Original subtitles

PAUL MURTON: The tangled, island-studded coast of Argyll

creates a labyrinth of lochs and islands

where travellers never seem far

from the legends and myths of the past.

Some of my earliest childhood memories

are of the lochs along this coast,

a place where the history of generations

is literally written into the landscape.

Scotland's lochs are a product of an element

we have in spectacular abundance - water.

With so much of the stuff about, it's hardly surprising

that there are tens of thousands of lochs in Scotland.

And they come in all shapes and sizes.

We've got long fjord-like sea lochs,

great freshwater lochs of the Central Highlands,

and innumerable lochans that stud the open moors.

In this series, I'm setting out

on a loch-hopping journey across Scotland,

meeting the people who live close to their shores,

and discovering how lochs have influenced an entire nation.

For this Grand Tour,

I'm following a route from the west coast,

travelling the length of Scotland's longest freshwater loch.

My journey takes me from a sacred place on the Atlantic coast,

heads north through a landscape littered with ancient monuments,

to the shores of Loch Awe.

Sailing among its mythical islands,

I discover a hollow mountain

and a witch who drowned an entire landscape.

This is Loch Sween,

an arm of the sea facing the mountainous Paps of Jura.

The word 'Sween' derives from an old Norse name

for a leader called Sven

who is said to have once ruled here.

And this beautiful stretch of white shell sand is Kilmory Bay,

a place I've known since childhood.

When I was a wee boy,

my parents would drive us down here for weekends by the sea.

And we'd camp on the sheep-cropped grass of the Machair.

We'd collect driftwood and build fires and cook whelks in a bucket.

Those were really great days.

Now, there is something about the idyllic beauty of this place

that seems to exude a magic all of it's own,

which was something that my mother put down

to the history of Kilmory

and its ancient chapel where the past is recorded in stone.

Built in the 1200s, it was used as a place of worship

until the Reformation of the 16th century.

Now, this is pretty much as I remember it when I was a wee boy.

We've got lines of beautifully carved grave slabs

leaning up against the chapel wall.

And, behind me,

we've got a very interesting early Christian cross-marked grave slab

which actually dates from the tenth, or perhaps even the ninth century,

which would make them older than the original chapel here.

But these later grave slabs, dating from the Middle Ages,

late Middle Ages, show the knights with their swords,

their great unsheathed swords.

And, on top of the slabs,

we've got a very significant and important symbol,

this is an image of the great Highland war galley, or 'birlinn',

which was very significant in this part of the world.

And over here is the MacMillan's Cross

which is, quite simply, a superb example of the stonemason's craft.

There's a sword on this side,

and, on the reverse side, we've got a fabulous hunting scene

with a deer being chased by hounds.

But, on this side, as you'd expect,

the crucified Christ on his cross and, by his side, his mother Mary,

after whom this chapel is dedicated.

It really is a superb piece of work.

Back in my kayak, I head up the loch.

The chapel of Kilmory symbolised spiritual power,

which went hand-in-hand with the earthly power

wielded by the mighty lord of Loch Sween,

who gave his name to an entire clan - Clan McSween.

And it was from this magnificent castle

that he ruled the surrounding lands.

Castle Sween, or Sven's Castle, guards the ancient lands of Knapdale,

and is thought to be the oldest surviving castle

on the Scottish coast.

In medieval Scotland, the area thrived,

but emigration and afforestation

have altered the culture and landscape.

But with change comes opportunity.

Today, Knapdale Forest has attracted some unusual new residents.

The incomers I'm talking about are European beaver.

And although they've only been resident for a few years,

they were once common throughout Scotland

and would have been familiar

to the men who sailed the Highland war galleys of old.

Beavers in Britain were hunted to extinction 400 years ago.

But now they're back,

thanks to a series of initiatives across Europe

to save the species from extinction.

This is the lovely Lilly Loch,

where I've come in hope of glimpsing beaver.

