All language subtitles for Grand_Tours_Of_Scotlands_Lochs_S01E02_1080p

PAUL MURTON:
The far north-west of Scotland

boasts some of the most spectacular
Lochs in the country.

And travellers,
be they holy men or warriors,

have sought sanctuary here
since the earliest times.

But then, in the 20th century,
when Europe was ravaged by war,

the sea lochs of the west coast
provided a sheltered anchorage

to convoys of ships
heading to the arctic.

I'm on a loch-hopping journey
across Scotland,

where it's been estimated
there are more than 31,000 lochs.

They come in all shapes and sizes,

many scoured out by glaciers
during the last Ice Age.

The great fresh water lochs
of the Central Highlands...

..the long fjord-like sea lochs
along our coast...

..and the innumerable lochans
that stud the open moors,

or nestle beneath high summits
in dark mountain corries.

All are both beautiful
and mysterious,

sustaining life
and firing our imagination.

Distinctively Scottish,

I want to explore just
how these lochs

have shaped a people
and defined a nation.

This leg of my journey starts
in breathtaking Wester Ross,

on the trail of fabled archers,

sunken wrecks,
and every politicians dream,

the money tree.

For this grand tour,
I'm travelling to three lochs

on Scotland's beautiful west coast.

The first is Loch Gairloch,

just a 20 mile hop
from the Isle of Skye.

After a stop-off
at a newly-created kingdom,

I journey inland to Loch Ewe

and the wondrous gardens
on its shore,

before seeking an ancient cure
for madness

at the mystical waters of Loch Maree.

Like many of the earliest travellers
who came here,

I arrive by sea.

In the Gaelic language,
Gairloch means 'the short loch'.

But when you're paddling
your own canoe

against a headwind and the tide,

it certainly doesn't feel that short.

Phew! Exhausted!

Not to be confused with Gare Loch
in Argyll,

Loch Gairloch is the name
of the loch, the village on its shore

and the scattered communities
round about.

I'm paddling to the natural harbour
that sits to the south -

Badachro.

Today, there are more pleasure boats
than fishing vessels here,

but in the days of old,
this was a thriving port

sending its catch far and wide,

a business they had
the Vatican to thank.

Traditionally,
the Roman Catholic Church

required and expected the devout
to abstain from meat on a Friday.

Now, fortunately, the clerics
never considered fish to be meat,

which is why Friday remains the most
popular day of the week

for a fish dish,
even for non-Catholics

and an agnostic like me.

Scottish fish, and in particular cod,
was in high demand,

and here, in Gairloch, it was caught,
salted and sent all over the world.

Ian McWhinney's grandfather was
one of those fishermen.

And today, Ian fishes the same waters
in a traditional wooden boat.

But much of what Ian catches
these days,

his Grandfather would have
thrown back.

What have we got here?

Now, that's a...
that's a nice lobster.

Where's this lobster going to end up?

Probably, it'll be in Spain,
this one.
In Spain.

I want to see for myself

how Gairloch's fishing folk
are surviving

in these more secular times,

and in the absence of the cod
that once swam in the loch.

Today, Ian depends on this -

a traditional Scottish creel,

designed to make any crustacean feel
right at home.

It's called a parlour pot. Kitchen.
Ah-ha.

Anything going here
has something to eat.

And then, there's this bit, here,
called the parlour.
Yeah.

A kind of But'n'Ben
of the creel world.
Yeah.

That's it.

In these temperate waters,
warmed by the Gulf stream,

lobsters can be found
at about 40m.

But to hit the jackpot,
Ian has to go even deeper.

Is that your langoustine?

That's a nice langoustine, there.
Great.
It'll bite you.

Lovely finger and thumb, just here.
Finger and thumb.

Hold that, and I'll show you
what I'm going to do with these.

Hello, little langoustine.

Has he come up from 100ft below me?
150ft, yep.

Yeah. That was a surprise, wasn't it,
Mr Langoustine?

It certainly was.

I'll pop him in here.

They're langoustines, or prawns,
or scampi -

they're all exactly the same thing.

The proper name is
Norwegian Lobsters.

It's just if you give them a fancy
French name like langoustines,

you can charge twice as much
for them, yeah?

Right.
So, on this boat we catch prawns
and sell langoustines, yeah?

But that's not all he catches.

And what is that?!
This is a Scorpion fish.

It's spines, there,
tipped with poison.

If you stand on them,
your whole leg will swell up

to twice it's normal size.

Very painful.

And definitely not edible.

The beauty of this
traditional type of fishing

is that it's selective
and sustainable.

