The Ceasg and the Baobhan Sith

Do Mermaids Have Fangs?

By Dawn Marie Hamilton

Did you see the movie Pirates of the Caribbean, On Stranger Tides? Ever since I did, I’ve wondered whether there existed a basis for mermaids with fangs. Do any of the mermaid legends mention fangs? What about Scottish folklore? Could a mermaid with fangs be drawn from the merging of two mythical Scottish fae creatures?

Perhaps the first is the ceasg or maighdean na tuinne (maiden of the wave), a Scottish mermaid of the Highlands. Appearing as a half-human woman and half-grilse (salmon), the ceasg were said to lure young men into the sea's depths. Other accounts describe love affairs between the mermaids and human males with the offspring of these relationships becoming great sailors and sea captains. Some tales attribute the mermaids with the ability to grant three wishes if captured. Of course, to force such action, the mermaid's soul must be destroyed.

The second, the baobhan sith, is a vampiric faerie known to be dangerous and evil. Although sometimes taking the form of a crow or raven, the baohan sith more often appears as a beautiful young woman, wearing a long green gown to hide her hoofed-feet. On a single evening each year, she rises from her grave to seduce a young man into dancing with her until he is tired and weak from the drinking of his blood.

At first, I believed the combining of these two creatures would produce a mermaid with fangs. Then I read an account stating the baobhan sith use long fingernails to draw the blood of their victims.

So what do you think? Do mermaids have fangs?

 

Scottish Highland Games—The Hammer Throw

By Dawn Marie Hamilton





The goal of the hammer throw is distance. A great throw requires a deliberate combination of speed and timing.

The Scottish hammer, derived from a blacksmith's hammer, is a rounded metal hammer weighing 16 to 22 pounds attached to a cane handle.

An athlete stands with his back to the 'trig' and the throwing area. During the throw, his feet are not permitted to move. He may lift his heels while turning, but his toes must remain solidly in place until he completes the throw. Many competitors use spikes on the end of their shoes to anchor them to the ground. When ready, the athlete places the head of the hammer on the ground stretched to the right. He swings the hammer in front of him, and up over his head in a circular motion several times. When he has gained the right amount of speed, he releases the hammer behind him, using the last turn to propel it on its way. Touching the 'trig' or the ground in front of it renders a throw foul.

Each competitor takes three throws, and the throw with the greatest distance wins.

Other events:
The Caber Toss
The 28-lb. Weight Throw
The 56-lb Weight Throw
The Sheaf Toss

Next time, I'll discuss the clachneart, the stone of strength, or the stone throw.

Scottish Highland Games—The Sheaf Toss



The Sheaf Toss

By Dawn Marie Hamilton


The sheaf toss is a games event in which many a farm lad might excel, or not. Tossing hay with a pitchfork onto a pile isn't quite the same as hurling a bag of the stuff into the air over a horizontal bar. A lad must dedicate time to practicing in order to develop the required skill. Not every Highland games runs this event, but I snapped this picture at the Northeast Florida Scottish Games and Festival in February while on winter vacation.



Given three chances, an athlete uses a three-tined pitchfork to hurl a 16-pound burlap bag stuffed with hay over a crossbar set between two standards. The bar is raised in one or two foot intervals after all competertors have completed their attempts. As the bar rises, the field of competitors is reduced until one athlete remains as the winner.

Other events:
The Caber Toss
The 28-lb Weight Throw
The 56-lb Weight Throw

Stop back, I'll discuss more events in future posts.

Hogmanay in Edinburgh

By Alexa Bourne

In December 2010, I bought a heavy winter coat, gathered some friends, and took a flight to Edinburgh, Scotland to celebrate Hogmanay. You see, in 2011, I was turning 40 and I wanted to start my year with a bang in my favorite city in the world.

Hogmanay is the Scots word for the last day of the year. In Edinburgh, it’s a grand 3-day celebration. Actually, it’s a lot longer than that, with fair rides and colored lights, concerts and stalls selling knickknacks and food! But the official opening of the Hogmanay Festival is on December 30^th.

When I arrived in Edinburgh, I found cold, drizzly and cloudy weather, but it wasn’t nearly as chilly as I’d expected. Yes, I could see my breath as I talked, but it didn’t matter. My heart spoke then and said, “Welcome home.”

The first major event of Hogmanay was the Torchlight Procession on December 30^th. After dinner, it was time to line up on the Royal Mile. We went a bit early so we could buy torches. This ceremony is actually a version of the Up Helly Aa Fire Festival usually associated with the Shetlands. It’s a good thing we went early because they had upwards of 25,000 people there and we were fairly close to the front. They lit torches toward the front and then those people turned around and lit the torches of the people behind them and so on and so on. It was pretty neat to see the fire coming back toward us like a wave!

