Episode 2 Grand Tours of Scotland

Scotland is famed around the world for stunning scenery.

And notorious for its somewhat unpredictable weather.

It's hardly a proud boast that it rains for 265 days a year in the Western Highlands

or that the summer temperature only ever reaches an average of 16 degrees.

But this is an elemental country -

a place where wind, rain, snow

and sometimes even sunshine can take you by surprise.

In this series I'm braving the weather and retracing the routes

taken by some of the early tourists to Scotland.

From as early as 1820 publishers began producing tourist guide books

and Black's Picturesque Guide to Scotland was one of the first.

A copy of this wonderful volume has been in my family for generations.

It was always kept in my father's car when we went on holiday.

Now I'm letting its pages guide me again

on my six Grand Tours of Scotland.

On the road, I'll also be dipping into the notes and jottings

of some early travellers to hear about their experiences.

This time I'm on route to one of the wildest parts of Scotland

where you can find nature in all its elemental glory,

which sometimes means four seasons in one day.

The second of my grand tours takes me through the north-west Highlands

and across very top of mainland Scotland.

My journey starts here in Torridon

which Black's guide book says is famed for its savage barrenness.

Not only is this one of the wildest

and most beautiful parts of Scotland,

it's also one of the most remote.

And even in Victorian times

a horse and carriage could only take you so far.

After that, it was a case of a ride on shanks' pony,

on your plates of meat.

In other words on yer ain two feet.

The Victorians were great walkers

and gentlemen prided themselves

on how far they could travel of foot.

These walks or peregrinations as they were grandly called

took the discerning tourist right off the beaten track.

One Victorian gent who was very proud of his pedestrian exertions

was the Reverend Thomas Grierson, Minister of Kirkbean.

Now Grierson was a formidable man

and an even more formidable walker covering enormous distances on foot.

In 1851 Grierson wrote a guide for the pedestrian tourist in which

he cheerfully recommends others to follow literally

in his footsteps across Scotland.

"The best of all steads for the Highlands are a man's own legs.

"In no direction can mountain scenery be viewed

"so satisfactorily as on foot."

So taking the Reverend Grierson's advice to heart,

I've come to this remote part of Scotland

in search of a place I've heard about but have never been to.

Now this is where I want to get to.

It's a tiny wee island in a loch

on an island which is itself in a bigger loch.

It's a kind of Chinese box of a location

and a place I've always wanted to visit,

but to get there I'm going to have to rest my legs and take a boat.

This is Loch Maree,

which is often referred to as the most beautiful in the Highlands.

I'm heading for an island in the middle of the loch

called Eilean Subhainn,

but as most visitors to Scotland have found,

you've always got to keep one eye on the weather.

Well, the wind's picking up

and there's a black cloud on the horizon, as usual,

so I'll need to put some speed on

and make a landing on my island before the weather gets any worse.

As my Black's Guide Book advises...

"The climate of Scotland is extremely variable.

"East and North Eat winds are felt severely

"during spring and early summer."

And it goes on to warn the traveller of...

"Heavy rainfall, especially in the west."

Now, these islands are truly amazing because here you'll find

some of the least disturbed natural environments anywhere in Britain,

which is what makes them so important and just listen.

BIRDSONG

The sound of nature. The sound of the elements.

This is an undisturbed haven for wildlife

and the Loch Maree islands are protected

by Scottish Natural Heritage, who have designated it

a national nature reserve.

The trees here are precious remnants of the once extensive Caledonian pine forest

that covered much of the Highlands in ancient times.

Inevitably, of course, that's the rain on.

In fact it looks like it's going to be on and off all day.

But what do you expect?

This is the West Highlands after all.

But beautiful nonetheless.

Following the deer track beneath the trees,

I make my way through a landscape that feels ancient and unchanged,

almost untouched by human hand.

Now I've reached the loch and on Eilean Subhainn

and that is my island destination.

But obviously to get there I'm going to risk getting wet or even wetter.

Now the question is...

..whether I take my boots off or just use speed as a defence?

I think I'll use speed. Here we go.

Arhhh! Ooh!

That wasn't so bad.

What an amazing place.

There's absolutely nowhere like this in the whole of the UK.

It's only a wee scrap of island, a wee scrap of land,

but it's an island in a loch,

on an island

on a bigger loch on a bigger island of Britain.

It's amazing!

If I had a wee flag I'd plant it right there and claim it for myself.

In Victorian times, just as today,

it was scenery like this that attracted the tourists.

They came to see the untouched mountains, waterfalls,

lochs and glens.

They came to gaze and to be inspired.

And with the tourists came the artists,

Millais, Turner, Landseer,

a litany of the greats beating path to the Highlands

to experience the elemental beauty of nature.

