A Winter Day in Rothiemurchus

YEARS ago, when I ran a youth hostel in Aviemore, I would seek occasional respite from the demands of hostellers in the shaded pine streets of Rothiemurchus.

Deeply anchored, rock hard and gnarly to the touch, with the trunks like the foremast of a sailing ship, the Caledonian pines of Rothiemurchus are an ancient relic of the Great Forest of Caledon, which once stretched across Scotland from coast to coast.

The late John Hillaby once suggested to me these pines had the quality of a bugle blast, tenanted as they are by pine marten, crossbills, crested tits and capercaillie, the enormous grouse of the forests. They have about them a rugged beauty and resilience, an antiquity that makes them a living natural history museum.

As someone who is essentially a mountaineer, in the broadest sense of the word, it took me a long time to fully appreciate the qualities of the woods, to wander aimlessly between the pines and learn of their secrets instead of striving upwards, ever upwards, in search of the rocky ridges, the isolated summits and the far-flung views.

In the resin-scented heart of Rothiemurchus lies Loch an Eilean, with its island castle, one of the best known and most loved beauty spots in the Highlands and arguably the most picturesque loch in Scotland.

With its backdrop of heather clad mountains, pine forest and craggy skyline, it’s cradled like a sparkling jewel amid the ancient splendours of Rothiemurchus Forest. I’ve often slouched on a patch of pine needles and watched its wavelets lap the shore, much as they would have done a thousand years ago when bears, wolves, lynx and great elk lived here.

But man soon realised that these vast forested areas not only gave shelter to wild beasts but to vagabonds and outlaws too. Wood was also needed for building and charcoal smelting, and there appeared to be an infinite supply. The pines were felled, and were floated down the River Spey to the sea from Inverdruie. Many of the forest beasts soon became extinct and the red deer, once a forest dweller, took to the hills.

Today, you can enjoy a fine walk around those shores and enjoy the sounds and sights of less fearsome inhabitants - crossbills, crested tits, siskin, woodpeckers and buzzards. If you’re still and quiet you might see roe deer tip-toe down to the water’s edge, or a red squirrel clinging to the rough, red bark of the pines. In the depth of the autumn rut the primeval roars of red deer stags haunt the slopes above the loch and visiting whooper swans swoop in like Concorde, their bugles echoing amongst the trees.

Today, between Christmas and New Year, a fall of snow had hushed everything. The stillness was sharp, the silence loud. It was cold too...

Loch an Eilean's chief claim to fame is a ruined castle, which is built just off the north western shore. This ancient keep dates from the fourteenth century and was once a stronghold of the powerful Norman family of Comyns, the Lords of Badenoch. The castle was once used by the infamous Wolf of Badenoch, one Alexander Stewart.

Stewart gained his reputation, and his nickname, after burning down Elgin Cathedral, the abbot of which had criticised him for having an affair. For his troubles, he was excommunicated from the Roman Catholic church until he eventually agreed to pay a penance – he had to crawl on his knees through the town of Stirling begging forgiveness.

Today the castle is a ruin, grown over with ivy and birch scrub. It faces the wooded shore with a blank wall, which contains one open door. There is a causeway out to the island, but this can only be seen in periods of severe drought, when the water level of the loch drops substantially. The ruins once gave a home to a pair of ospreys who built an eyrie on its walls, but constant harassment by egg collectors chased them away early last century.

The name of Rothiemurchus is thought by many to mean the plain of the forest, but a more likely origin comes from the Gaelic Rata-Mhurchuis, the Fort of Murchus. The identity of Murchus, like the Scottish bears, wolves and beavers, are lost in the mists of time.

There is a car park at the north end of Loch an Eilean, and that offers easy access to a nature trail that encircles the loch for three miles. It’s a walk well worth taking, suitable for all the family, whether you’re a mountaineer, a naturalist, a rambler or simply, as I am so often, someone in need of respite from an uncertain world. At such times it’s good to lose yourself within the green folds of the skirts of the mountains.