The Charms of Nature Grand Tours of Scotland

The Grampian Mountains - the granite heart of the Highlands,

a picture postcard landscape of magnificent summits,

clear running rivers, dark forests and sheltered lochs.

Everything that defines the holiday image of Scotland

can be found amongst these hills and glens.

For over 250 years, tourists have been coming to the Highlands

to enjoy this spectacular scenery. But on beating a path north,

these same tourists have help change for ever the very things they came to admire -

the culture, the landscape and, above all, the charms of nature.

In this series, I'm retracing the routes

taken by some of the first tourists to Scotland.

From as early as 1820, publishers began printing guide books

showcasing the glories of the countryside.

Black's Picturesque Guide To Scotland was one of the first,

and a copy has been in my family for generations.

It was always in the glove compartment of my father's car

when we went on holiday.

Now, four decades on, I'm letting Black's guide me again.

On my grand tour, I'll also discover the works of some early travel writers

who came to Scotland to appreciate the charms of nature.

My journey starts in a sequestered glen,

discovers the delights of two-wheel travel,

and uncovers the wildlife riches of Scotland's biggest national park.

All compelling reasons for tourists to flock to the Highlands.

To the admirer of nature, says Black's,

"No part of Europe affords more varied landscape than Scotland,

"whose incomparable scenery induces vast numbers of foreigners

"to visit the land of gleaming lakes and healthy mountains."

Sounds to me as if the hills were alive to the sound of tourists even then.

Now, what was true in the 19th century is even truer today.

In fact, in some places, tourism has almost reached saturation point

and tourists are in danger of damaging the very thing they came to see -

nature in all its charming beauty.

This is Glen Lyon, which is described by my guide

as one of the loveliest glens in the Highlands.

To keep my impact on the environment to an absolute minimum,

I've opted for an appropriately green form of transport -

-this magnificent old Humber bicycle complete with a bell.

-BELL RINGS

How about that? Now I'm off.

With bicycle clips and bonnet firmly in place,

I'm all set to enjoy the charms of Glen Lyon,

which Black's guide book dubiously claims to be located at the centre of Scotland.

But I have to agree with Black's description of the road I'm taking.

"This new road opens up the beauties of the ravine.

"As we proceed up the glen, we catch glimpses through the tree-clad banks of the stream,

"now leaping sportfully from crag to crag,

"now smoothed in clear black pools."

I can see why Black's was inspired to verse. It's lovely.

Cycling down glorious Glen Lyon,

I come to the picturesque village of Fortingall.

The thatched roofs strike an odd note of bucolic Englishness

in the heart of the Scottish Highlands,

but there's been a long history of incomers

in this part of rural Perthshire.

In fact, the name Fortingall is derived from an old Gaelic word

meaning "the fort of the strangers". Accordingly to local legend,

the strangers were once soldiers from the legions of Rome.

If this tale is true, then it would suggest that Fortingall

has been on the map for at least 2,500 years or so,

and incredible as it may seem, there's living proof to back up the story,

and you can find it right here in this graveyard.

'Forester Mike Strachan leads me

'to a special enclosure where I'm given privileged access

'to a yew tree so ancient that it's in all the record books.

'Beneath its venerable branches, Mike tells me more.'

Mike, how old is this amazing tree?

Well, estimates vary from 3,000 to 4,000 to 5,000...

6,000 7,000, 8,000.

But I think the conservative approach

is to give it 5,000 years anyway.

There's a lot of archaeological information locally that would support that.

So this tree would have been here if the Romans were here?

It was definitely here when the Romans were.

We know that people were living here at least 4,500 years ago,

and the Romans were here 2,000 years ago.

Long before monks built the first church here 1,200 years ago,

the yew tree was scared to pagan Celts, who helped ensure its protection.

They used it for medicinal purposes.

You needed it for your longbows and arrows, and the oldest piece

of longbow that we know from Scotland is about 6,000 years old.

-Found in a bog in Dumfries.

-Oh.

So yew has been a very, very important tree.

I know there's a legend that connects this tree and the story of Christ.

Well, yes, that's correct.

The Romans sent an emperor here to visit the Scottish king - Metallanus at the time.