Once most people had their torches lit, the line took off down the Mound, along Prince’s Street and up to Calton Hill. Music played and supposedly there were bagpipes toward the beginning of the line, but I didn’t hear any during most of the walk. Several times we stopped for pictures or to get out of the way of other people’s pictures, and glanced back at the wave of fire behind us. It was absolutely amazing to see!

When we reached Calton Hill and they stuffed us in like sardines, it was time for the burning of the “Viking” boat. Again, they played music while the flames licked the night sky. And then we had fireworks. It was a perfect evening!

The next day, December 31^st, my friends and I wandered around the Winter Wonderland. We went on the Ferris wheel, stopped at the stalls selling clothes and trinkets, then stopped so I could try mulled wine. I liked it! After another fabulous dinner and a champagne toast in our hotel rooms, we dressed for the cold and headed out to the Garden Party. We quickly found a spot on a hill, one on the outskirts of the crowd pushing toward the stage of the concert we’d hear. Bands played for the remainder of the night. People came and went. It wasn’t as cold or as crowded as I’d feared. I’d been worried that we would get a spot, get squished and not be able to move. But we had plenty of room to sit, stand, dance and take pictures! We could see the lights in the trees and on the stage.

Time went fast. Just before midnight, one of our party went for a bathroom run and we didn’t see her again until a good fifteen minutes into the new year. She claims she got lost on the way back, but maybe she found a handsome Scotsman to kiss! As with most places, there was a countdown to 2011 and Auld Lang Syne played. For that, groups of people gathered together and held hands during the singing. It truly was the perfect way to begin the year I turned 40. I had so much fun that my friends and I agreed to do it again when the next person hits that magical number!

For more information and pictures of Edinburgh’s Hogmanay, visit www.edinburghshogmanay.com.

Scottish Highland Games—The 56-lb. Weight Throw

By Dawn Marie Hamilton

Last month I posted a piece on the 28-lb. weight throw. This month the 56-lb. weight throw is the topic.

Different from the distance goal of the 28-lb. throw, in the 56-lb. weight throw, the contestants are throwing for height over a horizontal bar of varying heights. The starting height is the lowest height requested by the athletes.

Using a metal weight attached by a chain to a ring handle, a competitor stands with his back to the bar and throws the weight over, using only one hand. Three attempts are allowed at each height. If the weight clips the bar on the way over, but doesn't dislodge it, the toss is considered successful. Measurements are made from the ground to the top of the bar at the midway point between the two uprights.

As the bar is repetitively raised, contestants are eliminated, until only one athlete remains and wins.

Other events:
The Caber Toss
The 28-lb. Weight Throw

I'll discuss more events in future posts so stop back.

Why Thurso?

By Alexa Bourne

I've been fortunate enough to visit many places in Scotland, but one place still on my list to see is Thurso, Scotland. I'm not sure why since I haven't done much research on it or heard a lot about it or read books set there, but from pictures I've seen it just looks like a quaint little village that would wipe away all my worries and make me feel at home. Maybe I'm completely wrong. Maybe not. But this month, I thought I'd share a bit of information and maybe show you why I want to see it.

 

Thurso is one of the northern most towns in Scotland. It is small, and it's usually a stop along the way instead of the destination for a trip. Many people use it as a "stepping stone" on their way to Orkney. But it has shops, places to eat and, of course, an interesting history.

 

The name Thurso comes from Old Norse meaning Bull's River. The Vikings were here as early as the 900s, with a lot of work fishing and trading by the sea. The oldest part of the town is the Old St. Peter's Church, dating back to early 1100s. (This picture on the right is a different, prettier church, NOT Old St. Peter's.) At one point the building was open to visitors, but within the last few years it has been locked off, not allowing anyone to visit.

 In the mid to late 1900s, the Dounreay Nuclear Power Development Establishment just outside of Thurso employed about 3500 people and most of them lived in Thurso. The plant is no longer in operation and so many of the residents have moved on.

In the summer months, many surfers from all over the world descend on the town to put their skills to the test in the waters of the Atlantic Ocean. From what I hear and read, this area of the country is some of the most spectacular scenery in all of Scotland. I think that's one of the reasons I really want to put this place on my "To Visit" list. (I may be biased, but I think pretty much ALL of Scotland is beautiful!) Have you had a chance to visit Thurso? What can you tell us?

 

(Pictures taken from http://www.undiscoveredscotland.co.uk/thurso/thurso/index.html and www.surftherenow.com.)

 

Scottish Highland Games—The 28-lb Weight Throw

By Dawn Marie Hamilton

The goal of the 28-pound weight throw is distance.

Using a metal weight attached by a chain to a ring handle, a competitor throws the weight one-handed from behind a toe-board (trig) with a nine foot run up allowed. Although different styles may be used, the most popular is spinning. In order for the throw to count, an athlete must remain standing after a throw, and not have touched the top of the toe-board or the ground in front of it during the throw. The competitors are judged on the farthest of three throws.

