Auld curiosities

Enroute from Dunning to Arbrouth we happened upon Glamis Castle, the childhood home of Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon, the former Queen Mother. Princess Margaret was born here in 1930, we learned. 

There are so many old and restored castles and palaces or ruins of ancient strongholds all over this part of Scotland that even after just a few days here we find we have to pass many by. We simply cannot visit them all. This one is an exception. The castle is approached down a long green drive, rimmed by stately old shade trees planted on either side; its fields stocked with contented Highland cattle, its gardens with statues of James VI and Charles 1. It is quite the idyllic setting for a castle.

The castle itself is straight out of a sun-lit fairytale, with its Sleeping Beauty turrets topped with pretty conical tiled roofs, steeply tilting; along with the decorative crenellations that edge the roofline. It is grand but accessible, large but delightful, and you would be forgiven for thinking that you had seen something like this before in the Loire Valley, so similar it is to so many there. In the garden there is the squat little dovecot, shaped just like a salt cellar. Pigeon-pie for tea, little princess?

But it was not all roses at the palace. Bricked up in one of those secret rooms some 200 years ago, or so the legend goes, is the Glamis Monster. Not only a monster, but the ghost of Macbeth, the 11th century king of Scotland and Shakespeare's famous character. is believed to haunt this castle. Fairytales of yore, intended to frighten wee princesses, for sure.

When finished at the castle we bought an Arbroath Smokie for our lunch and ate it on the fishing dock of Arbroath Harbour surrounded by boats chugging in and out of the harbour, seagulls wheeling and squealing overhead, and rigging clanging in the breeze.

Our smokie was made in the old way: the haddock was salted, left overnight, then hung in a pair to dry out. Later it was placed over a hardwood fire in a covered barrel for an hour to absorb the smoky flavours. To be a genuine Arbroath Smokie this complete process has to take place within 4kms of Arbroath according to the award of the Protected Geographical Indication in 2004. So delicious was this delicate smoked haddock.  Just brilliant on crusty bread topped with sweet purple onion rings for sweetness and complementary tang. More, please!

Five kilometres up the coast, where a narrow potholed road stops and the sea starts is the tiny village of Auchmithie.  Auchmithie fisherman miss out on having their catch called Abroath Smokies because of that extra kilometre, yet the Auchmithie fishermen were the very fisherman that the Arbroath authorities had to call upon to help set up their own fishing industry once the Arbroath harbour was built. And the Auchmithie fisher folk came and helped. Several families actually moved to Arbroath in the 1820s to set the fishing industry there on its baby feet. 

But, before there was a fishing village at Auchmithie there was Auchmuthy, which means Field of the Cowherd.  So these fields overlooking the sea would more likely have rung to the bells of contented cows in days long past, well before the water was harvested of sea creatures. 

Auchmithie then became a fishertoun several centuries before Arbroath even thought to have its own harbour. Young boys would go out on boats with their dads and young girls would help their mums, aunts and grannies bring in the never-ending creels of seafood to scale and shell the fish and limpets that were caught. 

The smoking and preparation of the catch fell to the womenfolk in the village, too, as did the tedious task of piggy-backing their fishermen husbands out across the shingle beach into the deep water where their boats were moored to ensure that they were dry shod for their long stint aboard the fishing boat. 

Inland a little we came across the ruin of Edzell Castle.  Sir David Lindsey, the owner of Edzell in the 16th century, determined to build a garden as had never been seen before in the grounds of the castle that his father built. He designed a wall garden there in 1604 which portrayed classical figures and depicted the seven cardinal virtues. 

He ordered the planting of shrubs as a hedge, and had them meticulously trimmed to spell out the Lindsay motto Dum spire spero: 'while I breathe, I hope'. Which tells of passion. It tells of obsession. It tells of ruin.

While he breathed, Sir David dreamed. He squandered so much of his family fortune on his garden that he placed his family 'in extraordinary debt', and the house in dire straits. 

Yet, his passion still blooms some 400 years on, while the red bricks around it have crumbled near to dust. 

Contented Highland cattle graze in Glamis Castle grounds

  

Fairytale Glamis Castle

Salt cellar dovecote

Tasty Arbroath smokies

Delicious smoked haddock

Auchmithie fishing village

Where the fishing boats were moored

Red sandstone ruins of Edzell Castle

Wall garden of beauty

Sir David squandered a fortune on his garden dreams