And the envoy, the Roman envoy, that came was a bit friendly with some of the local women.

They had a child. The child was allegedly born under this tree.

And then they went back to Rome, and that child is allegedly Pontius Pilate.

So Pontius Pilate, who infamously ordered the crucifixion of Christ,

once played in the branches of this yew tree.

But Mike is rightly sceptical of the story.

Jesus died 13 years before the Romans even arrived in Britain.

But one thing is true.

For millennia, countless visitors have taken their toll.

Today's tourist sees only a shell of this once mighty sacred tree.

There are stories that over the last 300 years,

people have collected souvenirs from the tree and cut bits down, made bits of furniture.

There are talks of Hallowe'en fires and people driving through in coaches and horses.

In some ways, I suppose, you could argue that this tree

is an early example of the impact of tourism on the environment.

Well, it is, yes, you're quite right. But in terms of tourism...

I mean, this tree has been visited by people for 1,000, 2,000, 5,000 years.

Is this perhaps the most visited and longest visited attraction in Scotland?

Back in the saddle, it's downhill all the way to Aberfeldy,

a town whose proud boast it is to be the very centre of Scotland.

According to some tourist literature that I've read,

Aberfeldy's claim to be at the geographic centre of Scotland

can be demonstrated using this - a cut-out map of Scotland - and a pen.

Now, the idea is that you balance the map on the tip of the pen,

and the point at which you get a perfect balance

is the exact geographic centre

of Scotland, which I reckon could be anywhere

within a 50-mile radius of Aberfeldy. So who knows?

But Aberfeldy's fame doesn't merely rest on the dubious claim

to be the most perfectly balanced town in Scotland.

It was a visit by the poet Robert Burns that brought the town

to public attention.

Burns was captivated,

not as he usually was by the charms of some young lady,

but by the woods and waterfalls lying above the town.

And he immortalises this in his poem The Birks O' Aberfeldy.

And ever since, tourists have been making a pilgrimage here

to see the source of his poetical inspiration.

"The braes ascend like lofty wa's,

"The foaming stream, deep-roaring fa's,

"O'er-hung wi' fragrant spreading shaws,

"The Birks of Aberfeldy."

It's a curious thing, but the birch trees of the poem have almost all gone,

as they had in Black's day,

which says that they had been superseded almost entirely by rowan.

It seems the environment was changing even then.

The waterfall at the Birks o' Aberfeldy

is just one of literally dozens of cascades mentioned by Black's,

and it's a striking feature of early tourism

that waterfalls generally exercised a powerful influence over the Victorian imagination.

Early tourists loved waterfalls.

They simply couldn't get enough of them,

and the bigger and more powerful they were, the better.

There was an irresistible appeal in the sight of a river in spate

crashing over the rocks.

My own favourite early tourist, Sarah Murray, was a waterfall addict.

Writing in 1796, she seemed to find something more than just excitement

in watching the foaming power of water.

"The noise was beyond belief,

"and the spray deprived me of my sight and breath.

"Every now, I was by intervals enabled to look

"and to breathe, to admire and, I might say, almost adore."

Post Sigmund Freud and his weird world of psychic sexual symbolism,

I think most of us would feel too self-conscious

to describe our relationship with water quite like this.

But white, foaming cascades still have a power to thrill

and in ways that Sarah Murray could never have conceived.

Just downstream from Aberfeldy, the beautiful River Tay

changes from a languidly flowing river into a series of rapids

where I've come to experience the modern challenge of white-water rafting.

Now first positions.

And paddle forward.

'This is a breath-taking experience,

'and for a moment, I become almost like Sarah Murray,

'gasping in moist adoration of my watery surroundings.

'Fortunately, I pull myself together before I get too carried away.'

Paddles up in the air!

'Once we've got the rapids behind us,

'I have a chance to catch my breath

'and to chat to rafting guide Dee MacDermott

'about the benefits of an outdoor lifestyle.'

-What is the thrill, really?

-It's just adrenalin.

All adrenalin sports...

I think, if you're into that kind of thing anyway,

if you're into an outdoor lifestyle

and lots of activities, lots of sports, it's just great fun.