Key to a good throw are speed and momentum.

What is your favorite athletic event at a Scottish gathering?

Other events:
The Caber Toss

I'll discuss more events in future posts so stop back.

Deacon Brodie's Tavern

By Alexa Bourne

If you're ever in Edinburgh, you need to stop in my favorite pub, Deacon Brodie's. It sits right on the Royal Mile, closer to Edinburgh Castle than Holyrood House. It's small, by American standards, but it's often busy and always cozy. It is in the shape of a rectangle. When you walk in the door, the bar is on the left and several chairs and tables are spread throughout the right side and down the center. There are intricate carvings and decorations, and several “trinkets” with the Deacon Brodie's logo on them, such as T-shirts and mugs, etc. In the back of the room, there is a spiral staircase that takes you up to the restaurant. There are 4 tables squished together by the 2 windows that overlook the Royal Mile. Of course, those seats are usually full.

The food is good. I often eat haggis, neeps & tatties while I'm there. (If you're not familiar with haggis, here's a link to find out more.) And of course, I think the drinks are great too. Whenever I'm in Edinburgh, I spend time in here. I've sat in one of the bar seats next to the window and written. Whenever I'm in Edinburgh with friends and we go our separate ways for a few hours, Deacon Brodie's is my choice of places to meet up. Indeed, sitting in a Scottish pub, sipping Scottish beer and writing Scottish stories is pretty much my version of perfection. (All I'd need is a hot Scotsman to sit with me!)

But as much as I love Deacon Brodie's for my own reasons, I chose to write about it today because the pub has a history that I think you'll enjoy. It is named after one of the real life inspirations for Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson. William Brodie was born in 1741. He was respected throughout the city, made cabinets, and belonged to the town council. But at night, he fell victim to the dark side. He drank, gambled and ran up huge debts he couldn’t pay. So he resorted to burglary to pay his bills. Since part of his day work included installing and repairing locks in homes, he figured he had the perfect opportunity to break in and steal items to help pay his debts. Unfortunately, he ended up getting caught and in 1788 they hanged him. Rumor has it that Brodie was hanged on the 1^st gallows in Edinburgh, the same gallows that he’d made the year before.

 

(Picture from Trip Advisor.)

So, see? This is the PERFECT place for an author to waste time....er, I mean spend time writing. To learn more about one of my favorite places in Edinburgh, visit this website. I'm almost ashamed to say the last time I stayed in Edinburgh on my own, I ate here 5 out of 7 nights. (No, I didn't have haggis every night!) Yes, there are tons of great places to eat in Edinburgh, but this is where I'm most comfortable, as if somehow I belong here. Huh. Maybe I do. 
 

Scottish Highland Games—The Caber Toss

By Dawn Marie Hamilton

I've heard the comment made that the 'heavy' athletic events at a Scottish Highland Games are as unique to the Scottish as are bagpipes and tartans. (The Irish may take offense to this statement, but I think you get my meaning.) The competition most well known is probably the tossing of the caber.

Sizing the Caber

The caber is not a telephone pole, as some describe it, but a trimmed tree trunk tapering at one end. The type of tree used depends on what is locally available. As you can imagine, due to its nature, cabers vary greatly from event to event and from year to year. Typical cabers are 16 to 20 feet long and weigh from 90 to 140 pounds. The longer the caber, the more difficult to turn.

Skill—balance, strength, timing—is required to excel in this event. The competitor balances the caber against his shoulder with the small end cradled in his hands and the large end in the air, keeping the caber vertical. When ready, he runs and allows the caber to fall forward. Determining the right moment, he stops and flips the small end up. If done correctly—speed, toss and timing—the momentum carries the small end over the large and the caber falls away from the competitor.

The toss is judged according to an imaginary clock face. If the athlete stands at six o'clock, the perfect toss points to twelve o'clock. Tosses landing between nine o'clock and three o'clock are considered good. Judges record the best of three tosses. Ties are broken by determining the closest throw to twelve o'clock.

Do you enjoy attending the heavy athletic events at a Scottish gathering?

I'll discuss more events in future posts so stop back.

Edinburgh Castle

By Alexa Bourne

Edinburgh Castle is one of my favorite places in all of Scotland. There is so much history here and so much to explore. I pay a visit to the castle every single time I go to Scotland and I always learn something new. Plus, the views of the city from various parts of the castle are absolutely breathtaking. Obviously I could spend a lot of time sharing information about this impressive building, but I've decided to touch on the parts that mean the most to me. (Photo by Chris Keach)




The castle sits on top of volcanic rock high above the city. I assure you it is an impressive sight no matter where you are in the city. Its location was ideal for defense. There is only one side for people to approach. The other 3 sides looked like this:
(www.freedigitalphotos.net)

Anyone foolish enough to try climbing up this rock would either be shot or fall to his death. However, if you read about the castle's history, you'll see that it was invaded and captured on a number of occasions.