Anything that's too small
gets thrown back.

Ah-ha.
He's still alive.

Each creel has to be hauled up
and baited with fresh fish.

Between 300 and 400 langoustines
would be a good day's catch for Ian.

Well, I think we're doing very well.

Look at him. He's a beauty!

And he's learned that it pays
to keep one eye on the weather,

and the other
on the football results.

For one week in the summer,
the price shot up because Spain won
the World Cup,

and so everyone was eating
shellfish.

So, who'd have thought
Spain winning the World Cup

would benefit a little fisherman,
away on the west coast of Scotland?

Shellfish fiesta time!
There you go.

The Germans win it,
they spend nothing on shellfish.

Oh, well, they eat sausages!
Oh, well, there you go.

Within 24 hours,
most of our catch will be

in the markets of Barcelona,
Beijing and beyond...

..still alive.

But some are destined
for a dinner table even closer.

This tiny island, on the edge
of the loch,

is where Ian and his family live.

When the tide is low,
it becomes part of Badachro harbour,

hence the name Dry Island.

And I am honoured
with a special greeting.

So, we've got a welcoming committee,
here.

This is Iona, my oldest daughter.
Hi, Iona.

And this is Isla, my youngest.
Hello, Isla.

And these islanders are making
their own bid for independence.

IONA: This is your passport for it.
A passport? Islonia.

It's a mixture of mine
and Isla's name.

And then, it's also got four letters
of our brother's name, Finlay.

Right, very appropriate. And look!

We've got a crab
and the Scottish flag.

The Kingdom of Islonia!

And who's the King?

What, your dad? (LAUGHS)
Yeah.

GIRLS: Yeah.
So, you're princesses,
is that right?

GIRLS: Yes.
Thank you very much.

I feel very honoured.

And what better way to celebrate
a declaration of independence

than with a royal seafood feast

prepared by Islonia's
young princesses

under the watchful gaze
of Queen Jess I.

Oh, look at that!
Beautifully presented.

And I don't think there's any way
I'm going to get through that huge
mountain of shellfish all by myself.

You going to come and join me?
I'm going to try one of them.

Mmm.

I couldn't eat another thing.

Leaving the good citizens of Islonia,

I get back on the loch.

I've heard about a small island
that figures large

in the folklore of Gairloch.

And I find it just a short distance
off its southern shore.

Here we are.

Fraoch Eilean, or Heather Island.

It looks peaceful enough now,
but back in the 1490s

it bore witness
to an amazing and deadly display

of marksmanship.

Back then,
Gairloch belonged to Clan Mackenzie,

who were engaged
in a long-running feud

with the MacLeods
from the nearby Isle of Skye.

Legend has it
that a MacLeod war galley

sailed into Gairloch
and anchored here, ready to attack.

They were spotted
by two brothers named Macrae,

allies of the Mackenzies, and famed
for their skill with bow and arrow.

The archers hid behind a rock ledge,
which you can just make out

on the mainland behind me,

and rained arrows down on the galley.

And when one of the MacLeod warriors
climbed the mast

to see where the firing
was coming from,

he was brought down
by a single arrow shot,

fired from a distance of over 500m,

which is an incredible thought,

and quite a feat.

To fully understand
what a spectacular shot that was...

Looks like an ideal spot
to set up my target.

..I'm conducting a little experiment.

To put the legend to the test,

I've set up a target close
to where the invading MacLeod

met his fate.

And now, I'm crossing the loch
to the exact place on the shore

where the Macrae arrow was fired.

Here we are,
beside the ledge of the arrows.

And here is an archer.

Andrew, pleasure to meet you.

I've enlisted the help
of Andrew Gray Muir,

who knows more than most
about archery.

Andrew, it's very nice to see
that you've dressed for the occasion.

Well, it's the formal dress
for the Royal Company of Archers.

The Royal Company of Archers.

So, if anyone can hit that island
out there, you should!

(BOTH LAUGH)

It would certainly be another feather
in his cap.

That's a good...well, 500m at least.

What do you reckon our chances are
of hitting that?

I think enormous.
(BOTH LAUGH)

Let's put that theory to the test,
then, shall we?
I think we should.

Whoa. Fire.

(PLOP!)
That was pathetic really, wasn't it?

(BOTH LAUGH)
It was miles short.

The distance
we're attempting is 500m -

the furthest anyone has shot an arrow
and hit a target.

Oh!

It seems an almost impossible
challenge.

