All language subtitles for Grand_Tours_Of_Scotlands_Lochs_S01E06

PAUL MURTON: In the heart
of central Scotland lies an area
of exceptional beauty,

a place of quiet lochs,

mesmerising reflections,

and mysterious woods.

This is an enchanted land.

It's hard to believe out here,

but I'm just an hour's drive north
of Scotland's biggest bustling city,

and there's not a soul to be seen

in a stunningly-beautiful landscape

that's cast a romantic spell
over visitors for centuries.

Lochs are Scotland's gift
to the world.

It's reckoned that there are
more than 31,000 of them.

They come in all shapes and sizes -

long fjord-like sea lochs,

great freshwater lochs
of the Central Highlands,

and the innumerable lochans
that stud the open moors

or nestle beneath high summits
in dark mountain corries.

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

discovering how lochs have shaped
the character of the people

who live close to their shores.

For this grand tour,
I'm heading to a place

where water and lochs have
an almost magical quality.

My journey takes me
from a loch famous for being a lake,

to the romantic charm and beauty
of Loch Katrine

and Loch Achray in the Trossachs,

to finish on the summit
of God's own mountain in miniature,

Ben Venue.

This is the Lake of Menteith,

and is famously known
as the only lake in Scotland.

But how did this loch become known
as a lake?

Now, the story goes

that a 16th century Dutch map-maker
was enchanted and delighted

by this beautiful body of water,

but he didn't know its name.

And when he asked local people,

they thought he was referring to
the whole area round about,

which is known in the dialect
as the Laich of Menteith,

meaning a low place, a boggy place.

Now, the map-maker misheard

and thought they had just called
this loch a lake,

and the name has stuck ever since.

The lake covers
just 2.5 square kilometres

and has three islands -

the largest, Inchmahome,

is big enough to have supported
a 13th-century priory.

In spring and summer, a ferry
carries passengers to the island.

Ah-ha, are you the ferryman?
I am indeed.

Simon Lennox ferries me over.

He knows the lake
and its history well.

We're heading to Inchmahome,
is that right?
That's right, yeah.

So that's Inchmahome, 'inch',
obviously 'island',

so 'island of Malcolm'
or 'island of Comyn'

if you go further back
into the Gaelic on that.

So it's Malky's Isle, then?

Malky's Island, basically,

if you want to drop
into the vernacular on that one.

And who was Malky?

Malky... (LAUGHS)
..was a Christian missionary

..back in the Dark Ages who came out
to spread the word of Christianity.

And who would have been out there?
Would it have been monks out there?

It was canons out there.

People ask why is it a priory,
it's because it was run by a prior,

but also it was canons there
rather than monks,

and canons actually had
a pastoral duty.

So, rather than just being
completely secluded and isolated
on the island,

they went out to the community,
effectively,

and kind of spread the good word,

ministered to the locals,
all that kind of stuff.

Throughout history,

islands have been sought out
as refuges from the world,

places of peace and quiet
and contemplation.

An island in a loch is
even more special,

a form of double isolation
from the everyday.

For such a small island,

there's a lot of history
packed into Inchmahome,

and it's been visited by the great
and the good down the centuries.

Robert the Bruce, no less, visited,

and so too did many
of his Stuart descendants,

including Mary Queen of Scots.

And when she came here,
she was just a little princess

and only four years of age.

She and her mother,
the French queen Marie de Guise,
were hiding from an English army.

Henry VIII of England had wanted
to force a marriage

between Princess Mary
and his sickly son, Edward.

To achieve this union,
an English army invaded Scotland,

a bloody episode known to history
as the Rough Wooing.

Desperate to avoid capture,

the future Mary Queen of Scots spent
three weeks on Inchmahome

before she and her mother fled
to France.

It's amazing how quickly
legends can develop.

Mary Queen of Scots was
only on Inchmahome for - what? -
less than a month,

but she's supposed to have planted
this boxwood bower.

