Travelling in time

Last Sunday my mum and i travelled from London Euston around midnight, arriving into Edinburgh at just after 7am. By 8:30 we had gathered at the base of Highland Experience Tours and set off for our 3 day, Ultimate Skye Tour.

Since i was a child i’d grow up watching everything my parents did. As such, i was often confronted with period dramas and particularly historical content. Braveheart was the first impression I had of Scotland. Despite the historical inaccuracies, the film was key to capturing the most fundamental aspects of Scottish culture that would bind my interests to it. Here, Scotland was presented as a wild, dangerous and archetypically uncivilised country. It’s people however were proud, honourable and strong in their interests for preserving clan culture.

Not only is it the strong heritage that draws me to Scotland but as a descendent of clan Grant, it’s my belief that the feeling of ease in a country known for harsh weather comes naturally as a result of my ancestral connection with the country.

Throughout the three days we passed by such places as Stirling Castle, Doune Castle (Castle Leoch in Outlander and Winterfell in GoT), the Wallace monument and made stops at Glencoe, Loch Ness, Eilean Donan Castle, Urquhart Castle, Culloden Battlefield and the Isle of Skye, to name just a few. Briefly put, the first night was spent in Skye, overlooking the bridge back to the mainland of Scotland, shrouded by the mountains backing us to the South. The second night found us situated in a cozy area in Fort Augustus, merely a 5 minute walk from Loch Ness. Understandably, both locations were a romantic testament to Scotland’s undeniable beauty.

Scotland easily fed my imagination with stories both historical and fantastical which meant leaving it impossibly woesome. But having the experience has taught me more than i could have ever imagined.

• Belief. The central reason for loving this land of old is in tune with the solid beliefs that go beyond all reason. When we learn about myths of dragon slaying, witch hunting, fairies terrorising young children or nymphs that acts as guardians of nature, it is easy to dismiss these childish stories with the logic of science and reason. These unbelievable tales remain folklore for their absurdity among modern minds adjusted to a world where sense prevails. But out in the highlands where respect for these tales flourishes like its wildlife, these fantastical stories hold firm resonance in the minds of civilians and visitors alike. For a moment we can let slip our own sense of the world and truly believe that fantasy is real. That, for example, we may dip our faces in faerie pools for eternal youth, or pay sacrament to the beautiful sisters turned into mountains long ago. Even religion, from a time when it was heinous to deny, is becoming more and more distant from truth and plausibility. But retreating into such barren lands where myth is rife eases the suffocation of reality and allows your mind to wander into realms unknown and exciting.
• Seclusion. Beyond a point, entering the Highlands means removing yourself from the world you’ve grown up in. Finally, noise is conquered in favour of silence, bar the sounds of nature coming into her own once again. You feel able to breathe because it’s an escape.
• Time travel. Without the interference of technology it’s easy to stare out into the Highlands and imagine history unfolding before your eyes. In Scotland they believe in preserving old buildings, allowing history to remain frozen in the remoteness of the land.
• Being. By the time we reached Edinburgh i couldn’t help but feel dismal. We were still in Scotland yet somehow it didn’t feel quite the same. That’s when I realised; it was the Highlands. The Highlands were what affected me. My eyes were welling and i couldn’t pin point why I was so lost not being in the Highlands any longer. It was as if i had fallen in love…but with the entity  of Scotland herself. And then I truly understood what it meant to be gripped by the romanticism of a heritage, to have fallen in love with a land that has faced prejudice, constraint, political battles and national pride.

Going back to what I said about belief and myths, being away despite the short stay still affected me in some way. When we stopped off by a stream each person pilled out of the mini bus, where we were suddenly braced by strong winds. Now, wearing just a t-shirt and cardigan probably isn’t the most appropriate clothing to be wearing in Scotland. But with everyone wearing thick coats I think for me there was a defiant need to prove I could survive the typically brutal Scottish weather. So there i was wondering about, camera in hand, trying to ignore the wind trying to break into my thin barrier of clothing. When I went down to the waterside I put my hand in the current and was surprised to find the water was mild, expecting it to be icy cold. This pool was assumed to have healing properties and  strangely enough, since then I didn’t feel the cold; it was as if i’d become immune to the landscape’s rugged weather. It was probably because I’d gotten used to the cold, nevertheless it was nice to believe something more mysterious was at work here.

Moreover, when my mum and I were making our way to the station before departing Edinburgh, i stopped to take some photos. After about 5 minutes some fireworks went off. Of course this was in aid of the Edinburgh Fringe Festival but you can’t deny that the timing was strangely perfect. Finally, just as we were ready to catch our 11.40pm train back to London, we couldn’t. Turned out that the wires above another station had fallen and the train was delayed a total of 6 hours, meaning we had to catch a second at around 5 in the morning. Rational me says it was an accident, naive but optimistic me believes it was Scotland failing to let go of her descendants.

