A BIT OF A BATTLE

February found us on a cold, breezy Sunday morning at the entrance to Culloden Battlefield. You can park for free in the small space at the entrance gate, so naturally, we took advantage of that. We stood around chatting and waiting for Dave and Sandra to arrive and lead us on the walk. It took us about 5 minutes to remember that Dave and Sandra had clearly asked, nay instructed, us to meet at the visitor centre. Clearly the attraction of free parking had turned our heads. The accountant certainly approved.

It was a bit breezy.

The sun was shining on us though, as we set off for the visitor centre and to find our leaders for the day.

Before too long we were on our way across the Battlefield, the site of the last pitched battle on British soil in April 1746.

We walked towards the line of the Hanoverian army.

Then we turned left to The Well of the Dead. It is thought that many of the dying Jacobites crawled to this well for water. The Chief of the Clan McGillivray must have been one of these as his death here is recorded on the stone. This and other marker stones at the Battlefield were erected by Duncan Forbes of Culloden in 1881.

Just next to the well was a paddy field , where Susan and a guide had managed to find a wee patch of sun. Either that, or she was on holiday.

Sandra at the grave marker for Clan MacLachlan. She looks remarkably happy to be honest.

I feel I have adopted a rather more sober and serious stance in the circumstances.

It is remarkable how many of these mass grave markers have flowers left beside them even now, nearly 280 years later.

This large cairn to commemorate the Gallant Highlanders who fought and died here was erected by Duncan Forbes in 1881. This somewhat romanticises the truth of things. There were many others who fought and died on the Jacobite side over and above the Highland clansmen. Most of the clansmen would have been little more than conscripted to fight, owing a debt of allegiance to their respective clan chiefs. In all, at least 1700 Jacobite fighters were killed as against only 50 or so of the government troops.

Note our division, purely on colour grounds into redcoats and blue coats.

Pretty much opposite the cairn is the grave of Clan Fraser. This has become much trampled by visitors from all over the world because of the association with Jamie Fraser and Outlander.

We didn't linger long at the Outlandish site.

It seemed a little early, but Hugh spotted this Common Frog beside the path. It did hop onto the path, but Big Bad Dave ushered it unceremoniously onto the other side to spare it from careless feet or other hazards.

By now we were at the blue Jacobite lines.

This stone marks where the French Regiment, Scots Royal stood in the second line of the Jacobite Army. It says that they fought a brave rear-guard action on the day.

Another nearby stone commemorates the involvement of Irish regiments who stood with the Jacobites. They suffered serious losses on the day.

Just about here, we leave what most people see as the Battlefield and head into the woods. In fact, the battle and the aftermath ranged much more widely than the current tourist trap.

Moving on from human battles to fungus wars.

I may be wrong, but this looks like Yellow Brain Fungus to me. This is quite common on dead wood. However, the fungus is not feeding on the wood itself, but feeding on other fungi that are themselves feeding on the dead wood. It is also known as witches butter. If it was seen growing on or near old dwellings, it was thought that they had been cursed by witches!

Right on cue - a couple of witches walked by!

There are a number of these benches along the trail with Gaelic and English carved into them. Certainly the majority of the Highlanders with the Jacobite army would have been native Gaelic speakers. It is not so long ago that this would still be true of the Highlands. My great grandfather only spoke Gaelic, my grandmother was bi-lingual and then my father only had some words. One of the significant consequences of the defeat of the Jacobites was the dismantling of Highland culture. The wearing of tartan was outlawed and the clan system was destroyed by the government through the forfeiture of estates. Education in the 19th Century then specifically banned the use of Gaelic in the classroom and the playground on pain of corporal punishment. It is only recently that the language has made a degree of recovery and the provision of translations such as on these seats will allow a degree of insight into the lyricism of the language and, perhaps, the feelings of the people of the time.

How poignant to think of weeping amid the birdsong?

Just a little distance to the south of the seat, is Bonnie Prince Charlie's Stone. This is where he is said to have stood and watched the battle unfold. He would certainly have heard clash of fighting, which was, apparently, heard over in the Black Isle!

We left the forest behind and walked alongside some houses, where we found these Pekin ducks. These were first imported into the UK from China in 1872 and they, or cross breeds from them, are the most widespread domestic ducks.

On the white theme, there were Snowdrops out to cheer up the never ending winter. Surprisingly, Snowdrops are not native to Britain, but were introduced in the 16th Century. They are native to continental Europe and the Middle East. The Latin name is Galanthus, deriving from the Greek Gala - white and Anthos  - flower. They used to be known as Candlemass Bells or Fair Maids of February.

It isn't just the Snowdrops suggesting that Spring is around the corner. Hazel catkins are everywhere at the moment, a sure sign of changing seasons. These are male catkins. The female flowers will appear later. Hazel has both male catkins and female flowers on the same tree - a reminder that nature doesn't stick to simple binary descriptions of gender.

Back into forestry plantation - mainly Sitka Spruce. These trees make up about half of all commercial forestry in Britain. Sitka were planted throughout Europe for timber in the 19th Century. This means, of course, that anyone fighting at Culloden would not have recognised these trees and the woodland here would have been markedly different at that time.