And when she wasn't busy gardening
or doing needlework,

or even learning languages,

she played at being Queen
with an imaginary court

attended by the four Marys -

Mary Beaton, Mary Seton,
Mary Carmichael and me,

as the old song goes.

It sounds to me that
Mary Queen of Scots might have been
a bit of a princess,

which is what she was.

It's highly unlikely

that even the gifted child Queen
planted the boxwood,

but I'm told it's very old,

old enough, indeed,
to have been around

when the future Queen of Scots hid
on this sequestered isle.

Heading west without mishap,
I reach the village of Aberfoyle,

which narrowly avoided being
rebranded as Scotland's fairyland.

Some welcome sign
that would have made!

The reason for
the rebranding proposal was to market
the area's fairy connections,

which begin and end
in the old graveyard

just outside the village at Kirkton.

By a strange twist
of serendipity, fate, or whatever,

the minister of Kirkton was a Kirk
in his own right,

being the Reverend Robert Kirk,

author of the celebrated book
A Secret Commonwealth Of Elves,
Fauns And Fairies,

which he completed
in the year of our Lord 1691.

And this grave marks the spot
where his body lies.

Or does it?

The Reverend was a local man,

steeped in the Gaelic
folklore of the area.

He claimed second sight

which gave him privileged access

to the invisible world
of the fairy folk.

To get to know them better,

he took to walking
on the wooded slopes of a hill

overlooking the village.

Called Doon Hill,
this is the gateway to fairyland.

In his Secret Commonwealth,

the Reverend Kirk wrote about
the spiritual beings,

the sidhe of Celtic folklore
that he'd encountered on the hill.

He explained how they lived unseen
amongst us

and how many human beings have
a spectral fairy double.

There's a bit of a fairy
in all of us, it seems.

But within a year of finishing
his book, Kirk was dead,

and his body,
or what appeared to be his body,

was found up here on Doon Hill.

But local people said
that it wasn't Kirk.

Instead, they said
it was his fairy double.

Kirk himself had been imprisoned
by the sidhe

whose trust he'd betrayed by
writing the book in the first place.

And some local people believe
that Kirk's soul is still here,

trapped beneath the roots
of this ancient tree,

the only pine in a forest of oaks,

which is really rather strange.

An air of enchantment hangs over
Doon Hill to this day,

amplified by the messages
and wishes pinned and hung on trees

and branches all around.

It's an echo
of an ancient Highland custom

that the Reverend Kirk
would have understood.

Rob Roy lived with other MacGregors
in the area around Loch Arklet.

From here,
he combined cattle raiding

with his support
for the Jacobite cause,

which was dedicated to restoring
the exiled Stuart monarchy

to the British throne.

But defeat in 1715 brought
government reprisals.

Troops burned houses
and drove off livestock.

Rob Roy fled,

and the army built a garrison
to crush future lawlessness.

Now that's what I call
a view and a half.

But it's one that's changed a lot
since the days of Rob Roy MacGregor.

Now, I've got an old map here
from about 1700

which shows Loch Arklet as it was
before it was dammed

and the land flooded
back in the 19th century.

It's about half the size
on this map as it is today.

Now, over there,

you can see some trees,
the tops of some fir trees,

now that is a place
called Corrie Arklet,

and it's where Rob Roy MacGregor
married Helen Campbell

before the place was burned
to the ground by government troops,

stationed here at A, the garrison.

Looking for evidence of those times,

I make my way to the site
of the garrison.

Unrecognisable today,

it's now a bed and breakfast
run by Kelly Bray and her husband.

Nice to meet you.
And you.

So, this is the garrison?

Yeah, welcome
to the Garrison of Inversnaid.

It doesn't look much
like a garrison to me.

It's been put to other use,
I think, since then.

It has indeed.

So, originally it was built
by the Duke of Montrose in 1718,

after the first
Jacobite rebellion of 1715.

This was a three-storey
barrack block in front of us here.