Look at that! You hit a seagull!
I hope not. (LAUGHS)

Andrew's arrow falls 150 metres shy
of the island.

It makes that Macrae shot
all the more impressive.

What kind of bows
do you think they would have had?

They were yew bows.

Um, they would have been
much thicker and much longer.

They must have been very strong.
Just to pull the bow back?

Just to pull it back.

Bow design
and materials may have evolved

but the basic principle
remains the same.

Making this simple weapon
devastatingly effective,

but only in the right hands.

The thumb should be out of the way
from those three fingers.

I've got to let go,
otherwise I'll skin my fingers.
Yeah, yeah.

The real skill is in compensating
for wind speed

and judging trajectory.

Oh!

As in life,
it's all about aiming high.

It's going, it's going.

Take that Macleod!

150 metres? It's a long way short!
(BOTH LAUGH)

Back in the 1500s, this was the shot
of that archer's life.

The MacLeods fled, never to return...

..leaving the Mackenzies
to reign supreme in Gairloch.

It's amazing to think we're standing
on the exact same spot
where it all happened.

Where those two archers stood,
looking across at the island,
and seeing that MacLeod climbing up.

Yep.
Saying, "Well, we'll take him down."

It's just mind-blowingly difficult.

Or a fluke! (LAUGHS)

Or a fluke, indeed.
A legendary fluke.

Having run out of arrows,
I leave one sea loch

and travel inland
to the southern shore of another -

Loch Ewe.

My route passes through some very
wild and rugged country.

A reminder, perhaps,
that we're on the same latitude

as frozen Hudson Bay in Canada.

So, the last thing in the world
I would expect to find here

is this,

or this,

or even this.

On the edge of the loch lie 50 acres

of what I can only describe
as a subtropical paradise.

This is Inverewe -
the impossible garden!

You could be forgiven for thinking
that you've stepped into a rainforest

or a savanna.

There's Chilean rhubarb
and rhododendron from the Himalayas.

Exotic species of olearia
from New Zealand

grows beside Tasmanian eucalyptus.

It's an overwhelming feast
for the eyes

and the nose.

Inverewe was the brainchild

of an extraordinary, visionary
but contradictory character,

Osgood Mackenzie.

A direct descendent
of the great Mackenzie chiefs

who once dominated this part
of north-west Scotland,

Osgood lived to a great age.

And when he died in 1922,
he left these fabulous gardens

and a memoir,
A Hundred Years In The Highlands,

as his enduring legacy.

Osgood was an archetypal
Highland gentleman,

but he was actually born in France
in 1842.

When he was just a year old,

the family returned
to their Scottish estates,

which included land around Loch Ewe.

Here, Osgood grew up speaking Gaelic

and learning how to kill
wild animals.

(SHOTS FIRE, BIRDS CAW)

Shooting was a lifelong passion
for Osgood.

He was gifted a gun
for his ninth birthday,

and spent most of the next 70 years
blasting at anything that moved

from golden eagles to pine martens.

It seems his talent
for nurturing plant life

was equalled by his pleasure
in slaughtering wildlife.

In his memoir, Osgood writes,

"What a big pile it would make

"if all the black game I'd shot
between 1855 and 1900 were gathered

"into one big heap.

"Now, alas, there are none.

"And why? Who can tell?"

Really, Osgood?

It doesn't take
a huge leap of imagination

to work out the answer
to that question, now, does it?

Osgood the huntsman
may seem very different

to Osgood the gardener,

but Inverewe became an obsession.

He planted trees to provide shelter,

imported the finest soil

and added a special ingredient,
found here in plentiful supply...

..seaweed.

And it did the trick.

Osgood loved to boast
about how big his crinodendrons were.

By the time of his death in 1922,
he'd created an oasis of peace,

here, in the Scottish Highlands.

With a calm, zen-like feeling,

I head north towards the narrow mouth
of Loch Ewe.

Its natural deep water is sheltered
by the hills

that run down to the shore,

and it provides welcome respite
to shipping

passing across the stormy
Atlantic Ocean.

But there's a darker side
to this picture postcard place,

one of violence, death and heroism.

During the Second World War,

this tranquil sea loch would play
a vital part

in protecting merchant ships
from the menace of German U-boats.

These wartime ruins once housed
enormous guns

to protect the entrance to the loch,

which was also mined and closed by
an anti-submarine boom

stretched from headland to headland.

This amazing film, shot secretly
at the start of the war,

shows the extent
of the Loch Ewe defences.

The Nazis were determined
to stop arms and vital supplies

from reaching the Soviet ports
of Murmansk and Archangel.

