Well, I _was_ going to kick off my trip to the UK with a sprightly essay entitled “A Brief Disquisition on the Existence of Butt-Cooties.” Had it mostly done; meant to post it just before we left, then follow on with a general blog about our doings in England, Scotland, and the Isle of Man. Unfortunately, I left it in my other computer. (No, really; I brought my new MacBook on the trip, and forgot to transfer the essay out of my PC, where it’s still sitting.) So I guess I’ll use that as a closing flourish, instead.
We arrived in Scotland today! (Spent two days in New York first, to break the journey–poor Doug is 6’3 or 4, and Suffers Terribly on long flights, as he can’t sleep on airplanes.) Then landed in England, which was quick, but fun. We had dinner with friends, had another dinner with the new UK publishing people–Orion is now my UK publisher, and a lovely lot they all are, too–went to the Museum of London (amazing place! It’s address is One London Wall; it’s built on what’s left of the city wall), the National Portrait Gallery (just as amazing, in a different way. So cool to see the faces of history, especially all the Tudors and Stuarts and their cohorts), and…well, ate. As my husband remarked in tones of amazement last night, “We’ve been in England for 48 hours, and we haven’t eaten anything awful yet!” The wonders of globalization. [g] (Had a wonderful time sitting in pubs drinking red wine and listening to the conversations, too. More globalization, I suppose–or the influence of television; while the people _all_ had accents–and not all English accents, either–we could understand them easily, whereas on previous visits it often took several repetitions of an exchange for both parties to understand what was being said. This time, they understood _us_, too.)
Anyway, got up Way Early and dragged our bags to the Tube station at Pimlico (lovely cool day; cold enough to see your breath, but a sweatshirt was enough to keep warm), and went to Victoria, where we caught the Gatwick Express, arriving in enough time to hunt food–had wonderful sandwiches for breakfast at the airport (the UK in general has _great_ sandwiches; they’ll put _anything_ between two slices of bread (usually very fresh and good), and it’s usually extremely tasty, though I drew the line at sweet-corn with bacon and Branston pickle): I had tuna, salad, and red onion, and Doug had egg, cress, and mayo, both on “malted granary bread” (aka multi-grain; delicious)).
Flew to Edinburgh, and got our rental car–a brand-new Audi A3 (whose right windshield wiper stopped working about three miles out of the lot; luckily, it didn’t rain much), then drove north. After the hair-raisingness of negotiating the Edinburgh round-abouts on the left-side, Doug got comfortable again, and we could enjoy the ride, heading up through the rising lands of the Highlands, into big, rolling mountains still covered with snow on the heights, the un-treed slopes covered with a thick coat of dusty heather with the purple ghost of its summer glory lingering, and thick growths of gorse sprouting out of the rocks, so dark a green as to look black, covered with yellow flowers even brighter than the scads of daffodils growing on the roadside verges. Big, puffy clouds and small intermittent showers, but overall, a brilliant, beautiful day.
We stopped in Pitlochry, ostensibly to look for lunch. I had a secret agenda, though, which I hadn’t mentioned, because I knew Doug was worried about reaching Inverness in good time to find our hotel and change for the evening reception at Culloden. I’d discovered, in the process of recent research, that Pitlochry has a hydroelectric dam, built in the 50′s, and along with it, has a visitor’s centre that recounts the development and history of hydroelectric power in the Highlands–that, and a fish chamber [g], where one can watch migrating salmon and trout making their way up a fish-ladder past the dam.
By good fortune [cough], we happened to see the sign for “Dam and Fish-ladder,” and I (in my position as navigator) pointed and said, “Oh, let’s stop there!” “Why do you want to see a fish-ladder?” Doug asked, pulling into the lot. “I don’t,” I replied, leaping out and heading for the dam. “I want to see a hydroelectric plant!” (No, I told him why, but I’m not telling you, sorry. It’s to do with the next book, that’s all.)
