherwise known as Seumas,

were barely out of their teens

when they embarked on their great expedition

and became known to the world as the Canoe Boys.

Clad in kilts and as keen as mustard,

Alastair and Seumas set off on their eleven-week adventure

kayaking from the Clyde to the Isle of Skye.

Theirs was a boys' own adventure par excellence

'and, to find out more, I've joined kayaking expert Duncan Winning

'on a short section of the Canoe Boys' original route,

'coming ashore in a bay on Loch Fyne.'

Duncan, the Canoe Boys have become legendary.

Who were they and what were they trying to do?

Well, they were a couple of young journalists

and they were trying to, er...

do two things I think, mainly.

One was trying to run a magazine for boys called The Claymore,

to encourage the youth of Scotland in the great outdoors

and the things that were available for them to do on their doorstep.

And one of the, er...the other things they were trying to do

through their trip

was they were very keen in promoting

a revival in the economic activity

in the islands and in the Highlands.

The Canoe Boys weren't interested in the Scotland of the guide books.

They were concerned with the plight of the modern Highlander,

not the romantic image.

But the reading public cared less for their politics

than the novelty of their great adventure.

The excitement of two canoeing novices

braving the elements in boats held together by screws and wire.

I think it was something like September they set off, from memory,

and as they progressed up the west coast,

of course the weather deteriorated and deteriorated,

and they ended up finishing their epic journey at Kyle of Lochalsh.

It seems to me that the Canoe Boys were pretty brave in what they did.

Er, they were indeed.

Compared to modern canoeists, they roughed it.

They put up with a lot of harsh conditions.

They threw themselves in at the deep end. So, yes, it's...

-Almost literally there.

-Yes!

Let's put it this way, I don't think I'd have done what they did.

Don't think I would have, either!

Leaving Duncan to paddle home,

I make my watery way across Loch Fyne to Inveraray,

the Highland capital of Argyll.

According to Black's,

"Its situation is exceedingly beautiful.

"Here nature is so vast and grand

"that works of art diminish in her awful presence."

Black's was not alone in admiring Inveraray.

The eminent philosopher Edmund Burke considered the landscape here

to represent the quintessence of sublime beauty.

'He thought the scenery was stunning.'

So too did the artist Turner,

who captured the magic of the scene in watercolours.

And in 1796, the early travel writer, Sarah Murray,

considered Inveraray to be, "The noblest place in Scotland."

Although she was dismayed by the miserable weather!

Inveraray Castle, home to the Campbell Dukes of Argyll,

has been attracting tourists for almost 200 years.

In fact, it's Black's number one recommendation -

although I have to say, the tone adopted by my old guide

is a bit obsequious.

In fact, a bit grovelling. For example, it says here,

"The castle is reached through the grounds which,

"by the liberality of the noble proprietor, are open to the public."

But not all visitors were overawed by the Ducal pile.

In 1787, the poet Robert Burns visited the town

and wrote pointedly about the social divisions he found here.

"Who e'er he be who sojourns here

"I pity much his case

"Unless he's come to wait upon

"The Lord, their God, His Grace."

A few years later, the poet William Wordsworth and his sister Dorothy

visited the town on their Highland tour,

and they too saw the contrast

between the wealth of the Duke in his castle

and the poverty in the streets.

"We passed through the town

"which is a doleful example of Scotch filth.

"A melancholy spectacle,

"giving the notion of either vice or extreme wretchedness."

Happily, there's no sign of "Scotch filth"

on the windy streets of Inveraray today,

which seems spotlessly clean

and peopled exclusively by the virtuous.

But to find out more about the gulf

between vice and virtue, rich and poor,

I've come to another popular tourist attraction - the jail.

I'm met by the formidable figure of Hannah Nixon.

-Hello, Hannah.

-Good afternoon.

-Lovely to meet you.

'In her role as prison matron,

'it's Hannah's job to educate and entertain modern tourists

'on visits to this once grim penal institution.'

This is the old prison. I'll take you to a cell

which shows you how it really was in the early days.

-You're talking about 1820, when we first opened.

-Right.

You would have had three, four prisoners in every cell originally.

-You can see here this.

-In this small space?

-In this small space.

-Right.

-You know, sleeping on the floor.

Men, women, children, criminally insane, all together in the prison.

You've got a good example here of a prisoner that was in in 1820.

He's a prisoner with a sense of humour. He's written on the wall,

"A room to let to the 26th day of June.

"Application to be made to Duncan Campbell, jailer.

-"Hugh Currie is off forever."

-Right.

So if you're wanting a cell to live in, he's off.