And they still come.

Yeah, this is it.

To find out more about art and the elements,

I'm going to be sketching this spectacular mountain, Slioch,

with artist Mairi Hedderwick.

In 2001 Mairi discovered a rare copy

of a book by Victorian artist JT Reid

who toured the Highlands on foot, sketch book in hand.

Art Rambles in the Highlands and Islands of Scotland.

It's a beautiful book.

-Look at that.

-It's lovely.

And these are his views?

I was thumbing through it. Saw the engravings

of the West Highlands and the outer islands and thought

if I stand on the exact same place 114 years later,

will the view be the same?

Inspired by JT Reid's odyssey,

Mairi undertook to follow in his footsteps

sketching the very same views that Reid had painted.

Now we are sitting in what we think is the exact spot

where John T Reid drew this picture.

-That's a fantastic image that he's created here.

-Yeah, very dramatic.

We've got Slioch on a rather gloomy day.

Yes, well it was October when he was doing that

cos he kept a diary so I knew the dates he was in certain places.

-So you came here at the same time.

-At the same time, yeah.

Did you have to struggle against the elements?

It was cold. It was October.

It was freezing and there was snow

on the top of that blooming mountain and the next day

it was just stair rods coming down.

-Was it worth it?

-Yes.

Now Mairi, I believe in Victorian times

there was a school of thought that said that

if you drew from nature

you'd somehow discover some fundamental truth.

You begin to really look and really see.

Yeah and question, I mean why,

-you know, the land is formed the way it is.

-Uh huh.

People wanted the light and the beauty of the wild spaces

to remind them of this other part of their life

which was the appreciation of art and nature and elemental beauty,

and it was a spiritual experience as well.

-Uh huh. I can see why...

-Yep.

..getting back into the elements is important for people even today.

I just love, I love Scotland. I love it.

-It's magical.

-It's extraordinary.

Although I don't think I've quite captured it.

Och, you're doing fine.

Yes, you've got the proportions right.

Yeah, it's not bad.

Pretty good, hand and eye. Mine's a bit more exaggerated.

-Look, look. See.

-Oh, artistic, yeah.

You've got a round, yeah.

Seeking further inspiration, I set off again

heading north, weather permitting of course.

Seeing Scotland at walking pace is perhaps the best way to appreciate

how the weather adds to the drama of the landscape,

and how the constantly changing light

can transform the view in front of your eyes.

But the unpredictable nature of Scotland's climate

didn't charm everyone.

American artists Elizabeth and Joseph Pennell,

visiting in 1889 made their feelings clear.

"We have no hesitation in saying that our trip to Scotland

"was the most miserable.

"That the weather is vile is a fact that cannot be denied."

To which all Highlanders know the reply.

"Och if you'd only been here just last week, it was beautiful."

But a Victorian pedestrian like the Reverend Grierson

would have rejoiced in the challenge

of walking through such a dramatic and rugged landscape,

in often difficult conditions.

In his book the good Reverend scolds unpatriotic Scots

for taking their holidays abroad.

Why go to Switzerland, he asks, when we have such splendours on our doorstep?

Before lamenting the quality of the youth of his day.

"I cannot help deploring the habits of indolence and effeminacy

"observable among young gentlemen in these modern times.

"They can scarcely be prevailed upon to extend their ramblings

"beyond the regions of silk stockings and feather beds."

I'm not sure what silk stocking ramblings the good Reverend had in mind,

but I suspect his point was this.

A real man should expose himself to the elements

and not to effeminate luxuries.

At the risk of being labelled a silk-stocking rambler myself,

I'm afraid I'm about to wimp out of making the whole of my trip north on foot.

Now I've reached that point in my journey

where I feel the need to take a break from elemental nature,

rest my feet and take a bus.

And what a beauty she is. A real blast from the past.

I'm glad you stopped. My feet are killing me.

No problem.

Buses like these would have been a familiar sight

on Highland roads 50 years ago.

This one is driven by enthusiast Murdoch MacPherson.

Now Murdoch what kind of bus is this? It's a wonderful machine.

This is a Bedford 1957, through to about 1962.

-So this bus is really a work horse from the past.

-Oh absolutely, yes.

But I imagine that some people when they step aboard a bus like this

they're taken back to their own childhood.

-To their own memories.

-It happens all the time,

even seeing the buses brings a lot of memories back to people.

A new day finds us passing through the woods

of Braemore on our way to Ullapool.

When regular scheduled bus services began to operate in the 1930s,

they opened up the previously inaccessible Highlands to everyone

and made it possible for ever more adventurous visitors

to enjoy a good hike in the wilderness -

and there was plenty of wilderness to explore.

