A Bed for the Night Grand Tours of Scotland

For 200 years, Scotland has attracted visitors with

its magnificent scenery.

But to get to these inspiring places, early tourists often

had to endure a degree of unaccustomed hardship.

To experience "Caledonia stern and wild",

many early, well-heeled tourists were faced with a bit of a problem,

because the further they travelled from home, the more they had to

sacrifice, well, certain standards of luxury which, understandably,

they were rather reluctant to do.

Scotland's reputation for comfort left a lot to be desired,

and some early travellers were shocked by their experience.

They found the standard of accommodation variable,

to say the least.

Often, there were bedbugs.

Sometimes there was no mattress at all!

And there was always the possibility of being forced to share

with a stranger.

To help anxious tourists avoid such embarrassing pitfalls,

guidebooks began to appear,

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

Published in 1846, it became the tourists' Bible.

A copy of this fascinating book inspired my own family when

we went on holiday.

Having salvaged Black's from the back of a bookcase,

I'm letting its pages guide me on a Grand Tour of Scotland,

following in the footsteps of the first tourists who came here,

hoping find a decent bed for the night.

My route takes me from the shores of the Firth of Forth to

the ancient kingdom of Fife, then on to Stirling and into

the luxurious and exclusive depths of rural Perthshire.

This is South Queensferry, described by Black's as

"A quaint little place at the foot of steep heights,

"which hem in the Firth of Forth."

In Black's day, tourists heading north passed along these streets

to take the "Queen's ferry."

This crossing on the Forth ran for centuries, right up until the 1960s,

when the traffic that kept it going was diverted, literally, overhead.

It's hard to imagine South Queensferry without a view of

these magnificent bridges, but when my copy of Black's was

published, they weren't here at all.

Now together, they may have put paid to the old Queen's ferry that

used to leave from this quay, but they are a magnificent sight.

To the west, is the road bridge, which has been carrying

traffic since the 1960s, while behind me here is

the truly spectacular rail bridge.

When it was opened in 1890,

it was the longest bridge in the entire world.

When the rail bridge was completed,

it was heralded as a symbol of modernity,

allowing tourists and passengers to travel north in

comfort and style like never before.

But the bridge that stands here today wasn't the one

originally planned.

It was actually redesigned after the failure of another bridge.

To find out more, I'm meeting architectural historian

Olivia Horsfall Turner.

Olivia, this is a fantastic, magnificent structure but it

could have turned out very differently.

dt could have looked utterly different.

The original design for the bridge over the Forth was

a suspension bridge

that was proposed by the engineer Thomas Bouch.

He had been the engineer who had produced the design for

the Tay Bridge, which had been hailed

as an amazing engineering achievement at the time.

But when it collapsed, public confidence was completely undermined

in his abilities as an engineer.

So how was Bouch's project picked up, then,

after he was effectively sacked?

Well, two new engineers were brought onto the project.

John Fowler and Benjamin Baker.

And they came up with a completely new design, a different

way of crossing the Forth, using the cantilever principle

rather than a suspension bridge.

The cantilever structure itself was very different from

the design for the Tay Bridge.

The cantilever means that the bridge is self-supporting, so

that different members are in compression and tension,

and, in fact, when it has weight on it, it becomes more strong.

This amazing structure has always been more than just a bridge.

Even before it opened, tourists from far and wide came to gaze in wonder

at the sheer spectacle emerging on the Forth.

Very quickly, while it was being constructed,

people started to visit

and were actively encouraged to visit, as well.

The Shah of Persia and the Emperor of Brazil

were both visitors at the time.

120 years after the opening ceremony,

the bridge is still regarded as an engineering marvel.

It's the first ever steel bridge to be built in Britain.

It carries a double-tracked railway two and a half kilometres across the Firth of Forth.

The rail deck is 46 metres above sea level,

while the supporting towers

soar 100 metres above the ships passing beneath.

Instantly recognisable,

the Forth Bridge has become a symbol of Scottishness.

Crossing the Firth of Forth, my journey takes me

to the Ancient Kingdom of Fife and a place of pilgrimage,

where some found a peculiarly cold bed for the night.

This is Dunfermline Abbey.

