Argyll on the west coast of Scotland.
This ancient landscape of mountains, islands and long sea lochs
was once the cradle of the Scottish nation.
It's also a place that's inspired visitors and tourists
for the last 200 years,
drawn here by the incomparable scenery
and a haunting atmosphere shaped by 2,000 years of myth and legend.
I've always said that if you want to experience the real Scotland,
the true spiritual heart of the country,
then you should come here to Argyll.
And even on a grey, windy day like today,
this place has a magic all of its own.
But then I would say that, wouldn't I? This is where I grew up.
As a child, Scotland remained a mystery to me
until my father rediscovered
an old copy of Black's Picturesque Guide To Scotland.
It had been in my family for generations
and, in Victorian times, was the most influential tourist guide book of all.
Inspired by the route suggested by Black's, my father took us all over the country,
searching for Scotland's special places.
Now, four decades on,
I'm letting the pages of Black's guide me again,
as I follow in the footsteps of the early tourists.
On my grand tour,
I'll also discover the works of some early travel writers
who came in search of the true spirit of Scotland.
My grand tour begins just north of the Firth of Clyde in Cowal
and follows a network of now-forgotten steamer routes
from loch to loch, finally reaching the fabled island of Islay -
the whisky capital of the west.
This is Loch Eck.
According to Black's guide,
"Loch Eck is a very pleasing miniature lake
"embosomed in green mountains of graceful and rounded outline.
"Soft it seems to lie and tenderly protected
"amongst the green hills of Cowal."
In the spirit of adventure, I'm handling my own canoe, as they say.
In this case, a beautiful replica of the original Rob Roy canoe
built in the 1890s.
'Although Black's guide book doesn't have anything to say
'about canoeing as a pastime,
'increasing numbers of Victorian gentlemen
'were inspired by the daring adventures of a canoeing Scot.'
John MacGregor, inventor of the Rob Roy leisure canoe.
As a young man, John MacGregor had travelled in the wilds of Canada
and was inspired by the Native American canoes he saw there.
When he got back to Scotland, he decided to build his own
and named it Rob Roy in honour of his illustrious MacGregor ancestors.
He wrote about his travels in a ripping yarn called
A Thousand Miles In The Rob Roy Canoe.
"After taking on supplies, I shoved off into the tide,
"lit a cigar and felt I had really started.
"But then began a strange feeling of freedom and novelty.
"I was in a canoe which could be paddled or sailed
"to Rome or Hong Kong if I liked."
Ah, the freedom of the open water!
'The illustrious John MacGregor
'had much to say on the subject of canoeing,
'including tips on the best attire for the budding paddler.'
For the gentleman, he recommends a flannel Norfolk jacket,
flannel shirt and a straw hat,
which he says is the best of all for boating.
'With my own hat firmly clamped over my ears,
'there can be no better way of exploring these secluded waterways
'than by paddling one of Mr MacGregor's famous canoes.'
I grew up close to the shores of Loch Eck,
so I'm naturally a wee bit biased,
but for me this has to be one of the prettiest stretches of water
to be found anywhere in Scotland.
'When I was a boy, I didn't realise the role
'that Loch Eck once played in the development of Scottish tourism.'
In 1827, the genius and pioneering marine engineer David Napier
built one of the world's first iron ships
to carry tourists on the sheltered waters of Loch Eck.
Napier was a real innovator.
He wanted to open up a new route from the Clyde to the Hebrides
and saw Loch Eck as a shortcut.
Napier built hotels, piers, boats and even a steam carriage
to carry his passengers on overland sections
of what became known as the famous Loch Eck route.
'Changed days.
'All that's left of Napier's dream are a few rotting wooden piers.'
The Loch Eck route could never compete
with the bulk of tourist traffic
using steamers on the Clyde as a way out to the west
and, sadly, Napier's boats were hauled ashore and abandoned to the elements
and there hasn't been a steamer on Loch Eck for over 70 years.
For the next leg of my journey,
I follow Napier's Loch Eck route northwards,
finally emerging at the sea
and into lovely Loch Fyne.
Although the adventurous Scot John MacGregor
was the first to bring canoeing, or should I say kayaking,
to public attention,
the sport remained in the doldrums for decades.
But then, in 1936, a couple of idealistic Scotsmen
rediscovered the delights of paddling your own canoe
for themselves when they embarked on a daring trip
to discover the true spirit of Scotland.