 

The oldest part of the castle is St. Margaret's Chapel, which is also the oldest building in Edinburgh. It dates back to the beginning of the 12th century and is named for David I's mother who died in the castle in 1093. It is a very small building, about 10 feet wide, that is still used today for weddings and other religious ceremonies. (Photo by Vonda Sinclair-www.vondasinclair.com)

 

 

Each August, the castle is the home of the Edinburgh Military Tattoo. It is an amazing concert of music and dancing performed by military bands from all over the world. The Tattoo takes place in the the esplanade of the castle. There are shows every weekday evening and twice on Saturdays for the entire month. The crowd consists of Scots, people from other parts of the UK and an average of over 70,000 visitors from other countries. If you get the chance to see this, I recommend you do it. Sitting in those seats and listening to the beautiful music and watching the show is such a wonderful experience! (www.morguefile.com)

 

 

For more detailed information and beautiful pictures of the castle, I urge you to visit the official website here. A reader could spend hours looking at pictures and learning fascinating stories of one of Scotland's most visited attractions. 

Urisk—Scottish Solitary Faerie

By Dawn Marie Hamilton

Many a man or woman has sought release from their woes by visiting wild places within the woodland. Seeking ease, they're attracted to secluded pools. Places supportive of contemplation. Since we are of the Celtic bent here at Celtic Hearts, we know that in the dark forests of Scotland, more likely than not, they chance meeting a creature so peculiar they'll scurry back to civilization, their heart in their throat.

'Tis sad. The urisk, a humble creature by nature, is lonely and wants to make friends. Most humans shun the poor fellow because of his uncomely appearance, found by many to be horrifying and frightening.

Still, he holds hope someday someone will come along and befriend him.

"What does he look like?" you ask.

The gangling urisk appears an aging bald creature with pointed ears. His face is long and drawn. He peers at you through soulful rounded eyes. He sports a wiry goatee on his chin. His emaciated, hairless torso is somewhat human-like—his lower half goat-like with shaggy fur. His limbs are long and thin and he walks on cloven feet.

Many confuse the urisk (ùruisg) with the brownie (brùnaidh), though I believe they are each a distinct variety of Scottish solitary faerie. And look nothing alike.

A wonderfully dark depiction of the urisk can be found in the illustrated book, Faeries, by Brian Froud and Alan Lee.

Would you be frightened if you met an urisk in the woods? Or would you make friends with him?

Melrose Abbey & The Heart of The Bruce

By Alexa Bourne

Hello again! This month I'm taking you out of the Scottish Highlands and down toward the Borders. During one of my trips to Scotland, my friends and I decided to take a  Rabbie's Trail Burners Tour. The highlight for me on this tour was Melrose Abbey.

I'd seen Melrose Abbey on countless Scotland calendars and in books, but had never managed to get here until this trip a few years ago.



It is said to be one of the most famous ruins in all of Scotland. It apparently has an amazing garden, but I think it looks pretty cool with the snow. What do you think?

 

The abbey was founded in 1136 by Scotland's King David I for Cistercian monks.

 

Like many places in Scotland, the abbey was destroyed and rebuilt on various occasions in the country's history.

 

 

In 1385, the Scots invaded northern England. In retaliation, Richard II's English army pushed the Scots back as far as Edinburgh and they set fire to Melrose Abbey along the way, which destroyed most of it.

Robert the Bruce's heart is buried here at Melrose Abbey. He apparently played a huge part in rebuilding the abbey in his time. 

 

I stopped after taking the picture and said a silent prayer.

Out one side of the Abbey was the cemetery. When I turned back to the Abbey ruins, I noticed that all the heads on these six figures had been cut off. It intrigued me and I went to work thinking of reasons behind the decapitations! I did some research when I returned to the States, but I haven't found anything to explain the headless statues. Maybe it's just my suspense imagination trying to find something that's not there!

 

The village of Melrose itself was beautiful and pleasant. We had lunch in this little restaurant with about 12 tables or so and TONS of knickknacks and decorations. The food was good, the soup was hot and the tea hit the spot! Our day tour moved on to other locations, but a piece of my heart stayed here in Melrose. I would've been happy just wandering the streets, observing the locals and soaking up more of the Scottish culture.

Scottish Dogs

By Dawn Marie Hamilton

Within the historical fabric of Scotland is weaved a dependency between man and dog. Though much loved, Scottish dogs were not fancy lap dogs but working dogs bred to help a hardworking people survive the harsh northern climate.

The Border Terrier, Cairn Terrier, Dandie Terrier, Scottish Terrier, Skye Terrier and the West Highland White Terrier were developed to protect crops by eradicating mice, rats and other vermin, keeping the pests from destroying grain in the fields, grain stored for food, and seeds over-wintered for spring planting.

