NOT YOUR AVERAGE COCK AND BULL STORY

Friday 24th April 2026 

Spring break time again and we were off to Fearn in Easter Ross. Really, we should have gone on 5th April to have been timely in terms of location and seasonality. (Just in case this is too obscure, 5th April was Easter Sunday and we were going to EASTER Ross)

The weather had been a bit changeable, but it looked set fair as we headed up the A9. Blue sky all the way across the Black Isle looking towards a snow capped Ben Wyvis

On over the Cromarty Bridge. This was opened in 1979 and is named after the Cromarty Firth rather than the village of Cromarty, which may, of course, have given its name to the Firth. Nobody knows which came first. In any event the name derives form the Gaelic meaning place on the bend - Crom, being the word for bent. This more than properly describes the bridge.

Our first stop of the weekend was Kildary. Many Gaelic place names beginning with Kil relate to Cill meaning church or monastic cell. In this case it relates to Caol meaning narrow. Daire is an oak wood, so Kildary is the thin, or narrow, oak wood.

We weren't in the thin oak woods, but parked in front of some house gardens.

We were marvelling at the sunshine.

Our leaders for this trip, Charlie and Sue soon joined us and we set off into the woods for our first walk.

We had hardly started when we met Charlie, who had parked at the entrance to the woods.

We were on our way to Kildary Loch, which is also known as Loch nan Tunnag - Loch of the ducks. Tunnag can also be applied derisively to describe a short legged or hobbling woman. Or, it could be used to describe someone who is as awkward as a cow on roller skates. I am, of course, not implying that either of those descriptions would apply to Sandra.

It isn't too long until we reach the Loch itself. It really is very pretty, especially on a nice sunny, warm day, like today.

The path reaches the lochan at the hut belonging to the local angling club. The loch apparently belongs to them and they have set out the path around the shores. The loch itself was once a sand and gravel quarry. Today, it looks nothing like an old quarry - it really is a little gem of a place.

It is a relatively easy, if a little uneven, walk around the water's edge.

We even manage a bridge photo, although Dave seems not to have understood the point of bridges!

We were not alone on our peregrination around the water. We were being watched, or, perhaps we were being followed, in the hope we might have some food.

This is an adult male Mute Swan. These are the largest of the swans commonly seen in Scotland. They are common on freshwater lochs, where they often breed.

He was very persistent.

He wasn't the only inhabitant that we saw. There were Mallards and a few Little Grebes as well as these hopeful fishermen.

There really was plenty of time to stop and stare, which is what makes a walk in the countryside much better than a drive or a cycle or a run.

There was also plenty time to have a wee snack.

Eala-bhalbh, pronounced ayla valav, is the Gaelic for Mute Swan and it sounds a bit more gracious, especially as he glides past the backlit seed head of the bulrush.

A bit of an echo of the swan's neck - an emerging shoot of bracken. Strangely. the Gaelic for bracken is raineach which is used colloquially for cannabis or weed! Who knew those teuchters were so modernist!

The swan had followed us round the loch and was rewarded with some titbits from Pam. Once around the shore, we headed back to the cars.

We were staying at The Mill at Fearn Farm

This is a new building, which occupied the site and footprint of an earlier stone built watermill dating from the early 19th Century. I expect the building had to mimic the footprint and general appearance of the original mill, to gain the necessary planning consent. The roof coping stones appear to be original and, I guess, they came from the watermill. They certainly made a good job of it all.

Mr Tesco had not arrived with our supplies, so that made it imperative that we sat outside in the sun drinking something cold that we had brought with us.

Mr Tesco eventually delivered and then a tasty dinner of Thai chicken curry, sausage and bean casserole, strawberry pavlova and fruit salad was served to us all courtesy of Sue, Charlie, Jacque & Jimmy. Maureen brought along special Dino napkins. Everyone thoroughly enjoyed  the food and the after dinner entertainment, before we retired for the night to be ready for the next day and a walk.