Black's makes much of Dunfermline's royal connections,

and to prove the point, it quotes from an ancient ballad.

"The king, he sits in Dunfermline toon

"Drinking the blood red wine."

The wine was drunk years ago,

but the king remains as, well, remains.

Because he's buried here.

As the last resting place of royalty, Dunfermline counts

as Scotland's Westminster Abbey.

There are at least eight great kings buried here,

including Robert the Bruce,

five queens, six princes, and two princesses.

But crucially to the story of Scottish tourism,

Dunfermline is the last resting place of a saintly Royal.

Historian Richard Oram explains how the first tourists here

were in fact 12th century pilgrims.

The most important, in many ways, of all these royals

that's buried here is Queen Margaret,

the wife of King Malcolm III,

and she is made a saint and she attracts pilgrims.

How did she get to be a saint?

It's the example of her life and her works in life on the one hand,

and then also the miraculous cures that she works after death.

Going on a pilgrimage had great significance in medieval Europe,

and Dunfermline was an internationally important destination.

And with the jostling, holy crowds

came the unholy chance to make money.

The descriptions we've got here are on the big feast days,

and the major days when the shrines were to be opened up.

You've got merchants, you've got hawkers, you've got pedlars.

They're selling what we might class as, you know, tourist tat.

-Right. This is an early form of tourism, of course.

-Absolutely.

And it really powers forward a whole new segment in the economy.

The biggest player in this economy was the church.

At Dunfermline, pilgrims paid for the privilege of sleeping

beside St Margaret's shrine, all in the hope of a cure.

They'll be brought in here by their friends and a bed will be made up for them.

They'll sleep here overnight, and in their dream, Margaret will appear.

And what they're getting is a very, very clear set of instructions

as to what it is they've done wrong and how they can remedy the situation.

So you came here as a pilgrim, you were cured.

So you left happy, and the church is happy because you paid for the privilege.

Yes. And what they're doing in the middle decades of the 13th century

is they're compiling a portfolio of these miracles to report to Rome

so that Margaret can be officially canonised and made Saint Margaret.

Any latter-day pilgrim looking for a cure will be disappointed.

Although the base of St Margaret's tomb survived the Reformation,

her mortal remains were lost to time and memory centuries ago.

Travelling north from royal and saintly Dunfermline,

my Grand Tour of Scotland leads me to the Ochil Hills,

where the River Devon cuts a spectacular route through solid rock.

This is Rumbling Brig famed from the early days of tourism for its sublime grandeur.

Tourists today have the benefit of paths and handrails

to help them explore the dramatic gorge here,

but 200 years ago, this was a wild and dangerous place.

The scenery around here was enthusiastically described

by Sarah Murray, who's my all-time favourite lady tourist.

In 1796, she spent three months rattling around Scotland

in her horse and carriage, and what she found here, at Rumbling Brig,

chimed with the values of the age.

A wild beauty that spoke straight to the heart.

"I was conducted to a place where few, if any, women had ever ventured: the Rumbling Brig.

"The whole scenery is to a very great degree romantic and beautiful,

"and fills my mind with harmony and delight."

To get the best view, this redoubtable lady climbed 120 feet

down to the bottom of the gorge, where she sketched the scene.

Sarah, of course, wore a skirt and petticoats for the occasion,

but today, my attire is a little more practical.

Now I'm about to attempt to follow Sarah Murray's footsteps

and abseil into the gorge,

not that she ever abseiled, but it's the only way I'm going to get there.

To be honest, I'm feeling a bit apprehensive, a bit nervous,

but I'm in good hands, I hope, Steve. What we going to do?

OK, what we're going to do here is actually a series of activities.

-It's not just an abseil.

-It's what, it's what we call a small canyoning session.

-Right.

Albeit it's quite a big abseil, it's just a small canyoning session.

Canyoning is a series of activities.

Now, er, have many people done this abseil before into the gorge?

Not this particular one here, no, and I think something that I did want to stress is that

there are people out there that do things like this for a living,

they'll quite happily take people down into situations like this,

-but it's not something that people want to be doing on their own.

-Right.

To my knowledge, I don't believe anybody's ever abseiled down into this canyon.

That's brilliant. This is pioneering stuff then.