One of my two favorites in this category is the Scottish Terrier, nearly a national Scottish symbol. The Scottie, often black, but also brindle and wheaten colored, has a distinctive profile with a hard, wiry, weather-resident outer coat. Though small, they are strong, alert and playful dogs. Just don't let them into your garden—they're diggers. Did you know Presidents Roosevelt and George W. Bush had Scotties in the White House?

The compact, bright white West Highland Terrier is a friendly, strong-willed dog known for spunk, determination and devotion. Westies excel in conformation, agility and obedience trials. This frisky, little dog appeared in episodes of the BBC Scotland TV series Hamish MacBeth, filmed in the town of Kyleof Lochalsh. In the series, 'Wee Jock' kept the peace in the fictitious town of Lochdubh with Constable Hamish Macbeth at his side.

The Bearded Collie, Border Collie, Rough Collie, Smooth Collie, and my absolute favorite Scottish dog, the Shetland Sheepdog were bred to protect livestock. If you attend a Scottish Festival this summer, you might be treated to a Border Collie demonstration. Working dogs to this day, they are famous for their sheepherding skills.

My best friend for many years was a beautiful, longhaired, female tri-color Sheltie named Red Earth O'Tara for Gone With the Wind. Bred to a miniature size in the Shetland Islands, Shetland Sheep Dogs were farm helpers and home protectors, trained to watch over crofter's cottages, sheep and cattle. They are considered highly trainable and—mine was spoiled to the extreme—known as devoted dogs with great intelligence.

The Gordon Setter, Golden Retriever and Scottish Deerhound were developed to assist in hunting. The extremely popular Golden Retriever and the Gordon Setter were birders, trained to hunt fowl. Scottish deerhounds were exclusive to nobility and—no one below the rank of an earl could possess the animals—bred to hunt game. One of my CPs is writing a Scottish historical series featuring a pair of Scottish Deerhounds as supporting characters.

I think I'll write a Scottish dog into my next Scottish fantasy time-travel novel.

If you are interested in owning one of these special breeds, please consider adopting a dog from a breed rescue group. You can find a breed specific rescue group in your area by performing an internet search.

Which is your favorite Scottish dog?

The Fachan from the West Highlands of Scotland

By Dawn Marie Hamilton

One of my favorite coffee table books is Faeries, illustrated by Brian Froud and Alan Lee. I love to browse through the pages and enjoy the wonderful art.

I flip to a new page, and a fachan stares at me through his single eyeball positioned in the center of his forehead like that of the Cyclops, the primordial race of giants from Greek mythology. Startled, I jump away, but keep an eye on the image glaring at me. The reddish-purple iris surrounded by blood-shot white seems to watch me as I pace about the room. My spine tingles with shivers.

Good thing I have a strong heart since reports claim his grotesque appearance can cause a heart attack.

He stands erect on his only muscular leg at about three feet of height. He covers his egg-shaped body with a loose shirt made from blue-green feathers. Although I can't smell him, others allege his stench is worse than that of an ordinary ogre.

I imagine rotten eggs or a science project gone wrong. My nose twitches at the thought.

A single short arm with a big hand protrudes from under his chin. I certainly don't want to get close to his claw-like fingernails or the sharp teeth visible when he opens his wide mouth.

Most of his skin is a dirty tan—except for the mottled green of his lips, his bulbous nose and the tips of his large pointed ears. A few strands of wiry black hair top his head, matching the hair at the tips of his ears.

Rumors abound that the unusual creature is extremely agile with its flat-footed hop.

I cautiously approach the table and snap the book closed. My neighbors probably hear my sigh of relief.

Many believe fachans live in the depths of caves in the West Highlands of Scotland. Since known to dislike humans, wise men and women are prudent to stay away.

Are there other Scottish creatures of legend you try to avoid? Tell us about them.

Celtic Recipe: Cock-A-Leekie Soup

By Sarah Hoss


Ingredients:
4 pounds chicken thighs, bone in, skin removed
10 cups water
1 onion, chopped
1/3 cup barley
1 (10.5 ounce) can condensed chicken broth
7 leeks, sliced
2 stalks celery, thickly sliced
1 sprig fresh thyme, chopped
1 tablespoon chopped fresh parsley
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper

In a large pot over high heat, combine the chicken, water, onion and barley. Bring to a boil, reduce heat to low and simmer for 1 hour. Remove chicken, discard the bones and skin, chop meat into bite size pieces and return to the pot.

Add the chicken broth, leeks, celery, thyme, parsley, salt and ground black pepper. Simmer for 30 more minutes, or until all vegetables are tender.

Ghillie Dhu—Scottish Forest Faeries

By Dawn Marie Hamilton

I previously posted this at Castles & Guns, but thought it worth posting here too.