Like, it's so nice going down the river every day. It's a lovely job.

-It's exciting. I'll give you that.

-Yeah.

-It's very exciting.

-Do you have to be a special kind of person to enjoy white-water rafting, do you think?

-Maybe, maybe.

On our course, we did loads of white-water swimming.

So you come down these rapids just swimming in quite high water over and over again, all day long.

It was great fun, so sometimes me and the guides go out afterwards

and just swim down the rapids a few times just for the craic.

So maybe you do have to be that kind of person.

I suppose it gives you an opportunity as well to experience the charms of nature

-as you're floating down a quieter bit of the river.

-Yeah, definitely.

There's a bit called Church Pool that you see.

-That tends to be where you see the most amount of birds.

-Uh-huh.

So you get buzzards quite a lot of the time. It always seems to be on the same corner.

You get herons flying around in pairs.

-I saw dippers as well.

-Dippers, yeah.

One of my friends got hit in the face by a dipper when he was doing a raft trip.

-He must have done something to deserve that.

-Shifty eyes!

Six miles downstream is the once important village of Logierait.

For many years, Logierait was served by ferries crossing the River Tay.

Travellers would often break their journey here

before heading north to Inverness or south to Perth.

Perhaps the most prestigious guest to visit Logierait was Queen Victoria.

Her royal tour to admire the charms of nature was interrupted

when the great monarch herself was forced to answer a call of nature.

Caught short, the imperial personage popped in to use the loos of Logierait.

History doesn't record what she left by way of a tip.

Luckily for the Queen, porcelain facilities were available at Logierait.

But quite often they weren't,

and travellers were forced to use other means,

which often caused discomfort, embarrassment or both.

Thanks to the ever resourceful Victorians, help,

or should I say relief, was soon at hand

in the form of this extraordinary and rather disturbing-looking device

known as the patent India Rubber Urinal.

Now, long before trains were equipped with on-board loos,

this contraption was considered to a solution to the problem of a full bladder.

The idea was to strap it around your waist like that,

so that it would hang discretely and invisibly beneath your outer garments.

According to the inventor,

the key and unique feature of this device was the valve,

which ensured a one-way flow of liquids through the system.

No wash-back, then.

Back on my bike, I pedal north.

Following the route suggested by Black's,

I enter the picturesque village of Pitlochry,

which I note with dismay also claims to be the centre of Scotland.

Queen Victoria made Pitlochry famous.

After the railway was built, it developed into a fashionable Highland resort.

But when the caravanning pioneer William Gordon Stables arrived

in 1886, he found the village too over-developed for his tastes.

"The little town is almost too civilised for my gypsy ideas of comfort.

"There are loudly dressed females and male mashers,

"so I felt inclined to fly through."

Curiously, my Victorian guide book is rather sensitive

about what it considers to be appropriate Highland attire

and politely asks tourists to refrain from excess.

"It is too evident that many of our southern brethren consider

"the plaid a passport through the Highlands.

"And while it is a fact that the Scottish Lowlander is seldom seem

"in such a costume, the English too frequently adopt this dress."

From the evidence, I don't think they were shy in coming out with the kilt.

"The English seem to love the sheer theatricality of swirling kilts aboon their knees."

From the tweed and tartan of Pitlochry, Blair Atholl

is my next destination.

Described by Black's as "a Highland hamlet noted for the wild scenery amid which it is situated".

This is Blair Castle, just outside the village of Blair Atholl.

Every May, the grounds of Blair Castle provide the spectacular venue

for the Atholl Gathering and Highland Games,

'where I've come to meet Bruce Robb, who, amongst other things,

'has been tossing the caber here for years.'

I've read that the whole thing was really cooked up in Victorian times

to kind of impress people with their physical prowess of the Highlanders,

and before that, there wasn't really a Highland Games at all.

Is that right?

I think it goes back hundreds if not thousands of years,

where you had clans competing to see who is the best athlete

and put them forward as their best warrior when they went

into battle and stuff, so I think it goes back a long, long way.

-So it's quite a proving ground, was it?

-Yeah, yeah, I think so.

