A Companion and Useful Guide to the Beauties of Scotland/Chapter 13
CHAPTER XIII.
Glen Lochy is a very narrow tract; and near its entrance is a small lake, with a quiet river running through the middle of the whole glen; and a range of wonderful lofty green mountains on each side, from which flow torrents not to be counted for number, feeding the lake and river. This glen is eight miles long, and almost uniformly wide, but winding; and produces nothing but sheep pasture; nor did I see any sign of human habitation, not even a sheelin. In a bad day Glen Lochy must appear very dreary; but in sun-shine very pleasant. Unluckily for me it began to overcast, and a degree of mist to rise by the time I drew towards the end of this glen; but notwithstanding the mist, when I came to the spot where I looked down on the beautiful and grand view of Glen Orchy, I exclaimed, oh! what a Paradise is there. You who read, imagine yourselves just at the end of a drive, of eight miles, between uniform green mountains up to the sky, and emerging at once from this narrow defile, upon a precipice hanging over a very extensive vale, watered by a fine river, and enriched by an abundance of luxuriant wood, and fields of corn and grass, with houses, ruins, and kirks, scattered thickly throughout the glen, which is bounded by mountains of every form and hue; and in the distant front is Loch Awe, thirty miles long, with Cruchan Ben, rising above the clouds in terrific majesty of towering crags, vulcanic concaves and points: also other mountains, with verdant tops and woody sides, but not equal either in height or sublimity to Cruchan Ben, whose northern aspect is as terrific, as are its east and southern, sublime and beautiful.
As I advanced to Dalmally, every step delighted me: but, alas! the clouds gathered thick, and a deluge of rain succeeded, which continued with unceasing violence the whole night and the next day.
Had I then been acquainted with the beauties I might have seen in my way to Bun Awe and Oban, I certainly should have gone thither from Dalmally. I would advise whatever traveller may reach the length of Dalmally, by no means to miss the drive to Oban, about twenty-four miles. The road to Bun Awe, thirteen miles, crosses the beautiful river Orchy, by a bridge opposite to Dalmally inn, and soon climbs the side of Cruchan Ben, encountering innumerable torrents issuing from that gigantic mountain; which on that and the south-side is chiefly covered with wood, at least round its base, and high up its sides. After two miles the road crosses two powerful torrents, high above the Orchy river, and then descends by a precipice to the edge of Loch Awe on the left, having Cruchan still towering to the sky on the right, with numberless torrents rolling down its sides dashing to the lake.
From the eastern side, from where I saw it, the surface of the water near the river Awe appeared to me perfectly smooth; but it falls over a broad bed of rocks with peculiar force and astonishing rapidity, and then roars through a channel of rocks and loose stones until it is lost in Loch Etive. A few short periods of fair weather between the violent storms of rain, gave me an opportunity of seeing perfectly that part of Loch Awe, where the river Awe runs out of it. From that station the channel of the river seemed narrow; but of such a variety, grandeur, and beauty in the winding scenery about it, that nothing but the eye can take in. The huge masses of mountain of Cruchan Ben and Cruchan Barn, (that is fair) bound the lake and the river to the north-west, and extend from Dalmally to Bun Awe. Nothing can exceed the terrific appearance of that huge craggy mountain facing the north; but on the side of the lake, and the beautiful river, the face of it is indeed fair, being covered with wood and verdure. I never shall forget the effect this scene had on me, when I looked at it during some very short cessations of rain. The lake, the islands in it (and there are several, all, except one, covered with wood, through which the rocks peep like ruined castles; and that one is of grass, and a perfect flat of bright verdure, rising just above the level of the water, forming a great contrast to the other islands), the smooth water gliding to the channel of the river; the beautiful and grand banks of mountains, rocks, and wood, and the projecting promontories of crags, retiring in perspective order, round which the broad river rolls till lost to sight, all was to me so enchanting, that it is far beyond my power to describe it.
The road to Bun Awe sweeps round the huge base of Cruchan for thirteen miles, sometimes close to the water's edge, at others on a shelf hanging over it, through a continued grove of wood, and adorned by innumerable dashing torrents. Bun Awe is situated near the mouth of the river Awe, where it empties itself into Loch Etive. At some miles to the south of Bun Awe is the ferry, commonly called the Connel Ferry, which, all who go to Fort William by the Appin road, must cross, and it is a carriage road; I am told a tolerable good one. I say told, for alas! I missed it from ignorance of what is there to be seen; and I am in this description come to the Connel Ferry, in order to mention a cascade, as wonderful, if not more so, than any other in the world. Connhuil, signifies the raging flood. This cascade is periodical; for when Loch Etive (which is a salt water lake) is swollen by the spring-tides, it discharges itself in a mighty cataract through a strait, formed by rocks stretching out from either shore. The lake thus encreased falls over the precipitate face of the rocks towards the west, from a height of about fifteen feet, with a noise that astonishes all who hear it; and in some directions it is heard for many miles; while the fishing boats, at the extremities of the eddies, float in perfect smooth water.