 

Saturday 25th April 2026

Another sunny day, although there was occasionally a bit of a bite to the wind. Today we were walking around Tain. Tain was once an extremely important town in Scotland. For such an important place, the name comes from the nearby River Tain, which literally means "flow" in an early Indo-European language. The Gaelic name Baile Dhubhthaich gives more of a clue as to the town's significance. It means Duthac's Town and refers to Saint Duthac. He was a hugely prominent figure in the early church and though he was born and died in Tain, he was educated in Ireland. He rose to be Bishop of Ross and was Confessor of Ireland and Scotland. After he died, he was buried at St Duthus Chapel, which had been erected in his honour. After a number of years it appears that his body had not decayed and his sainthood was thus proven. He was formally sainted in 1419. His body was moved to St Duthus Collegiate Church in Tain town centre. Quite who checked that he had not rotted away is not recorded!

He had died in 1065 and his importance was such that the town was created a Royal Burgh in 1066, making it the oldest Royal Burgh in Scotland. His sanctuary was a place of pilgrimage, having been visited by the likes of Robert the Bruce who believed in the sanctuary of Tain so much that he sent his wife and daughter there during the Wars of Independence. That sanctuary was violated by The Earl of Ross who handed them over to Edward I.

King James IV went on a pilgrimage to Tain once a year through his reign. 

However, we didn't know all that as we gathered at the Links. We had a bit of time to wait, as Agnes was going to join us. We were a bit early and she was a bit lost and late, so we had time to spare. 

If only we had known, we might have spent some time wondering about the fate of three craft which are recorded as having foundered on the sands just off the shore from where we were standing. No lives were lost, but the Belmont was on the way to Bonar Bridge from Glasgow to pick up a cargo of wood when she ran aground in 1857. She was ultimately recovered. The Village Maid from the Isle of Man was not so lucky, being destroyed by fire after discharging her cargo in 1867. In 1800, The Providence from Shetland was wrecked here. I find all this interesting, because it is history that you can't see or even guess at. It isn't like ruins or buildings that are left behind to wonder at. If someone had not recorded these losses we would never have known, even though we were probably staring at the spots where these losses occurred.

Anyway, now that I've taken up some of your time, Agnes arrived!

Her arrival would give rise to much joy and merriment.

Now that we were together, we set off along the coast, accompanied by an Osprey! Honest!

Looking out across the Firth, we failed to notice the Gizzen Briggs! That might be because the tide was at the wrong place. Apparently, the Chief of Clan MacKay wanted to build a bridge across to Dornoch to make it quicker and easier to see his sweetheart. He sent one of his men, Angus, to consult with the local wise woman. She gave Angus a box of fairies, but told him not to open it. Of course, he did!  I mean, why would you? The fairies burst out and demanded to be given work. He was dismayed and sent them to strip the heather from Tain Hill. They did this in no time at all. Oh dear! Clearly he needed a bigger task. So, he decided to build the bridge for his chief. He told the fairies to build the bridge out of sand. Of course, the tide washed this away every day and the fairies had to rebuild it every day. They are still at it today. If you see and hear the breakers known as the Gizzen Briggs, that is where the fairies are engaged in their never ending task. What the Clan Chief thought of this is not recorded!

A little further along there is a little pond and a couple of swans have made a nest in the reeds.

Sharon found a pair of new friends. They were very obedient. When we carried on with the walk, she told them to "stay" - and they did!

Next stop was the Alexandra Bridge, which I used to own. This was only through my capacity as advisor to the Tain Common Good Fund rather than actually owning anything tangible. I was persuaded to spend some money on repairing the bridge, so we were able to cross it! The bridge is one of only 20 wire footbridges in the country and it dates from 1901. It was built by the Rose Street Foundry and is similar to a number of bridges across the Ness in the city. I was persuaded to be in the photo by a couple of insistent lady walkers!