You can have this if you make the application.

'Role-play at Inveraray is part of a modern tourist experience.

'Not only is there a prison matron,

'I'm about to meet one of the inmates too.'

-Another cell and a prisoner.

-And a prisoner. This is Elizabeth.

This is a good example of the reforms kicking in now.

1841 and the cleanliness prisoners would have to endure, really.

-Right. She doesn't look very happy.

-Well, unfortunately she had lice.

She wouldn't wash properly, so we have had to go to drastic measures.

I hope you've not got a weak stomach.

-I've a slightly weak one.

-Elizabeth, take your bonnet off, please.

We have had to shave her head.

If you don't wash properly, this is what will happen.

-Right.

-It's to teach you a lesson. All right?

-Behaving yourself?

-Yes, Matron.

-She's in for theft.

-She's in for theft.

So what did you steal?

I stole two silver jugs from a hotel in Dunoon where I was working.

Right. And how long did you get?

-I got 2½ years, sir.

-2½ years.

So that's one year and three months per jug.

-Is it, sir?

-Do you think that was worth it?

-It was at the time, sir.

'Despite prison reforms,

'crime was still harshly punished in Victorian times.'

So this is an example of punishments set with the Reforms of Scotland.

-This is the whipping table.

-A whipping table?

So if you disobey our rules here, you will be beaten.

-Now, it is just for the males. Boys as well.

-Boys?

Children as young as seven would come to this prison.

If you disobey our rules, a child may well be beaten.

-And beaten with this?

-Yes, that's the birch.

-So how did this contraption work?

-The best way is to demonstrate, sir.

-If I take that and you'd like to lie up there.

-OK.

-It looks quite innocuous.

-On your stomach.

It's a bit like a, I don't know, a massage table or something.

It won't feel like a massage, sir.

-I put my arms through here?

-Straight through.

-OK.

'At Inveraray Jail, visitors are encouraged to sample

'even the grimmest aspects of prison life.

'The experience can sometimes take quite a beating.'

Ooh! Please! Ooh!

That was painful. That was painful.

Er...slightly risible, but I suppose what I find curious

is why people on holiday want to come to a prison.

Is there a kind of misery tourism going on here, do you think?

There is. People have always been interested in the macabre.

Anything to do with death, torture, damnation.

People like to come, have a go, see what it was like,

try all the different things that we have here.

Today, yes, it is humorous for them, but it does give them an idea of what went on in the past.

'As Matron leads me back through the prison to freedom,

'she tells me that in Victorian times,

'people would go on holiday and visit prisons like this.

'It's amusing to think that a century later,

'modern tourists are still doing the same thing.

'Back on the streets of Inveraray,

'it looks as if were in for a spot of rain.

'Before I catch the worst of the weather,

'it's time to move on and over the hills to my next destination -

'Loch Awe.'

Loch Awe is the longest freshwater loch in Scotland

and is, without question,

an absolute treasure, whatever the weather.

Black's is fulsome in its praises, describing the loch as,

"A glittering jewel with green bowered islands

"nestling on the bosom of the lake."

Not today it isn't!

Come rain or shine, the Victorians were quick to see

the tourist potential of lovely Loch Awe.

And at one time, as many as 15 steamers

sailed among the wooded islands.

But of course progress has meant

these elegant little ships suffered the same fate

as nearly all the other steamers on Scotland's lochs.

They were scrapped years ago.

The steamer may have gone,

but the landscape is just as spectacular and wild

as it was when Victorian tourists

were told enthralling legends about the landscape,

as they sailed amongst the islands of the loch.

'Hearing these romantic tales told to them

'by their kilted Highland guides,

'in this wonderful setting,

'made Victorian tourists feel close to the true spirit of Scotland.'

'Here, every island, every inlet and bay, has a tale of its own.

'Part of a tradition that connects Loch Awe to an epic past.'

As I make my way down the loch,

I am passing through 2,000 years of history,

heading for the cradle of the nation.

This is Kilmartin Glen.

I've always thought that this part of Argyll has a magic of its own.

There's something about the quality of light here,

the distant views to the islands,

the long sea lochs and the roughly wooded hillsides,

that's particularly atmospheric.

It's also a place with a special significance

in the history of the Scottish nation.

Kilmartin Glen has one of the most important concentrations

of Neolithic and Bronze Age remains in Scotland.

Within just a few miles, there are over 350 ancient monuments,

making this a unique ceremonial landscape

that was once sacred to our ancestors.

For 3,000 years, this tiny, damp corner of Scotland

was an important centre for different people

and different cultures,

from the Stone Age right up to the early Christian period

when the country we now call Scotland was coming into being.