Just to find who was the biggest, the strongest and fastest

and so on, so I think there's definitely a history that says it goes back a very long way.

Which sports are you involved in? Which things do you throw?

Well, today I'll be doing the Scots hammer, er, the caber,

weight over the bar, er, the sheaf, which you do over a bar as well,

and the shot put, and weight for distance as well.

-Are you quite good with caber?

-Yeah, not too bad.

It takes a bit of practice, bit of a knack, so, yeah, I'm not too bad.

What's the origins of that, cos it seems a bizarrely exotic thing to do, to throw a tree?

Och, there's... various, various myths,

but I think one of them is that it was to do with the loggers.

They used to toss them into the river so they could float them

downstream to the harbour to take away on boats and stuff.

In their spare time, they couldn't think of anything better to do than show off?

I think, well aye, aye. Look what I can do with a tree, yeah.

I have to admit I do have a soft spot for Highland Games,

especially the beer tent.

But not all tourists were so well disposed towards the colour,

the pageantry or the music.

When the patriotic Scot and caravan pioneer William Gordon Stables

came here, even his enthusiasm was challenged.

"Half a dozen pipers are strutting about in full Highland dress

"with gay ribbons floating above their chanters.

"Every piper is playing a tune that pleases himself best,

"so that, upon the whole, the music is of a somewhat mixed character."

Leaving the sound of skirling pipes for connoisseurs to enjoy,

I continue north along a section of a National Cycle Network

called Route 7 which connects Glasgow to Thurso in the far north of Scotland.

I think these cycle routes are a brilliant initiative.

They encourage modern cyclists out into the countryside on routes

that are either traffic-free or, like this one, traffic light.

My old Humber bike is designed more for contemplation than speed,

which is fine by me.

Why work up a sweat when there's so much scenery to enjoy?

Back in Victorian times, only the wealthy could afford

the pleasures of cycling.

But after mass production, bikes became increasingly affordable,

and soon, ordinary working people were taking to the open road.

Today, the bikes may have changed, but the passion is the same.

Cycle guide Scot Tares caters for modern tourists who want to explore the Highlands on two wheels.

A lot of folk have all said that...

the bike's one of the greatest inventions that mankind's ever made.

-Do you reckon?

-Yeah. Oh, definitely, yeah.

All the different uses it's been put to,

it's been just a fantastic form of transport. When you...

you're riding along on your bike, you experience the smells and the...

you see a lot more than you would shut up in a big metal box.

And, Scot, can you tell me why people come from all over the world

to go cycling here in Scotland?

What's the attraction?

I think Scotland's got just some fantastic scenery.

A really varied scenery and a lot different to the rest of Europe.

We've got an absolutely wonderful network of roads,

particularly around Highland Perthshire.

Do you see yourself as a guide to the scenery as well?

Definitely.

I've been cycling all over the world and all over Europe,

and every time I came back to Scotland, I thought "You know what?

"We've got it all here.

"Why go elsewhere when everything's here on our doorstep?"

It is stunning, but I also wonder, your know,

are you not in danger of bringing lots of people

onto the road and maybe, in a generation from now, you won't be able

to move with the number of bikes on the highways and byways.

I think that would be fantastic.

I think, just in a generation where everyone's getting bigger

and heavier, it's a fantastic way to keep fit,

see the scenery, be green and just...

just enjoy yourself.

Well, I'm shedding a few pounds, I can tell you.

'Scot tells me that his tours offer the pedalling enthusiast

'yoga classes, spa treatments,

'massages and bike maintenance classes

'as part of a day's tour.

'At the pace they're going, I'm not surprised that cyclists

'and their machines need a little TLC.'

North of Blair Atholl, the road begins to climb

towards the Drumochter Pass.

Early tourists were struck by the grandeur of the scenery.

It seemed a pristine environment, undisturbed by human hands.

Travelling through the Highlands in 1796,

Sarah Murray was moved by what she saw.

"Even this extensive wild please me

"and gave me scope to boundless reflection.

"My senses were lost to everything but admiration."

The summit of the Drumochter Pass is 1,300 feet above sea level.

From up here, my route north takes me

through the ancient district of Badenoch.

