Nairn is just a short drive east of Inverness. It’s a little fishing village that has grown to a town. After a pleasant drive from the Caravan Park on Loch Ness (and after another Tesco visit!), we rocked up at the next Caravan park, where the warden was very helpful and when I asked him how far the beach was, he directed us… through the CP, down through the forest, across the road, only half a mile! So once settled we decided on a short walk before supper. Half a mile?! Hmmmm. We very nearly gave up; it was sheer determination that kept us going. The walk took us along a narrow lane, after the forest area, then through a disused farm (we thought), as there were signs up that the roof was asbestos and fragile, windows broken and so forth, but we approached the doors of a big shed and this almighty ROAR came up from inside, which made us jump out of our skins! We later worked out that it was an enormous pig. Quite clever of us as there was a pig farm nearby!
We finally made it to the beach. It was worth the walk. We sat for a while looking at the fabulous multi-coloured stones and rocks that were piled up before the sandy beach. So pretty that we each chose three to take back. Purples, oranges, black and white with crystals. We returned to the caravan refreshed… but made sure Dave the warden knew his sense of distance was warped!
Next day, we headed off for a brief visit to Fort George, which ended up being for nearly four hours – it was so interesting. It’s an 18th century fort, the largest in Europe, built after Culloden in the belief that such a fort would be needed but it’s actually never seen a battle. It houses a huge garrison and although it’s still in use, there was so much to see. Talked to a soldier standing on watch and he was complaining that he had to stand there for an hour before he was relieved. When reading the historical data in the guardhouse, we found that soldiers in the 18th century stood guard for eight hours! We were there in the “summer”, imagine what it would be like in winter! We spent a lot of time in the Highlanders Museum learning about the history of the regiment and the Black Watch. The uniforms were tiny, so these proud, brave men were quite small. Maybe it was the food rations…
We decided that the next place to visit would have to be a distillery rather than yet another castle. So off we went to Dannus Dhu Distillery, not now in use, which is good for tourists as the audio tour takes you up close and personal to the equipment etc., whereas with a working distillery you can’t get close for safety reasons. The best part of the tour was the free tasting at the end! The history of whisky and the distilleries fluctuates between roaring trade, and disuse. The Dannus Dhu distillery ‘died’ in the eighties when wine started to become the tipple of choice. They have six bottles of their single malt left now from 1979. The cost? £249.
I’d never heard of Drumossie Moor, but I knew about the Battle of Culloden, which was fought on that moor! If you go there, prepare to spend several hours as the National Trust has built a visitor centre where you can relive the battle, which took place in 1746, when the Jacobite forces of Bonnie Prince Charlie were crushed by the government troops – the last battle fought on British soil. It brings these battles to life again, and the ferocity of the battle is astounding.
We loved the area and would like to return. We only touched the tip of the iceberg of things to do and see in the Inverness area, but we had our ferry booked to the Orkneys and couldn’t dally.
The following day, we headed north to Altnaharra. We had been pre-warned that the road in was not for the faint hearted, but we found it very pleasant. There’s 30 miles of single track road with passing places, but it’s easy to see anything coming the other way and when that happens, it’s all very friendly with one vehicle pulling off at a passing place, flashing lights to indicate to the oncoming driver that he can come through. Then a smile and a wave. The whole area is different to the mountains and lochs we had driven through up to now. There are sheep wandering across the road, there are few trees, lots of moorland and heather. Bogs, and peat. We arrived at the gorgeous caravan park, which is like no other. Ross the warden gave us a lovely site, with panoramic views over Loch Naver. No mobile reception, no tv, (lovely!) but we did have electricity. This is the sort of place that lends itself to just sitting, doing nothing but looking across the water. Or people watching.
Ross and his wife live in a large bus size motorhome, with a “slide out” on both sides, making it even bigger when it’s not on the road. They sure have their lives sorted out. They retired 5 years ago, but then decided that they still wanted to do something, so they became wardens for the Caravan Club in the UK. The first three years they managed large sites and had staff. They then applied for a site for just a couple, no staff, and in Scotland, and they got Altnaharra. It is so remote that it’s a 120 mile round trip to the shops. Last year they asked if they could come back for the season (April to September), and this year they have been given next year too. It’s not for everyone, as it is remote, as a warden you still need your own accommodation, but on the plus side there’s no ablutions to clean, just keeping the grass short, and every morning Ross goes round with his shovel picking up all the sheep poops! They love it. In the winter months they head to Spain with their motorhome.
This is the first place we saw real results of the Clearances. At the back of the caravan park there had been a village and the laird decided, as did all the lairds in those days, that the croft rents were not sufficient and the land would be put to better use if it was used for pasture. So all the tenants were turned out, and the roofs burnt so that they wouldn’t come back. Some were sent to the cities, some went to America, Canada and Australia to start new lives. These crofts had been in the families for years, handed down from father to son, so it was a huge wrench for them. Some attempted to return, and on one winters night an 81 year old woman and a mother with a three week old baby were turned out, with nowhere to go. So it was quite poignant walking around the ruins of this hillside village. These people who lived in the crofts, worked the land and fished, and mostly lived in poverty, but whole communities were split up.
Next day, as we left, another couple told us to look out for the “broch” on the road out. I asked Greg what a broch was, he didn’t know.
We found out a couple of days later… do you know? And is a broch the same as a brough? I’ll tell you next time!