And then our barn
was a three-storey barrack block.

Our house is in the location
of what would have been

a two-storey guardhouse.

This was the original external wall.

There would have been
a bakehouse on the corner there

and another external wall there,

and a perimeter external wall,
as well.

We're standing in the middle
of the old parade ground,

and although the garrison is now
enjoying life as a smallholding,

there's still compelling
evidence as to its former usage.

So, just here, Paul,

this is where the guys,
when there were barracks here,

would sharpen their bayonets as
they walked through the door here.

That's amazing, isn't it?
And it's still here.

It's like a signature almost.

Yeah, a 300-year-old signature of
the guys that were stationed here.

Now the barracks
are converted to house

Kelly's extraordinary menagerie
of animals.

So, we have two
Highland heifer calves,

we have two pigs
and four piglets, they have now.

We have three ewes,
and two lambs off of one of them.

We have nine hens,
one cockerel, two geese.

And you know them all?
I know them all.

And what happens when you have
to send them off to market?

Um, my husband does that bit.

Does he?
Yeah, I'm a vegetarian.

I give them love
and the rearing that they need

to make sure they're good meat.

And then he takes
them off for market, yeah.

By the 19th century,

Glasgow's burgeoning population
was in desperate need

of a freshwater supply.

Hundreds of thousands of Glaswegians

depended on the polluted River Clyde,

and drew water from just 30 wells.

In 1832 and in 1848,

two major cholera outbreaks
killed thousands.

Spurred into action,

the Corporation of Glasgow
took control

of the city's failing water companies

and set about finding
a clean and healthy supply.

In 1856, work began

to bring the crystal clear waters
of Loch Katrine

to the heart of the industrial city.

Now, this was a monumental task

and the engineers at the time boasted

that nothing like it had been seen
since the days of ancient Rome.

To show me around this monument
to Victorian ingenuity and ambition,

I'm meeting up with Archie Stevenson,

who shows me where
Loch Katrine's water begins

its long journey to Glasgow.

It flows about 26 miles
from this point,

a drop of probably
about 10 inches every mile.

It just drops down gradually.

It's a great feat of engineering.
That's incredible.

Do you know what the flow is here?

At the start it was 40 million
gallons a day,

which was...
they thought would be enough.

But as it's developed, Glasgow takes
almost 90 million gallons a day.

Really?

Somebody's obviously
liking the water. (LAUGHS)

Loch Katrine lies
about 41km from Glasgow,

and the challenges to get
such huge volumes of water

to Scotland's largest city
were immense.

Over the course of three years,

80 tunnels, some
over two and a half kilometres long,

were dug through the hills.

And 22 bridges carry the water
high over river valleys.

Over 3,000 navvies were employed

to complete
this extraordinary undertaking.

You're talking about 1850s,

there wouldn't have been
any electric lights.
No.

They didn't have any mechanical
digging equipment, did they?

This is all hewn out by human muscle,
blood, sweat and tears.

Blood, sweat and tears,
and a real undertaking.

Now, tell me,
what's the water like here to taste?

It's probably the best
water in the world, so it is.

Biased, but by far the best.

The opening ceremony
of the Loch Katrine water supply

took place in 1859,

with Queen Victoria
as guest of honor.

Now, it was, of course,
a very wet day

when the great Queen arrived
with Prince Albert

and two of her daughters,

as reported by the Scotsman
of the time.

"The rain," it says,

"poured down in incessant torrents,
soaking everyone to the skin."

Fortunately, the Queen
was able to avail herself

of all the mod cons
of the modern world

in a purpose-built cottage nearby,

just in case she was caught short.

Royal Cottage, as it's now known,

was a very expensive umbrella
with royal loos attached.

Meanwhile, the Queen
turned a ceremonial handle,

opening the sluice gates
to allow Loch Katrine's water

to begin its slow progress
to Glasgow.

And in the pouring rain, a military
band played the National Anthem

and several cannons fired
a royal salute.

