Atlas Marker: Edinburgh, Scotland and the Highlands

Easing into the spirit of place

When I was in my early thirties, I discovered the classic British film, I Know Where I’m Going—a somewhat cautionary tale for those who are committed to the idea that life will always unfold exactly as planned. Filmed on location in Scotland, this 1945 small masterpiece was produced and directed by Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, the creative team known as “The Archers,” who together created such memorable films as Black Narcissus, and The Red Shoes.

I Know Where I’m Going weaves together the mysticism of ancient Scottish legend, the soul-stirring spirit of the astonishing geography of the Hebrides, and the stubborn desires of a willful woman (played by legendary British actress Wendy Hiller) who is undergoing a battle within herself, between embracing what authentic love is and caving to the societal demands of status and materialism. As she travels more deeply into the lush topography of the Isle of Mull, she undergoes a series of self-discoveries (and confounding self-deceptions) that compel her to readdress her intended map.

This gem of a film is a clarion call to travel more spontaneously, and with each repeated viewing, it seeded a desire within me to visit Scotland, although it wasn’t until only this spring that I finally paid my first visit to the city of Edinburgh and the outlying Scottish Highlands. It is here in Scotland that I’ve created what a call an Atlas Marker—a signpost for a place that I intend to return to, expand my personal compass with, and engage with more thoroughly.

So with this particular Atlas Marker, I want to share but a few locations in Edinburgh and the surrounding Highlands that I found to be mesmerizing, and in many ways, reveal here but a slight handful of touchstones, where a traveler might return to engage with a heightened personal moment, again and again.

For any wanderer who has the absolute pleasure of visiting the metropolis of Edinburgh, there is nothing more delicious than strolling the cobblestones of the old city without any certain destination, stopping in a late afternoon tea shop for a buttery scone, marveling at the stoic bagpipers who appear randomly on street corners for tips, or falling under the spell of the numerous church spires that poke the sky. But for a dedicated historical experience in the city that will likely open up a new appreciation of Scottish royal history, as well as offer one a moment of deep self-reflection, pay a visit to the Edinburgh Castle.

While you will undoubtably encounter a swarm of tourists making their way through the spectacular monument, (with their headsets and guidebooks and souvenir tartan teddy bears in tow), saunter up the inner chamber to Saint Margaret’s Chapel, which offered to me a pristine moment of quiet revelation. This small stone building was used to store gunpowder in the 1500’s, but later in 1845, Sir Daniel Wilson discovered its true origins. Built around 1130, King David intended this space to be a holy chapel for his departed mother, Queen Margaret, who was later canonized as a saint because of her acts of charity.

What makes this location unique is that it is the oldest surviving building in Edinburgh, a noteworthy example of Romanesque architecture. Though the stained glass windows have been updated, the original ornate arches are solid and perfectly intact. A steady stream of tourists make their way to the small altar in the chamber, taking a photo or two perhaps, and then exiting. On my visit, I sat within the walls of the chapel for a least a half an hour, contemplating the idea of the building’s original intention and how, through a focused and late restoration, the chapel recovered it’s lost identity and is used, even today, as a sacred space for intimate weddings and baptisms.

How often have I felt that I fallen out of step, lost my own sense of purpose, or questioned what my original sacred intentions were on my life’s journey. Somehow, aligning with this small fact about the chapel, offered a quietude within me, a kind of solace, that perhaps everything might be properly restored with time and deliberate focus.

Edinburgh is filled with tours that uncover more treasures that have been lost then later recovered. For this, I heartily recommend signing up at the central tourist office for a guided walking tour to learn about the purging of witches and the various ghosts and phantoms that continue to haunt dilapidated hotels and taverns. But if you’re dashing through the city with limited time and you’re looking for an immersive experience that might inspire awe and wonder, head over to the National Museum of Scotland located in city center.

Museums are not typically what I seek out when exploring a new city, but don’t underestimate the wealth of artifacts and fascinating information that one can encounter here at the National—everything is represented here, from buried Scottish history to the development of local fashion, art, science, and technology.

