In 1840, one man transformed travel in Britain.
His name was George Bradshaw,
and his railway guides inspired the Victorians to take to the tracks.
Stop by stop, he told them where to travel,
what to see and where to stay.
Now, 170 years later,
I'm making a series of journeys across the length and breadth of the country
to see what of Bradshaw's Britain remains.
Ripped By mstoll
I'm continuing my journey through the Scottish Highlands
steered by my 19th-century Bradshaw's Guide.
Anybody who comes to visit these marvellous hills and valleys
must be awestruck by this fantastic landscape.
But in all the decades I've been visiting these parts,
it never struck me that the Victorians,
in their quest to understand how the world came to be what it is,
made breakthrough discoveries in this remarkable geology.
When the railways reached the Highlands,
they opened the eyes of Victorian scientists and adventurers
to striking natural phenomena.
Now my guidebook is helping me to appreciate
how their understanding advanced.
On this leg of the journey, I'll be unravelling
one of the great 19th-century geological mysteries...
So, Charles Darwin, who got so much right, actually got this wrong?
Yeah, he sees it as a blunder.
...experiencing one of Britain's most stunning journeys by steam train...
The Jacobite has panted its way up the steep incline.
Somehow the wheels are gripping the wet rails
and now we're on the wonderful Glenfinnan Viaduct.
...and admiring Ben Nevis,
where Victorian scientists went to extraordinary lengths
in their quest for knowledge.
We're talking about people going up there to take readings?
They didn't have to go up there, they had to live up there.
I'm well into a journey that began in Ayr
and has carried me north along the historic West Highland Line.
Now my route veers west,
tracing a path through mountains and lochs
on the way to the coast and my final destination, the Isle of Skye.
My first stop today is Roybridge
before I move on to the garrison town of Fort William
then cross Scotland's most famous viaduct to Glenfinnan.
As I head through the Highlands,
the train window offers a scene of wild, natural beauty.
This is Inverness-shire. My Bradshaw's Guide is eloquent.
"Vast ranges of mountains separated from each other by narrow and deep valleys."
"These mountains stretch across the whole country
from one end of the island to another, and lie parallel to every valley,
rising like immense walls on both sides,
while the intersecting country sinks deep between them
with a lake or rapid river or an arm of the sea."
Wonderful description.
To look more closely at this dramatic terrain,
I'm getting off at the next village.
Roybridge, and my Bradshaw's Guide says,
"You may visit the heads of the Spey River,
and the parallel roads of Glenroy in Lochaber."
Sounds intriguing.
My "Bradshaw's" gives a single line to what was
a great geological mystery of the 19th century.
How had three parallel roads been etched onto these mountains?
Their precision suggested human intervention
and Highlanders once believed them to be the work of Fingal,
the Celtic warrior king.
In fact, they're a natural phenomenon which puzzled great Victorian minds.
- Adrian, good morning. - Good morning.
Physical geographer Dr Adrian Palmer knows the story.
I saw in my Bradshaw's Guide a reference to parallel roads.
Now I'm quite intrigued it gets a mention in the guidebooks.
What was the understanding in the middle 19th century
of what had caused all this?
(Adrian) It was a phenomenon that had obviously been recorded in the landscape
and it attracted huge amounts of interest,
even to the extent of attracting a young geologist by the name of Darwin.
He had seen similar features in Chile whilst on the Beagle.
He suggested these had actually been formed by marine processes.
All of this valley would have been inundated by marine water.
- By sea? - By sea.
Charles Darwin believed the lines indicated
the positions of ancient sea shores. Others agreed,
although their precise cause was disputed.
There were other people who considered them to be
developed as freshwater phenomena, freshwater lakes.
There was this big debate. What they couldn't quite understand
was if they were freshwater lakes, how they were dammed up.
How did they actually form if you can't see the barrier?
Then a Swiss geologist named Louis Agassiz
came to cast his eye over the Glenroy landscape.
He was working on a controversial new theory
that just a few thousand years ago, much of Europe had been covered in ice.