Guiding me is Ben Harrower, and his faithful spaniel Dottie.

If the beaver's on the loch or riverside,

usually, the first thing you'll see is a tree that's been cut

or partially cut, or a branch that's been snipped.

And other signs would include a dam or a lodge

as well, along the shoreline.

Paddling through a flooded landscape,

we come to the most telling signs of beaver on the loch.

That's the dam.

It's quite large, this one, probably, maybe, um, 15 meters.

So the beavers have dragged logs

and stopped the outlet of the wee lochan

and flooded it, so this is all flooded territory.

Yup. How long did it take them to build this dam?

They built it in...

Within six months, a lot of the structure was there,

but nine months in total to get this 15-meter stretch of dam built.

And are your beavers busy beavers?

Well, every night they'll be servicing this dam,

checking on it, and if there's a breach

they're usually quite quick in repairing it.

So, yeah, if they're living on this loch,

they generally keep this dam well maintained.

Despite all the evidence of beaver activity,

I'm disappointed not to have seen one.

However, remote cameras set up near the dam

might have recorded their activity.

If we're lucky, perhaps I'll get my beaver shot after all.

Together with Ben's colleague Gill Dowse,

we examine some potential beaver footage.

Oh, yay! Oh, is that the beaver?

Yes, yup, there's one there. Wow!

It looks like a giant guinea pig, I have to say. (LAUGHS) Yes!

They're about the size of a tubby spaniel,

they're a bit bigger than you think, really.

Is this a night-vision shot? Yes.

Is that why we're seeing it in black and white? That's right. What else have we got?

Oh, what's brilliant, you can see the tail there. Oh, wow! Look, there's its tail!

Yeah, so that's fantastic. A massive beaver's tail.

And swimming! And swimming off!

That's fantastic, that's great footage. I love that.

What else have we got? Is there two?

Well, no, there's just one.

It's quite difficult to tell 'cause it's night-vision here.

So you don't have face recognition cameras for beavers?

(LAUGHS) No, it's quite difficult to tell the animals apart,

certainly the male and female.

How long have you been involved in the project?

I'm incredibly lucky,

I've been working with the trial since 2009, when it started.

It's, yeah, fantastic.

It's the first mammal to be reintroduced back to the UK,

and it's 400 years since they've been extinct.

It's amazing. Very exciting.

Oh, what's this? Oh, wow, fantastic.

That's an otter! That's an otter, yeah.

So that's from here. An otter using the dam.

Yep. Amazing. That's great footage.

Oh, wow! Fantastic, that's daytime as well!

During the daytime! That's really nice footage.

A daylight shot of the beaver.

The teeth are really long on a beaver,

and they continue growing, they never stop growing.

And they're really, really dark orange

because they take in the tannin from the bark,

and that's what strengthens their teeth.

So it's not a nicotine stain? No, no, no.

And you can tell it's an adult 'cause the tail's quite wide. Uh-huh.

Knapdale, with its hills, lochs, and hollows,

makes ideal habitat for beaver engineers

and forms a network of waterways

that were exploited by human engineers

to supply a constant source of water for the famous Crinan Canal.

Completed in 1801, the canal provides a 14km short cut

from the Firth of Clyde to the Atlantic.

Where the canal reaches Loch Crinan in the west,

a small community quickly grew up.

Crinan is still a busy place,

and the boat yard is a hive of activity.

Among the modern craft is a relic from the past -

a vessel that once graced millions of television screens

as the good ship The Vital Spark,

a little steam ship, or 'puffer',

that plied the coastal trade

in the early years of the 20th century.

Now renamed Auld Reekie,

she was built in 1943

and is undergoing extensive restoration

by a group of enthusiasts.

I join Douglas Smith to lend a hand.

Now, Douglas, you've been working on this boat for quite a while.

When did you first get involved?

It was 10 years ago, 2008 we started.

