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Kintail - June. Scrambling and walking in one of
the most famous glens in Scotland! The minibus will hopefully be leaving
early afternoon. We are staying in a bunkhouse which has no pub nearby.
Click on any of the subjects below for more information. Note that some of the topics will take you to other sites. |
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Back to pictures of Kintail |
This will take you into Multimap |
(not yet available) |
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Kintail in relation to Newcastle |
This will take you into the Met Office |
Contact Outac |
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The Five Sisters |
This will take you into SAIS |
(not yet available) |
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Andy in his pride an joy |
The Five Sisters of Kintail |
Rosie in the boots again! |
The Five Sisters of Kintail |
Rob |
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Rosie on the Ridge |
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Panorama of the Five Sisters |
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Andy's Range Rover |
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Glen Licht House barbecue |
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The big V8! |
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Andy chops wood with the pickaxe |
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Rosie asleep |
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Dinner in Glen Licht House |
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Rosie in the river again! |
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Glen Licht House barbecue |
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This will take you into Multimap |
Glen Licht |
Mad Morg |
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Glen Licht House |
Woodcutting |
...and chopping |
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Heather |
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Rob |
Rosie |
Food |
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Morg |
Heather and Rosie |
Rob |
Steevie |
Naomi and Rob |
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Rosie in the river |
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Andy |
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More river |
Those yellow boots! |
Rosie in the boots |
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Situated at the foot of
the Five Sisters of Kintail Glen Lichd House bothy is based in the heart of an
excellent walking area. Edinburgh University Mountaineering Club maintain Glen
Lichd house as a locked bothy (so technically it is not a bothy at all!),
and hire it out to other clubs and individuals as well as members of the club
itself. Inside the place is quite well appointed with gas cookers and lights,
fireplaces, and a good sleeping area upstairs. Edinburgh University
Mountaineering Club has leased the property from the National Trust for
Scotland since the 1960s; it was initially funded as a memorial to two
students. Currently they rent it to other mountaineering clubs, but Edinburgh
University Mountaineering Club members have priority. Rumour has it that this
is the infamous venue of the naked hogmany parties!
The
Legend of the Five Sisters of Kintail
Like
Loch Ness and the circles of stone,
Sisters
stronger together than love alone.
No, the mountains were not always here.
There was a time many, many moons before any of you were born when the whole of
Kintail was but a vast stretch of grass, with a single, winding river cutting
through it. The five peaks of beautiful majesty were completely unheard of, the
soft heather that covers their soft rolls and dips grew not, and the very
boundary of the village itself had nothing to distinguish it from the rest of
the Highland countryside. Now you may have heard this story before of the five
sisters who were so beloved that they were turned to the very mountains of
Kintail to preserve their beauty for all time. You may even have been told of
the brothers who misled them and caused their hearts to break so that they
could not bear to live as maidens any longer. But never before have you heard
the true story from me, the witch of the mounts, the first seer of Kintail.
The thin dirt path began at the foot of
the woods. It wound its way about the trees, diving beneath overgrown ferns and
piles of fallen leaves from toppled or wind-blown trees. Only the smallest of
woodland creates made themselves known that lazy, late afternoon, an occasional
squirrel or bird darting from tree to tree, taking shelter in the shade from
the heat of another warm Scottish summer day. The thin canopy of treetops sent
bright yellow patches of fuzzy light down upon the forest’s most recent
visitors.
"Gillie! Hurra up! We’re never tae
make it out o’ the forest by the eve if ye stop tae pick evera fleur that
catches yer eye." Young Mora ran one slender hand through her thick brown
hair in the absence of a comb. She stopped her hand in front of her face, inspecting
its plain appearance as if for the first time, mesmerized for a brief second
before dropping it back down to her side. "Hurra up!"
The girl in question shot her elder
sister a mean look, successfully restraining herself from any unladylike gestures.
She took up the folds of her tartan skirts and let her other hand swoop down
for just one more flower to add to her bunch of bright blues, golds, and reds.