On the west-side of Loch Etive, near the road to Appin, are the ruins of the city and castle of Beregonium, formerly the chief city of Scotland.
I now return to my own route towards Inveraray from Dalmally; and as I left the view of Loch Awe, and proceeded on my journey, I drove through a woody district; and the road, from the hard rain, was continually crossed by roaring torrents, and burns swelled to rapid rivers. When I came to the bridge of Cladich, the stream there was so tremendous, that I was apprehensive it would wash away every thing before it. From that bridge the road takes a short turn towards the east, and immediately winds up, and amongst mountains, to a very wild and dreary alpine country. The stream the road lies near, perhaps in dry weather, is little more than a burn; but when I was near it, and in a violent rain, it was roaring through its deep channel with prodigious violence, resembling a large river: indeed the whole was a scene of wild mountains, and deep dark glens, covered with foaming torrents as far as the eye could see. At the top of the hills, between Loch Awe and Inveraray, I perceived many grand cataracts; but one above the rest struck me with astonishment; it is the river I had crossed at Cladich, amongst the mountains, at least three miles from the road. I discovered it by its noise, and even at the distance of three miles it was prodigiously fine; what then must it be when near to it? I never in my life experienced such a day of rain; it was as though every floodgate, both above and below, was opened to deluge the earth; and during the whole of the fifteen miles between Dalmally and Inveraray, particularly for the last ten, it was the noise of a constant rushing violent cataract. No sooner had I quitted the torrents running to Loch Awe, than numberless others appeared, gushing from every cliff and from every chasm, rolling from rock to rock to form the river Aray; and as the chaise descended to that river under hanging precipices, down which came every ten yards tearing foaming cataracts, spouting as it were from the sky (so high are the mountains) that the water and spray of them continually dashed against the windows of the carriage, sufficiently to alarm a timorous mind. It was however to me a grand and awful scene that penetrated my soul; and I had not a drawback from perfect admiration, except the idea of danger and labour for the men and horses. As soon as the road touches the brink of the river Aray, notwithstanding the tremendous mountains on each side of the very narrow glen, the plantations of the Duke of Argyle shade the river, and creep up every mountain to its summit; and for the three miles before the entrance to Inveraray, the wood is nearly impenetrable on each side the good road leading to that town. About two miles above the Castle I heard the sound of a tremendous cataract; I stopped the carriage and got out; there was then a very short cessation from violent rain; a trifle did not stop me, I therefore followed the noise of rushing water, and came to a wooden bridge across the Aray, resting upon a ledge of rocks, over which the river was foaming with great violence, it being a high flood. I never saw a more picturesque fall: the scenery of wood about it is enchanting; and though it be made very accessible, not the least trace of art is visible, but chaste simplicity is preserved. How it happens that the bridge, slight as it looks to be, is not carried away by the raging flood, I cannot imagine. As I stood upon it, it absolutely trembled from the violent shocks it incessantly sustained from the dashing foaming river. When once the water has escaped this fretting passage, it winds away most beautifully, bordered by thick wood, to the Duke's pleasure ground, passes very near the Castle, and in front of one of its sides empties itself into Loch Fine; and over it, as it joins the lake, is a beautiful stone bridge. There is also another bridge over the Aray, on the north-side of the Castle, of one arch, and a very fine bridge it is, of dark grey stone; it is called Few's bridge. About half a mile above that bridge is a mill, close on the Aray, and by it a very picturesque fall; but not any thing like so grand as the one under the wooden bridge above. The ground around this mill is part of the Duke's farm: indeed he holds almost all the land about Inveraray in his own hands, as I was told, amounting to about two thousand pounds a year.
Very little corn is cultivated in that part of the country; its produce chiefly consists of grass and sheep pasture. The small glens are extremely productive, particularly Glen Shyra; but, alas! the climate is so wet, that the abundant crops of grass cannot, out of doors, be made into hay. To obviate this inconvenience, the duke has erected, from his own plans, barns, into which the grass, as soon as it is cut, is carried and there dried. These barns are very ornamental, as well as extremely useful; for they appear like so many noble castles, resembling in colour the inhabited mansion, with Gothic exteriors. Those parts of the barns which could not be built castle-like, are painted so as to complete the resemblance.