-This is, this is pioneering stuff.

-And I am a pioneer.

-Yes, so you are, yeah.

-Brilliant. Let's go pioneering, then.

-Let's go pioneering.

Obviously, abseiling wasn't an option for the intrepid Mrs Murray,

but I think she'd have loved this, and perhaps even more than me.

Sarah Murray was drawn to dramatic locations,

and went to great lengths, and considerable risk,

to experience the thrill and raw power of nature.

In her journal, she describes how she tried to draw the view,

sitting on a huge rock in the middle of the torrent.

"In such a situation,

"it is almost impossible to preserve one's head from swimming.

"In my attempt to sketch the scenery, I was several times obliged to shut my eyes

"and take fast hold of the rock, least I should drop from it into the whirling, foaming stream."

As you can see, this is a stupendous location.

And Sarah Murray would have whipped out her sketchbook and her watercolours

and have been busy drawing the scene.

Now, I'm no artist, so my camera will just have to do.

Mission accomplished, but now I'm faced with a bit of a problem.

I can't climb back up the 120-foot cliffs on either side of the gorge.

They are too steep and too slippery.

There's only one way out of here, and that's to throw myself

into the river and swim for it!

'In the middle of all this extreme sports madness,

'it's impossible not to ask the question - how on earth did the genteel Sarah Murray

'get to the bottom of this amazing gorge and start sketching?'

Ah! Look at that!

'She must have found an easier way down here, surely.'

This is the "Woeful town of Dollar",

as Sarah Murray described the place back in 1796.

Not to be put off, this is where I hope to recover

from my adventures and get a bed for the night.

Black's is really handy in situations like this.

It's absolutely stuffed full of useful tips about where to stay and how much it costs.

It makes fascinating reading.

Back then, just two shillings would get you a bed for the night.

But, disturbingly, a bottle of sherry

cost more than your accommodation.

Even worse, there was sometimes no wine available at all.

Oh, dear(!)

It's a relief to discover that things have moved on since Black's day.

There's a fully-stocked bar at the hotel in town,

which is where I meet up with historian Kevin James

over a glass or two of Rioja.

Kevin, what was the standard of accommodation like back then?

What kind of quality of bed for the night could they expect?

They might not be able to expect a very high quality one at all.

I mean, there are lots and lots of references in travelogues,

before the era of mass tourism, if we want to call it that,

of people encountering fleas

and sleeping on boards and even on dirt floors.

By Victorian times, more tourists were coming to Scotland

looking for accommodation,

and people saw a business opportunity there.

And there was one character in particular that became

quite notorious, shall we say.

Oh, absolutely. I mean, this is a figure who appears in

all kinds of both guidebooks

and travelogues, the so-called Scotch innkeeper.

And what he's most famous for is just his miserliness.

And exorbitant rates for food and drink, too.

And so a lot of travellers leave complaining that although

the accommodation, for instance,

and the board might not have been too expensive,

once they left the hotel, or were leaving the hotel,

they were presented with a bill that contained all of these additional charges

that added up to, occasionally,

much more than the cost of a night's stay, too.

But not a great advertisement for Scotland, surely?

Rather, you know, short-sighted.

You're not going to get very many returning guests.

No, it's... There's a paradox,

though, to the figure of the Scotch innkeeper,

and that is that to some extent,

I think people went out in search of him.

I think the traveller went out in search of him,

in part because they didn't want to stay in some anodyne hotel,

some cosmopolitan hotel with a German manager and a Swiss waiter.

Part of their motivation was to experience the culture

of Scotland as they saw it. The culture, in particular,

of the Highlanders, of the Celt, as they often described it.

And this meant this kind of primitive accommodation,

this sort of miserly figure,

somehow authenticated the travel experience for them.

Leaving Kevin to polish off the last of the Rioja,

I'm back on the road again.

'But to get to my next destination,

'I'm going to have to use a little ingenuity and my thumb.'

Now, this is something I've not done for years.

But as a kid, hitchhiking was the only way a 15-year-old

with no money could explore Scotland.

And I went everywhere by thumb power.

Nope. Better luck next time.