The most striking and significant of all the ancient monuments

associated with this story can be found right here at Dunadd.

Now, it might not look much,

but this small rocky hill is where the story of the nation begins.

This is the cradle of Scotland.

1,600 years ago, a fort stood at the top of this hill.

Over the years, it's become a place of pilgrimage for tourists.

And it was up here on a sacred stone

that the Kings of Dal Riada were invested with their royal powers.

Now, this is where it's all said to have taken place.

Over here is a stone footprint cut into the rock.

And according to archaeologists,

this is where the King to be would have placed his own foot

in a ritual act that symbolised the union of the human world with the divine.

Now, I'm not the first person to have noticed

that this Kingly footprint is a bit, well, diminutive.

Now, I'd say that was probably a size 3.

You can get a sense of why Dunadd

was so important to the ancient world from the summit.

It lies at the centre of a landscape

that has an almost mystical atmosphere.

Up here, you get a powerful feeling

of being in touch with the distant past.

Which is why, for me, this could be the spiritual heart of Scotland.

But there is another contender for the title of spiritual heart,

and to get there, I have to sail to the islands.

On the next leg of my journey,

I'm crossing the sea to Islay -

the spiritual home of whisky.

But this is no scheduled ferry service.

To retrace the old steamer routes that once crossed the west coast,

I joined Sandy Campbell aboard the modern motor cruiser Venture West.

Sandy, what kind of business do you run, then?

Er, well, just a charter boat business.

Take people where they want to be, along with some wildlife trips

and Corryvreckan trips to the whirlpool.

There's usually...it's quite a good kind of area for wildlife.

There's some seagulls that nest along with...there's a lot of seals

and porpoise sometimes, or dolphin.

Later on in the year, we have basking shark and a minky whale around.

So, yeah, it's very interesting.

Sandy's hi-tech rib is a far cry from the steamers

that carried the few early tourists

who ventured this far off the beaten track.

As Black's notes,

"The traffic of the westward isles is maintained

"by steamers of the smaller class.

"The natives herding on the foredeck,

"Gaelic their dialect

"and teetotalism a creed little believed in."

I think it's odd that my guide should make

such a sneering reference to the pleasures

that ordinary folk could derive from alcohol,

because in the very next sentence,

the same writer goes on to praise Islay

for the quality of its whisky.

Now, I think what he's trying to imply here

is that it's OK for wealthy tourists to enjoy the water of life,

but for ordinary people, it's degrading.

Wealthy people could be connoisseurs.

The poor just got drunk.

'As I consider the mixed morals of Victorian tourists,

'I enjoy a large glass of whisky.

'I count myself lucky that I'm a connoisseur and not a lush.'

Anyone arriving in Islay today

can't fail to notice the continuing importance of whisky.

Famous names greet you at every turn.

Lagavulin, Laphroaig, Bowmore.

Villages celebrated the world over

because of the whisky that comes from them.

This is Port Ellen.

In 1868, Black's wrote encouragingly,

"A fair entertainment may be had in the inns above the harbour.

"A smart trade going on in the consumption of whisky."

Ah! Just smell that!

That's the tangle o' the Isles,

a wonderful combination of peat smoke, seaweed...

Ah! ..and whisky.

For me, uisge beatha - the water of life -

has its spiritual home right here on Islay,

and I'm just one of thousands making the pilgrimage each year

to the island made famous because of its spirit.

We love the, er, Islay whisky. Er, the peaty taste is our favourite.

There's so many different whiskies, they all taste different.

So it's interesting to learn about how they turn out different.

We know this whisky for a few years,

but it's the first time that we are here on Islay directly.

'To find out more about the arcane, magical art of whisky-making,

'I've joined Duncan McGilvery

'on a tour of the Bruichladdich Distillery.

'Duncan tells me that Islay has been on the whisky connoisseurs' itinerary for well over 100 years.

'In 1886, the island, its drinking habits and its water of life,

'were all lovingly and minutely described

'by an Englishman, Alfred Barnard.'

Alfred Barnard did a survey in the late 1800s of all the distilleries

of Scotland and England and Wales, that he could find.

Not that I was around at the time, but, er...

it was a very in-depth investigation into what they did.

And his result was a survey, and the conclusions are absolutely priceless.

In those days, it was rare to find a whisky connoisseur, because people...

I mean, whisky was just a way of life, and it was a means to make money.

Nowadays, so many people are so much better educated about whisky,

and whisky/tourism on Islay

must be one of the biggest earners that there is on the island,

along with bird-watching and nature, etc.