I remember the morning we left Ullapool,

our eyes mounted on stalks.

There was something to see every few yards.

Cattle one minute,

then sheep the next, peering first this way and then that,

so as a driver you get used to looking both ways at once.

Do you ever get people...

HE LAUGHS

Do you ever get people like that lady there

who think that you are a service bus?

It has happened once or twice.

If we're going in the direction that they're going in,

there's nothing wrong with giving them a lift.

-You can give them a lift?

-Oh, yes. Yes.

People are quite surprised when we actually stop and offer them

a lift and they're usually very grateful to us for, for that.

'There's no railway at this side of Scotland at all and it's still

'possible to meet a young crofter who hasn't even seen a train.

'We all fell silent for a long time.'

I'm heading north into the wide open spaces of Assynt

and some of the most breath-taking scenery to be found anywhere.

Black says, "This may well be called a route of unsurpassable

"but treeless grandeur."

Well observed, Mr Black. Treeless and grand it is,

and for me I've always found it incredibly atmospheric.

I came here for the first time with my father.

I was about five years old at the time, and it was late in the evening

and he stopped his car on the road over there to take

a photograph of the sun setting behind these magnificent mountains.

Now this is a truly ancient landscape

and some of the oldest rocks in the world are found here.

And just looking at it sends a shiver down my spine.

It's little wonder that writers sought inspiration from walking

through wild places like this.

Burns, Coleridge, Wordsworth all took to the hills.

Joining me on this part of my trip is Roddy Woomble,

songwriter and lead singer of the band Idlewild.

Roddy often comes here to find his muse.

Roddy, Assynt is quite a significant place for you, is it not?

Yeah. About 10 years ago I came here with band, Idlewild, and we wrote

-a collection of songs and...

-Why did you choose to come here?

It's not exactly the place you imagine a band would come to.

It's big, it's bleak, it's in the middle of nowhere really.

That was kind of why really.

It was my first experience of separating myself, ourselves

from all the distractions and somewhere that we knew, you know.

And to go somewhere like this where it's just... the possibilities

are kind of endless because of the space and subsequently it became

a real favourite place for me to come back to, just for that reason really.

Does the bleakness, I don't know, speak to your soul in some way?

Because it is fantastically bleak and rugged.

There's something kind of almost supernatural about the way it looks.

It's to do with the space, the space to think, I think.

That's an important aspect of it, the space around you.

-There's a huge space here.

-Yeah, there is.

You could disappear into this space and never be found again.

As I continue my journey north, I begin to understand how this

stunning landscape could inspire artists and writers,

and lead many to ponder the inconsequential nature of man's existence.

But leaving behind these existential musings, I must press on.

The next stop on my itinerary is a place where the elemental forces

of nature are very much apparent,

the most North Westerly point of Scotland, Cape Wrath.

To get to my destination, I'm making the short crossing

over the Kyle of Durness to what is surely one of the wildest

and remotest places in Scotland.

Perhaps surprisingly the name Cape Wrath doesn't come

from the anger of the seas or from the wind,

but from an old Norse Viking word meaning turning point.

When the Vikings saw this fearsome headland, they knew it was time

to turn their long ships and set sail north east, home to Norway.

Over the centuries, many ships and seafarers

have met their doom on this treacherous headland.

But for the past 120 years, the Cape Wrath lighthouse has stood guard.

Black's guide describes it as a reassuring beacon of civilisation.

"In this waste of waters two individuals of the human race

"hold watch and ward to signal vessels off the inhospitable coast."

There are no longer lighthouse keepers at Cape Wrath

but there is still another form of reassurance here

in the middle of nowhere,

a cafe where tired walkers can take a well-earned break.

-Oh, hi. Could I have a cup of tea, please?

-Yeah, no bother.

'How civilised.'

Cheers. Thanks very much.

Having gone as far west as I can,

I'm doubling back along the very top of Scotland towards Thurso,

named after the Norse god of thunder, Thor.

But it's not the town that grabs my attention, it's the sea,

just as it did in Black's day.

"The bay of Thurso is a magnificent object

"and consists of a semi-circular sweep of sandy beach

"on which the long line of breakers yield their power with hollow moan."

Black's picks up on exactly why Thurso is popular with tourists today.

The powerful waves here have been compared with those of Hawaii,

making Thurso into a world-renowned surfing destination.

Every year the world's top surfers descend on this small town,

to take part in the O'Neill Cold Water Classic,

one of the premier international competitions.

It may be hard to believe

but this surfer's paradise

was first discovered by a handful of enthusiasts in the 1970s,

and one of those early surfing pioneers is Pat Kiernan

who came here in search of Thurso's famous wave.

Pat, can you tell me about this wave that everyone talks about.