The Ghillie Dhu or Ghillie Dubh are solitary faeries believed to reside within Scottish forests, especially near Gairloch in Ross-shire, though one account claims many emigrated to forests in Northern America after following Scottish fur trappers to French Canada in the late 1700's.

Imagine a wee man of about three feet tall, dressed in garments made from leaves and moss, with hair black as a moonless night and eyes the deepest brown of a hazel nut. 'Tis said his skin color changes from green to brown to green with the seasons. He lives in trees, preferring birch, and protects the woodland. He seems to be kind to children, with a nature both wild and shy. In Wonder Tales from Scottish Myth and Legend Donald Alexander Mackenzie tells the tale of young Jessie Macrae who upon getting lost in the forest is directed home by a Ghillie Dhu.

Some accounts claim him to be a harmless sprite, while others recount a darker side. His name means dark servant to match his dark hair and dark eyes and darker temperament. Be wary of venturing into the forest at night when the Ghillie Dhu are known to be most active, for if offended by an adult human the wee man will reach out with thin, long arms and crush him in his angry embrace, leaving the human to rot into earthy compost. Alternatively, a Ghillie Dhu might kidnap the human and drag him into faerieland to be enslaved.

An excellent depiction of a Ghille Dhu illustrated by Brian Froud can be found in the wonderful book, Faeries.

Are you afraid to walk in the forest alone at night?

Other Scottish Fae Creatures:
The Brùnaidh—Scottish Brownie

A Visit to My Happy Place- Glenfinnan, Scotland

By Alexa Bourne

Most people have a "happy place", a place they can go to when the harsh realities of life become too difficult to bear. Some have a physical place they can visit and some can only travel there in their minds. Today I'd like to take you on a virtual tour of my happy place, Glenfinnan, Scotland.

Glenfinnan is a small village in the Highlands of Scotland. The population averages around 120 people at any one time. The village is about 17 miles from Fort William and it's a stop along the Road to the Isles, or the trip toward Mallaig on the west coast. The village has a rich history and is absolutely gorgeous. It sits on the edge of Loch Shiel. I first heard of this place as the birthplace of one of my favorite movie characters, Connor MacLeod of the 1986 movie Highlander. It has also been used in scenes of Harry Potter movies.

I first explored this place for myself in 1997 while on a 3-day tour of the Scottish Highlands that started in Edinburgh. We only spent a few hours in Glenfinnan, but it was enough for the peacefulness and the beauty to find its way into my heart.The next time I visited, my mom and I spent an overnight there. We stayed at the Prince's House. It is a quaint little B & B where the staff treated you as if you were a friend coming back from a long trip away. I remember we sat in the restaurant/bar room for dinner and the owner talked one of her other guests into pulling out his fiddle and playing some music for us. It was an amazing experience. I remember walking outside the hotel at 11 pm to take a picture because it was still quite light out, an experience I hadn't had before.

My next trip to Glenfinnan was on my own. I stayed in a different hotel, the Glenfinnan House Hotel, closer to the loch. It was quite a bit bigger than my 1st hotel, but the staff was just as friendly. I chose to stay 2 nights this time so I could explore a bit more of the grounds while I was there. I sat in the lobby next to the crackling fire and wrote. I moved into the bar for afternoon tea and sat by the window to look out over the front yard and the loch. I ate an exquisite dinner in the dining room that even now leaves my mouth watering as I think about it, and then I went back to the bar to listen to local music and stories.

Even though I haven't been back in five years, I still think of Glenfinnan often. When my own life gets too out of control, I just shut my eyes, take a deep breath and remember how I felt when I stayed there. Over my next few blog posts here, I will be taking you further into the depths of my "happy place" to show you why I love it so much. We'll explore the hotels, the monument and the church. I'm looking forward to bringing you more information in the coming months. Maybe, just maybe I can convince some of you to visit next time you're in Scotland!

Painted Sheep of Ireland and Scotland

By TL Sumner
Last month, one of my favorite Scottish blogs, Scotland Here and Now, had a post about painted sheep. You read that right. Sheep, painted colors. Like orange and red and even tartan. For those animal rights activists among us, no need call PETA. They use a sheep spray which is perfectly safe for the wooly flock.


After the initial shock of seeing the striking photo of an orange sheep, I learned that sheep breeders in Ireland and Scotland paint their sheep to identify them. That way if one of theirs ends up with another breeder’s flock, it can be returned to, or claimed by their rightful owner. A “dye job” can also make them more presentable for show or sale.

Painting sheep can also be a form of art. When Andrew Jack painted his flock blue to commemorate St. Andrews Day, it caused quite a stir for motorists driving by the field where they graze on the pyramids in Bathgate.

Jack told BBC News, "It is a bit of fun and it does brighten things up." He’s painted the flock purple to raise awareness for Erskine, a charity that supports ex-service men and women in Scotland, and earlier this month, they were painted green for St. Patrick’s Day. The field, situated beside the M8, is one of the busiest motorways in Scotland and the flock is now affectionately known as the M8 Pyramid Sheep. They even have their own Facebook page.