But whisky has become very much a tourist industry.

Barnard not only wrote extensively and passionately about whisky,

he was also the first to celebrate

the special relationship between booze and the environment.

Barnard's book isn't just an account of whisky.

It is, in fact, a love story.

The story of a man's infatuation

with a landscape and a culture

that's produced a world-beating spirit.

To find out more about the fruitful marriage between whisky,

tourism and fabulous scenery,

I'm meeting up with historian Kevin James at Duffies Bar,

which has over 250 brands of whisky to choose from.

'Apparently, the most expensive dram will set you back £250!

'Let's hope Kevin's buying.'

Kevin, Barnard's book was seminal in many ways, was it not,

in kicking off whisky tourism?

He seems to have a special love for Scottish landscape,

and there's a connection, I think, between the landscape and whisky.

Oh, absolutely. Absolutely.

And particularly in the Hebridean landscape.

I think that he has an affection for the wildness of the landscape.

There are occasions on which he comments on the...

kind of the almost, er...austereness of the Hebridean landscape,

and I think that he works that into

his overall appreciation of the malts as well.

And I think that's one way of kind of casting Barnard's book,

and indeed the whole whisky tourism phenomenon,

as people tried to penetrate beyond the visual landscape

and get into the culture by other ways.

Engaging their senses in other ways.

-And, er, what better way to do it than through drink?

-Right.

So you didn't just come to Islay to drink in the landscape?

You came to Islay, had a drink and saw the landscape at the same time.

And maybe saw it in different ways.

Right, so do you think, you know, in becoming connoisseurs,

some Victorians felt that they had a kind of special knowledge,

not just of the drink but of the culture

and a knowledge, in some ways, that was more sophisticated

than local people's understanding of the drink?

Yeah. I think they could assert

that they had a more tasteful appreciation of the culture

and a more tasteful appreciation of the drink itself as well.

That's really interesting, because, in many ways, whisky, uisge beatha,

is a kind of wild drink. It's a dangerous drink associated with,

you know, rebellion, the Jacobite rebellion.

But somehow the Victorians and tourism had tamed this drink,

had tamed the spirit of Scotland.

It is. It's like taming a primitive aspect of Scottish peasant culture.

It's also allowing the tourist

to distance him or herself from the culture,

at the same time as taking one of the icons of that culture -

whisky - and consuming it.

-Right, well, I'll have a wee... Slainte!

-Slainte!

-Mm. That's not the £250 dram.

-It isn't.

-Ardbeg, is it? It's not bad.

-It's not bad. It'll do.

Armed with a bottle of the finest malt -

the one that's not going to break the budget -

I leave Kevin and make my way to the coast.

As I've found for myself,

the spirit of Scotland is not easily tamed.

But that doesn't deter people from hoping to discover something

that captures the essence of the place.

The landscape, history and culture.

Many claim to have found it

in the views of the lochs and islands of the west coast.

While some believe it lies in the past,

others think the spirit of Scotland is a commodity that can be bottled.

For me, the truth lies somewhere in between.

There are lots of different ways you can drink whisky, of course.

Some people take it with ice - on the rocks -

and others like to add a wee drop of water.

And some, heaven forbid, drink it with a mixer!

Personally, I like to drink it neat and outside,

with a view of the Atlantic and the smell of the sea in my nostrils.

And even on a grey, cold day like today,

I can think of no more appropriate place

to experience the true spirit of Scotland.

Slainte!

On the last of these grand tours, I'm heading east in search of sunshine.

Scotland may not be renowned for its blue skies and warm weather -

but there was a time

when holiday-makers flocked to Scottish beaches

hoping to luxuriate in the summer sun.

But then again, they had little option.

Long before the era of cheap flights

and package holidays to the Costa del Sunburn,

most Scots spent their summers at the Scottish seaside.

Here, simple pleasures like paddling were the order of the day,

and all along the east coast,

hugely popular resorts developed

where each boasted the finest sands or the hottest weather.

At least, that's what they claimed.

The last journey of my grand tour of Scotland takes me from the shores

of the Firth of Tay, zigzagging along the east coast to Aberdeen.

To capture the holiday spirit, and to chase the sun,

I've chosen a conveyance to put me in the mood - a Morris Minor.

A car that sums up the style of an era -

when modern holiday tastes overtook the more sedate pleasures

suggested by Black's old guide book.

Back in Victorian times,

the very last thing a tourist would have expected from a visit to Scotland was sunshine.

Rugged scenery, ruined castles, yes.

Challenging weather, well, definitely.