Catching her sister’s step, Gillie matched pace as well as her shorter legs
could manage. "Realla, Mora, I dinna want tae gae intae the center o’ the
woods. Grandmother MacKenzie says we arena supposed tae be here at dusk. Why
could you no take Chlora or Betty? Or even Mary?"
With a sigh, Mora quickened her pace. She
was beginning to ask herself the same question. "Now, now. Ye’re too old
tae believe in Grandmother MacKenzie’s fairytales."
Grumbling and wiping a sweaty palm on the
side of her skirt, "They arena fairytales. Ye ken as well as I that there
was magic placed on us at birth. Blessings of greatness growing like mountains
from our sisterhood. After all, we’ll be out and on our own soon. Grandmother
is onla trying tae direct us."
"Och aye?" Mora chuckled,
casting her sister a sideways look without breaking pace. "Well if she’s
that good a witch, why is it that we’ve all been tae the woods afore and none
o’ us have died?"
"She said we’d meet our fate and
come to an untimely end by it. Ye could at least get the wordin’ right."
Mora rolled her eyes and snatched one of
the flowers from Gillie’s tight fist. Gillie made a bit of a fuss in protest,
but her elder sister won out, as always. She pulled the bright red blossoms
from the head and, laughing, showered them over Gillie so the petals stuck in
the jet-black locks. "Grandmother," Mora began slowly. "Is an
old witch wi’ old spells and an old mind. Wee Mary could perform better magic
in her sleep were she wi’ the sight." Finding no immediate reaction from
her sister, she continued and increased her pace. "Not to mention that
Grandmother controls us all too much alreada. She onla uses us fer what she
wants. She willna let us marry lads in the village, she makes us work tae get
her supplies. I’m ten and six years and still under her control."
Gillie grabbed her sister’s arm both to
keep her sister’s pace at a more reasonable level, and to make her own point
stronger. "Ye ought tae ha’ more respect fer yer elders, Sister.
Grandmother raised us and tends tae us as we need."
"And ye know how she tended
tae our parents. We five sisters practically raised each other, lassie.
Grandmother had little say in that. We are more a burden than a blessing to
her, I daresay." Shaking her arm free with a violent jerk, "But if I
didna have respect do ye think I’d be searching through Loran Forest fer hawk
eggs fer Grandmother? Nay, I wouldna! Besides, I am seven years older than you,
so watch yer respect and yer hands wi’ me, Sister."
It was enough to cause young Gillie to
tuck in her lower lip and bite down, suppressing any further mentioning of the
subject. Silence enveloped the two as they continued down the path to the
deepest old growth parts of the forest where the hawks were known to build
their nests.
As they rounded a bend, a light breeze
broke through the thick walls of the forest and washed over both of them, causing
slight shivers even in the warm air. Not a moment later, Gillie latched onto
her elder sister’s arm, shifting her body directly behind for protection and
causing them both to come to a halt.
Frustrated by more of her sister’s games
and at the uncomfortable position she had been put in with her arm bent round
behind her, she let out a deep sigh. "What ‘tis—"
"Hush!" Gillie hissed,
tightening her grip on her sister’s arm. Though afraid to move, she brought
herself to tiptoes so her whispers would reach Mora’s ears, "Can ye no see
the lad?"
Mora looked about, confused and ready to
laugh at how silly her sister was being when she noticed a small lad’s face
peaking out from behind a tree. His eyes were a light blue and his hair the color
of pre-ripe strawberries. As soon as he was noticed, he disappeared back behind
the tree trunk.
Only moments later, a taller lad
appeared, striding out with a welcoming smile which took over his face with the
deepest dimples either girl had ever seen. He was the very definition of
handsome, from bright blue eyes to a round face and a hawkish, sloping nose.
His hair was a deeper red than the boy’s and his face as full of freckles as an
Irishman’s. However, he was far from Irish in dress; he wore a dull gray-blue
tartan which hung from shoulder and waist with the sort of disarray that
results from a long while between cleanings. Though a bit out of order, he
still held a fine air of nobility. He had a proper gold clan crest pin clasping
the folds of cloth together at the shoulder, but with no markings that had ever
been seen in small village of Kintail. As far as could be seen, he carried no
broadsword on his back, but was slightly armed with a thin dirk tucked neatly
into his gray socks; hardly a threat. His hands were clasped at his heart but
parted in a wide, sweeping gesture of greeting towards the girls. "Feasgar
maith," he began the warm greeting in Gaelic, then broke to a perfect
regional tongue to continue, "My what beautiful game we’ve been able to
scare up for tonight’s dinner, Arnoch, hmm?"