Of course i’d like to believe in the latter-I was enamoured with the place; I felt like a belonged to the landscape. But i guess myth never quite prevails

 

 

 

or does it?

 

 

Celtic Romanticism: The idealisation of heritage in Poldark and Outlander

Heritage is a concept that has been redefined in the eyes of the public. At first the cause was romantic literature. Now it seems that with the help of TV and film, this evocative genre has possessed the minds and hearts of millions, and with it, the intrigue to beguile audiences into such passionate fits they feel they must dedicate all their time to sourcing out everything and anything they can about a show’s context. It means looking back at history, at the significance of a culture and understanding the political, economic and social implications of a world/ time period. It’s a smart move, and something noteworthy of all writers: inspiring others to learn more from the immediate text, covertly teaching people who would otherwise turn their noses up at undressing the fibres of history. We see it in children’s books, delicately put to derail their attentions from the fact they’re still yet learning.

But I digress.

When I talk about Celtic romanticism I refer to two particular texts; the first being Winston Graham’s Poldark. Having first been published in 1945, the series has encouraged readers to transfer their interests from the tribulations of modern society towards the history of Cornwall’s mining industry and the poverty that befell Cornish residents in the 18th century. As a novel it hearkens back to the realities of smugglers, pirates and the more fantastical promise of a life full of danger and unpredictable circumstances. Such is reflected in Du Marier’s Frenchman’s Creek (1941) where we find heroin, Dona, escaping from the constraints of 17th century society in pursuit of the scandalous lifestyle offered by French pirate, Jean-Benoit Aubéry. But just as Graham’s book series has broadened public interest in Cornwall’s heritage, so has the introduction of the 2015 TV adaptation.

The dark and brooding Ross Poldark has no doubt brought audiences flocking to learn more about his enigmatic lifestyle and the love interests that follow. Aidan Turner’s casting of the role has only fed this burning furnace of passion. This does unfortunately detract from the purpose of the work, but there is some benefit to come from this. Where audiences take an interest in the characters so do they fall in love with the environment. From there, audiences will search endlessly for information that might bring them closer to the characters, and to identify with the characters you must understand what they experience; the only way to do that, is by looking back at the Cornish heritage with a scrupulous attention to specifics.

A second text to consider is Outlander. Written by Diana Gabaldon, the novel was formerly published as Cross Stitch (1991) and is similarly responsible for restoring public interest in heritage: Scottish heritage. Pulling from the stereotype of the strong Scotsman, the series that follows tugs at the representation of an honourable man with a powerful need to protect others and fight for what he believes in. Gabaldon emphasises the essence of cultural pride, significantly the pursuit of liberty and freedom. It’s quite a primordial aspect of ourselves which is brought out in these situations, as if the role of defender calls to our natural instinct to partner ourselves with the strong of mind and will. Braveheart (1995) casts a light on such a stereotype and from this our hearts burn for the injustice of the Scots’ treatment and the passionate need for their liberation from the pilfering English soldiers. Outlander was first aired in 2014 as a TV series, a media that’s increasingly more promising to non-readers. Just as with Poldark, the series practically cries out that the affairs which afflicted and blessed the lives of thousands, be explored.

But although Celtic romanticism clearly takes the form of the characters relationships, it is also presented through the landscape. In Poldark, the ragged cliffs, blustering seas and nature’s assault on the senses draws on the readers’ ideas of repose and wildness, synonymous with the wild and unpredictable nature of the foregrounded men. It offers a reprieve from the normality of banal routines and stress of technologically infused lifestyles. In Scotland, it’s the rolling glens, highlands and smell of pure, Scottish air. From the music to the clothing, the sense of pride that ensues is enough to make one double over with choked emotion. Yet there is a ruthlessness about the landscape that echoes the haggard cries of war, a constant in the course of Outlander as the plot draws ever nearer to the Battle of Culloden.

Fundamentally, each landscape is characterised, serving as another entity in itself. By simply reading into these texts you have been transported to a history torn up by war, politics, and fights for freedom. In the earth, clasped in gorse bushes are the threads of Celtic myths, rashly murmured through queer tongue. The foreignness of these imprinted histories should be disturbing, but like children we are victims to curiosity and instead we venture further into the undergrowth and deeper into the realms of the unknown.

The dichotomy between romance and hardship is often overshadowed by the idealisation of heritage. Maybe we are too invested in a nostalgia of the past. But then are we only admitting to a want of archetypal masculine roles (Jamie Fraser, Ross Poldark etc.)? Or is it the innocent desire to protect the landscape from exploitation? Then again, perhaps it’s a want of preserving tradition, a part of Celtic history that is fading like its people. Or perhaps we are merely struck with a melancholy hope that love will prevail in a world where the bond between partners grows fainter with each generation.

The decision is up to you.

Jamie and Claire Fraser, Outlander