THE MIDDLE CORNER

This little ditty was penned when a friend told me that Talisker Distillery were looking for submissions of poetry, to a competition for the celebration of Rabbie Burns back in January 2014.

The challenge was on, I started with an internet search to learn a little of the History of Skye’s oldest legitimate Whisky Distillery. So the keyboard was getting tapped, a wee bit of this, a wee bit of that, I was cramming in loads. I was telling a story, that’s when I realised it was more like a novel than a poem, specifically when I had wanted a poem that would be short and punchy. Yet still tip it’s hat to Talisker.

So I stripped everything back. First I mention the Still’s at Carbost, Carbost being a settlement on the banks of Loch Harport and home to the current distillery. Next was the mention of “Hawk Hill”, the Anglicised name for Cnoc nan Speirag, the hill that gives over her water to the Stills in Carbost.

Next was a reference to the ‘cask’ and the maturation process, and of the Spirit with it’s gift to the Angels.
And then the pour from the bottle, releasing the aromas that set’s the strongest Scotsmen weak at the knees, before the taste that explodes in time with flavours bursting as the water of life tumbles over the taste buds.

Finally, was to say “Slàinte Mhath.” Good Health in Gaelic what was the Mother Tongue to many North West Highland and Hebridean natives up until relatively recent times.

Fortunately stripping things back was the correct call as I happened to win this competition and was gifted a bottle of Talisker Storm and six lovely ball end glasses, and an ‘Ode to Talisker’ was framed and hung in the Distillery.

“Slàinte Mhath”

The North Sea Tiger was a poem born of my perception with the industry that I have plied my trade for the largest part of my adult life. The feelings I get as I leave home, leave my family and set off on the journey North towards Aberdeen.

I go onto essentially walk you through the various processes that the offshore/oil rig worker goes through to get to work. Check in, suit up, board the flight, the flight itself, etc.

I’ve identified things that stick out in my mind, the things or stages that I relate to my work, these are probably the same things 99% of offshore workers relate.

Something else that I am very proud of is the fact this was my first poem to be published. The North Sea Tiger was picked as ‘Poem of the Day’ by Lesley Duncan of the Glasgow Herald  and published in the said paper in July 2013.

This is no more than me reflecting on a discussion I had with my father and a friend many years ago. A lad I worked with while completing my apprenticeship had family that hailed from Barra in the Outer Hebrides of Scotland. One evening, many, many moons ago, when I was still a teenager living with my parents. That old friend and colleague was over at my house and the conversation turned to Barra, my father happened to have worked with a lad many years before who had told him of ‘The Coddy’ and gave him a book called “Tales From Barra: Told by the Coddy.” This book was duly loaned to my friend.

Unfortunately as is often the case in the industry I worked, I lost touch with with this lad. In fact he actually finished his apprenticeship as a Sparkie (Electrician) and decided it wasn’t for him, took himself off to University to study English and changed career to teaching……. Wise move.

Anyway, it always annoyed me that my father never got his book returned. Yes it was through circumstance, but still irritating as he had loaned it to my friend in good faith. Not to mention it had been a gift. and a Fist Edition.

Back to the Coddy, who was he?

John MacPherson was known locally as the Coddy, a native of Barra, he had the gift of the gab and could hold court with stories and tales of times long past, many a myth being thrown in for goodwill. A friend of Compton Mackenzie, author of ‘Whisky Galore’, and to many of the locals, John MacPherson, the Coddy was the uncrowned King of Barra.

And the result, I hope you like it; To raise a glass with the Coddie (Coddy)

Where to start with this one?

‘The Way’ is really a ditty diary of my dauner along The West Highland Way, a 96 miles walking trail from Milngavie [Mil-guy] on the outskirts of Glasgow to Fort William, one of Scotland’s outdoor hubs for any would adventurer.

Opening in the early 1980’s, the West Highland Way has just celebrated it’s 40 year anniversary. I originally heard of the West Highland Way as a Boy Scout in the mid to late 80’s as I was morphing into one of those things, a teenager. Something about ‘The Way’ intrigued me. As a fresh faced 15 year old, I was all set to walk it. I had my first set of proper walking boots having graduated from wellies, my rucksack was a brand spanking new aluminum frame type, which fully laden would have required a bloody donkey to transport from Milngavie to Fort William. My tent then against what I use now, would have been like carrying a 40′ container on my back, weighing in at about 5 ton.

Any way, did I manage to complete it?

Nope! a broken ‘wee toe’ the night before I was due to leave put pay to that. Kicking the couch (settee) that night before I was due to leave, was it a subconscious admittal that I wouldn’t have been able to complete the walk?

It would take another another 25 years or so for me to complete ‘The Way,’ still though, not in the traditional manner. I completed it over several non consecutive days. Some were training days, first was the Southern section, over two separate days a few weeks apart, One of these days was from Balmaha to Bein Glas farm at Inverarnan before walking to Ardlui train station having a ‘life flashing in front of me’ mile or so hike  South along the A82 past the Drovers Inn.

The remainder was a North to South traverse as part of a Charity challenge, the ‘Caledonian Challenge,’ 54 miles in 24 hours. Never again! 23 hours 22 minutes will be engrained on the soles of my feet ’til the day I die.