The younger lad peaked his head out from
behind the tree, wearing as wide a smile as the other’s, but his cheeks were
flushed with shyness. This time his head remained, rather than darting back
into hiding, curious eyes surveying the sisters.
Mora cleared her throat to be as proper
as possible in as cold a remark as she could muster in the face of such a
handsome man. "If ye think us game, Sir, we’ll be much obliged tae turn
tail and run as the stags dae. I see ye havena had the luck this day with them
either." Leading in with an affront to his hunting skills… and extending a
charming smile of her own.
The young man laughed, "Wi’ a wit
like yers, M’lady, I dinna think ye’d even need tae run tae defeat us. Nay tae
mention yer striking beauty and demeanor." He walked closer, grabbing the
waist of the young lad to bring him out to full view. "My name is William,
and this be none other than my younger brother Arnoch." The lad smiled,
and turned his eyes to the ground. "Greet the fine ladies, laddie!"
Little Arnoch held up his hand and
murmured a sheepish, "Feasgar maith."
William continued, "We’re just
passin’ through here fer a handful of days on our way back home."
Taking over the introductions, "And
I am Mora o’ the House o’ MacKenzie and this wee one hiding is my own sister
Gillian."
Gillie stepped out and gave a gentle
curtsey to the visitors. Thinking quickly, she stepped forward and offered her
plucked bunch of now wilting flowers to the young lad. He took them graciously
and smelled them with a smile.
"Come, William," Mora said,
feeling oddly at ease with him. "We will let the young ones get to know
each other a wee while, aye?" She extended her hand, wiggling the fingers
to attract him to them.
William accepted the offer and they
wandered off in gentle talk.
"Hurra up, Gillie! Grandmother
MacKenzie will kill us if we stay out as late this eve as we have most nights
this week."
Gillie giggled, skipping behind her
sister to keep the quick pace as the two took the path back into the Loran
woods. "Ye’re nay worried about Grandmother. Ye just want tae see William
again," she giggled.
"Weel, I dinna find ye objecting to
seeing the little laddie Arnoch."
Giggle hissed with a laugh. "He isna
little- he’s nine years, the same as I am."
With a snort, "Aye, that’s little.
William’s a mature and dignified ten and eight years."
As they rounded the same bend, they found
the two lads standing together as they had for the last three days. The younger
pair met with giggles and raced away to explore more wildlife of the inner
woods. The elder two met with a bow, a curtsey, and a soft kiss to the hand.
"I daresay, you’ve gotten more beautiful overnight my lass," William
said as they strolled from the path.
An hour later found the two lying
leisurely in a thick patch of ferns. William lay on his back with his elbows
akimbo, hands behind his head. Mora lay on her side with one hand rested softly
on William’s chest.
"Tell me again o’ yer castle,
William?"
"Och, aye," the young man replied
with a smile. "’Tis onla that o’ my father, the chieftain, not mine alone
o’ course. But ‘tis a bonnie place. Heather blossoms leap at each stone wall
fer they know ‘tis much more beautiful inside than out. Each wall has a line o’
torches, and each torch is always lit so that when ye cross o’er the mountain
pass, its brilliance o’ light strikes ye like a sea of fireflies that have all
chosen a single tree tae rest upon. There are twenty towers and a bridge
leading in which is greater than even the castle o’ Eilean Donnan. Our castle
is stone but ever so warm and comforting wi’ roaring fires in evera room and
five in the great hall. And oh the hall, wi’ a ceiling so high ‘tis impossible
tae envision its construction."
Mora sighed, eyes closed for the tale,
but her fingers caressed the imprint of the crest in his gold shoulder clasp.
"And where is yer place in this great hall, Willie?"