At the far end of the bridge, there were the sad remains of an errant skateboarder!

We walked along the beach for a little way, then turned inland at Plaids. A strange name, it is from the Norse for flat land - flatr, which was altered by Gaelic to a' Phlaid, the Ph being pronounced as F.

Just here we spotted the cockerel, which forms part of the blog title!

He was accompanied by a fairly vociferous turkey.

We crossed over the River Tain shortly after. We were about to cross Tain Golf Course, which opened in 1890, with a small clubhouse and only 15 holes due to lack of space. It was designed by Old Tom Morris, making it famous nowadays. The course was extended in 1911 to allow for an 18 hole course. The current clubhouse is the low building on the left of the photo. This replaced the 1911 clubhouse in 1998. Remarkably, the 1911 clubhouse was built around the original 1890 building, which was uprooted and dragged on a sledge to its new site!

You can see why the Vikings named this area as Flatr!

It is fine sandy soil and seems to be good arable land, if a little dusty.

Around the corner, we came to the house and outbuildings marked as Kirksheaf on the map. The buildings are not listed and the only reference I can find is to a threshing machine. The complex is close to the old St Duthus chapel, which might explain the Kirk part on the name. Sheaf could relate to the growing and threshing of grain.

Somebody is certainly undertaking substantial works to the outbuildings and stables/cart bays.

The house itself is very nicely proportioned, but is not listed.

Not far from the house, there are views across the field to St Duthus Chapel. This is the oldest of three churches in Tain that are dedicated to St Duthus or Duthac. This one dates to sometime in the mid 14th Century, although it is likely built on the site of an earlier chapel. This is said to be the site where St Duthac's body allegedly failed to corrupt after his death in1065. His remains were then removed to the church in the centre of the burgh. I guess, had we known all this, we should have gone for a closer look.

By now we were walking alongside the raised beach on which much of Tain sits. We happened to pass by the Glasstorm studio. Some of us popped in for a look. They have some exquisite blown glass pieces on display. A very helpful and enthusiastic girl showed us into the back of the workshops, where a display of high-end whisky bottles was on show. These are bespoke pieces made for whisky companies all over the Highlands and they come in at thousands of pounds depending on exactly which rare whisky is in the bottles. Amazing.

Truth be told, most of the bottles were filled with tea for security reasons!

Tain Tolbooth. This is a striking building, which served as the main civic building in the burgh, dealing with town business, justice and ceremonial events. The architecture is somewhat strange and looks much older than its date of early to mid 18th century, being completed in 1733. It is much more mediaeval in appearance. It does contain a bell dating from 1630, which was probably in the earlier tolbooth, which was destroyed after serious storm damage in 1703.

The central turret contains the bell. The surrounding smaller turrets have very odd little window openings. These imitate similar belfry towers dating from the early 17th Century and are something of a local speciality. There are only three original examples known - at Easter Kilmuir, near Kildary, Tarbat Old Church at Portmahomack and Kirkhill. 

This is the Collegiate Church of St Duthus. A collegiate church is similar to a cathedral, but it does not have a bishop. This is where the non-decaying St Duthac was brought after the church was built in the mid 14th Century. He must have been saintly to have lasted uncorrupted from 1065 to the 1350's! Unfortunately, we could not get into the churchyard.

We were careful about which route we took back to the cars, even though it was, apparently, only dangerous for single travellers.

Once we got back to the cars, we had a final look at Tain's smart skyline and jumped into the cars to eat our lunch, because it was so damned cold in the wind by the sea. We think it was the first time in 20 years that we have ever eaten our packed lunch in the cars!

After our, almost, moveable feast, we drove back to our house to find Sue had made some delicious scones before she had left to attend her sister Judy's retirement do. After we had partaken of said scones, tea and coffee, we went to go and explore Fearn Abbey, which was but a short walk away. 

It was just up the road verge which was alive with dancing daffodils.