Another farmer claimed that painting her flock with tiger stripes deterred a wild cat in the area from stalking and attacking her sheep. Unfortunately, I couldn't find a photo of that, but I did find, drumroll please... a short video of tartan sheep at a farm in East Lothian.

Have you seen any painted sheep in your travels to the UK? What were your initial reactions when you saw them?
Flickr Photo Credits:

• Orange Sheep of Glen Quaich by P. Stubbs
  
• Red Sheep by Bathgate Wildlife
  
• Blue Sheep by frog n fries

The Monster of Glamis

By Paisley Kirkpatrick

“If you could even guess the nature of this castle’s secret,” said Claude Bowes-Lyon, 13th Earl of Strathmore, “you would get down on your knees and thank God it was not yours.”

Between 1840 and 1905, the Earl’s ancestral seat at Glamis Castle, in the Scottish lowlands, was surrounded by a “mystery of mysteries”— a bewildering puzzle involving a hidden room, a secret passage, solemn initiations, scandal, and shadowy figures glimpsed by night on castle battlements. The mystery persisted through two generations, becoming lost soon after 1900.

One version of the story is that the 13th Earl’s heir flatly refused to have the secret revealed to him because it was so dreadful. The mystery of Glamis is kept alive not only by its association with royalty (the heir was grandfather to Elizabeth II), but also by the fact that some members of the Bowes-Lyon family insisted it was real.

The present castle was constructed in the 15th century, around a central tower whose walls are 16 feet thick in places. Glamis has been the family seat of the Strathmore Earls since then, but by the late 18th century it has been more or less empty because its owners prefer living somewhere which is less drafty, less isolated and less melancholy. If Glamis really does have a secret chamber, its location still remains a mystery.

The first reports of Glamis’ unknown prisoner appeared sometime in the 1840s. According to a correspondent to the journal Notes & Queries, writing in 1908, "The story was, and is, that in the Castle of Glamis is a secret chamber. In this chamber is confined a monster, who is the rightful heir to the title and property, but who is so unpresentable that it is necessary to keep him out of sight and out of possession."

Just who this indescribable prisoner might be was the subject of considerable speculation. It was generally believed he must have been a member of the Bowes-Lyon family, and commonly suggested that he was the first-born of the 11th Earl, or the heir of that Earl’s son, Lord Glamis. It was frequently reported that a child had been born horribly deformed—whole in mind, perhaps, but so hideously twisted in body that he could never be allowed to inherit the title.

There are tales of strange shadows seen on battlements in a part of the castle known as “the Mad Earl’s Walk.” A story dating to about 1865 says that a workman at the castle unexpectedly came upon a door that opened into a long passage. Venturing in, the man saw “something” at the far end of the corridor, and—on reporting the circumstances to the clerk of works—was pressingly encouraged to immigrate to Australia, his passage paid by an anxious Earl. Other 19th-century accounts referred to the Monster as “a human toad.”

The only detailed description emerged early in the 1960s, when the writer James Wentworth-Day spent time at Glamis while writing a history of the Bowes-Lyon family. From the then-Earl and his relatives, Wentworth-Day heard the legend that “a monster was born into the family. He was the heir—a creature fearful to behold. It was impossible to allow this deformed caricature of humanity to be seen—even by their friends.… His chest was an enormous barrel, hairy as a doormat, his head ran straight into his shoulders and his arms and legs were toy-like.”

Many members of the Bowes-Lyon family took the mystery very seriously. The last word goes to Rose, Lady Granville, another of Wentworth-Day’s informants and aunt to Elizabeth II. She had been born in the castle, and, asked what she knew of the story, she “looked serious, was silent for a moment, and then said: ‘We were never allowed to talk about it when we were children. Our parents forbade us ever to discuss the matter or ask any questions about it. My father and grandfather refused absolutely to discuss it.’”

The Legend of the Vanishing Wedding Feast

By Dawn Marie Hamilton



Photo by Jason Hemmings

Old Castle Lachlan might look like a ruin today, but if you step with me through a mist of fantasy you will see a bustling castle where...once upon a time, resided an angry brùnaidh.

"Ouch." Had someone pinched her?

The somber friar raised his gaze from his prayer book. "Is anything wrong, my lady?"

Heat flashed across Mairi's chest and neck. She glanced at the man standing at her side, the one she met a mere few hours ago.

Iain glared at the shingle at her feet. He probably believed the stones poked through her thin bridal slippers and caused the outburst. Though the shingle made the proceedings uncomfortable, that wasn't what made her screech. Something sharp jabbed her hip, but no one stood near enough to inflict such abuse.

"All is well." She smiled at Father Ambrose. "Please, continue."