A must-see for me is the museum’s immense collection of ancient Celtic engravings on display—fragments of vine-etched crosses for example, and arcane symbols carved into stone from the early ages, are all safely kept here—all masterpieces for the spectator to engage with closely. The Medieval Archaeology and History section at the museum, allows the visitor to encounter Scotland before it solidified as a kingdom, and discover various stone sculptures on early Christian monuments for example, as well as an assemblage of Viking-age graves. This well-documented collection swept me back to Glastonbury in England as well as various places in Ireland where I have seen similar etchings, and recall fondly my affinity with Celtic symbols.

Finally, all of these grand artifacts stoked an urgent desire within me to visit the sprawling green landscapes that sprawl out to the west known at the Scottish Highlands. Defined by its dramatic, moody landscapes, from its deep water lakes to fog-laced mountains, the Highlands will likely pull in any visitor and leave an everlasting impression. With the short time I slotted for my first adventure in Scotland, I didn’t get as far as the Hebrides, as featured in the film, I Know Where I’m Going, but I’m certain I will return another time, with the necessary gear to hike some of the Highland trails and sleep several nights near the whispering water.

Carved out by massive glaciers, Loch Lomond (Gaelic for Lake of the Elms) is one of the deepest and widest lakes in Great Britain. When our tour bus landed at the vista stop, the majority of riders went in to the gift shop to buy wrapped sandwiches or souvenir soaps from the local mills. I went straightaway for the path leading around the loch and became utterly enamored with its absorbing, enchanting presence. I’m here to testify that it is indeed possible to solidify a deep, eternal bond with Loch Lomond in the 45 minutes allotted for photos and a bathroom break.

This particular loch is featured of course, in a well-known song which was first published in the mid-1800s, as “The Bonnie Banks o’ Loch Lomond” with the well-known chorus:

“Oh ye’ll tak the high road, and I’ll tak the low road, and I’ll be in Scotland afore ye; but me and my true love will never meet again, on the bonnie, bonnie banks o’ Loch Lomond.”

Standing alone with Loch Lomond that day, taking in slow, steady, measured breaths, I felt my body relax in a way I hadn't experienced in a long while. There is something to be said for the spirit of a particular place, some unutterable essence held within a geographical location, that somehow invades every nerve ending within myself, and compels me to passionately feel more deeply, see around me, more keenly.

Had it been forty minutes or forty years that I stood there, lost in the pattern of waves upon the lake?

Transfixed by the mysterious allure of the loch, I was jarred out of my trance by the tour guide’s whistle. I re-boarded the vehicle as our driver began to play a modern version of the Loch Lomond song, by a group known as Runrig, which provoked me to utterly and irresistibly, fall into a deep and sudden state of melancholy. I felt a tangible wrenching and grieving and aching, as though I were leaving a part of myself behind at the loch.

Where was my true love? Could it be I forgot a part of my own heart there on the bonnie bonnie banks—a fragment of something so intrinsic to my essential being, some necessary and vital part of me, lost on the shores, a shard of my own soul that I need to rejoin with upon a future trip back to the Highlands?

All I know is that I was tearfully gripped by the soaring harmonies of the male voices, singing mournfully of parting ways at the loch, and the dark, enclosing hills of the Highlands, and the Scotch pines and the grey-streaked sky, all enfolding into me, making me question, do I know where I’m going, I mean, really know, as the bus moved faster along the gently curving highway.

Atlas Marker: Edinburgh and the Highlands, and yes, I’ll venture beyond. What significant places have you traveled to that have left you longing to return to in order to explore further?

Resources:

Guardian Newspaper Review of "I Know Where I'm Going"

Edinburgh Castle: Official Site

St. Margaret's Guild (an interesting background on the Chapel.)

National Museum of Scotland

Guide to Loch Lomond

Background to Loch Lomond song by Runrig

(all images by Gerard Wozek or in alignment with Creative Commons)