Before we got to the hallowed ground of the Abbey, we pass by this interesting mural. I am not entirely sure, but the building might once have been Fearn old schoolhouse. I have no idea what the mural represents.

The Abbey was originally founded in 1221 in Edderton, which is a good few miles to the north. Due to dangers posed by warring clans, it was moved here in 1238. It was a daughter house of the Premonstratensian order in Whithorn. Premonstratensians are an order of Canons Regular whose origins lie in Premontre in North east France.

It is important to note that Canons Regular are not monks. Now, you will ask me what the difference is and I will say that I am not exactly sure.

Both are members of religious orders and many are priests. However, monks focus on prayer and contemplation, generally living in monasteries and doing things that they need to stay alive - like growing vegetables and the like. Canons tend to work in the community doing public liturgy and preaching, albeit they might be in central churches, like Fearn Abbey.

The original Abbey has been altered and rebuilt over the centuries. Following the Reformation in the first part of the 16th Century, the site became the Church of Scotland parish church. However, before the Reformation, a boy, Patrick Hamilton was handed the Commendatorship of the Abbey. This means he received an income without actually having to do very much for it. He didn't even need to live in the Abbey. That didn't end too well as he was burned at the stake as a heretic when he was 26! 

Whether burning the poor Patrick was a good thing or not, the church roof fell in on the congregation in 1742, killing 50 of them! A new church was built adjacent to the Abbey ruins, but by 1770, that too had fallen into disrepair. Part of the Abbey was rebuilt and became the parish church in 1772. The building we see today largely dates from that restoration of 1772.The parish church remained in use until 2023.

Evidence of the rebuilding and alteration of the old fabric of the building is everywhere.

It is, and was, clearly a place of considerable importance and history, and if only these walls could talk!

There is one Commonwealth Gravestone on the churchyard and it commemorates Private P McL Ross, who died in 1921. An odd name and an odd time to have died, well after the end of the First World War. It turns out that Private Ross's parents might not have been married. His mother was a Ross and his father was Andrew McLeod, a shoemaker from Hill of Fearn. The McL, presumably relates to his father.

I cannot find a cause of death or even a first name for Private Ross. Having said that, he would appear to have been lucky to have survived the war. In May 1915, his regiment took part in the battle of Aubers Ridge. This seems to have been colossally mismanaged. Heavy British shelling appears to have had no effect on the German troops. When the 4th and 1st Seaforths went over the top, they did not even make it out of their own trenches, which soon became clogged with dead and wounded.

After our visit to the Abbey, it was back to the comfortable house for warmth, food, drink and games. Dinner of lasagne, Tuscan chicken, profiteroles and raspberry cheesecake was provided by Pam, Hugh, Sandra and Dave.

Something Private Ross probably deserved, but never got.

Another successful day.

Sunday 26th April2026

Another day, another walk. This time we were in Inver to walk along the coast to Portmahomack. Once we had gathered at the village hall we were ready to go. We would have gone a bit earlier were it not for Dave's backpack forcing a malfunction of Robin's car boot!]

Inver is a straight Anglicisation of the Gaelic Inbhir  meaning the confluence or mouth of a river or stream. On some older maps and documents, the village is named as Inverlochslin, suggesting that Loch Slin once drained to here. Loch Slin, however, no longer exists, except as a place name and as a farm, all lying to the south of Inver.

Inver was once a thriving fishing village. It had 27 boats and 85 men and boys involved in fishing in 1878, which was over 20% of the population at the time. The village also has a remarkable war time history. 

This stone remembers Company Sergeant Major Jock Kendrick Skinner VC DCM and Croix de Guerre, who was born in Inver. His story is quite astonishing.