This is the Highland village of Newtonmore,

which also competes at being the very centre of Scotland.

Newtonmore may be famous for many things, but this claim

to be at the geographic centre of Scotland is new to me.

However, I've been reliably informed that convincing evidence lies

just outside the town.

I've got a map, I've got the co-ordinates,

so I think I'll just have to go and see for myself.

Finding it proves very tricky.

I've been told to look out for a stone with cross on it,

but there's nothing remarkable to be seen.

It's supposed to be around here somewhere.

The geographic centre of Scotland. The beating heart of old Caledonia.

It's supposed to be on a stone somewhere around here.

Finally, I find it.

A simple mason's mark on a stone in this drystane dyke,

indicating the very epicentre of Scottishness.

You know, for such a significant spot, you'd somehow expect

a big monument to be here.

But out of respect for the nation, I've brought my own flag,

which I'll plant. The very brave heart of Scotland.

Brilliant.

From the centre of Scotland, an easy cycle ride brings me

into the heart of the Cairngorm National Park.

When Sarah Murray came here,

she too was stuck by the beauty of this land of mountain and forest.

"The crags are covered with wood, and the verdant meads

"are ornamented with fine trees and within sight

"of the Cairngorm Mountains, whose hollow cliffs

"are filled with never-melting snow."

The Cairngorm area has only been a national park since 1999.

But long before its treasures were enshrined in legislation,

people were coming here to enjoy the abundant charms of nature.

The area is still rich in wildlife and is famously home to the osprey,

a bird that has come to symbolise the fortunes of the Cairngorms.

I've joined Rob Lambert on the shores of Loch an Eilein

to find out why this became a favourite haunt of Victorian tourists.

They were coming here to see this wonderful landscape.

The interplay of the mountains and the forest.

As more and more of the decades went by in the 19th century,

birds and, in particular, ospreys became a hugely important part

of that Highland vista and that experience.

And you start to get the first written observations

about ospreys by the tourists in the 1870s and 1880s and 1890s,

and that builds into a genuine concern for the fate of the ospreys.

Early eco-tourists could watch nesting ospreys

on Loch an Eilein, which Black's describes

as the last remaining haunt of the osprey in Scotland.

By 1899, they were down to a single nesting pair.

We're standing here looking at this castle

and we're looking at a monument,

if you like, to the history of nature conservation in Britain.

And the Grants of Rothiemurchus, who own this estate,

were pioneers in that conservation effort.

So much so, that in 1893, the Zoological Society of London

awarded them a medal for their sort of osprey conservation efforts.

Such enlightened estate management was to no avail.

By 1916, the osprey in Britain was extinct -

shot by sportsmen and persecuted by gamekeepers -

but then something amazing happened.

The big return occurred in 1954 when ospreys did come back.

And immediately, the RSPB in Scotland, along with the Grants of Rothiemurchus,

who were involved in other organisations

in nature conservancy, set up a watch.

But even then, the nests were disturbed

and robbed on a number of occasions, and then George Waterston

who was Director of the RSPB in Scotland, made what some see

as one of the most visionary decisions in the history of British nature conservation,

and he decided to open up the nest to public scrutiny,

to bring people in to show them ospreys,

to get them enthused by ospreys.

To drive forward, if you like, a change in attitudes towards birds of prey.

The gamble paid off.

There are now over 200 nesting pairs across the country.

Every year, over 300,000 visitors come to watch the ospreys,

pumping £3.5 million into the Highland economy.

The story of the osprey's remarkable return from extinction leads me

to reflect on the impact of tourism.

It doesn't always have to be negative.

From the edge of the Cairngorm plateau, there are stunning views

back along the course of my journey

and across a landscape that has changed enormously

since the first tourists followed Black's guide book.

Roads now thread their way through the glens, bringing holiday-makers

to towns that have doubled in size to serve their needs.

But if you get high enough, it's still possible to find peace and quiet,

to be restored by the magnificence of the landscape.

If it's the solitude of the high summits you're after,

then this is the perfect place to contemplate the charms of nature.

Join me on my next Grand Tour,

when I'll be paddling my own canoe in search of the spirit of Scotland.