When the time came
for the Queen to leave,

she was transported across
the loch by a steamer,

a stylish and noble tradition
that continues to this day.

This is the steamship
Sir Walter Scott,

named after the famous author
who did so much

to popularise this part of Scotland
with his romantic novels and poems.

Up on the bridge,
I join the captain, Debbie Whyte.

Why were you so keen to become
a skipper of a steamship?

I don't know.

I really liked
being out on the boats.

It's so different, you know.

It's not like, you know, being
in an office or anything like that.

And it just...it was one
of the other skippers, actually,

who said to me,
"Why don't you go for it?"

And I kind of laughed at him.
And he was like, "What's so funny?"

And I went, "I've never really
thought about it."

So I just felt like a challenge.
Yeah?
Yeah.

I've been here for six years.

The surroundings are still amazing.
Mm-hm.

There is a lot
going on in your head though,

because you're always constantly
aware of what could go wrong,

or, you know, the weather,
and things like that.

So my head's very busy.
Uh-huh.

Yeah.
A lot to think about.

Yeah.
There's an awful lot to think about.

And this is a really historic
boat as well.

Yeah, 118 years old.
118 years old?

Yeah.
Do you know where she was built?

She was built in Dumbarton
by William Denny and Brothers.

Right.

Then she did her sea trials
to Arran and back.
Mm-hm.

Dismantled, put into sections,

took her up the River Leven,
across Loch Lomond to Inversnaid.

Then they got horse and carts
to drag her to Stronachlachar.

In bits?
In pieces, yeah.

Five sections.
Really?

Yeah, then they reassembled her
and launched her in October of 1899.

And she's been sailing
here ever since.

Can I possibly have a shot?
Aye, of course you can.

Really?
Yeah.

Oh, fantastic.

Being at the helm
of such a historic boat.

Debbie communicates with
the engine room

using the ship's telegraph,

which signals everything from
full steam ahead, dead slow, to stop.

Leaving her at the wheel,

I head off to find out what powers
this little ship.

Below deck, I squeeze in beside
the ship's engineer, Derek Dunn.

We're standing beside an
extraordinary piece of engineering.

What is this machine?

She is an 1899 Matthew and Paul
triple expansion steam engine

built in Dumbarton.

And she's never really
been touched very much.

She's almost original.

Mostly original?
Mostly original.

That's amazing, isn't it?

And this is steam that's propelling
us along? Hot water, boiling water.

Yes, I think she is the only steam
propelled passenger-carrying vessel

on fresh water in Scotland.

Well, I can tell from the way
you're talking about this engine,

you're quite passionate about steam.

Well, I was a ship's engineer,

and I started off life
on steamships.

And then coming here at the end
of my working career,

it's an absolute pleasure
to be on the vessel.

Yeah.
It really is.

I've been here about three
and a half years now,

and every day's an experience.

I suppose it's an honor
to be associated with this engine

and to give a couple of years
of my life just to maintain her

and make sure she continues to run.

And, hopefully, when I go, somebody
else will take on the mantle

and run her properly.

It's clear that Derek
is a man in love with engineering,

which is just as well, given the heat

and noise of the engine room.

But for me, it's time to take
some fresh air and a turn on deck,

where I admire the passing scenery

and reflect on the man
this little ship is named after,

Sir Walter Scott,
whose pen made the loch world-famous.

Now, views like these
inspired Sir Walter Scott

to write his epic poem,
The Lady Of The Lake.

And when it was published in 1810,
it caused a sensation,

selling over 25,000 copies
in just six months.

The lake of his poem
was Loch Katrine,

and the lady in question,
Ellen Douglas,

was caught in a web of love,
intrigue and murder.

The book triggered floods of visitors

to see for themselves
the scenes of the drama.

Scott believed that wild nature
was the guiding force of mankind,

not reason or logic.

