HIghlands and Islands: Aigas Field Center and Magnus House

Sunday, June 3rd, was our NatHab group's last full day in Scotland. After breakfast Joan and I took a walk along the Coul House fairy trail.

We also braved the "scary" trail, and emerged into the back lawn.

Jonathan greeted a neighbor's pony.

Then our group was off to visit the Aigas Field Center,

where we paid a nighttime visit several days before to view the nocturnal pine marten. First, we were treated to a presentation by Sir John Lister-Kaye, which covered much of the natural and some political history of this part of Scotland. The "hills and heather" associated with the Highlands are a human creation, started by the cutting down of trees for shelter and fire. The grazing of sheep prevented anything from growing back, and the Highland Clearances pushed the human population to the coastline and beyond. The Victorian landlords deliberately kept their lands cleared of anything that would interfere with hunting the Big Three: red deer, grouse, and salmon. Sir John is dedicated to restoring the true nature of the Highlands as much as possible.

After the presentation we walked to the Scottish wild cat enclosure, making some friends along the way.

The wild cat quarters.

Scottish wild cats appear very similar to domesticated cats, with which they have hybridized. The Field Center is working on establishing a wild cat lineage by breeding only those animals with at least 80% wild genetics (how this is measured, I do not know).

Who are you?

 Being cats, sometimes they are alert,

 sometimes not.

Ahhhhh.

We walked back through the gardens, and Sir John gave us a tour of the Magnus House,

Side view, actually.

Front entrance.

which he had rescued and restored from a shambles on the verge of demolition. Over the decades he and his family have accomplished astonishing feat of renovation and refurbishing, but even so, he wasn't shy about pointing out the Victorian excesses and errors that had been inflicted on the building, such as a section of flat roof whose drains are blocked by ice every winter.

Inside, a map of the Center, whose grounds include the remains of Bronze and Iron Age habitation. (Click on the image to enlarge.)

Our group was treated to a heavenly buffet lunch -- Lady Lucy Lister-Kaye is a Cordon Bleu trained chef. Then it was time for a drive up Glen Cannich and to Mullardoch Dam, the biggest in Scotland.

On the way up the glen we saw plenty of brazen red deer,

Please, no pictures, I'm shedding my winter coat.

and  placid cows.

The Mullardoch dam holds back a large lake, but the water that spins nearby turbines to generate electricity passes through over 5 km of tunnel to exit into Loch Benevean.

Behind the dam.

Below the dam.

This scheme allows the dam creating Loch Benevean to be much smaller than otherwise.

Joan birdwatching, and me looking unsure.

On our way back down Glen Cannich we stopped next to a bridge for more bird watching; I found a colorful spider on the bridge itself.

Another highland coo (or Heilan coo), a group favorite, but especially for Nadia.

Suddenly another roadside surprise materialized with snacks and beverages and hand-painted mugs from the Magnus House. Nadia is holding her highland coo calendar.

Dinner that evening wasn't at the Coul House, but at a local pub, the Allangrange Arms. Jonathan dressed for the occasion.

On our arrival the barman inquired from where we had each come. When Joan and I said Ohio, he called out, "O-H!" Joan and I, surprised, yelled back, "I-O!" to complete The Ohio State University call and response. It turned out he had spent some time in Columbus! The food was superb, as usual ... Jonathan knows how to pick 'em.

There was time for one final expedition to a misty Loch Kinellan the next morning, before heading to the airport.

At the parking area there is a monument to the men of the Black Watch Regiment who died in the Korean War, erected by a local man who'd served in that war.

At the loch we were entertained by coots, and a tufted duck,

but most especially by a horned grebe and her chick. My images aren't the sharpest, but I think you'll catch on.

Don't go too far!

All aboard!

Very snug.

A final sight before reaching the Inverness airport was this monument to the Scottish drovers.

In earlier times the highland cattle were led to market on foot, a long march. On the return the drovers stuck together to deter bandits, who knew the drovers now bore cash, while the dogs dashed home ahead of their masters, living  notification of impending family reunions.

And then we flew home. The ten days since our arrival had been packed with activity, but Joan and I know there is still more to be experienced in the Highlands and Islands.

Highlands and Islands: Our Group Has a Very Busy Day

May 28th was another un-Scottish sunny day, and the bulk of it was spent exploring the Black Isle, which is a really a peninsula between the Cromarty Firth and Moray Firth, narrow intrusions of the North Sea. One speculation is that the name 'Black' came from the black hair of Danish Vikings who settled it.