Protected by a fleet of war ships,

the Arctic Convoys were crucial
to the Allied war effort.

They left from Liverpool, the Clyde

and here at Loch Ewe.

By 1941, the whole area had become
one vast militarised zone

with roadblocks
and documentation checks.

So that only authorised personnel
could gain access.

These derelict structures
are a tangible reminder

of the importance of Loch Ewe
to the Allied victory.

Making my way around the shore,

I find myself suddenly transported
back in time.

An RAF Spitfire buzzes above,

while a Soviet tanks blasts
into the distance.

Churchill rallies his troops

while the Luftwaffe prepare
for attack.

This bizarre version of the past

is all part of
a World War II festival,

a chance to celebrate victory
and remember the fallen.

For former seaman Geoff Shelton,
this all brings back vivid memories.

Geoff, you were the escort
for the merchant ships.
We were the escort, yes.

How old were you?
18.

Were you ever scared?
I was scared that first night.

A swordfish came in

and instead of landing on the ship,
it landed alongside it.

And it sank immediately,
taking the pilot with him.

And I watched this lad in the dingy.

"Help, help, help!"

And slowly, the hand came down
and the voice got weaker.

We picked him up within 15 minutes

and he was dead.

Frozen to death.

The convoy ships made 78 journeys

at a cost of 3,000 lives.

And the people of Loch Ewe have
never forgotten their sacrifice,

and in particular,
the loss of one of those ships.

It foundered here in Black Bay.

73 years after it went down,

the twisted wreckage of the lifeboats
from the William H Welch

is still strewn on the shoreline.

It was 4 o'clock in the morning
on 26 February 1944.

The American troopship
was battling mountainous seas

and violent winds.

Blinded by squalls
of heavy snow and hail,

the captain was desperately trying
to find the entrance to Loch Ewe,

and shelter from the storm.

There were over 70 men on board
that night

when she struck a rocky skerry
just to the north-west of me, here.

And then, as 50ft waves crashed
over the wheelhouse,

the ship broke in two
and men were thrown

into the tumultuous seas
and then dashed against the cliffs.

62 lives were lost that night.

Many tides have ebbed and flowed
since then.

But remarkably, after 73 years,

the battered wreck
of the William H Welch

still lies beneath these waters.

I've joined divers
John Carpenter and Kenny Munro,

and local boatman Roto Maciver.

You know where the wreck lies.
How do you know where she sank?

ROTO: Just through local knowledge.

We fish lobsters here a lot,
and you get rusty lobsters.
Rusty lobsters?

Aye, they all come out covered in
rust.

They've been under the metal plates.
Really?

From the wreck itself?
Yes, and the crabs. Aye.

So, that's how you knew
the wreck was here?

Yeah, yeah.
'Cause you were lifting rusty
lobsters?

Yeah, a-ha. Oh, yeah.
(BOTH LAUGH)

What kind of depth of water
is she lying in just now?

We're sitting in 12m to 13m
of water, so it's quite shallow.

Normally, they get pretty well
broken up, don't they, Kenny?
Aye.

A wreck at 12m, it would usually
smash to bits within 5-6 years.
A-ha.

So, this is where the bough section
actually sank.

So, we're going to dive on that,

have a look around
and see what we can see.

Because of the length of time
it took the ship to go down,

it's believed that most of the crew
managed to get clear of the wreckage

only to be claimed
by freezing temperatures,

or thrown onto the rocks.

That's why this site is not classed
as a war grave.

This is very much
for the experienced diver.

(GRUNTS)

So, I'm going to be snorkelling
on the surface

while the others plunge
to the depths of the loch.

Searching the seabed for fragments
of wreckage is hampered

by thick seaweed.

But John spots something...

..some twisted metal
hidden under the sand.

And then, a remarkable discovery.

73 years after she met her fate,

this is the William H Welch.

And amazingly, much of the bough
is intact.

So, what was it like inside?

(PANTS) Quite dark and eerie.
I can imagine. (LAUGHS)

It was a wee bit eerie
when you're inside.

Broken piece of the hull.

It was worthwhile getting cold for.

Very worthwhile.
Yeah, 'cause it's freezing.

It's hard to believe
how anyone could have survived this,

but astonishingly, 12 men did.

And they owed their lives
to the locals who ran to the rescue.

One of them was a 12-year-old boy,

who set off across the moorland
in a howling gale.

His name is John Murdo Mackenzie.

What was the scene that they were
confronted with? What did they see?

Just all the wreckage in the sea,
on the...on the shore.