He believed that this Ice Age could explain the parallel roads.
(Adrian) He suggested these elusive barriers that no longer existed
were formed by ice.
The modern interpretation of these lake systems
is that ice formed somewhere in the Rannoch Moor area
and it advanced into the Great Glen.
That ice blocked up the natural drainage systems of the Roy River
and also the Spean River, forcing the lake levels to rise.
It's effectively like a bath
with an overflow plug at 260 metres in the landscape.
As well as solving a local mystery,
Agassiz's work on the parallel roads lent weight to his Ice Age theory
and helped to lay the foundation of modern geology.
So, Charles Darwin, who got so much right, actually got this wrong?
Yeah, he does...
He sees it as a blunder.
He writes that he gradually became more persuaded by the ideas of Louis Agassiz.
He does actually refer to it as a massive blunder.
I'm now leaving the parallel roads behind
as it's time to continue my journey.
I'm travelling 12 miles down the line to Fort William.
Built on the shores of Loch Linnhe, today this town is a tourist hub,
but it first developed as a military outpost.
This is Fort William, and the name says it all.
It's a garrison town that was built by William of Orange
who was a Protestant king who was fighting against the supporters
of the deposed Catholic-leaning King James II,
and those supporters were known as Jacobites.
Indeed, before the railway line arrived in Fort William in 1894,
probably the best way of getting here would have been on the military roads
that were built by various armies fighting recalcitrant Highlanders.
The original 17th-century fort was an important stronghold
used for over a century to subdue the Highland clans.
In the 19th century, it fell into disuse and when the railway came,
it was largely demolished to make way for the new line.
With Highland history in my mind,
I'm following up an interesting reference in my guide.
My Bradshaw's Guide mentions Lochiel, the seat of the Camerons.
This is Achnacarry, the present seat of the Cameron clan.
It's not surprising that "Bradshaw's" mentions this clan.
In the 19th century, its chief, Cameron of Lochiel,
was an influential advocate of the new West Highland Railway Line.
I've come to the ancestral seat, Achnacarry Castle,
to meet the current chief, Donald Cameron,
and hear how his predecessors helped to shape Highland history.
- Donald, what a pleasure. - Very nice to meet you.
- Very good to see you. - Brought some lovely weather.
Absolutely.
How far back does the clan Cameron go?
About early 15th century, 14-something.
The first ten chiefs, slightly lost in the mists of time.
But we number from ten, really.
I'm 27, so we've had 17 generations that we know of.
Would it be true that most people called Cameron
could ultimately trace their origins to the Highland clan?
Let's take at random the example of the Prime Minister.
I have been told, whether it's right or wrong,
that the Prime Minister is my ninth cousin once removed
and the genealogy looks quite strong.
Pinch of salt, but possibly.
I met him once, introduced to him.
I said, "Very pleased to meet you. I'm your clan chief."
He took it very well.
(Michael) Is there a reason why the clans come into existence?
I think it was probably a way of combining a little army
to hold your territory in which you found yourself.
Gradually other people take the name of Cameron
so as to protect themselves from other clans nearby.
The Camerons' big moment came in the 1740s.
They were Jacobites,
supporters of the deposed Catholic Stuart pretenders to the throne
who had lived in exile for decades.
In 1745, Bonnie Prince Charlie landed in the Highlands
and called on the clans to support his bid for the crown.
(Donald) My ancestor, I think, probably thought it was a forlorn chance
of anything being achieved so went to see him to put him off.
But when he discovered the French ships had left
and the Prince was alone in what is almost clan land here,
I think he felt he couldn't desert him.
So when he raised his standard at Glenfinnan in August 1745,
700 Camerons came marching over the hill.
The decision to support Bonnie Prince Charlie
had terrible consequences for the clan.
In 1746, Charles was defeated at the Battle of Culloden
and around 225 Camerons were amongst the dead.
The victorious Duke of Cumberland on behalf of the King
then set about brutally crushing the rebels.
Thousands of Highlanders were imprisoned or killed
and their families driven off the land.