Well, the idea, at first, was mooted amongst some of our friends.

Uh-huh.

Duncan MacGilvary, he's at home in Islay just now,

and him and a friend decided to buy this and do it up.

What was he thinking of?

I would like to know. (THEY LAUGH)

But these puffers, I suppose for a man like yourself from Islay,

would have a place in your memory and in your heart.

That's right, that's right.

As kids, we used to jump on the bikes and go up to Bruichladdich

and watch the puffers coming into the pier, mainly for the distilleries.

Uh-huh.

You go up there, and there might be four or five of them

sitting off the pier waiting to get in.

They hauled the barley in for the distilleries

and took the whisky out to the mainland.

So these were a vital part of island life at one time?

Yeah, yeah. And you're bringing this one back to life.

Yeah, it's been a big team effort.

Leaving Crinan, I head north passing through Kilmartin Glen,

which boasts one of the most archaeologically rich landscapes

in Britain.

For 10km, the route passes through a concentration

of over 350 ancient monuments,

including cairns, standing stones,

stone circles, and hill forts.

If that wasn't enough,

there is more prehistoric rock art to be found here

than anywhere else in Great Britain.

And hidden amongst the woods and up on the hills are hundreds of sites

where strange symbols have been cut into the stone.

Now, despite the best efforts of academics and archaeologists,

they remain ultimately mysterious.

Kilmartin Glen is one of the most prolific areas for rock art

in Great Britain.

To lead me into this lost word is archaeologist Aaron Watson.

It's very difficult to date carvings in a rock. Uh-huh.

But, by association with sites elsewhere,

and through excavation,

we have a pretty good sense

that they're between 4,000 and 5,000 years old.

Right, so about as old as the Pyramids?

Archaeologists have puzzled

over the meaning of these mysterious carved rings.

Aaron has his own interpretation.

This shape, this form is somehow fundamental

to the beliefs of these people.

Not far from here, in Kilmartin Glen,

there are built monuments which take the circular form.

And rather than us just looking at the surface of the rock

and seeing circles,

you can actually move into these monuments,

which create a circular boundary around you.

And they seem to be carefully positioned in the landscape,

so that when you look at the hills around,

they also seem to surround you.

Perhaps these people are seeing themselves

as being at the centre of the world.

Placing myself at the centre of things,

I take a photograph of the cup and ring marks,

and then head north making for my next destination -

the mighty Loch Awe.

Loch Awe is Scotland's longest freshwater loch.

From the south-west, it stretches north-east for over 40km.

Rarely more than 2km wide,

Loch Awe boasts ancient picturesque castles,

and wooded mythological islands.

The loch is also on the route taken by the drovers of old.

Here at Portsonachan,

cattle were once taken across the loch on their way to market.

Today, the descendants of those cattle have become Scottish icons.

Queenie Strickland is a modern cattle breeder

who well understands the heritage of her herd.

Queenie, we're surrounded by your cows here.

These are traditional highland cattle, are they?

Yes, they are.

Originally, they were black

but they have bred the black out,

well, not all of them, and it makes them red.

But you're a cattle breeder,

so you've breeding cattle for what particular purpose?

Er, as a hobby.

As a hobby? As a hobby, yes.

Um, it started off as a hobby,

and it's now got slightly more serious.

How many cattle have you got here, Queenie?

At the moment, about 100.

So 100's more than a hobby, it's moved on beyond that now, has it?

I suppose so, yes. (LAUGHS)

You can say that, I suppose.

So are you breeding to sell them on?

Yes, we sell the females, yes, um, for breeding,

and the ones that don't make it,

they end up, I'm afraid...

..as hamburgers.

You shouldn't say that sort of thing. (LAUGHS)

You're not going to be a hamburger, are you?

Queenie, in amongst these beautiful beasts,

they'll never be hamburgers.

Queenie is just as unsentimental and pragmatic

as the old cattle drovers would have been,

when beef formed the mainstay of the Highland economy.