He was born in Inver in 1881, but his family later moved to Pollockshields where he trained as an engineer. He later joined the Kings Own Scottish Borderers and was wounded 3 times in the Boer War. He served all over the world before the Great War. He was wounded again in 1914 in France, where he was awarded the DCM. When he recovered he fought in the Dardanelles, before returning to France again in 1916. Then in Belgium in 1917 his company was held up by machine gun fire. Despite being wounded in the head (his 5th wounding) he gathered 6 men and fought his way around the blockhouses where the enemy was holed up. He eventually took 60 prisoners, 3 machine guns and 2 mortars. For this he was awarded the Victoria Cross. 2 months before he was due to get his medal, he was wounded again at Langemark in Belgium. He was hospitalised to the UK, where he got married and then got his medal from the King. He was also awarded the Croix de Guerre. In March 1918, he was killed in action at Passchendaele, while trying to rescue a wounded medical orderly. He was so highly thought of, that his men carried his body 15 miles back to a place called Vlamertinghe in Belgium, where he was buried. All 6 of his pall bearers were holders of the Victoria Cross!

Is that not an amazing tale and, frankly, the photo of the stone doesn't even hint at it?

Oblivious to Jock Skinner's tale, we walked along the shore side of the village. There may once have been two villages here, with people moving due to disease, silting up of anchorages or the presence of ghosts, depending on which story you believe.

During my research for this bit of the blog, it was clear that there is a flourishing community spirit here and a lot of that revolves around the school and local children. They care about where they live and they want to be sure that those of us who are just passing by, care as well.

Just beyond the message from the children is this tall cairn.

This is the Cholera Cairn. Cholera is thought to have been brought from England to Wick by fishermen in July 1832. Not wishing to be associated with the disease, the fishermen said that the Doctor at Wick had poisoned his patients! This led to riots and a mob stormed the hospital and destroyed all the beds and windows at the hospital. The doctor fled to Edinburgh. Soon Caithness and Sutherland were rife with the disease. By September, it had reached Inver where it is said to have been particularly virulent. Of the 120-130 people thought to be in the village, 90 are said to have caught the disease and almost half of them had died. This figure rose over a couple of weeks, until well over 50 people had died. There were insufficient coffins to cope with the scale and pace of death. Villagers were buried here without coffins or even shrouds! The 1851 Census records that only two families escaped the effects of the disease. Whole streets of houses, entirely empty of people, were burned to the ground.

Their final resting place is marked by the stone and the planting of white rose bushes over the site of the mass grave.

Happily, we didn't quite appreciate all of this and we walked along the lovely beach towards Portmahomack, where, incidentally, only a fifth of the inhabitants were "swept away" by the disease.

I am pretty sure this bone was nothing to do with cholera!

We had the beach to ourselves.

It was getting towards lunchtime, so we needed to find a likely spot.

Of course, nothing keeps a Dinosaur from a cup of soup. The soup was courtesy of Jimmy and it was delicious.

See how delighted Robin and Dave are with the soup?

Hugh decided to try and dive into the mug.

Suitably replete, we press on.

There was a lot of sand to negotiate yet.

As we get closer to Portmahomack, we move off the sand on to a path.

There are fine views in almost every direction.

We arrive at the public road at the west end of the village and who should be there, but Charlie. He proceeds to shuttle a few of us into the centre of the town, where there was bound to be somewhere to sit down and eat the rest of our picnic lunch.

Some of us were brave and walked all the way!

Our path took us past the 1893 Free Church, which had some great lichen on the roof. It is a pretty grand church, built at the time the village was reaping the benefits of the herring fishing. The bowed stair gallery is unusual and there is another on the other side of the entrance elevation. I think these will provide stairs to upper galleries within the church interior.

It would appear that we had reached the end of our journey!

When the last of us stragglers reached the car park, the others were nowhere to be seen. Luckily, we spotted them further into the village having a seat on some picnic benches. We had not been abandoned after all!

We soon joined them to enjoy the rest of our lunch in the sunshine.

By coincidence, or maybe not, there was a rally of MG sports cars in the village. We all know Charlie loves a car, so he spent a while waving at them and taking photos. Boys and their toys!