A dip in the briny for the good of your health?

Well, possibly, but only if you were suitably attired.

But no-one in Black's day would have ever considered

exposing their naked flesh to the sun.

So to find out how these more modest pleasure-seekers

spent their time at the seaside,

I've come here to Carnoustie.

Today, this town is most famous for its golf course -

but back in Black's day, the beach front was its main attraction

and my guide book describes it as an up-and-coming resort.

"Carnoustie is a rising watering place of about a thousand

"inhabitants situated on the shore."

This is where people came for a break

from the harsh routine of work in the factories and jute mills of Dundee.

A place to recharge the batteries.

And why not?

To find out what Carnoustie's star attractions were, I'm meeting local historian Fiona Scharlau.

Fiona, what kind of activities were available to holiday-makers

coming to Carnoustie in the old days?

Oh, there was a great deal.

If you, on any given day of July and August, looked out on the beach behind us,

you would see the place absolutely black with visitors

just sitting on the beach just enjoying the sand,

having picnics, using the bathing machines

to modestly change into their swimsuits to go swimming.

Just traditional summer seaside activities.

In particular, they would enjoy the open-air, al fresco Pierrot shows as well.

-A Pierrot show. What's that?

-Pierrot is an entertainer. The style they adopted

was to dress up in the traditional Italian Commedia dell'Arte Pierrot outfit.

The big, white clown outfits and the big ruffs.

In effect, they were bringing the music hall out of the music hall and onto beach fronts,

in very makeshift stages and there'd be two or three shows a day

and it would be full of comic sketches, sing-along songs

and turns from the good singers that they would have along with them.

So there's something here for everybody in the family, really.

They were incredibly popular. People would flock to see them

and the newspapers would follow their exploits for the rest of the year.

They were stars in the borough.

-Pierrots are a thing of the past and what happened to that tradition?

-Yes, they are.

-Why did it disappear?

-I think it's just tastes change. Tastes change all the time.

The music hall that they came from, Vaudeville,

the tradition that they came from, started to become less popular in the 1920s

and many of the Vaudeville acts and musical hall acts were struggling to really make a living.

People preferred to go to dances, apparently,

and the cinema, by this time, was really beginning to take hold.

It's just tastes changed.

And one of the biggest changes was happening on the beach itself.

Victorian values and ideas about modesty were seen as outdated.

And in the 1920s and '30s, a new morality emerged.

Beaches like this one in Carnoustie saw Scottish holiday-makers

doing something that would have been inconceivable in Black's day.

People in scanty swimming costumes, sunbathing! Imagine!

Scottish resorts competed with each other to convince holiday-makers

that their beaches were the best, their sea, the warmest and their sun, the sunniest.

Posters were produced and catchphrases coined.

"Carnoustie for health and happiness!",

"Girvan - the Atlantic resort",

"Arbroath for sunshine",

and even Campbelltown, the, um, peninsular resort?

To find out how this craze for selling Scotland's seaside towns came about,

I'm giving a lift to Professor John Gold...

Hello. Good to see you.

'..who's an expert on tourism.'

John, there's a history for this kind of sloganising, is there not?

There is. Towns were growing.

It wasn't clear who was going to do better than anywhere else

so they tried to attract people with slogans.

The railway companies started to develop their lines and their networks more in Scotland.

You had very fine posters.

They've got fabulous posters. I've seen them.

They hired good artists to design them. They were high-quality colour.

So it was a splash of colour, a splash of something exotic

and you could hop on a train and go somewhere exotic like Carnoustie or Arbroath

or Montrose and they all came up with a catchphrase.

Broughty Ferry called itself, "The Brighton of Scotland"

and Nairn called itself, "The Brighton of the North".

-The same claim.

-That's right. Well, you couldn't copyright these slogans

so once one place had them, anywhere could have them.

If you called yourself, "The Biarritz of the North",

someone else might call themselves the same thing.

As soon as they saw it, they could call themselves that immediately.

-Or, "The Biarritz of the wee bit further North".

-Yes.

It was making sure you weren't at a serious disadvantage with your competitors.

So if the competitors were doing it, you felt you had to do it.

Do you think sunshine ever featured as a significant selling point for a holiday in Scotland?

Absolutely, it did. It doesn't have to be that accurate.

You're trying to sell an image to people.

These campaigns certainly seemed to work and the railways

carried huge numbers of holiday-makers in search of the sun.

The next stop on my grand tour is Brechin,

where I'm going to hop aboard the Sunshine Express.

This is Brechin station. Originally closed in the 1960s,

it was reopened by a group of railway enthusiasts

who run trains on four miles of track they proudly call

the "Caledonian Railway".