To discover more about this lost way of life,

John Keay undertook an experiment in living history.

In the 1980s, he spent six weeks

walking a small herd of cattle from Skye to Crieff in Perthshire,

a distance of over 200 miles.

So when you were conducting this experiment,

was there anything in particular that you learned

about the art of cattle droving?

Yes, eh, it's very slow.

(THEY CHUCKLE)

Your rate of progress is probably about 1.5 miles an hour.

Um, but, I mean, the most attractive thing to me

was the importance of keeping their feet in good condition.

Their feet wear very rapidly on surfaces like this - loose.

In the old days, they actually used to shoe them.

You know, with a horse, you've got a round hoof,

and you put a horseshoe on it.

With cattle, they've got a cloven foot,

so they had to have two plates, two shoes on each foot.

Really?

I mean, I was really interested in the drove roads, originally,

and the first thing you discover is there are no drove roads in the Highlands,

there are only drove routes.

And even when the military roads were built,

drovers, for the most part, avoided them.

Did they really, why was that?

Partly because what you want the cattle to do

is to graze their way across the hill,

because that way they get plenty to eat and, uh,

remain in good condition, hopefully.

Did you enjoy the experience? Yes, I was...

I mean, by the end of it, I was absolutely exhausted.

I mean, we all were completely dead on our feet, but it was fun.

Leaving John and Queenie to round up the herd,

I return to the shores of the loch.

In Victorian times,

early tourists could enjoy the delights of Loch Awe

from the decks of pleasure steamers.

To recreate a sense of the cruising heyday,

I've joined Paddy Shaw,

who skippered the last commercial steamer on the loch,

and Roger Martin aboard his boat, the Bunnahabhain.

(STEAM WHISTLE BLARES)

Why 'Bunnahabhain'?

It's an Islay whisky,

and there is a bit of a tradition in Scotland

to name steam boats after whiskies.

Is there, indeed? Yes.

And how old is the Bunnahabhain?

The hull was built in 1999... Uh-huh.

..and the engine in 2002,

and the boiler about the same time.

So she's a pretty new boat. Yes.

But she looks much older.

She's based on an Edwardian design,

and so it's got the classic lines with the straight bow,

and the counter stir, and the nice curve to it

and the funnel leaning back.

She's a beautiful looking boat,

and all powered by this one little steam engine.

Indeed. Absolutely tiny, almost looks like a model to me.

Well, some people look upon it as model engineering. (LAUGHS)

It's a twin cylinder, high-pressure, double acting steam engine,

and it produces about 4 or 5 bhp.

Is that all?

That's all, and it takes the boat at 6, 6.5 miles an hour.

That's fantastic, isn't it? Who would have thought? Yeah.

Of course, the Bunnahabhain is equipped with a steam whistle.

And I can't restrain myself any longer.

Can I have a shot? Oh, please do, go on.

Is it hot? Eh, no, it's not too hot.

Half way up.

(STEAM WHISTLE BLARES)

Hear that lonesome whistle blow. (THEY CHUCKLE)

Paddy Shaw skippered the last commercial steamer on the loch,

the Lady Rowena,

taking tourists aboard for pleasure trips.

It must be quite difficult navigating the loch at night,

I would have thought, because there's no navigation aids,

as far as I can see, along the shore.

Well, that's right, that's right.

We used to take young people, especially,

to dances down in Dalavich,

right down at the other end of the loch.

And, um, it was alright till coming back.

And it was, sometimes, pitch dark. Uh-huh.

And also the crowd would be quite, sort of, good form, kind of thing.

And, uh, we had to, um...

And one of the problems, being no navigational aids,

I had to prime some of the householders in the area

to keep a light on here and there so I knew where I was.

The Bunnahabhain takes us, at a steady pace,

among the legendary islands in the loch.

This is Fraoch Eilean which, in myth, was once guarded by a dragon.