Alastair Dunnett and his friend James Adam,
otherwise known as Seumas,
were barely out of their teens
when they embarked on their great expedition
and became known to the world as the Canoe Boys.
Clad in kilts and as keen as mustard,
Alastair and Seumas set off on their eleven-week adventure
kayaking from the Clyde to the Isle of Skye.
Theirs was a boys' own adventure par excellence
and, to find out more, I've joined kayaking expert Duncan Winning
on a short section of the Canoe Boys' original route,
coming ashore in a bay on Loch Fyne.
Duncan, the Canoe Boys have become legendary.
Who were they and what were they trying to do?
Well, they were a couple of young journalists
and they were trying to, er...
do two things I think, mainly.
One was trying to run a magazine for boys called The Claymore,
to encourage the youth of Scotland in the great outdoors
and the things that were available for them to do on their doorstep.
And one of the, er...the other things they were trying to do
through their trip
was they were very keen in promoting
a revival in the economic activity
in the islands and in the Highlands.
The Canoe Boys weren't interested in the Scotland of guide books.
They were concerned with the plight of the modern Highlander,
not the romantic image.
But the reading public cared less for their politics
than the novelty of their great adventure.
The excitement of two canoeing novices
braving the elements in boats held together by screws and wire.
I think it was something like September they set off, from memory,
and as they progressed up the west coast
of course the weather deteriorated and deteriorated
and they ended up finishing their epic journey at Kyle of Lochalsh.
It seems to me that the Canoe Boys were pretty brave in what they did.
Er, they were indeed.
Compared to modern canoeists, they roughed it.
They put up with a lot of harsh conditions.
They threw themselves in at the deep end. So, yes, it's...
- Almost literally there. - Yes!
Let's put it this way, I don't think I'd have done what they did.
Don't think I would have, either!
Leaving Duncan to paddle home,
I make my watery way across Loch Fyne to Inverary,
the Highland capital of Argyll.
According to Black's,
"Its situation is exceedingly beautiful.
"Here nature is so vast and grand
"that works of art diminish in her awful presence."
Black's was not alone in admiring Inveraray.
The eminent philosopher Edmund Burke considered the landscape here
to represent the quintessence of sublime beauty.
'He thought the scenery was stunning.'
So too did the artist Turner,
who captured the magic of the scene in watercolours
and in 1796 the early travel writer Sarah Murray
considered Inveraray to be, "The noblest place in Scotland."
Although she was dismayed by the miserable weather!
Inveraray Castle, home to the Campbell Dukes of Argyll,
has been attracting tourists for almost 200 years.
In fact, it's Black's number one recommendation -
although I have to say the tone adopted by my old guide
is a bit obsequious.
In fact, a bit grovelling. For example, it says here,
"The castle is reached through the grounds which,
"by the liberality of the noble proprietor, are open to the public."
But not all visitors were overawed by the Ducal pile.
In 1787, the poet Robert Burns visited the town
and wrote pointedly about the social divisions he found here.
"Who e'er he be who sojourns here
"I pity much his case
"Unless he's come to wait upon
"The Lord, their God, His Grace."
A few years later, the poet William Wordsworth and his sister Dorothy
visited the town on their Highland tour
and they, too, saw the contrast
between the wealth of the Duke in his castle
and the poverty in the streets.
"We passed through the town
"which is a doleful example of Scotch filth.
"A melancholy spectacle,
"giving the notion of either vice or extreme wretchedness."
Happily, there's no sign of "Scotch filth"
on the windy streets of Inveraray today,
which seems spotlessly clean
and peopled exclusively by the virtuous.
But to find out more about the gulf
between vice and virtue, rich and poor,
I've come to another popular tourist attraction - the jail.
I'm met by the formidable figure of Hannah Nixon.
- Hello, Hannah. - Good afternoon. - Lovely to meet you.
'In her role as prison matron,
'it's Hannah's job to educate and entertain modern tourists
'on visits to this once grim penal institution.'
This is the old prison. I'll take you to a cell
which shows you how it really was in the early days.
- You're talking about 1820, when we first opened. - Right.
You would have three, four prisoners in every cell originally.
- You can see here this. - In this small space?
- In this small space. - Right. - You know, sleeping on the floor.
