Of Bikes and Battles

We're so far behind, I must make an effort to speed things up. But in the words of John Marsden I just have 'so much to tell you'.

For those of you who haven't seen the UK from a bike please get back here and do it again! There was a general feeling that I was slightly mad bringing a bike with me (a feeling that perhaps extends a little further than the bike?) but I am vindicated! The bike rules!

I start the day on Sunday 1st August cycling along the River Ness, in Inverness, when the majority of the populous are still abed. Trees line the banks and there's a little chill in the damp morning air. Picturesque foot-bridges cross the river here and there and the castle can be glimpsed in the distance. All is peaceful and quiet and I could ride on for miles but I am away to the battlefield of Culloden today, so must bid the Ness farewell.

The visitor centre at Culloden has an excellent account of the events that lead to this bloody battle and of the battle itself, telling the story from the Government perspective on the left wall as you made your way through, and the Jacobite's story on the right wall. Various artefacts are displayed in glass cases as you progress.

You then collect a headset and make your way to the battlefield for an audio tour of the site. This bleak and sombre field still retains the echoes of that terrible day, and it's not hard to visualise the noise and confusion of the battle.

In 1881 one, Duncan Forbes, erected a 20 foot high stone memorial cairn in honour of the fallen, and placed stones engraved with the clan names at the mass burial site of each clan. He placed one marking the last resting place of the fallen English as well. These simple stones are poignant reminders of the high price demanded by war.

A garden is needed after that so I make my way to Cawdor Castle, familiar to students of Shakespeare's 'Macbeth', and wandered among the trees and flowers and manicured lawns. Parts of the castle date back to the 14th century and it has a real working drawbridge (handy when the in-laws call around unexpectedly).

My landlady, Maire, has suggested a trip to Chanonry Point to see the dolphins come into the Cromarty Firth with the rising tide. A study of the tide chart suggests that late afternoon would be a good time to arrive. I'm evidently not the only person in the area with access to a tide chart because, when I make my way down a narrow roadway to the point, I find many other dolphin spotters gazing out to sea. I squeeze my car into the last available parking spot and wait for the show to begin.

The dolphin spotting tour boat is on the water and probably hoiking a few sardines overboard to attract the dolphins and justify their fees. The dolphins naturally have no problem with this arrangement and very soon they are leaping and cavorting and playing follow-the-leader in the vicinity of the boat.

Watching the dolphins in the Cromarty Firth? Priceless!