-Good morning.

-Oh, good morning, sir.

-Could I have a single to Duns, please?

-Yes, that will be one shilling.

Thank you.

STEAM HISSES

Just the hiss of steam and a waft of coal smoke in the air

is enough to put anyone in a holiday mood.

I'm about to do something I only ever dreamed of doing as a child.

And that's to ride on the footplate there and back again.

This is how tens of thousands of people would have started their holidays.

Travelling from the towns and cities down to the coast.

And it's a real thrill to be riding up front.

TRAIN WHISTLE BLOWS

These four miles of track

are all that remain of a rail network that once connected the whole of the east coast.

Today, this is the end of the line.

Bridge of Dun.

The great claim to fame of this little station in the middle of nowhere,

is its royal connections.

Back in the days when this line was connected to the national rail network,

the royal train carrying Queen Victoria would spend the night here.

Apparently, the royal personage didn't feel safe sleeping aboard a moving train,

so to break the journey, the train would pull into a siding just beyond the platform

so she could get some shut-eye before continuing on her royal way to Balmoral.

To screen the Queen from prying eyes, a line of trees were planted

and they're still here!

A living link to the golden age of Victorian travel.

Originally, the line I've been travelling on would have gone

all the way to the sea, and if you were lucky, perhaps even the sun.

I'm going to have to get back in the car to head for the coast

and my next destination -

Montrose.

And if you believe what you read,

this is the real sunshine capital of the east coast.

This attractive brochure from the 1950s suggests several things to me.

On the front cover, we've got two lovely ladies basking in glorious sunshine

as they relax in their swimming costumes on the beach.

They look really sophisticated.

Inside, it claims that science has proved beyond all doubt

that Montrose deserves the sunshine crown.

Can this still be true, I wonder?

Or in fact, was it ever true?

To find out, I'm meeting up with meteorologist Ben Brock on the beach.

Ben, what's the temperature today?

-The temperature right now is just 14.5 degrees.

-Is that all? That's disappointing.

And yet Montrose boasts that it has the sunniest and the warmest weather in Scotland.

It's a little bit unclear where the sunniest part of Scotland is.

Scotland is not a particularly sunny part of the world,

so saying somewhere is sunny for Scotland is not,

on a global scale, particularly sunny.

-During the summer months, Montrose could probably expect 5.5 hours of sunshine per day.

-Right.

This eastern strip of Scotland, from Montrose, south to Lothian, is the sunniest part of Scotland.

It's legitimate to say they belong to the sunniest strip in Scotland?

That's right. Compared to most of the rest of Scotland, it's relatively sunny.

I've got a suspicion that the weather in Scotland has got worse,

cos it seems a lot worse than I remember as a kid when I was running around swimming in the sea.

Actually, it's the opposite. According to all the statistics,

all the weather stations that have been monitoring the weather,

tell us the weather is better. It's warmer and it's getting sunnier.

-But we don't believe them. Why not?

-Nobody believes it!

I think that's because of this effect of the happy memories from childhood.

You tend to remember those happy, sunny days at the beach, those carefree days.

You tend to remember less the rainy days

and in the last ten years,

the east coast of Scotland has got, on average, 40 hours more of sunshine per year.

I don't believe that! I've not noticed it.

I think I must have been on holiday when that happened!

40 hours a year might only amount to an average of about six minutes extra sunshine a day.

But every little helps.

As I head north, I begin to feel a bit peckish,

and what better way to enjoy the sunshine than a picnic?

Ah! The smell of a real bakery.

'So I'm stopping off to pick up an east coast delicacy.'

-Can I have a bridie, please?

-Yes, you could.

Cos they are really quite unique. Very special, I think.

-Yeah.

-Look at that. It's absolutely magnificent, isn't it?

-That's a real work of art.

-Yeah.

-I'll take that with me for a wee picnic.

-Quite right. You enjoy it.

-Thanks very much.

-You're welcome.

-Cheers, now.

-Cheerio. Bye.

-Bye-bye.

With my lunch safely stashed on the back seat,

I begin the long climb towards the Cairn O'Mount and its spectacular views.

Time to put my jalopy through its paces.

You've got to change gear... This is what hill-climbing is all about.

Oh, dear.

Oh, dear.

And we seem to have stopped.

This is the place to experience the delights of the open road -

back when cars were less reliable and roads had more character.

Drivers enjoyed the challenge of a difficult hill-climb,

involving hairpin bends and lots of gear changes.

This is a real challenge, this road. For an old car like this and for an old driver like me.