No fish were migrating, alas, but the visitors centre was fascinating, the stream (full of middle-aged and elderly men in waders with fly-rods) was rushing and glorious, spring plants were greening up all over, the trees were full of birds about their courting, and there was a delightful small stone inn/restaurant called Port-na-Craig below the car-park, where we stopped into the Fisherman’s Bar (so-called for the dozens of ancient fishing-rods hung from the ceiling) and had absolutely decadent burgers–tender, juicy Scottish beef, overlaid with bacon (of the British kind–soft and streaky, not the crispy American sort) and thick with melted cheese–a tangy sort of local white cheddar. You couldn’t pick them up to eat; they were so juicy, the bun fell apart, so we had to eat them with a fork (“We havena got tomahto _sauce_,” the nice waitress explained (‘tomato sauce” being Scottish for “ketchup”), ‘But we’ve got a bit of tomahto salsa, if ye’d like that?” (We did. [g]) Homemade chips with white vinegar, a little salad on the side….and we went back to the car and nearly fell asleep on the next part of the journey, from sheer satiation.
Didn’t go off the road, though, and made it to the Culloden House Hotel without incident. This place is a marvel; a very old, very large, stone-built country house, renovated and restored into a four-star hotel. Victorian wallpapering and furniture, luscious thick carpeting, windows with ancient wooden shutters to keep the morning light out, and a first-class dining room, equipped with Royal Worcester china, etched crystal goblets, heavy silver–and a menu to die for. I had the tournedos of Scottish fillet of beef, with wild-mushroom risotto, and Doug had a pork cutlet topped with pickled red onion, and a creamed sweetcorn soup with crawfish tails and chili oil (don’t laugh; it was great [g]).
You might be more interested in the fact that during the final days before the Battle of Culloden, Jacobite troops rested on the grounds here–and Jacobite officers stayed in the house (the original house; the present house was built on the same site in 1780). Also because it was in one of the attic rooms of Culloden House that Jamie had his final, fatal confrontation with his uncle Dougal (of which we may possibly hear more, anon).
You’ll be thinking that we don’t do anything while traveling but eat, by this time. But no–our actual reason for being here today was a reception this evening at the new Culloden Battlefield Memorial Visitors Centre, to which we’d been invited by the National Trust for Scotland, they generously regarding us as donors to the project.
The new Visitors Centre is wonderful from the outside–very modern, with long, low, clean lines, so that it seems to fit into the landscape, rather than stick up out of it. The outside landscaping is still in progress, but they’ve begun to lay the stones for the Culloden Walk Project. I’ll include a link here, in case any of you might be interested in contributing to the project yourselves.
I’d contributed a “chieftain stone” saying “Urram do na mairbh” (To the honor of the dead.”)–and my thanks to Catherine-Ann McPhee (noted Gaelic singer and teacher) for the proper Gaelic! The Ladies of Lallybroch had very generously donated a stone to the project as well, in my honor. [modestly pleased cough] Anyway, the walk is a long way from finished, but even the beginnings of it are very impressive indeed–flat, dark stones, covered with names, leading up to the entrance.
I won’t go into exhaustive detail about the evening or the exhibition, save to say that the evening was delightful (met all kinds of lovely people), and the design and execution of the exhibition is amazing–both striking and thoughtful. I _do_ want to tell you about what they call the “battle immersion” zone, though. This is a section where you walk through a dimly lit hallway, accompanying the Jacobite troops on the failed night march to attack the Government troops (you may not know about that, because Jamie didn’t take part–he was busy getting Claire safely to the stones); you hear the noises of the Government encampment to your left, and to your right, the shuffling and muttering and jangling of the exhausted, starving Jacobites as they go.