Men, women, children, criminally insane, all together in the prison.
You've got a good example here of a prisoner that was in in 1820.
He's a prisoner with a sense of humour. He's written on the wall,
"A room to let to the 26th day of June.
"Application to be made to Duncan Campbell, jailer.
- "Hugh Currie is off forever." - Right.
So if you're wanting a cell to live in, he's off.
You can have this if you make the application.
'Role play at Inveraray is part of a modern tourist experience.
'Not only is there a prison matron,
'I'm about to meet one of the inmates, too.'
- Another cell and a prisoner. - And a prisoner. This is Elizabeth.
This is a good example of the reforms kicking in now.
1841 and the cleanliness prisoners would have to endure, really.
- Right. She doesn't look very happy. - Well, unfortunately she had lice.
She wouldn't wash properly, so we have had to go to drastic measures.
I hope you've not got a weak stomach.
- I've a slightly weak one. - Elizabeth, take your bonnet off, please.
We have had to shave her head.
If you don't wash properly, this is what will happen.
- Right. - It's to teach you a lesson. All right?
- Behaving yourself? - Yes, Matron.
- She's in for theft. - She's in for theft.
So what did you steal?
I stole two silver jugs from a hotel in Dunoon where I was working.
Right. And how long did you get?
- I got 2½ years, sir. - 2½ years.
So that's one year and three months per jug.
- Is it, sir? - Do you think that was worth it? - It was at the time, sir.
'Despite prison reforms,
'crime was still harshly punished in Victorian times.'
So this is an example of punishments set with the Reforms of Scotland.
- This is the whipping table. - A whipping table?
So if you disobey our rules here, you will be beaten.
- Now, it is just for the males. Boys as well. - Boys?
Children as young as seven would come to this prison.
If you disobey our rules, a child may well be beaten.
- And beaten with this? - Yes, that's the birch.
- So how did this contraption work? - The best way is to demonstrate, sir.
- If I take that and you'd like to lie up there. - OK.
- It looks quite innocuous. - On your stomach.
It's a bit like a, I don't know, a massage table or something.
It won't feel like a massage, sir.
- I put my arms through here? - Straight through. - OK.
'At Inveraray Jail, visitors are encouraged to sample
'even the grimmest aspects of prison life.
'The experience can sometimes take quite a beating.'
Ooh! Please! Ooh!
That was painful. That was painful.
Er...slightly risible but I suppose what I find curious
is why people on holiday want to come to a prison.
Is there a kind of misery tourism going on here, do you think?
There is. People have always been interested in what the macabre.
Anything to do with death, torture, damnation.
People like to come, have a go, see what it was like,
try all the different things that we have here.
Today, yes, it is humorous for them, but it does give them an idea of what went on in the past.
'As matron leads me back through the prison to freedom,
'she tells me that in Victorian times,
'people would go on holiday and visit prisons like this.
'It's amusing to think that a century later,
'modern tourists are still doing the same thing.
'Back on the streets of Inveraray,
'it looks as if were in for a spot of rain.
'Before I catch the worst of the weather,
'it's time to move on and over the hills to my next destination -
'Loch Awe.'
Loch Awe is the longest freshwater loch in Scotland
and is, without question,
an absolute treasure, whatever the weather.
Black's is fulsome in its praises, describing the loch as,
"A glittering jewel with green bowered islands
"nestling on the bosom of the lake."
Not today it isn't!
Come rain or shine, the Victorians were quick to see
the tourist potential of lovely Loch Awe.
And at one time, as many as 15 steamers
sailed among the wooded islands.
But of course progress has meant
these elegant little ships suffered the same fate
as nearly all the other steamers on Scotland's lochs.
They were scrapped years ago.
The steamer may have gone
but the landscape is just as spectacular and wild
as it was when Victorian tourists
were told enthralling legends about the landscape,
as they sailed amongst the islands of the loch.
'Hearing these romantic tales told to them
'by their kilted Highland guides,
'in this wonderful setting,
'made Victorian tourists feel close to the true spirit of Scotland.'
'Here, every island, every inlet and bay, has a tale of its own.
'Part of a tradition that connects Loch Awe to an epic past.'
As I make my way down the loch,
I am passing through 2,000 years of history,
heading for the cradle of the nation.
This is Kilmartin Glen.