You can see why it is so important for timber purposes, being straight and very tall, or long, I suppose, when it is on the ground

A bit of nimbleness was required to get across the stepping stones across the burn, which, surprisingly, is not named on the Ordnance Survey. Sharon, as ever, extends a helping hand to the older ladies.

Just across the burn is St Mary's Well. It is Tobar na coille (Well of the Wood). It is a Clootie Well. People have long believed that this, and other wells like it, had healing waters. Drinking the waters could cure many ills and all that was required was belief and an item of clothing (a cloot) in repayment for a cure. People still appear to hold to this belief if the number of rags is any indication.

I guess it is possible that Highlanders fleeing the battle might have made their way here in the hope of some succour. The bench suggests that was not what they found.

The well is surrounded by a stone enclosure. The outflow of water suggests it is pretty heavily laden with minerals, so it might have had some restorative powers, but nobody was willing to have a drink to test it out.

In amongst the commercial woodland was this old, dead, Granny Scots Pine. These trees can live for Hundreds of years, so, perhaps, this one bore witness to the battle.

Certainly, the forest is witness to struggles of its own just now. What power must have been involved in snapping such a tree?  Whether it made any sound is a completely different matter, of course! The question of whether a falling tree made any sound if there was nothing there to hear it has been around for some time, but doesn't seem to have been posed by any particular philosopher. At first glance, and certainly to Sharon and Maureen on the day, the answer was yes, of course it makes a sound.

Well, let me tell you, it isn't that simple. Firstly, what is meant by sound. Is it vibration in the air? Or, is it when that vibration hits our eardrum that sound is created? Essentially, if there is no ear to hear it, then there is no sound. This has huge implications. Does it mean nothing exists if there is nobody to observe it? Apparently, a huge body of scientists believe exactly that. Basically, they say that existence of anything without somebody to observe it is at best a guess or a theory. On the other hand, Einstein asked whether the moon only existed because you looked at it. That seems a bit unlikely to me. It also begs the question of how observers come to exist? Do they only exist if some other observer observes them? I almost wish I hadn't started observing this.

While the silent snapping tree fell in one direction, the next big tree came down in almost the opposite direction. This, presumably, was because they were felled by different winds. This tree was actually uprooted and pushed over by the wind. In this case, you can see how huge the root plate of the tree was. They tend to have shallow roots like this because there is no real depth of soil, which makes them vulnerable to wind from particular directions. Given the paucity of soil and the lack of nutrients, it is astonishing that these trees can grow easily to over 100 feet.

The tree above might have been pushed  over, but its neighbour seems less than upset!

Bird life is conspicuous by its absence in many commercial plantatioins. They tend to be one species of tree and they shade out other plants that might support a wider range of creatures, so it was nice to see and hear this little Robin singing his heart out. It was just a shame he was against the sky and you can't see his bright red chest.

You could see down to the Moray Firth, though.

Lunch time. Dave and Sandra had picked a spot with a bench for most of us to have a seat. It was notable that most of the ladies sat, whilst those of us with an arthritic knee (me) had to stand. Not that I was taking note.

Once I got them organised for a group photo, they found room for Hugh to have a seat. That is Hugh, who is the youngest of us all!

No sandwiches for Robin. He had a bamboo steamed sticky rice stick from the local chippy.

The lovely spot that Dave and Sandra had chosen for lunch was the Prisoner's Stone. This is so named, as 17 wounded prisoners were held at Culloden House, fairly close by, for three days after the battle. They were then taken to the stone and shot at point blank range and then clubbed with rifle stocks to be sure that they were dead. All but one died there and then, but one, apparently, survived to tell the tale.

Great spot for a picnic.

The Prisoner's Stone is a conglomerate - it is made up of a smaller stones held together in a matrix. It is also a glacial erratic - that is, it was lifted by a glacier and dropped here millennia ago. I cannot find out much about the geology of the stone, but another large stone - Cumberland's Stone is not far away. This is also a glacial erratic and a conglomerate. It originated in Stratherrick according to geology. That is more than 20 miles away - a testament to the power of a bit of ice.

The execution of the wounded prisoners and the survival of one to tell the tale is marked by our picnic bench.

Undaunted and replete from lunch we carried on through the woods.

Out of the woods and across farmland, we could see the weather begin to close in. That, and I find it hard to resist taking photos of bare trees against the skyline.

You might think this was everyone gathering round for one of Maureen's sweets from the tin. No, it wasn't. It was potentially a major obstacle to tea and cakes. There had, unfortunately, been an accident a few miles away. It turns out it didn't have the effect of blocking our route to afternoon tea, but it was quite close. Hopefully, everyone involved was OK.

We passed reasonably close to Cumberland's Stone, but by that stage I was too sore to walk closer for a better photo.

Cumberland was the King's son and he commanded the Hanoverian forces at the battle. He is reputed to have had breakfast or lunch, or both, on the flat top of the stone. He also stood on the stone to watch the battle.

It was a short step from there to the car park.

 There was a nice sign thanking us for our visit. We don't often get that.

Here we are enjoying a brew and a sticky bun. Note that Jim and Jacque joined us for the best bit of the day, missing out on all the blood, gore, mud and trudging. Not that I blame them entirely. It was a good walk.

Another interloper, who didn't do the walk - Robin sneaked in to join us.

It really was a good walk, full of interest, even though we had done it once before. Well done to Sandra and Dave for the organisation and for choosing a cake venue close to our house!