And the oil, lifeboats.
A-ha.

All kinds of things.
Those two lifeboats are still there.

They're still there. There were
three lifeboats, actually, there.

That's all that's left of them now.

Were they used at all?
No, they were never used.

No, they never got that chance to
use them. They were washed off.

And people that lost their lives,
they were lying just at the...

A-ha.
Where the sea had left them.

The dead bodies had been washed in,
here?

Yeah, that's right.
And what assistance did
the local people manage to bring?

Blankets, and everything
they could lay their hands on.

Flasks of tea and candles,
some stuff to light a fire. (LAUGHS)

Really? What, to try
and keep them warm?

Yes. Yes, that was the main thing.
'Cause this was the middle of
winter.

We've got some photographs, here.
Are these some of the survivors?

Yes.
They look so young, don't they?

Yeah.
So, this is Russell Ross?

In 2005, Russell Ross returned
to the spot

where he very nearly died.

Was this the first time
he'd come back?
The first time, yes.

He was all those years,

and he'd never told his wife,
or his family

that he was in a shipwreck in the
Highlands until he came up here.

Really? It left such a scar?
Yeah.

And he said that a load came off
his shoulders.

Before we leave,
John Murdo pays his tribute

to the men this community
have never forgotten.

Leaving Loch Ewe,

I head to one of Scotland's
most intriguing destinations.

This is the mysterious
and sacred Loch Maree.

Its 28 square kilometres
contain more than 60 islands.

It's also home to, possibly,
one of the world's

best-known landmarks -
in name, anyway.

These are the famous Victoria Falls,

which, I have to say,
are just a wee bit disappointing,

for they hardly compare
with the great African falls

of the same name.

But at least Queen Victoria actually
came here and saw them.

And as for the views
of Loch Maree and the islands,

well, they're just breathtaking.

Not everyone came here
to enjoy the scenery.

These are sacred waters,

and many pilgrims travelled here
for Loch Maree's healing powers.

It's named after a seventh-century
Irish monk, Saint Maelrubha,

also known as Saint Maree,
who was remarkably successful

in converting the local people
to Christianity.

Historian Ceri Houlbrook has taken
a special interest

in the life
of the loch's patron saint,

and, in particular,
the little wooded island

known as Eilean Maree.

CERI HOULBROOK:
It's said to be the eye of the loch,

even though it's not technically
at the very centre.

It does feel like it is,

erm, and you can understand
why St Maree chose

to build his hermitage
on that island.

Special place.
It is a special place, definitely.

It's thought that St Maree's success
in converting so many

was due to his tolerance
toward certain pagan rituals,

including animal sacrifice
and other strange customs.

People have been buried here
for centuries and centuries.

Yeah.

On this island,
where he built his chapel

there's a remarkable example
of one such practice.

And this is the famous money tree?

This is the famous money tree.

So, what's the purpose
of leaving money here

and pushing coins into the bark?

Originally, it was seen as a cure
for, er, mental illnesses.

Er, so, what they called insanity.

The patient would be bound with rope
and placed in a rowing boat.
Mm-hm.

And then, they'd be rowed
around the island three times,

erm, dunked
into the loch three times, yes.

That's a brutal treatment.
Yes.

And there was, originally,
a holy well here.
Mm-hm.

At the base of the tree,

the patient would be made
to drink some water from it,

and then leave their offering
to the saint

by placing a coin on the tree,

or, tying a rag, a strip of clothing
to the tree itself.

What's the thought process
behind that?

It was believed
that whatever clothing you wore

contained what illness
you were suffering from.

Oh, I see. So, the patient's illness
would be transferred onto the tree.

Yes. Yeah, so that would leave
the person cured,

and the tree would take
the brunt of the disease.

(LAUGHS) It certainly has taken the
brunt of many diseases, hasn't it?
Yes.

Because this one has withered away
to nothing and it is just sticks now.

Yes, a lot of illness.

One of these coins
belongs to Queen Victoria,

who made the pilgrimage in 1877.

Though I don't imagine
that, here, in the shadow

of the mighty Slioch, she was tied up
and dunked in the sacred waters.

But to take the plunge
in this freezing loch,

you'd have to be mad.

Luckily, I know a cure for that.

Oh, it's lovely! (YELPS)

I can't think of a better way

to end my grand tour from Gairloch
to Slioch than here,

in glorious Loch Maree.

My next adventure takes me
to the wilds of Rannoch

and another chilly swim,
where I discover the power of water.

Captions by Red Bee Media
(c) SBS Australia 2019