Inveraray, to me, is the noblest place in Scotland; but the climate of it is dreadful. I asked a lady if the streets were ever perfectly dry? She answered me, never; nor is there a bit of fresh meat to be got in the town during the whole winter. Salted beef, mutton, and herrings, are constantly prepared for the stock of food during that season; for there is not a fresh joint of any meat to be had for love or money. The duke, of course, has every thing he wishes; for having so much ground in his hands, he can kill from his own stock. At Inveraray the herring fishery begins about July, and lasts till November: the herrings caught there are the finest I ever before either saw or tasted, and are often so cheap, that six score fish may be bought for sixpence.
The approach from Dalmally to Inveraray, is by no means so striking as that from Dumbarton. The castle and town are situated on the banks of a broad bay, on the north-west side of Loch Fine; and coming from the head of the lake, about five miles, the road turns short round a promontory, and the eye of a stranger is on a sudden presented with one of the grandest scenes that can be produced in nature. To the south-west, the broad surface of the lake sweeps away as far as the eye can see, skirted by mountains of every hue and form; some craggy and bare, others verdant to the tops, with small wooded glens running between them. The range on the west shore is so entirely covered with trees, that little else of the mountains, except now and then a craggy summit, is to be seen. The eye of the traveller at this turn is directed to the north-west. The broad salt lake is the immediate front, with two fine bridges at a considerable distance; the one over the Shyra, running from the glen of that name, the other over the Aray; beyond which is seen the Castle, constructed of dark bluish-looking stone. Its form is a quadrangle, with four round towers at the corners; the four sides of the fabric nearly resemble each other, with battlements upon the whole. All the windows, both in the towers and the sides, are large, and have Gothic tops to them. The roof may be said to be flat; on the centre of which rises another quadrangle of less dimensions, having two rows of battlements upon the top of it, and like the lower part of the Castle, it has on every side of it large windows, with Gothic tops to them, serving for sky-lights to the hall and staircases. The castle stands about a quarter of a mile from the lake, on an extensive lawn (rising gradually from the Aray Bridge), of great variety of ground of the richest verdure, with very fine timber trees of different sorts scattered charmingly over it; some single, others clustered; and groups of sheep greatly adding to the beauty of the scene. Rising from the Castle (to the traveller's eye on the right), is the lofty Dunacquaich; thick wood creeping nearly to its summit. Its shape is very uncommon; and being planted with a great variety of trees and shrubs, the tints on its sides are very striking. Towards the top of it some crags peep between the brush wood, gorse, and broom, forming a picturesque contrast with the foliage, and the verdant grass-cap, which covers the summit, on which stands a watch tower. The river Aray, with an abundance of fine trees, surround its base. Behind, and on the left of the Castle, piles of mountains of all hues, shapes, and heights, seem to form an impassable barrier, both to screen and to guard it from attacks, either of the boisterous elements, or the wild encroachments of man. To the traveller, on the opposite side of the loch, the white walls of Inveraray town appear along the shore; and in the time of the herring fishery, innumerable vessels and boats crowd the bay, and many are drawn on the beach before the houses. The inn, and its large arched gateway, is conspicuous, backed by wood and avenues of very ancient trees and high mountains, all finely planted, forming a part of the noble chain beforementioned, on the west of the lake.
From the spot where I have stopped the Stranger, Glen Shyra is little seen: the grand avenue of fine trees at its entrance, and an opening between mountains, denote its situation; but the wood is too thick to admit of the glen being seen until within it. It contains a small lake, and the river Shyra running through it. This glen is very productive, and its boundary hills are well clothed with wood. The Hay Castle too, in it, is a fine object. The bridge over the Shyra river, at its entrance into Loch Fine, is somewhat in the style of Wade's bridge in Appneydow, but without its spires.
In the road towards the bridge over the Douglas river, are oak, ash, beech, and other trees, as fine and large (if not more so), as any I have ever seen in my life; even were those in the parks of Hagley and Burleigh to come forward and claim a pre-eminence.
There is a beautiful drive from Inveraray to a romantic bridge of one arch, over the river Douglas;—the mill close to it—the trees weeping, and ivy creeping about it, and the rocks around, render this spot very picturesque. There are two roads to this delightful scenery; one on each side the Douglas river, and I know not which is the most charming.
It is said that Inveraray Castle is a heavy building; it may be so: but it corresponds so well with the scene in which it is placed, that the sublime effect of the whole would be lessened, were the Castle any other than it is.
There is a strong character in the jagged mountain tops of this part of Argyleshire, and particularly around Inveraray and Aroquhar. It is an odd idea, but a true one, that most of the high crags seem like huge giants' heads laid flat, with their faces uppermost; the points forming a forehead, nose, and chin of a huge old man.