Back in the day, hitchhiking was my passport to adventure,

and I travelled all over Scotland

and the Continent with my old mate, Gus.

Though how we managed to get anywhere looking like this

is something of a marvel.

'But things have changed and the whole tradition of hitchhiking

'has been given a bad press.

'So let's see if anyone is brave enough to pick me up!'

Peugeot. Excellent!

Getting a lift, yes, fantastic.

'Result! And after only ten minutes,

'which has to be something of a personal record,

'and definitely less time than waiting for a bus.'

That's fantastic. Thanks very much.

I'll just strap myself in.

-Judith.

-Tell me, do you often pick up hitchhikers?

-No, I don't.

-Right. Only the respectable-looking ones.

-Only respectable-looking.

No, actually it's something that I used to do many years ago.

'I'm encouraged to be given a lift so quickly.

'It's like going back to the days when drivers and hitchhikers

'shared a cheerful sense of highway camaraderie.'

Why do you think it is that today

you see fewer hitchhikers on the roads?

Because they're kind of like a dying breed.

Well...I suppose safety is a big aspect.

Erm...

But I have to say, of all the drivers who are least likely

to pick up a hitchhiker,

I would have thought a single woman would be the least likely.

-SHE LAUGHS

-Oh, I'm quite brave.

-You were the first one.

Am I? You can't always judge a book by the cover, as they say.

My brave lady driver drops me off where the River Forth

meanders through flat countryside near the city of Stirling.

I'm surprised by the sight of folks boating on the river,

something I've always associated with the gentler climes

of the English Home Counties.

Oarsman David Plank keeps me straight on the history

of Scottish rowing

as we pull upstream towards the city of Stirling.

I've always associated this type of rowing with, I suppose,

your privileged classes.

Now, is that fair?

Certainly not in Scotland, no.

It was working class people, railway porters was one group of people

that had their own facility in Glasgow.

They were a rowing club from Glasgow. So, definitely not.

It's a great way of exploring the city.

I mean, the views you get from here are really quite exceptional.

Well, Stirling's a lovely city anyway.

And to see it from our aspect is just superb.

'As we row on the river, we're actually following an old steamer route,

'which in Black's day carried tourists from South Queensferry,

'all the way to Stirling - a distance of 36 miles.

'But after the First World War, the upper reaches of the Forth

'ceased to carry shipping of any kind.

'And now, even the memory of them is fading.'

Back on dry land, I head into rural Perthshire,

looking for a bed for the night,

though I fear it may be a rather damp one.

Deep in a roan-soaked wood, I share a novel type of camping experience

with travel writer Jennifer Cox,

sheltering in an exotic tent known as a Swedish kata.

Well, Jennifer, sadly this is not the best weather to experience

life outside, but camping's got a long and illustrious history.

Yeah, absolutely. If you imagine

right the way back to the military campaigns,

you would have seen great quantities of men camping in the field,

moving from place to place.

And then people sort of developed a sense for being outdoors

but in a more controlled environment.

So if you think about, say, safaris, where you would take your life

out under the canvas, and enjoy nature,

but with lots of home comforts, really good cooking,

lots of servants, lots of feather beds.

So you would literally have a huge train travelling with you.

But in the meantime, at home, you would see things like

the Boys' Brigade, the Scouts, people going off and understanding

that nature was something special.

The outdoor life was celebrated and encouraged.

As leisure time increased, camping became an affordable holiday option,

especially in the years after the Second World War.

But affordability was also the reason for camping's demise.

As foreign package holidays became cheaper,

the simple pleasures of life under canvas fell out of favour

as we embraced modern luxuries.

But Jennifer says we lost something along the way.

Ironically, as we became more prosperous,

the idea that we were too pampered,

the idea that everything was laid on,

that everything was affordable, that technology was taking over,

-nature started to become more fashionable again.

-Ah-ha.

And the idea that camping meant going out and experiencing

a more spiritual side, not just of nature, but of ourselves,

that became increasingly desirable,

and increasingly a holiday movement.

Well, do you feel we've gone back to nature here?

I'm looking at a gorgeous stream.

-Surrounded by trees. Slightly chilly.

-Slightly chilly.

-It's got to be nature!

-It's May and I can see your breath.

-Exactly!