William smiled at the nickname and
continued. "I stand on my Da’s right, where I will one day sit wi’ my
bonnie wife. And my brothers will sit to my right with their wives, in the
finest robes o’ the Highlands, on the most extravagant gold and jeweled
thrones."
Mora’s deep brown eyes fluttered open as
a satisfied smile passed her face. "I should think that a simply beautiful
sight one day."
"Och, aye Lass," he gave a soft
nod. "Ye may indeed be there tae see it."
"Perhaps, Willie. Perhaps…"
"Hold still!" he exclaimed,
moving suddenly to prop himself up on an elbow with such a calming tone that
all sense of alarm was lost and she simply froze. With his other hand, he
reached out to her hair, retracting it to show a tiny ladybug resting on his
finger. "She was a wee bit confused, I think." He smiled, looking up
into her eyes with his own emerald beauties. "A bonnie ladybug for a bonnie
lady."
Mora giggled, gently touching her finger
to his so that it would crawl to her. Raising her hand away from the two, she
gave it a launching pad. The little red dot crawled to the very tip of her
finger, fluttered its wings, then took flight towards a nearby patch of
flowers.
William wrapped an arm around her as they
lay back down together, relaxing in a friendly embrace. "Will ye come back
this time tomorra my lass? ‘Tis onla one day more ‘til Arnoch and I must return
home."
She nodded without a second thought.
"Well o’ course, Willie." A few moments passed, filled with only the
rustles of leaves and the gentle songs of birds. "Willie, when ye say I
may see yer castle…"
"Why, o’ course I mean tae marry ye,
my bonnie lass. And take ye from this simple village tae the life of a noble
chieftain’s bairn." His arm warmed her, the tartan cloth rubbing her cheek
in comfort. "I wouldna make such moves as these if I didna want tae
handfast wi’ ye Lass."
Eyes growing wide, she sat up with more
surprise than alarm. "But Willie… I couldna bear tae leave my sisters! The
five o’ us could ne’er be separated. My bond wi’ my sisters is more important
than any carin’ ye have shown me here, as bonnie as it has been. I canna leave
my sisters." She decided to leave off the parts of magic that required it
to be so, for fear he think her cursed.
William sat up as well, draping arms over
her shoulders and folding his hand on her chest. "My bonnie lass, do ye
think I didna know this? I have four younger brothers I couldna e’er be removed
from either." He nudged her so she turned around to face him. William then
took her hand in his, stroking the smooth, plain hand softly. "Five
fingers together make a hand. Each finger a beauty of its own, but the five
together make the delicate, fair hand I see before me." He pressed his
palm against hers, matching his fingers to hers. "Where there were five,
there will be ten." When he gave her hand back to her with a kiss, she
found a cool golden ring sliding down from her knuckle to settle snugly on her
ring finger.
"Oh, William…"
He silenced her with two fingers to her
lips, looking deep into her eyes with his own hazel ones. "When I return,
I will bring my brothers, and we will feast on the best and dance a ceilidh and
the whole village will attend the handfasting."
Ecstatic, she wrapped her arms around him
in a hug and the two melted together back into the blanket of soft ferns.
"Are ye comin’ Mora?"
With a laugh, "Aye Lassie, just
stopped to pick an apple for William."
Gillie fingered the basket that hung at
the crook of her elbow. "’Twill go perfectla wi’ the bannocks we baked the
lads this morn."
"Och, aye, I ken. The others are
simpla so jealous!" she giggled, thinking of her other three sisters
comments that morning. "They will understand soon enough. We can invite
the lads to dinner this night afore they leave fer home. Grandmother will say
‘tis only infatuation if we tell her of it afore she meets them fer herself,
aye?"
Gillie nodded in agreement as they
hurried on the path taken each afternoon of the week. "But can ye nae
imagine it, Mora? Five brothers fer we five sisters. ‘Tis too perfect fer
words!"
"I ken, Gillie. I feel him so
strongly in my heart that I canna imagine nay knowin’ him." She giggled to
herself. "I ken we’ve only just met the lads, but—"
"—aye, Mora, I feel it as
well."