Right, well, it's a world class wave

that was surfed by a handful of us 30 or so years ago

and it's just gradually grown in fame

through the different contests that we've had and it's now legendary.

-And how big does it get?

-I've seen it 20 foot.

-That is some wave.

It's quite frightening actually.

And you yourself, Pat, in many ways are a Scottish surfing pioneer.

Er, yeah. Well, I first came up here in 1976 as a student,

just for the challenge.

Were you drawn by the sea, were you drawn by

the surfing adventure in this part of the world?

Yeah. It was the waves that brought me up here, without a doubt.

I can't imagine there would have been very many surfers up here.

The locals must have thought you were completely insane.

-Yeah.

-Why go surfing here? It's freezing.

That's right. I remember one day, there was a guy...

a local fisherman was standing at the end of the pier

and he saw a guy out surfing and he called the Coast Guard.

The Coast Guard came through from Wick, 20 miles through,

to save this guy and he was just a surfer. He was fine.

People come here from all over the world to surf in these waters

and they're coming from places like Australia, New Zealand, Hawaii.

-Hawaii.

-I mean what, what do they think of surfing in the icy north?

Well, they love it because it's the wave they come for.

It's the wave itself.

Tell me, Pat, for you what is the attraction of catching a wave?

It's just the freedom and the fact that every wave's different.

You just don't know quite what you're getting yourself into.

It's fantastic.

I think I'm going to find out for myself fairly soon.

-You are!

-Freedom's not what I'm thinking of. It's more the cold.

There obviously weren't many surfers in Victorian times

and I'm not entirely sure that they would have made

of this rather peculiar pursuit,

never mind the indignity of having to dress from head to toe in rubber.

I'm now going to attempt something that even the Reverend Grierson

would have balked at. I'm going to walk on water.

To try to understand just what it is that compels people to brave

the icy North Sea, I'm taking a lesson from champion surfer

Sheila Finlayson before taking the plunge.

Sheila, I've got my board. What do I need to know now?

-What you need to do is you need to lie on the board and paddle.

-Right.

Like that.

When you feel a wave coming towards you

-I expect you to paddle.

-Right.

Put your hands

-to the side of the board.

-Uh huh.

-Bring yourself up like that. Put one foot forward.

-Uh huh.

-Like so.

-Oh, that's the tricky bit then.

-Yeah.

So that's the theory. Seems pretty straight forward.

Well, I'm ready.

-Excellent but you'll need to lose the hat.

-Right.

Time to pit myself against the elements.

Right, so I'm going to get up on the board.

Yeah, yeah. Fantastic!

That's, that's good, Paul.

Encouraged by my early attempts, and by Sheila's enthusiasm,

I feel I'm ready for the tricky part,

actually standing up.

Oh, that's rubbish. Absolute rubbish!

I had hoped the walk on water but I just seem to have been

caught in the undertow.

I'm sure there's some kind of moral homily in that.

And then suddenly, as if by divine intervention,

everything seems to click.

The perfect wave to picks me up

and I almost felt at one with the elemental force of the sea.

Well, maybe not.

-I feel I'm defeated, defeated by the waves.

-No, no.

-Not at all. You're doing grand.

-Defeated by the elements.

-Ah!

-I think you did very well.

-You're very kind, Sheila.

-There is a wave out there somewhere with my name on it.

-There is, Paul.

-I'm sure.

-Undoubtedly.

-I'm waiting for the perfect wave.

Half drowned by my surfing experience,

I pull myself together to make the final leg of my journey.

Having come this far it would be churlish not to go to

the traditional end point of all journeys to the north of Scotland.

Well, this is it,

John O'Groats, which I have to say is just a wee bit underwhelming.

And I've never really understood why

so many long-distance journeys either begin or end here.

You often hear of folk walking from Land's End to John O'Groats,

but why?

This is not the most northerly part of Scotland.

It's not even the most north easterly.

So to overcome my sense of anti-climax I'm going to end my hike

just along the road at the real edge of Scotland.

If it's the elemental beauty of nature you're looking for,

then this is the place to be.

I'm standing on the cliffs of Duncansby Head

at the top right hand corner of Scotland.

From this point, the coast runs west all the way to Cape Wrath,

and behind me are the islands of the Pentland Firth

and behind them, Orkney.

And to the south we've got the fantastic sea stacks

of Duncansby that look more like shark fins or witches' caps.

These pinnacles of jagged rock are monuments to the relentless power

of the sea and the raw force of nature.

What a fantastic place for me to end my Grand Tour

in search of elemental beauty. I think I may have found it.

Next week on Grand Tours of Scotland I'm on a voyage to discover

how visitors from all walks of life enjoyed the mighty Firth of Clyde.

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