I've always thought that this part of Argyll has a magic of its own.
There's something about the quality of light here,
the distant views to the islands,
the long sea lochs and the roughly wooded hillsides,
that's particularly atmospheric.
It's also a place with a special significance
in the history of the Scottish nation.
Kilmartin Glen has one of the most important concentrations
of Neolithic and Bronze Age remains in Scotland.
Within just a few miles there are over 350 ancient monuments,
making this a unique ceremonial landscape
that was once sacred to our ancestors.
For 3,000 years this tiny, damp corner of Scotland
was an important centre for different people
and different cultures,
from the Stone Age right up to the early Christian period
when the country we now call Scotland was coming into being.
The most striking and significant of all the ancient monuments
associated with this story can be found right here at Dunadd.
Now, it might not look much
but this small rocky hill is where the story of the nation begins.
This is the cradle of Scotland.
1,600 years ago, a fort stood at the top of this hill.
Over the years, it's become a place of pilgrimage for tourists.
And it was up here on a sacred stone
that the Kings of Dal Riada were invested with their royal powers.
Now, this is where it's all said to have taken place.
Over here is a stone footprint cut into the rock
and, according to archaeologists,
this is where the King to be would have placed his own foot
in a ritual act that symbolised the union of the human world with the divine.
Now, I'm not the first person to have noticed
that this Kingly footprint is a bit, well, diminutive.
Now I'd say that was probably a size 3.
You can get a sense of why Dunadd
was so important to the ancient world from the summit.
It lies at the centre of a landscape
that has an almost mystical atmosphere.
Up here you get a powerful feeling
of being in touch with the distant past.
Which is why, for me, this could be the spiritual heart of Scotland.
But there is another contender for the title of spiritual heart
and to get there I have to sail to the islands.
On the next leg of my journey,
I'm crossing the sea to Islay -
the spiritual home of whisky.
But this is no scheduled ferry service.
To retrace the old steamer routes that once crossed the west coast,
I joined Sandy Campbell aboard the modern motor cruiser Venture West.
Sandy, what kind of business do you run then?
Er, well, just a charter boat business.
Take people where they want to be, along with some wildlife trips
and Corryvreckan trips to the whirlpool.
There's usually...it's quite a good kind of area for wildlife.
There's some seagulls that nest along with...there's a lot of seals
and porpoise sometimes, or dolphin.
Later on in the year we have basking shark and a minky whale around.
So, yeah, it's very interesting.
Sandy's hi-tech rib is a far cry from the steamers
that carried the few early tourists
who ventured this far off the beaten track.
As Black's notes,
"The traffic of the westward isles is maintained
"by steamers of the smaller class.
"The natives herding on the foredeck,
"Gaelic their dialect
"and teetotalism a creed little believed in."
I think it's odd that my guide should make
such a sneering reference to the pleasures
that ordinary folk could derive from alcohol
because in the very next sentence,
the same writer goes on to praise Islay
for the quality of its whisky.
Now I think what he's trying to imply here
is that it's OK for wealthy tourists to enjoy the water of life
but for ordinary people, it's degrading.
Wealthy people could be connoisseurs.
The poor just got drunk.
'As I consider the mixed morals of Victorian tourists,
'I enjoy a large glass of whisky.
'I count myself lucky that I'm a connoisseur and not a lush.'
Anyone arriving in Islay today
can't fail to notice the continuing importance of whisky.
Famous names greet you at every turn.
Lagavulin, Laphroaig, Bowmore.
Villages celebrated the world over
because of the whisky that comes from them.
This is Port Ellen.
In 1868, Black's wrote encouragingly,
"A fair entertainment may be had in the inns above the harbour.
"A smart trade going on in the consumption of whisky."
Ah! Just smell that!
That's the tangle of the Isles.
A wonderful combination of peat smoke, seaweed...
Ah! ..and whisky.
For me, uisge beatha - the water of life -
has its spiritual home right here on Islay
and I'm just one of thousands making the pilgrimage each year
to the island made famous because of its spirit.
We love the, er, Islay whisky. Er, the peaty taste is our favourite.
There's so many different whiskies, they all taste different.
So it's interesting to learn about how they turn out different.
We know this whisky for a few years
but it's the first time that we are here on Islay directly.
'To find out more about the arcane magical art of whisky-making,
'I've joined Duncan McGilvery
'on a tour of the Bruichladdich Distillery.