According to Motoring In Scotland, a guide published in 1957,

"Motorists who enjoy sporting hills will find Cairn O'Mount

"a grand test for both car and driver,

"while the air and the view obtainable on the summit

"of this lofty moorland are invigorating and inspiring."

This is a perfect place to have a picnic

and the views from here go on for ever. Down on the coast is Montrose.

On the horizon, you can just make out the coast of Fife.

But I'll be heading north and east to Stonehaven,

where I have a rendezvous with the sun, I hope.

But not before I've eaten my bridie.

Mm!

Excellent!

By the 1930s, seaside tourism was booming and everybody wanted in on the act.

I'm heading for a town that very successfully reinvented itself

as tourist Mecca, Stonehaven, which incidentally claims

to be the sunniest place on the east coast! Surprise, surprise.

Now, in Black's day, this was an unremarkable fishing village,

and my guide book is actually rather unflattering.

"About the town itself,

"there is very little to say. It is situated on a fine bay,

"though the curing of herrings is not always attractive to visitors."

The smell of kippers might have offended Victorian sensibilities,

but by the 1930s, a phenomenon of the modern age

had transformed Stonehaven's fortunes and reputation.

A heated, outdoor swimming pool.

And it's still here in all its Art-Deco glory.

A survivor from a bygone age, Stonehaven pool continues to attract

an enthusiastic following eight decades after it was built.

Outdoor swimming was part of the health and fitness craze that swept Europe during the '20s and '30s.

The design of these "lidos" as they were often called, reflected the Art-Deco fashion of the times.

Throughout the 1930s, Stonehaven's heated pool attracted

tens of thousands of bathers and sun-seekers during the holidays.

I've come to meet Kenny Mackay, who learned to swim here as a boy

and who, now in his 80s, is still a regular visitor to the pool.

Kenny, when did you first come to the pool?

I first came when it opened in 1934.

My granny lived up here, so she took me to the opening of the pool.

-1934!

-Yes.

-And you've been coming here ever since?

Yes. I've never missed a year. 78 years.

I come up every year. In fact, for five years, I worked as a lifeguard here.

So it's been a lifelong relationship, really.

It has. I won my first Scottish medal in swimming and ten-metre diving in the '40s.

I've been all round the world winning championships - Canada, America, Japan, Australia.

Six world championships and ten world records.

That's amazing.

And I won my last Scottish medal in 2008.

And it all started, really, because of this pool.

-Yes. I've done 4,000 miles swimming.

-What, in that pool?

-Yes.

Well, Kenny, I think you're a fantastic advertisement

for the health benefits of swimming.

Can you paint a picture of what this pool would have been like during its heyday?

This was the social hub for Stonehaven.

You had about 2,000 people.

People used to come for the whole day. They brought picnics.

Each week, they had diving, swimming... competitions, knobbly knees...

glamorous grannies, Miss Stonehaven, which I had to judge.

-You had to do that?

-Yes, yes.

That was more popular than the knobbly knees contest.

Well, I judged the Miss Stonehaven, but I didn't do the knobbly knees!

You had midnight bathing here which was always packed from 10 o'clock to 12 o'clock

and each time, I used to do a 15-minute diving display.

That's a man of grace and poise. Look at that.

-Yes, but that's the simple dives.

-That's the simple dive?!

I used to start with a double front somersault from the one-metre board

and I finished up with a handstand dive off the top.

The finale at the midnight bathing was, I stood up on the six-metre board.

I got my friends to pour petrol on the pool, set it alight, and I dived into it.

-That must have been quite a spectacular sight!

-It was hair-raising.

-Or singeing, should I say!

-Yes, singeing. I was going to say!

The hard thing wasn't diving. It was getting out the water from the flames,

cos sometimes they were over-enthusiastic and put too much petrol in.

But it was quite spectacular.

-But you're still swimming, though.

-Oh, yes.

-Would you be up for taking a dip today? Or is it a bit chilly?

-Oh, yes.

-You would?

-Oh, yes.

-Would you be prepared to race me, then?

-Well, how much of a start would you like?

Kenny may be an octogenarian,

but he effortlessly demonstrates the kind of athleticism that made him a champion.

I'm rubbish. Oh!

That was hopeless!

Losing is no disgrace. This pool is his second home, after all.

But before he has a chance to suggest a diving competition,

I'm going to dry off and continue my journey north to my final destination.

Aberdeen - oil capital of Scotland.

I don't know for sure where the sunniest place is in Scotland,

but after the Second World War, Aberdeen was undoubtedly the most popular holiday destination

and like all successful resorts, it had its very own catchphrase -

"The silver city with the golden sands".