Their way of life was all but destroyed.
Cumberland was pretty awful, Butcher Cumberland.
I think what he did after '45 was horrific and violent.
He destroyed the clan system.
In our case, it was about the 1880s when clansfolk began saying,
"Let's re-establish ourselves as a clan."
Since then, there has been a huge amount of interest.
You now do this on a global basis, do you?
It's very much bottom up now.
It's the clansfolk who want to be part of the clan.
The chief, I think, is a focal point.
We have gatherings every seven or eight years
and last year, 800 Camerons came from mostly North America,
New Zealand, Australia and of course Scotland.
For 27 generations,
the Cameron clan has helped to shape the land where they live.
Including the building of the railway.
(Donald) It was presented to my grandmother by Concrete Bob McAlpine
when she cut the first sod of the Mallaig extension
to the West Highland Railway.
My goodness. That is a trophy, isn't it?
"21 st January, 1897."
"On the occasion of cutting the first sod of the Mallaig extension
of the West Highland Railway."
Wonderful, that is splendid memento.
Some of the earliest visitors to Fort William after the new railway was built
were plucky mountaineers
aiming to scale its most famous landmark, Ben Nevis.
Britain's tallest mountain is spectacular.
It towers over the town and the loch
and even in the height of summer, snow clings to its north face.
The Victorians were captivated by it.
My Bradshaw's Guide says,
"The highest peak in Scotland or the United Kingdom
is 4,406 feet above the sea and 20 miles around the base."
"The ascent takes three to four hours to the top
from which there is a grand prospect in clear weather."
And in an age of scientific discovery, some Victorians used Ben Nevis
to find out more about that great British talking point, the weather.
I'm hoping weather expert Marjory Roy can explain.
- Hello, Marjory. - Hello, Michael, nice to meet you.
We're lucky with our view of Ben Nevis today.
It held quite a fascination for Victorians, didn't it?
It did indeed.
Of course, it was the highest mountain in Scotland.
It so happened they wanted to have somewhere to put a weather observatory
so they could observe at higher levels in the atmosphere.
Ben Nevis was ideally located in the path of Atlantic storms.
In 1877, the Scottish Meteorological Society
decided to build a cutting-edge observatory on top of the mountain.
When they couldn't find funding,
one man offered to record the weather the hard way.
A very flamboyant character called Clement Wragge
volunteered to climb the Ben each day
during the summer months between June and October
and do observations on the way up and then for two hours at the summit
and then again on the way down.
Apparently, he went up on some days
which the weather was absolutely atrocious.
- Even in summer, it can be. - It can be.
There are some conditions in summer
where you're actually having to hang on and crawl over the summit plateau
in order to get to it.
Clement Wragge's gruelling daily treks
were the first attempt to document the weather at Ben Nevis.
His dedication made front-page news
and the society launched a fresh appeal for funds.
The public interest was so great that the money came flooding in.
In 1883, they actually managed to start building the pathway up to the top
and the observatory, and it was actually finished more or less by October 1883.
(Michael) Now, obviously, at the end
of the 19th century, we're not talking about an automatic weather station
that is sending readings down.
We're talking about people having to go up there
and take the readings, is that right?
They didn't go up there, they had to live up there.
In the winter,
it's quite impossible to get up and down the path on many of the days
and of course, the path is covered in snow.
The conditions were so bad,
they couldn't use automatic recording instruments.
If you ever see the photographs of the period,
everything is completely encased in ice.
They had to go and chip it all away in order to make the readings.
Despite those hardships, the team succeeded in creating
one of the earliest systematic records of British weather.
It remains one of the best sets of data that scientists have
about mountain conditions.
(Marjory) It lasted almost 21 years,
so you've got a full 20 years
of hourly weather observations with very few gaps.
It's very difficult even with modern automatic weather stations
to have a continuous record.
It certainly showed how severe the conditions are at the summit.
The extraordinarily detailed weather records
weren't the only legacy left by the observatory.
The path to the summit made climbing Ben Nevis much easier.