'Duncan tells me that Islay has been on the whisky connoisseurs itinerary for well over a hundred years.
'In 1886, the island, its drinking habits and its water of life,
'were all lovingly and minutely described
'by an Englishman, Alfred Barnard.'
Alfred Barnard did a survey in the late 1800s of all the distilleries
of Scotland and England and Wales, that he could find.
Not that I was around at the time but, er...
it was a very in-depth investigation into what they did.
And his result was a survey and the conclusions are absolutely priceless.
In those days it was rare to find a whisky connoisseur because people...
I mean, whisky was just a way of life and it was a means to make money.
Nowadays, so many people are so much better educated about whisky
and whisky/tourism on Islay
must be one of the biggest earners that there is on the island,
along with bird watching and nature, etc.
But whisky has become very much a tourist industry.
Barnard not only wrote extensively and passionately about whisky,
he was also the first to celebrate
the special relationship between booze and the environment.
Barnard's book isn't just an account of whisky.
It is, in fact, a love story.
The story of a man's infatuation
with a landscape and a culture
that's produced a world-beating spirit.
To find out more about the fruitful marriage between whisky,
tourism and fabulous scenery,
I'm meeting up with historian Kevin James at Duffies Bar,
which has over 250 brands of whisky to choose from.
'Apparently, the most expensive dram will set you back £250!
'Let's hope Kevin's buying.'
Kevin, Barnard's book was seminal in many ways, was it not,
in kicking off whisky tourism?
He seems to have a special love for Scottish landscape
and there's a connection, I think, between the landscape and whisky.
Oh, absolutely. Absolutely.
And particularly in the Hebridean landscape.
I think that he has an affection for the wildness of the landscape.
There are occasions on which he comments on the...
kind of the almost, er...austereness of the Hebridean landscape,
and I think that he works that into
his overall appreciation of the malts as well.
And I think that's one way of kind of casting Barnard's book,
and indeed the whole whisky tourism phenomenon,
as people tried to penetrate beyond the visual landscape
and get into the culture by other ways.
Engaging their senses in other ways.
- And, er, what better way to do it than through drink? - Right.
So you didn't just come to Islay to drink in the landscape?
You came to Islay, had a drink, and saw the landscape at the same time.
And maybe saw it in different ways.
Right, so do you think, you know, in becoming connoisseurs,
some Victorians felt that they had a kind of special knowledge,
not just of the drink but of the culture
and a knowledge, in some ways, that was more sophisticated
than local people's understanding of the drink?
Yeah. I think they could assert
that they had a more tasteful appreciation of the culture
and a more tasteful appreciation of the drink itself as well.
That's really interesting because, in many ways, whisky, uisge beatha,
is a kind of wild drink. It's a dangerous drink associated with,
you know, rebellion, the Jacobite rebellion.
But somehow the Victorians and tourism had tamed this drink,
had tamed the spirit of Scotland.
It is. It's like taming a primitive aspect of Scottish peasant culture.
It's also allowing the tourist
to distance him or herself from the culture,
at the same time as taking one of the icons of that culture -
whisky - and consuming it.
- Right, well, I'll have a wee... Slainte! - Slainte!
- Mm. That's not the £250 dram. - It isn't.
- Ardbeg, is it? It's not bad. - It's not bad. It'll do.
Armed with a bottle of the finest malt -
the one that's not going to break the budget -
I leave Kevin and make my way to the coast.
As I've found for myself,
the spirit of Scotland is not easily tamed.
But that doesn't deter people from hoping to discover something
that captures the essence of the place.
The landscape, history and culture.
Many claim to have found it
in the views of the lochs and islands of the west coast.
While some believe it lies in the past,
others think the spirit of Scotland is a commodity that can be bottled.
For me, the truth lies somewhere in between.
There are lots of different ways you can drink whisky, of course.
Some people take it with ice - on the rocks -
and others like to add a wee drop of water.
And some, heaven forbid, drink it with a mixer!
Personally, I like to drink it neat and outside,
with a view of the Atlantic and the smell of the sea in my nostrils.
And even on a grey, cold day like today,
I can think of no more appropriate place
to experience the true spirit of Scotland.
Slainte!
Join me on my next Grand Tour,
when I go in search of sunshine.
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