And a sense of mystery and imagination still hangs heavy

over the waters of the loch.

Here on the shore to the north,

the creatures of legend seem to have found a home.

This is St Conan's Kirk,

one of the most remarkable and eccentric churches in Scotland.

It looks as if it's come straight from the pages of a gothic romance.

This extraordinary church was built by local laird Walter Campbell,

who lived on one of the islands in the loch.

Walter wasn't trained as an architect,

which might explain why his creation is such a bizarre blend

of different ecclesiastical styles and periods.

There are Saxon doorways,

Gothic windows,

Romanesque arches,

Norman columns,

anything that took Walter's fancy was in.

And the result is quite wonderful, exuberant, and unrestrained.

Walter began work here in 1907,

but, tragically, he died before his dream project was completed,

leaving his sister to realise his vision.

And it wasn't until 1930

that the first church service took place here.

Walter never left St Conan's, not even in death,

because he was buried here.

And this is his effigy,

looking for all the world like a knight of old

who's fallen into a deep slumber at the end of some holy quest.

And what's he dreaming about?

Well, probably, this is his dream.

And you walk through it every time you enter St Conan's Kirk.

The dreaming spires of St Conan's Kirk,

and the myths and legends that inspired it

are a far cry from the architecture that dominates my next destination.

Just along the loch,

and beneath the shapely peak of Ben Cruachan,

is an entrance to an underworld.

But this is no gateway to a fabled land,

this is modernity.

Yet, even here in the heart of the hollow mountain,

there is something mythic about the scale of the engineering.

Now, David, we've come quite a long way to get here,

how deep are we into the mountain?

So we're 400 meters below the surface of Ben Cruachan,

and 1km in from Loch Awe.

Right, right.

And this is, if you're talking about cavernous,

this really is an enormous space that's been dug out of the mountain.

Yes. Now, is that the main generating hall we're looking at?

That's the main generating hall,

that contains four turbine-generator units,

or, in the case of Cruachan, motor generator units,

'cause the station is reversible

and can pump water in addition to generating electricity.

So, when these turbines are not generating,

they're pumping water back up to the dam?

Indeed so. the reservoir itself acts as a battery.

Then, when a peak demand comes along,

we can run that water back through the generators,

generate further power, and satisfy that peak demand.

But what I love about it

is the fact that it looks really, really high tech and futuristic.

I know it was built in the '60s,

but it's still got that sort of James Bond feel.

Yes.

But, despite that, it's just simply powered

by water falling through a pipe.

Exactly, very, very fundamental, but very reliable technology.

If the hollow mountain, full of generators,

is the heart of the Cruachan scheme,

then the high-level dam is the head.

And it's where I'm going next,

following a track which takes me high above Loch Awe.

The efforts of engineers to tame nature here,

by generating electricity from an artificial loch,

reminds me of an ancient legend

which tells of a local witch, a cailleach,

who lived on Ben Cruachan.

The cailleach had the task

of guarding a sacred well high up on the ben.

During the day, she'd roll away a stone

and let the water flow down the mountainside

and fill the rivers below.

And at night, she'd cover it over again,

at least, that's what she was meant to do.

But, one night, she forgot.

Exhausted, she slept for three days and three nights.

When she awoke, she discovered that the entire glen below had flooded,

forming a great loch.

This is the fabled origin of Loch Awe.

Now, if you think of the dam as the cailleach's well,

and the water that powers the generators as the flood,

then you've got a modern version of the old legend.

And, from up here, you've got a magnificent view

that makes sense of it all,

'cause down there we've got the dam, the cailleach's well,

while, in front of me, we've got the land that was flooded,

which today is the mighty and magnificent Loch Awe,

stretching all the way to the horizon

and the distant peaks of the Knapdale Hills,

making this the perfect place for me to end my Grand Tour.

Captions by Red Bee Media (c) SBS Australia 2019