Other famous romantics followed him,

including the poets
Wordsworth and Coleridge,

and painters like John Knox,

who transformed
the landscape they saw

into an idealised romantic world.

About 50 years later,
two like-minded friends

and a young bride
followed the romantic trail

right here to the heart
of the Trossachs.

They were the Pre-Raphaelite painter,
John Millais,

his friend, the great
Victorian art critic, John Ruskin,

and his young bride, Effie Gray.

Now, what happened when
they holidayed here together

at Brig o' Turk,

near the shores of the magical
and mysterious Loch Achray,

caused a scandal
and a flood of speculation.

Millais joined Ruskin
and his wife Effie on holiday

because he'd been commissioned
to paint Ruskin's portrait.

After a long search,

he found the perfect location
in Glen Finglas, above the village.

Now, my own quest
is to find the exact same spot,

which isn't easy
after all those years.

But to help me, I've got
this postcard of the portrait,

which must have been made
somewhere down here near the river.

OK, a bit slippery,
these rocks here, got to be careful.

But I think
this may well be Ruskin's stone,

the spot that Ruskin stood on

for has portrait painted by Millais.

He must have been
over there somewhere.

We've got the waterfall behind me.

We've got a waterfall
behind Ruskin here.

You can clearly see a rock,
looks like the head of a lizard,

very similar to that rock behind me.

Now, since then, obviously,
that tree has fallen in,

filling in the gap.

But I reckon this is the spot
where this portrait was made.

And the whole idea behind it

was to try and express something
that both Ruskin and Millais shared

about the nature of art,

and the kind of art
that Millais excelled at,

and that was painting
from nature in the open air.

But it did more than that,

because it helped end
Ruskin's marriage to Effie Gray.

Effie was young,
outgoing and playful,

unlike her socially-awkward husband
Ruskin,

who was 10 years her senior.

He'd met Effie
when she was just nine,

and had courted her for many years.

Seeing off younger rivals,

he'd narrowly avoided a duel
because of her.

But their marriage was a disaster,

and Effie fell in love
with the charismatic Millais

here among the hills
and lochs of the Trossachs.

She eventually asked for an annulment

on the grounds that her union with
Ruskin had never been consummated.

The hearing that followed led
to salacious gossip and rumour,

which Ruskin did nothing
to contradict.

It was even suggested

that Ruskin had never seen
a naked woman before in the flesh

and was shocked to discover
that the female body

was not like the smooth
and unblemished forms that,

as an art critic, he was used to.

Odd for a man who believed
in the moral power of raw nature.

I just wonder what Ruskin
was thinking about

when he posed for his portrait.

Did he know that Effie
and Millais were already in love?

Whatever the truth behind this love
triangle, Effie, at least,

seems to have found happiness,

because she went on to have
eight children with Millais.

Ruskin, on the other hand,
never married again.

Ben Venue is a Highland mountain
in miniature,

rising in rugged grandeur
above Loch Achray and Loch Katrine.

Early guidebooks to the area
waxed lyrical about Ben Venue,

and quoted Scott's Lady Of The Lake
to make the point.

"Crags and knolls and mounds
confusedly hurled

"the fragments of an earlier world."

Because of Scott's famous poem,

Ben Venue became one of the earliest
and most popular peaks

to be climbed for pleasure
in Scotland.

Since then, clothing and footwear
might have changed a good deal,

but the mountain in miniature
hasn't got any lower,

and it's still a stiff climb
to reach the summit

where countless thousands
have stood before.

Oh, here we are at last.

At last, at last.

The summit of Ben Venue.

Just kiss the cairn, as you do.

Now, this might not be
a particularly mighty peak,

but the views live up
to all the expectations of Scott

and the romantic artists
that came after him.

Down there is Loch Arklet,

and behind me is Loch Katrine,

and down there is Loch Achray,

which makes this the perfect place

for me to end my grand tour
from lake to loch.

Captions by Red Bee Media
(c) SBS Australia 2019