Scotland

"He was so promising as a student that the priests whose school he attended sent him to Spain with a nobleman whom they knew, so that he might learn still more from travel."

--from Number Stories of Long Ago by David Eugene Smith

Some years ago, I read about the battle of Culloden in a book called Dragonfly in Amber by Diana Gabaldon. I knew that Bonnie Prince Charlie gathered an army of Scottish highlanders and tried to reclaim the crown of Scotland for the Stuart dynasty. I knew that he had a great many successes in his campaign, leading up to the battle of Culloden. I knew he made some foolish choices on the eve of that battle, and that in the end, the highlanders suffered a bitter defeat that changed the course of history in Scotland. I knew all that.

But then again, I didn’t know.

Last week, I spent seven days on a tour of Scotland that took me into the Scottish highlands and to the Culloden battlefield. I can say without a doubt that my understanding and appreciation of the story of the story of the Jacobite rebellion of 1746 has changed and deepened in ways I could not have imagined.

We arrived in the highlands on a misty morning. We got off the bus and looked out on the beautiful shores of Loch Lomond. The sight was breathtaking. Light fog hung over the mountains. A light rain fell occasionally, making all the vegetation lush and green. The water was still and blue from afar, yet dark and brooding up close. The whole place had an air of mystery and majesty that I can hardly explain.

That was only the beginning of our trip through the highlands. For the next four days, we drove through amazing scenery, through narrow passes, down winding mountain roads, and by misty, glistening lochs. We listened to our tour guide tell us dozens of stories of the legends and history of the region. And I must confess that I completely lost my heart to the Scottish highlands.

I can’t claim to know Prince Charles Edward Stuart’s full motivation for launching his campaign to take back Scotland from the English. But I understand now why so many highlanders chose to follow him. If the Scottish highlands were my home, I would fight to get them back, too. I felt a deep connection to the land after a few days of seeing it through a bus window. These men not only lived there, but also depended on the land for their livelihood. How could they do anything else but try to keep it?

Yet having that new appreciation of the highlanders’ connection to their home made the story of Culloden all that more heartbreaking. We walked out onto Culloden Moor and stood at the location of the front lines of the highland forces. I gazed out across the field and saw in the distance the mountains that had already so captured my heart and imagination. These men stood there looking out on their home.

Then came the order to attack. The battle was lost in less than an hour. A great many highlanders died that day on the field. The rest were hunted down, imprisoned, and massacred for years to come. The ones that survived were not allowed to wear their clan tartans, which were a proud symbol of their heritage.

The entirety of their lives changed that day. I thought I understood that before I went to Scotland. But it wasn’t until I stood on that front line that I really understood.

If I had stood on Culloden Moor without knowing everything I did about the Jacobite rebellion and the highlanders, I don’t think I would have appreciated the magnitude of what happened there that fateful day in 1746. If I had only read about the battle but never seen what the highlanders saw when they stood on the front lines, I never would have been able to really imagine what it was like for them. But the two experiences together made for a heartbreaking, soul-changing moment that will stay with me for a long time.

Nine months ago, when I sat in a piano bar discussing a possible trip abroad with my mother, I started throwing out random destinations – anywhere I had not yet been. Poland, Spain, Australia, Belgium, Turkey. I was willing to go anywhere, sight unseen. But I’m so glad that, in the end, we settled on going to Scotland. Not only did the stories of Outlander come alive for me, but the history behind the stories became real.

At the end of our trip, half of our tour group continued on to do a weeklong tour of Ireland. While a piece of me envied them, another piece of me knew that I would not appreciate Ireland the way I appreciated Scotland. I cried when we left the highlands, and I cried again when we left the country altogether. I had seen what I had come to see, but it was still hard to say goodbye. And I think it would have been, no matter where I had been going next.

I hope I take many trips in my lifetime that give me the kind of experience that Scotland did. There are so many places in the world to go, and who knows which others I will feel compelled to see as my life goes on. For now, I plan to continue to read historical fiction until I feel inspired to go somewhere else. There is much to be learned from travel. But like any teacher, travel will teach you more when you come prepared. 

But no matter where else I go, I hope that someday I return to bonnie, bonnie Scotland.