Once the cars had gone, it was time for us to move on as well. We picked up the cars we had left at Inver and then we all made our way back to Fearn, where there was even more excitement in store.

We were sitting in the sun enjoying a cold glass, when our peace was broken by the bellowing of a bull. Could this be the titular bull? It turns out the sheep were being moved from one field to another closer to where we were. The bull made a bid for freedom and ran down the public road towards oncoming traffic, which must have been a little disconcerting for the drivers! After much shouting, rugby tackles on sheep and hilarity, the bull was corralled and the sheep moved.

All of that before a dinner of fish pie, Caribbean beef, lemon syllabub  and fruit flan, provided by Susan, Robin, Sharon, Maureen and me. Then more quizzes and games off to bed.

Monday 27th April 2026

Our final morning at the Mill and it was another nice start to the day. Once we had tidied up and divided up the remaining food, we had time for a souvenir photo before we left to get to Evanton for our final walk.

Once we had parked there and had sorted out where we had to go, we got on our way along the street towards the right road that would take us up to the Black Rock Gorge.

We weren't very far on the road, when it started to rain. Luckily it did not last.

There were some great views through the rain back to the Cromarty Firth from the road.

There is an enigmatic stone at the side of the road,

Psalm 121 begins " I will lift up my eyes to the hills".

If you turn round and do that, this is what you see - Fyrish Monument.

There was a degree of confusion as to where, exactly, we were to leave the tarred road to go into the woods. Our first attempt carried some considerable risk due to the cliff like nature of the slope! 

Our second attempt did not quite look right, and then a wee guy on a bike told us we needed to go further up the hill. Some of us got there, but the rest met a different walking group coming up from the woods to the road. There was only a minor stand off and we all went on the same route eventually, once Dave, who had gone over the cliff route, caught us up.

Surely this was the right route!

Of course it was.

A building. A sure sign!

Steps. An even surer sign!

At last we had found the river.

The river is known as the River Glass or Allt Graad. You might think Allt Graad is the Gaelic name, but that is actually Allt Grannda - The ugly river, as in nasty or grim.

Robin looks a bit grim as he is about to be devoured by some sort of horrible monster!

But! Wait, he survived.

We stopped at a little waterfall, which made me wonder whether we were going uphill or was the gorge below cutting deeper into the rock? I suspect the answer is a bit of both. We were certainly going uphill and I am sure the river was eroding through the rock over a few thousand years. Indeed, it is thought to have been formed as sediment rich water cut through the softer rock as the land rebounded after the weight of the melting glaciers was removed at the end of the Ice Age.

Naturally, there is a bridge over the gorge, so we managed a bridge photo. I certainly wasn't getting on the bridge at the same time as that lot. It's 120 feet to the water below!

It sure is a long way down. You can see why it was used as a location for a scene in one of the Harry Potter films. Not having seen any of the films or read any of the books, I cannot offer you any more information than that.

From the bridge we climb up the other side and eventually reach the site of a woodland cabin, teaching area and play park, all part of the Evanton Community Woodland project. The community bought the woods in 2012. 

When we arrived a few pupils from Dingwall Academy were learning about making tools, wildlife of the woods and, frankly, eating lots of marshmallows that they were toasting on a fire! We spent some time listening to them and the volunteers helping them out. Good for them all!

Nessie was looking a bit tired!

It was good to see youngsters in the woods, enjoying themselves and learning at the same time.

We were soon  back in the village and walking back to the cars, before going to the Highland Farm Café for our lunch.

I had a hot honey halloumi flatbread and salad, which unexpectedly came with chips. Jacque wanted to steal a chip, she said. After some resistance on my part, she stole two!

Remarkably, the next day this terrible theft was reported in The Times!

After our fine lunch we all went back home. We had had a really great weekend away, with lots of outstanding food, company, walks and entertainment. Even the weather was kind to us.

Well done everybody and a big thank you to Sue & Charlie for organising it all!