Hebrides, Week 7: 8 May

The battle of Altimarlach took place on 13 July 1680, just a couple of miles up river from where we live. It’s been described as the last clan battle in Scotland, although, Highlanders being the loveable wee scamps that they are, this seems unlikely. I’d read about the battle but never seen the site, so last week as the sun was shining we decided to pay it a visit. 

The battle came about because the previous Earl of Caithness had sold the title in 1675 to Lord Glenorchy, a Campbell (also known to history as “Slippery John” just in case you’re wondering who to root for in this story). But George Sinclair, a local man, claimed the earldom by inheritance and, when a lawsuit failed, took to armed resistance. In 1680 Glenorchy invaded Caithness with 700 or so Highlanders, mostly Campbells; George Sinclair summoned an army of Caithnessians, and the two sides met where the burn of Altimarlach joins Wick River.

The Cross. A windfarm with Morven peeping above the horizon at the right.

Somehow I find it more moving to walk over a battlefield where hundreds fought, than thousands: it’s easier to imagine what it must have been like, just standing where they stood. The Altimarlach Burn joins the river at a right angle, cutting a deep cleft through the grassy meadows overlooking the river and marshland below. The main force of Campbells were drawn up on the hill, but Slippery John had some hidden out of sight, down in the burn. Well, the two armies clashed, the Sinclairs were driven back and then the Highlanders rushed out of hiding and hit them in the flank—and that was pretty much that.

Gordon photos the gorse. In the distance, the airport on the left and St Fergus on the right.

The battle was over in minutes (or about four hours if Peter Jackson ever decides to make the movie). So many Sinclairs were cut down trying to escape over the river that it’s said the Campbells could walk across without getting their feet wet. And like many battles it was all pointless anyway: within a few years a court had ruled that George Sinclair was the rightful earl after all and Glenorchy was awarded the consolation title of Earl of Breadalbane (he was later implicated in the infamous Massacre of Glencoe).

There’s two kind of history, I find: the history of kings and queens and faraway places; and the kind that happened on your doorstep, involving people who might almost be your neighbours. The local stuff may be smaller, but it feels more real, somehow.

By the way, the story goes that the famous tune “The Campbells are Coming” is said to have been composed by Glenorchy’s piper Finlay MacIvor to celebrate the victory; apparently for many years it was considered an insult to play it in Wick. Well, they say the devil has all the best tunes…

Lower sleeve pattern

In gansey news I have finished the first sleeve, which ends in a 6-inch cuff so the wearer can roll it back to fit; and am embarked on the second. I would normally expect to finish it this week, but as we have guests coming next weekend I might not make it. (As usual, my biggest challenge is remembering what I did just last week.)

The pattern for the lower sleeve is almost identical to the one on the lower body—the wave and seed stitch border are the same—the only change I made was to make the starfish slightly smaller. It’s a strong pattern, and as I said last week, because it’s on the forearm and bound to be noticed more, I didn’t want it to dominate the rest of the gansey.