Our group of ten, plus guides Jonathan and Louise and van driver Jim, set off for our first stop, a 13th Century church that's recently been restored, called Kirkmichael.

In the firth there were parked oil rigs, awaiting repairs or another job.

Part of the cemetery.

Headstones to investigate.

Some with a sense of humor.

Here's an encompassing view.

Jonathan's arm was in motion.

The white-sided addition in the above photo was a place for memorials.

From the church to Cromarty town was but a short drive. We disembarked at Ecoventures, donned lifejackets over one-piece blue suits, warm and waterproof, and trooped down to the dock.

Off we went! At first we headed up the firth, away from the sea.

Joan and I were sitting in the front.

There was no platform left on this rig,

but the seabirds loved it.

The boat changed course and we headed towards a buoy.

This was not a navigational buoy, but a war grave, the spot where the HMS Natal, an armored cruiser, blew up on Dec. 30, 1915, with the loss of over 400 lives. The likely cause was defective ammunition.

We zoomed out towards the entrance to the firth, encountering a swarm of gulls targeting a school of small fish.

On either side of the channel were blockhouses.

The other side ...

The blockhouses guarded Cromary Firth during both World Wars, and were anchor points for a double layer of anti-submarine netting. Now, as evidenced by the white-wash on the rocks, they are a favorite nesting spot for many bird varieties, from cormorants to razorbills.

We cruised south as far as these structures and caves, then turned back towards the firth to inspect the bird colonies more closely.

As we dawdled past the colonies the cry rang out, "Dolphins!" Our boat swung towards these marine mammals, and respectfully paced them as they swam seaward, hunting. This is the northernmost pod of bottlenose dolphins in the world, and one of only two in the UK.

They do love to jump.

Whee!

Back ashore our group had a first-class lunch at the Sutor Creek Cafe, conveniently next door to Ecoventures. I enjoyed the Cullen skink, a culinary initiation for me. "Skink" is a Scots word for a shin or knuckle of beef, and Cullen is a Scotish village. Jonathan, our leader, said its name was attached to fish soup recipe for those so poor they couldn't afford to throw in a knuckle of beef.

Post-lunch we visited Cromarty town, first with Jonathan and then a wee while on our  own. The Old Brewery has been converted into a multi-purpose building:

Jonathan gave us some background on a repurposed church.

But just around the corner was the fascinating East Church,

with roots back to medieval times. (Click on the image to enlarge.)

Jonathan took advantage of the pulpit, designed to reflect the sermon into every crevice, for his talk.

The upstairs pews.

View from same.

Plaques and memorials hovered in various spots.

At this point we were free to wander. Some of our group opted for ice cream, but Joan and I revisited the East Church cemetery and then wandered down the street. The sign for the "big alley" -- Big Vennel -- featured a crest with three boars, which we considered auspicious.

Andrew Carnegie, the 19th Century Scottish-American steel magnate and philantropist, endowed Cromarty with the Hugh Miller Institute. Miller, born in Cromarty, was a self-taught 19th Century geologist, who tragically took his own life.

Our group reassembled, piled into the van, and set off back to the Coul House Hotel for dinner.


But the day was not yet over. After dinner those who were interested could participate in a trip to the Aigas Field Center, with hopes of seeing a pine marten or badger from an observation blind, also called a hide. Of course Joan and I boarded the van. She had briefly seen an American marten in Canada once, and I had never seen any variety.

A brief walk from the field center took us to the blind, where Jonathan deployed treats to lure a local pine marten, known as One-Spot, into view. 

We were advised to disarm shutter and all other camera noises and waited as the long, languid dusk at 57° N latitude deepened.

The stage was bathed in light of a color that wouldn't distract the wildlife. Now we, the audience, would struggle to stay awake waiting for the curtain to rise.

Time passed, at least two hours. Then One-Spot showed up, at 1o:24 by Jonathan's watch. She was there for a few moments but skittered away when sounds echoed up from the road.

Fortunately further patience was rewarded. One-Spot returned for more peanuts and honey.

We saw our first red deer, a small herd away up the hill. This was exciting at the time, but soon it would be commonplace. Badgers? They preferred to remain invisible.

After the drive back to Coul House Joan and I had one more task before going to bed. The requested luggage limit for the next five days/four nights away from Coul House was 35 pounds, more or less, and we both had partitioning of gear to perform. The stuff we didn't need for the next few days would be kept for us at Coul House. We fell exhausted into bed around 1:00.

Tomorrow, on to Lochinver.