As you come to the end of this hallway, you turn into a small theatre–but it’s not the usual kind, with seats. It’s a completely empty room, with screens lining the walls on all four sides. You stand in the middle of this, turning constantly round as the battle begins, is fought, and ends….around you. It was fascinating to see the Jacobite troops lining up, sidling uneasily to and fro, getting into their formation–both very real, and very eerie, knowing what was coming. Empty horizon on the other side of the room, the wind stirring the moor grasses–and then the Government troops are there, coming up out of the distance. And coming. And coming. Rank upon rank, Brown Bess muskets on their shoulders. And the cannon rolling into position.
I was looking back at the Jacobite line when the firing began. Two Jacobite artillery pieces fired; a moment’s pause–and then English cannonballs struck two men in the front line, a few yards away from me. It was one of the most visceral experiences I’ve ever had. It went on from there in the same fashion; the terrible hesitation of the Jacobite line, before the order to charge finally came–the yelling mass of men, seeming to sweep right over us and carry us along–into the opposite screens, where the Government line stood firm….just waiting. You could smell the smoke of their volleys.
And then the wind again, over the quiet moor. And the dead.
How very interesting to be right there in the real place where it all happened. From the Book I thought I had come close enough, closer than I wanted to be really, to the carnage of the battle, but it sounds like your experience there echoes the real thing quite well. I’m glad that the Scots are honoring you so well; I bet you’ve done wonderful things for the Highland tourist industry! Keep eating well and have fun! –Debbie in San Diego
If you’re interested in Scottish hydroelectric plants, you might want to check out the Loch Awe area. There’s one _in_ Ben Cruachan, and they’ve got a really neat visitor’s center:
Thanks for taking us there with you, if only for a brief moment!
Sounds as if it would be a bit like going to the OKC memorial, but a more scenic journey there.
Have a safe and wonderful trip!
wow. i don’t know if i could handle that. i think i’d cry. i’m pretty sure some of my ancestors may have died there.
I’m dying to visit Scotland… I envy you! I have a legitimate reason too; living (and deceased!) family members urging us to visit! Darn.
That last immersion chamber reminds me of the holocaust museum in Washington D.C. because of what it does to your senses… I felt such a part of it that it was unbelievably draining on your sensibilities and emotions. You keep watching and looking but you really just feel terrible. Not that that stops you. Ha.
I was just reading Outlander today because I can read it and get through my 4 hour shift at work without noticing the time flying by (and since I’m rereading I can answer the phone like I’m supposed to, usually)!
And I am quite curious about butt-cooties now. Thanks. I’ll probably have a nightmare about it tonight and wake up confused.
I loved your description of the countryside in the Highlands. I’m amazed, as always at your ability to paint a picture with words. I’ve never been to Scotland, but I feel as though I can actually see it.
The visit to Culloden sounded very interesting. Particularly the “battle immersion” zone. What an experience, to be able to hear, see, and feel what it must have been like on that day.
I have been listening to the OUTLANDER audio CDs for about a year now. I listen to them in order (an hour or two every day, usually) and I happen to be on a “re-listen” of DRAGONFLY right now, getting very close to the farewell scenes. By some strange quirk of timing, it appears I will actually be listening to the farewell scenes today, on the actual anniversary of Culloden. I didn’t plan that, but what an incredible coincidence!
Thanks for your description of the new Visitor’s centre. It sounds really interesting. I’ve been there 1 yr after I started reading Outlander (in 1999), maybe it’s time to go again.
Hydroelectric plants?? for An Echo in the Bone?? Were there hydroelectric plants then?? (I know you probably can’t tell me, I don’t read new excerpts anyway.)
Diana, I just got chills up and down from reading this. I felt like I was there with you, experiencing that battle. I’ve just finished re-reading the series for probably the seventh or eighth time and each time is better than the last. I also convinced my just turned 21 year old daughter to read them while she was pregnant (I’m now a first time grandma of a beautiful little girl 5 months old), and that was an accomplishment as my daughter has never been much of a reader, unlike me. She is now impatiently awaiting the next book! And she says she is spoiled, as no other books come close to yours. Thank you so much for many, many, many hours of escape into another time and another world. Keep writing!