They rounded the bend with bright smiles
and fluttering hearts to find nothing save a grove of old growth trees. The two
sisters instinctively reached out to each other to hold hands in support.
"Mora…" Gillie’s voice wavered,
close to tears.
"—Nay, dinna say it. The lads must
be here." They took turns calling out names for a while, walking about to
peak behind tress in case it were but a game, and even checking the brush and
ground for signs of visitors or struggles. But no matter how much they
searched, there was no sign of the lads anywhere.
The times after the mysterious
disappearance of the young men found the Mora and Gillie broken-hearted,
weak-willed, and desperate for anything that could remotely help. The change
had not gone unnoticed by the other sisters, who did their best to raise
spirits. The youngest, Mary, would bake sweets when they could be afforded.
Chlora would sing them all to bed every night. Betty would take over their
missed chores. But nothing pulled the two from the deep well of depression and
confusion that had come from such pure emotions and total abandonment. The
depression spread quickly among the five, with remembrance of the perfect match
that should have been made. They were forbidden to marry within the village,
and unable to travel without the others for their strength as a sisterhood was
only thing keeping them alive. The realization of their eternal maiden states
pulled at them all even as they tried to be strong for each other.
Unable to bear it no longer, Mora and
Gillie approached me, their Grandmother, a month exactly to the day of the
disappearance. They were in an endless pit of depression, but worsened by
feelings of desperation, which heightened at every passing day. I did what I
could for them. Wrapping my arms around young Gillie, I sat her on my lap as we
had when she was young and in need of a bedtime story. Per my request, Mora
held her hand out to me so that I might inspect the ring she never took off. In
the curve of smooth, solid gold I could see the young man’s reflection. A
handsome clansman with a smile that was too charming to be anything other than
bewitching; I smiled back. And his eyes, the most powerful vision of them all,
eyes that glowed with false joy, eyes that color had completely abandoned; I
did not cast my own eyes away at the sight. I waited until all images faded
before speaking to the girls.
"My dearies," I began, "Ye
know o’ the blessing placed upon you at birth. To be strong as five and achieve
a perfect greatness, aye?" The two girls nodded. "I’ve warned ye o’
the dangers o’ the Loran Forest. But it seems that ye didna head them and have
thus been enchanted in a way I canna reverse." I would not have, even if I
could have.
Mora’s eyes widened, her hands clutching
the thick wool plaid of her skirt. "Enchanted?"
"In love," I replied.
"Pure, bewitching, perfect love. And should other suitors come tae call,
yer hearts will never be filled by them, and yer dreams will remain on yer twa
lads o’ the forest. I daresay there is but one spell in my powers that can help
ye now."
Gillie shivered in my arms and I ran my
thin, bony fingers down the young skin of her arm to her hand, taking it in
mine. "A spell tae preserve yer beauty fer all times, and keep yer
sisterhood as strong as it once was."
Given their states, the girls agreed at
once and fetched the others for the necessary ingredients. Rocks arranged in
circle, a cauldron of cold water to be boiled, the herbs of change and healing,
and a single drop of blood from the ring finger of each sister, and the
enchantment evoked in my normal harsh whisper. I grabbed the sides of the
cauldron, though scorching hot, as the ground shook. Though the ground gave a
great groan like that of a woman in birth, the girls themselves made no noise
as tears streamed silently down their faces. I felt my own heart begin to tear
into five pieces and closed my eyes to block the pain. Yet I managed to
continue the spell and fought with burned hands to stay upright through the
shakes and quakes of the land.
When things died down at last, my eyes
opened to find I was alone in a quake-demolished room. But out the window where
the flat stretch of meadow between the village and forest had been, now was a
spectacular string of five mountains. Tall, sharp mountains the perfect shade
of dull blue-gray towered over our village. Each peak was unique, of different
heights, shapes, and markings. But each was breathtakingly beautiful, and all
five joined at the base in strength.
Sisters
united to achieve a great height
All
dreams dashed when hearts take a flight.
Perfect
love and perfect trust with naiveté
Preserved
their youthful beauty for eternity.