Pony trips became fashionable
and after the railways came in 1894, a hotel was established at the peak.
In 1904, lack of money forced the observatory to close.
But the mountain still attracts visitors
and today, more than 100,000 people ascend it every year.
There were in fact two observatories built in the late Victorian era:
One of the top of the mountain
and the other one here to take weather readings at sea level.
The lower observatory is now a bed and breakfast
and the place where I'm staying the night.
There could be no better place
to reflect on the Victorians' thirst for knowledge.
Having woken to a misty Highland morning,
it's time to embark on the final stretch of my journey
from Fort William to Glenfinnan.
I'm taking one of Britain's favourite heritage services.
And so to my great excitement, another journey by steam train.
This one is called appropriately the Jacobite.
I once got into terrible trouble for calling the Ribble Head Viaduct
the best crossing over a valley in Britain.
Somebody said,
"No, you've got to go over the Glenfinnan Viaduct in Scotland."
So beautiful that they put it on the Scottish £10 note.
This train is very popular.
It's full of people taking its photograph.
Why? Not only because it's a magnificent railway
but also because it was once taken by a small boy called Harry Potter.
Good morning.
The chance to ride on the real-life Hogwarts Express
is certainly entertaining.
But for me, the real draw is the romance of steam.
Travelling by steam train is completely different
from any other railway journey.
That chug, chug, chug sound at the front.
And the smoke and vapour flying past the window.
It's just wonderful.
The West Highland Line was originally planned to connect
the west coast fishing ports with markets in the south.
But objections from landowners forced the line to stop short of its target.
In 1897 after a long campaign by the railway's supporters,
work began on an extension from Fort William to Mallaig.
Building the line led to a landmark piece of railway engineering.
Do you know much about the Glenfinnan Viaduct?
I think we did pass it and we looked across.
Is it the one that looks like the Noddy books?
It could do. What does a Noddy book look like?
The front cover of the Noddy books always had a viaduct on it.
Right. Well, it would look like that.
It's about 18 arches. It's a little bit of a curve.
Yeah, and we go over that?
We do. You'll see it out of the left-hand side window.
I've been looking forward to crossing this viaduct
since I joined the West Highland Line, and it doesn't disappoint.
The Jacobite has panted its way up the steep incline.
Somehow the wheels are gripping the wet rails
and now we're on the wonderful Glenfinnan Viaduct,
100 feet above the valley.
This built in concrete,
one of the last great railway engineering achievements
of the Victorian age.
The Jacobite is taking me only as far as its first stop at Glenfinnan Station.
Lovely journey.
- Glad you enjoyed it. - I loved it.
(train whistle)
(blows whistle)
I'm heading down into the valley by foot to see the viaduct from underneath.
Spanning 416 yards and towering 100 feet above the glen,
this was the first large-scale concrete structure in Britain.
Writer Michael Pearson has researched its history.
It's rather exciting for me to be here. The famous Glenfinnan Viaduct.
Why is it so special?
(Pearson) Traditionally, a railway company
would use what they could see around them.
If you go to the Settle-Carlisle Railway in the Yorkshire Dales,
they built it from the rock around it.
But here, the rock was so brittle they couldn't use it like that.
That's where concrete came in.
(Michael) Concrete at the end of the 19th century? Pretty novel.
(Pearson) Cutting edge.
The London South Western Railway had used it in Devon
and the West Country.
But they'd used it in traditional manner in brick form.
Solid-shaped form.
Here it's a mass, so it's like a jelly mould, you might say.
They create a framework for it, they pour this in and it sets
and they take the framework away
and there you have, hey presto, your viaduct.
This innovative material concrete was used all along the line.
At one point it required more than 400 joiners
just to build the wooden frames.
It was championed by Sir Robert McAlpine,
earning him the nickname Concrete Bob.
Initial fears that the viaduct would scar the landscape proved unfounded
and over the last 100 years, the concrete has weathered beautifully.
These apparent stains on the concrete, what do they consist of?