Mairi's gaze drifted over the faces of those who'd gathered to witness the uniting of two clans in peace. Bah. Her marriage to the Chief of Clan MacLachlan would change nothing. Her grandfather's quest for more land proved insatiable.

Where was Caitrina? Mairi couldn't find her amidst the crowd. Had the fairy forsaken her? Never. Caitrina must have hidden within a glamour of invisibility.

The friar's voice droned on. Mairi fixed her stare on the water, the ceremony taking place on the shore of Loch Fyne. The MacLachlan chapel within the castle tower was unable to accommodate the throngs of Campbells who'd come to witness the spectacle of her ruin.

She risked a sideways glance at Iain. His features remained inscrutable.

He'd dressed for the occasion in a crisp saffron leine and colorful plaide of red and blue. Two warrior braids hung to one side of his strong jaw and his chestnut hair glistened in the sunlight. When he leveled his stare on her, his sapphire eyes sparkled.

A shiver shimmied along her spine, and she couldn't suppress the prick of fear tangled with excitement for the bedding to come. How would she survive? A large man, he'd rip her asunder.

She moistened her lips. His eyes flared before he looked away.

"Join hands." Father Ambrose grasped her right hand and presented it to Iain who clasped her fingers with his left.

She gasped. A tingle spread gooseflesh up her arm. Iain's lips quirked into the first smile she'd seen from him since she'd arrived at Castle Lachlan.

The friar cleared his throat. "Is there any among the gathered with reason this couple should not wed?"

Mairi flinched when something pricked her arse. She looked over her shoulder, but no one was there. She raised her gaze to Iain.

His eyes sobered with concern and he fingered the ornamental dagger handle protruding from a sheath at his waist with his free hand.

"I pronounce thee man and wife."

Grumbling rose from the crowd, and Iain's expression turned fierce. No one dared step forward to denounce the union on fear of retribution.

 

With his palm cradling her back, Iain guided his new wife through the gathering of clansmen loitering within his council chamber toward the dais and head table. Silky strands of strawberry blond hair caressed his fingers. Lavender teased his senses. She seemed a wee, fragile lass, but after gazing into her silver eyes, he sensed her backbone. She'd need it to endure the challenging times ahead.

"He is a fool to wed a Campbell." The whisper came from amidst the crowd.

He felt Mairi flinch through the fabric of her silver gown, and he clamped his jaw tight. They could say what they wanted. He'd set his course. Marriage was the only way to ensure peace and prosperity.

Iain seated his wife to his right. He supposed he should say something to soothe her, but he wasn't adept with sweet words.

"Ignore the barbs. I am pleased with you, wife."

"And I with you, husband." Her eyes spoke volumes to the contrary, though her notion of duty would change when he convinced her to…

He couldn't hope for love, but would settle for trust.

"Quiet," he bellowed at the noisy crowd and inclined his head to the friar.

As Father Ambrose rose to say grace, the feast vanished from the tables in a fine, gray mist. Surprised and angry voices echoed through the chamber.

Iain slammed a fist on the table. Munn. The damn brùnaidh caused this havoc.

"Ach, my apologies. I shall ensure the situation remedied," Iain stammered as he clasped Mairi's hand and stood. "Please, come with me, my dear. We will see to the feast for our guests."

Wide eyes searched his face, but she rose without question and followed him to the vaults along with several servants. All was quiet. They found no trace of Munn or the stolen victuals.

Dropping Mairi's hand, Iain raised his arm in the air. "Where are you wee man? Where is my wedding feast? Show yourself or I will banish you to the darkest, coldest, cruelest corner of the Highlands."

Silence. Then a faint jingle of silver spoons tingled in the damp air.

Iain sighed. His ranting got them nowhere.

"Munn, return the feast. Dinnae disgrace the MacLachlan name or your own by forcing me to serve our Campbell guests naught but scraps."

"Ach, aye. The Campbells will enjoy the fine catch from our braw rivers and the bounty of our woods. 'Twill naught be long until the Campbells steal our fair lands as well," Munn muttered though he remained invisible.

"Please." Mairi stepped forward and sweetly implored.

Part of the feast was thrust into the hands of servants, the rest landed upon tables that appeared along with the food.

With a nod from Iain, the servants rushed to serve the dishes to the guests.

When he caught Mari's gaze, he expected to glimpse horror. Instead, she laughed. "I see we both have wielders of magic. And I think your Munn may have pinched me during the ceremony."

"What?"

"I have forgiven him. And I will explain about Caitrina after the feast."

Iain didn't care who Caitrina was. He wanted to kiss his persuasive wife. And that was what he did. When she melted into him, his heart leapt with joy.

 Copyright 2011-2012 Dawn Marie Hamilton

Although this legend ends happily for Mairi and Iain, Munn held hatred for the Campbells deep within his soul for generations.

To learn more about the brùnaidh—the Scottish brownie visit my post from last month.