What an evocative description. It gave me chills.
I wish the new center had been built when we visited Culloden, back in…2000? Oh well — at least it’s gives me an excuse to go back. (g)
Diana: Ever since you told us you were going to Scotland, I’ve been frantically checking the blog every day to hear from you again! Once you told us, I visited the National Trust for Scotland online and took the virtual tour of the new visitor centre; and also happened upon the Culloden House Hotel’s website the other day too – very weird to check in this morning and find out that’s where you are staying! I just finished reading all 6 books for the second time (I was a late bloomer!) and will have to put them away for a bit now so as not to become totally obsessed. Enjoy the rest of your trip.
Being a Taurus (known for our obsession with food), it sounds like when I actually do get to go to Scotland, I’ll have no worries about eating well! Thanks for the cuisine enticements!
While doing the research for my novel about the Rising, I had placed myself on that battlefield for many months. I truly believe I was there … before. It’s too real for it not to be true. I remember having such vivid dreams after writing about the days preceding the final battle. The starvation of the men, and their sheer exhaustion due to the those in command not having a clue, or at the very least, not being of one mind to carry out the ill-fated plan.
I’m not sure I’d want to relive the experience, but I’m glad Scotland is making it real. It was, after all, a major turning point in their history, and many people don’t know about it.
Thanks for sharing.
My husband and I are visiting Scotland in June and Culloden Battlefield was already high on my list of places to but it’s great to get the info and perspective from you.
Your final words brought a few tears to my eyes. Thank you for sharing with us…. I want more than ever to go and pay homage at Culloden.
Diana, I must ask — how in the world is a disquisition brief? And what in hell are Butt-Cooties? Is this something of which I must be afraid? Please enlighten us. I would much rather learn about this from you than from what I could read off the Internet. I’m sure your brevity would be greatly entertaining!
PS: Nice to hear from you again. I’ve missed you.
Thank you for a remarkable, abeit brief, chance to experience something I’ve only heard in family stories until now. You made me feel as if I stood beside you, and could feel the Jacobites as they charged across the field, the volley of the canon fire and the cries of the dying until that last moment, when the sound must become a vacuum in its silence.
I had family that died there. I think today will be a day of sadness and tears for me but you know, I am very grateful that you have brought to the front, a time in history that seems to be one of the least ‘popular’ times for study.
My grandsire would have liked you and respected your ability to bring us all into that moment.
Thank you again.
Because of your wonderful books, I booked a trip through Scotland to see some of the places I had read about. We just returned from there yesterday, and had actually stopped in Pitlochry and walked up to the dam and fish ladder on Sunday. We were at Culloden on the 13th, and saw the new visitor’s centre, which was just beautiful and incredibly moving. And we drove up the through the highlands and saw the breathtaking views. You described it so well, of course, it was like being back there. Thank you for the books, and for the revisit!
Your description of the battle immersion made my heart pound and my breath still. Thank you so very much for bringing us along with you on your journey.
I have missed you on this blog. I had forgotten that it was close to the time when you would be departing to Scotland. Thank you so much for this blog entry. It is wonderful to “see” it through your eyes. Hopefully someday my family and I can see it in person. Do enjoy the rest of your visit… I imagine that you will. ; ) As soon as you mentioned about the hydro-electric plant… I figured it MUST have something to do with a future book. Take Care!!!
Vicki (aka Piper Mom)
Ohhhh….you got good taste, Lady!
I had the same entree at Culloden House…LOL..amazing food and wines!! Thanks for the info on this very special event.
Your forever fan,
Just wondering, in light of previous discussions, whether you were visited by any ghostly apparitions during your visit.
Such a good question, Bedelia! I know Diana has seen them when she was in the southwest somewhere. Have you seen Highlanders roaming the moors of Culloden, Diana?