(Pearson) They are salts probably. Leaching out.
They give it an almost organic look.
I think they look a little bit like varicose veins, don't they?
(Michael) They've got a lot of depth and texture to them.
Here you'll see where the wood shuttering was.
You can actually see the grain of the wood
when they poured the concrete into it. It's been fossilised.
We tend to think of concrete as an ugly material
but you just see how beautiful this really is.
People come from far and wide to see it.
Standing beneath the viaduct's enormous arches
makes me marvel at the achievement of the engineers.
Round here,
people have had to get used to bumping into awestruck visitors like me.
- Good morning, sir. - How are we?
I'm very, very well. I take it you may be a local by your attire.
There's a fair chance you're right there.
Local stalker, forester, estate manager, Alastair Gibson.
Have you seen many people come down and look at the viaduct?
There's a constant stream.
(Michael) What about engineers, you get any of those?
We get several engineers from all over the world.
They come here to worship this
because it was the largest poured-concrete construction of its time
and they just want to have a good touch and feel of it.
There were many folk for years coming and looking at it.
Then Harry Potter came along
and now we get enough an awful lot more with their kids.
(Michael) Were you around when they were doing the Harry Potter film?
Aye, they just left in April after nine years.
(both laugh)
(Michael) A pretty small production team, I imagine.
Well, we only had the first unit once. I was glad to see them go at 400.
The second unit that did most of the action shots of the train
was 90 people and that's more manageable for our village of 100 people.
Wow. Makes quite an impact when they come, then?
It does. It takes over, but it's got to be good for the area.
Thank you so much. Lovely to talk to you. Bye-bye now.
Before I return to the station,
my "Bradshaw's Guide" recommends one more site in the glen below.
It describes, "Prince Charles's monument,
where he hoisted his standard in 1745 at Glenfinnan
between Lochiel and Loch Shiel. "
Built in 1815, it marks the spot
where the Cameron clan joined forces with Bonnie Prince Charlie
in his attempt to take the throne.
It's not actually the Prince on top but a kilted Highlander.
(bagpipe music)
It seems I've stumbled on a fitting accompanist for my visit.
Well played, sir. Well played.
(German accent) Sounds not very good today.
- You're not Scottish. - No, I'm German.
How come you play the bagpipes?
We've a band in the Black Forest in the Southwest of Germany.
This year, we decided to take part in Pipefest in Edinburgh
which was last Saturday.
It was very fantastic.
Are there many German people who can play the bagpipes?
Yes, we have our own bagpipe scene in Germany.
I think there are about 30 or 40 bands all over Germany
and there are really good pipers among them.
Forgive me, I had no idea it was so played in Germany.
- That's fantastic. - Bagpipes are all over the world.
- All over the world. - Yes.
Thank you. What a pleasure to talk to you.
- Nice to meet you. - Good piping.
- Thank you. - Bye-bye now.
On my journey today, I've been struck
that the ambition of the Victorians
was sustained till the very end of the Queen's reign.
The West Highland Line was completed just before her death,
carrying her subjects into the mountains of her beloved Scotland.
Mountains present challenges
to which Victorian geologists, meteorologists
and railway builders responded.
The Scottish Highlands have always been militarily strategic
and here have been the great battles
between different claimants to the British throne,
between Protestant and Catholic and Lowlander and Highlander.
These hills have seen great heroism and great slaughter, too.
On my next journey, I'll be finding out how the railways helped to train
the first generation of commandos...
This is wonderful.
"An agent enters the room and says, 'I have important information."'
"'An enemy train will pass through Lochailort on its way to Mallaig
at 1115 hours today. That train must be wrecked."'
...visiting a coastal village transformed by the trains
into Britain's biggest herring port...
Did the kippers go out on the train?
There wasn't a box of fish landed here that didn't go by train.
...and crossing the sea to Skye
to find out how modern crofters make a living.
(woman) This is a savoury smoked salmon cheesecake.
Hmm! You haven't lived till you've tasted that.
Thank you.
Ripped By mstoll