In order to boost its appeal,

Aberdeen claimed in this official guide that it had the best weather.

Now, listen to this, "The city enjoys a very good climate and an excellent sunshine record

"and on a number of occasions, has been recorded as the hottest place in Britain."

Now, I think I've heard that somewhere else before.

-NEWSREEL:

-'The clear skies, the brilliant blues

'and greens of the sea. The sands, the wandering white clouds.

'Brilliance and colour. The games and the laughter of children

'and always behind it the traffic of the deep waters.'

But it was Aberdeen's nightlife that made it so popular.

At one time, the Silver Sand City could boast of 15 cinemas

and nine dance halls, and this is the most famous of them all - the Beach Ballroom.

-NEWSREEL:

-'The music goes around and around and everybody comes together again for pleasure.'

This is where some of the greatest musical entertainers performed.

The sound of big bands added a real sense of glamour to a holiday night out.

And on the dance floor, which boasted the biggest bounce in the country,

hundreds of young men and women strutted their stuff.

To find more about this golden age,

I'm donning bow tie and tails for a lesson

with champion of the dance floor, May Walker.

OK, so what you want to learn is a little bit of basics in the waltz.

-The waltz. Right.

-So that you can go and enjoy yourself at dances.

The waltz is a very simple dance.

Left, right, left. Right, left, right, so on and so forth.

-Sounds simple.

-Sounds simple, and...

I've got to remember which is left and which is right.

-Well, I'll poke you side to side.

-'OK, it's time to come clean. I've been dreading this moment.

'Dancing has never been my forte and May could have a job on her hands.'

-Is there anything you can do for flat feet?

-Yes. Amputation!

-Right, OK. It's a bit drastic. They're not THAT flat.

-No, no, no, no!

Dancing left, right, close.

And right, left, close. Then I want you to turn a little.

'But if anyone can turn me into Fred Astaire, it's May.

'Now, was that left, right or right, left?'

-OK. So, position. Positions.

-Positions.

'Oh, well. Here goes.'

-To the left.

-Left, OK.

And one, two, three. Forward, two, three. Right, left, close.

-Right, left and close.

-Right, close and right, left. Close.

-Left, right, close.

-Right, left, close.

-We're back to where we started.

-You're back to where you started, and that wasn't too bad.

-Want to try it again?

-Yeah, OK. I think so.

-OK, head up.

-Right to the side and close. Left, to me.

-Oh, no!

-Oh, no!

Left to the side and close. Right to the side and close.

-Left, ouch!

-Argh! Ooh! I've done it again!

-He's done it again!

-Oh, no!

Right to the side and close.

There's something quite captivating about the elegance of ballroom dancing,

and May was one of the leading lights when they packed them in here at the Beach Ballroom.

Tell me what it was like back in the day.

-Hundreds of people came here.

-Mm.

-300, 400 a night. You know, whatever.

Usually, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursdays, so on and so forth, and it's...

It's a great way to round off a day, if you've had a day on the beach.

-Day promenading, day swimming.

-That's right.

-Then to come in the evening to a place like this.

-That's right.

Is this where people would meet one another? Guys and girls?

Well, this is where you meet to start your romance.

Hundreds of people came here. People danced round and round and round.

-NEWSREEL:

-'The young couple, they seem to be enjoying their honeymoon in Aberdeen.'

-The emphasis was on romance and glamour when you came...

-That's right.

-NEWSREEL:

-'And the sailor's found a friend. It's always possible to find a friend in Aberdeen.'

Everyone came here. If you were on holidays,

your evening entertainment was down to the Beach Ballroom.

What better way to end a day of basking in the sun?

And if you didn't get the perfect tan on the beach

then you might find the perfect partner on the dance floor.

And right. And left.

Ah! The romance of it all!

-Thank you very much, May.

-Thank you.

-That was splendid!

I could have danced all night, but I've come to the end of the road.

I've been touring for over six weeks now, travelling the country

and exploring Scotland's heritage as a tourist destination.

In the time I've been on the road, Black's has been my constant companion.

It might be old-fashioned, out-of-date and, frankly, falling to pieces,

but its message is clear,

urging me to get out and about and explore more of Scotland,

which is something I couldn't recommend more strongly.

My journey has taken me from the border with England

to the whisky islands of the west.

From the charms of the central Highlands

to the wilds of the far north.

I've experienced the highs... and the lows...

of holidaying in Scotland.

This old guide book has made me appreciate what a fantastic country this is

and I, for one, want to make the most of it.

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