Today has been a big driving day. Inverness at the top of Scotland down to Whitby in Yorkshire in one day. We have been told we are crazy to attempt such a feat but well, it is only like Ballarat from Adelaide and how often have I done that after work on a Friday.
“How hard can it be?”
Well, it was not easy. This is not Australian driving as I have said before but let’s begin with a brief stop before we head south.
“How hard can it be?”
Well, it was not easy. This is not Australian driving as I have said before but let’s begin with a brief stop before we head south.
Culloden is the place where the Jacobite rebellion ended. One massive battle to end them all and to determine the royal line going forward. It is a big field just outside of Inverness. Our plan was to just drive past and head south but when we arrived it became strangely magnetic and we pulled into the empty carpark. It was 8am and there was nobody about except a small van and I think the driver had been sleeping there.
Across the field we could see a line of red flags where the British lined up for the battle and in the distance, a line of blue flags for the scots. In the middle we found many, many small engraved stones to indicate where various important people had fallen.
It is a quiet place, a still place.
It is one stop short of a bog.
The notices say it is much drier today than in 1746 but the ground cover is pretty much as it was.
Just to drag yourself through the undergrowth, through the soggy boggy muck, carrying your sword and shield, before you get to the battle would have been exhausting.
The Scots had a battle plan. Draw swords and charge.
The Brits had a plan too… shoot the scots.
Thousands died on both sides. The Scots could not prevail.
I guess this is a bit like ANZAC for us and it drew us in with each step. We passed probably an hour wandering across the moor, thankfully there are paths today. Eventually the place began to wake. A lone jogger pounded the path past us on his regular course. A few more people arrived and followed a track as we had.
Soon the visitors centre would open, but not soon enough for us. We had a road to drive, petrol to burn and Scottish road rules to debate before the evening in Yorkshire.
Across the field we could see a line of red flags where the British lined up for the battle and in the distance, a line of blue flags for the scots. In the middle we found many, many small engraved stones to indicate where various important people had fallen.
It is a quiet place, a still place.
It is one stop short of a bog.
The notices say it is much drier today than in 1746 but the ground cover is pretty much as it was.
Just to drag yourself through the undergrowth, through the soggy boggy muck, carrying your sword and shield, before you get to the battle would have been exhausting.
The Scots had a battle plan. Draw swords and charge.
The Brits had a plan too… shoot the scots.
Thousands died on both sides. The Scots could not prevail.
I guess this is a bit like ANZAC for us and it drew us in with each step. We passed probably an hour wandering across the moor, thankfully there are paths today. Eventually the place began to wake. A lone jogger pounded the path past us on his regular course. A few more people arrived and followed a track as we had.
Soon the visitors centre would open, but not soon enough for us. We had a road to drive, petrol to burn and Scottish road rules to debate before the evening in Yorkshire.
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