-That's pretty primitive.

THEY LAUGH

'Having slept like an emperor in my kata, it's time to face the elements once again.

'I've had enough of camping and hitching. I need to treat myself.'

Not too bad. Drying up.

'Hence, my new conveyance.

'A chauffeur-driven, vintage Rolls-Royce.'

HORN TOOTS

'A vehicle like this is the apotheosis of classic luxury.

'The smell of plush leather and polished walnut fills my nostrils

'as we glide through the countryside in style.

-'What a way to watch the world...

-HORN TOOTS

'..and the less fortunate, go by.

'By the 1930s, a range of guidebooks had appeared,

'aimed at the growing number of people

'taking motoring holidays in Scotland.

'The motor car gave tourists a previously unimagined

'degree of freedom, allowing their wealthy owners

'to travel through the countryside in comfort and luxury.'

The last leg of my Grand Tour takes me into the heart of privilege,

where a bed for the night comes at a premium.

The Gleneagles Hotel is familiar

to the powerful and wealthy from around the world.

'The Scottish RAC guidebook of 1927

'listed Gleneagles as 'the most expensive hotel,

'costing a staggering 19 shillings and sixpence a night,

'which comes out at 95 pence in today's money.'

All this and you still get change from a pound!

'Of course, the reality was that 19 shillings and sixpence

'was the equivalent of a week's wages for a manual labourer in 1927.

'So not so cheap after all.'

Now, the Royal Scottish Automobile Association imposed a rather

curious condition on any hotel that wanted to be included in its guidebook,

and that was the stipulation for a ten-yard hose.

And the reason was quite simple.

It's so that your chauffeur could wash your car.

Gleneagles opened in 1924 as a luxury golf hotel resort.

Built by the Caledonian Railway Company, with its own station,

Gleneagles was hailed as a Riviera in the Highlands,

and the eighth Wonder Of The World.

And the BBC acknowledged the hotel's superior credentials

when it chose Gleneagles as the location for the first-ever

Scottish radio broadcast.

Henry Hall, the popular composer of the time,

conducted his dance orchestra for the benefit of guests

and wireless listeners across the Empire.

'Leaving my chauffeur, George, to wash the car,

'I check into the most expensive suite at Gleneagles,

'The Royal Lochnagar.

'The manager, Patrick Elsmie, shows me around.'

It's a fabulous room, Patrick.

I suppose that Gleneagles has really kind of based its reputation

on the idea of privilege and exclusivity, is that not right?

I think people have always enjoyed coming to Gleneagles.

This part of Perthshire is such a fabulous place.

And what Gleneagles offers, and what Scotland's offered over the years

has really attracted people who've really wanted to come

to Gleneagles to enjoy accommodations like this.

How much would a room, or a suite like this cost you?

Well, of course it depends what time of the year people come, but it varies.

Usually during our summer months it's around £1,800 a night.

£1,800 a night. Is that all-in?

-Does that include dinner, drinks, or is that just your bed?

-Bed, breakfast and VAT.

Now, presumably you have quite a lot of famous people staying here.

Well, over the years Gleneagles built its reputation, I think, on those that have come to stay here.

Now let me guess.

Is it possible that one of the Blairs or perhaps the Bushs stayed here?

Well, we obviously had eight very important guests that stayed at Gleneagles,

so you can rest assured that one of them was definitely in this particular suite, yes.

'Thinking of the political greats who've dipped their toe here before me,

'I anticipate the delights of the slipper bath.'

CORK POPS

'As I wallow in this luxury,

'I think of the early tourists who came to Scotland.

'They wanted to experience the novelty of being somewhere different,

'somewhere wild and romantic.

'But 100 years later, it's easy to find yourself shut off from the real Scotland

'by all this finery, and to forget the adventures of Sarah Murray and her like.'

Not that I'm complaining in any way.

And there's still plenty of adventure to be had for those willing to look for it.

And since I'm here, I may as well enjoy myself.

After all, this is a pretty fine bed for the night.

-Ahhh!

-HE SIGHS CONTENTEDLY

Luxury!

Join me on my next Grand Tour Of Scotland

when I'm in Ayrshire, travelling from Burns to Butlins.