I swore to myself I would do the walk in full when my feet had recovered. I’d walk it  in the true manner of a through hike, South to North at a leisurely pace. I just didn’t think it would take me another 8 years to recover.

In May 2017 however, with an uncharacteristic heat wave covering Scotland, I’d walk ‘The Way’. I set off on the first day with my father for company, for the next 7 days, the ‘West Highland Way’ would be my friend, my inspiration, my dream. At times though, I must admit, my nemesis.

I walked two days with my father, Day 1 and Day 4, the other days was a mixture of lone walking and walking with individuals. Individuals from all over the globe, sometimes for a few hundred yards, on another occasion, for a full day.

I continue to walk sections of ‘The Way,’ I suppose I will do it as a through hike again at some point, I like to think so anyway. For me though, it changed me, like many folk I suppose, there is something special about this type of walk, especially when doing all or part of it solo. It forces you to look at yourself, it takes most people out of their comfort zone, there is a willingness if not a need to strike up conversation with random strangers, it gives you the chance to build friendships with people you’d unlikely ever cross paths with, some friendships may last for that few hundred yards, some like memories, may last a lifetime.

‘A Nations Mark’ was written the evening before the Scottish Referendum of 2014, I went to bed that evening and truly hoped that my country could hold it’s head up, stand up and believe that it had the people, the resources and desire to be a Sovereign State answerable to her own, for her own.

It was not to be, the marks were made and whether the people of Scotland made the right or wrong decision on that day we’ll never know.

During these current times (early 2021) it is not outwith the realms of possibility that the people will be asked to vote again on what happens with the politics of Scotland. In such a short time the political landscape has changed, Brexit and the Covid pandemic that has crippled many people and economies have certainly made the waters murkier.

What will happen in Scotland politically long term, is anyone’s guess. To be honest, what will happen in the short term is no clearer either.

For me this was a very special poem to write.

There is however,  a tie to two of the previous poems I posted here, ‘The North Sea Tiger’ and ‘Ode to Talisker’.

A certain Mr. Linsday Hunter, a friend and old colleague of mine. Lindsay, who, like myself works offshore in the Oil & Gas industry, had both read and completely understood ‘The North Sea Tiger’ and was the lad who mentioned to me that the folks at Talisker Distillery were running the competition for Burns Day back in 2014, and he suggested I knock some words together and submit them, an ‘Ode to Talisker’ was born. That’s the tie in.

Anyway, Mr H married a wonderful lass called Lesley Bryan. Both hailing from the beautiful garden of Perthshire, they had visited the Outer Hebrides on holiday and fell in head over heals with this  paradise which is a chain of islands to the North West of Scotland. It so happens that John, Mr H’s best man and Lesley, the bride to be, thought it would be nice if I could write a poem to be read at the wedding reception…..no pressure eh!

So bride to be and best man having armed me with as much information as possible about the illustrious life of this Highland Gentry, I set about drafting a poem which I believe both he and his wife hold dear.

So, the story board to the actual poem; Lindsay was brought up as mentioned within the deepest heart of rural Perthshire between the settlements of Pitlochry and Dunkeld. He learned the pipes (bagpipes) at a young age and went onto play for a well known and very respected Pipe Band called the ‘Vale of Atholl’. References to various areas that had relevance to where he was brought up, places where he played or whittled away time as a lad.

Then it was onto the place he now calls home, Sollas. Sollas is a small crofting township on North Uist, I wanted to bring something into the poem for the here and now of the new couple, and for this I looked to the past, the story of the Highland Clearance of the area around Sollas fitted well and earned a verse.

It was then back to Perthshire, where I brought in beauty spots of the area, places that would mean something to a son of this land.

The Fairy Hill – Schiehallion, Schiehallion is a Scottish Mountain known as a Munro, a mountain over 3000 feet in height. A lesser known fact is that it was on the slopes of this beautiful Scottish peak that Contour Lines that are found on modern day maps were born, thanks to an experiment in the 18th century by Charles Hutton.

The Queens View – One of many places named from Queen Victoria’s visits to Scotland. This particular Queens View overlooks Loch Tummel and was named after her visit to the area in 1866.

The Soldiers Leap – In a beautiful glen, where the River Garry cuts it’s way through an area known as the Pass of Killiecrankie you’ll find the Soldiers Leap. It’s said and written from eye witness accounts that a Redcoat Soldier jumped a gap of 18′ over the fast flowing river to escape his demise at the hands of a Jacobite during a battle on the evening of the 27th July 1689. It was also around the area of Killiecrankie that the last known wolf was killed in Scotland in 1680.

Before I finished this verse, I raised a toast so to speak to Lindsay’s father, this was something I fought with myself over. Was it too much to put in for a Wedding Day? I made reference to Lindsay’s love of whisky and to ‘The Heart of the Run’, Lindsay unfortunately lost his father at a young age. However, his father was a Still Man in a Distillery found in Pitlochry, Lindsay had told me of his father and of this ‘Heart of the Run’, this is where the Uisge Beatha, Water of Life or just plain old whisky is classed as at it’s best, and only this proportion is placed in the cask before being bottled and the preceding and succeeding liquid, Heads and Tails are recycled or repurposed.

The final verse introduces the Bride, the wedding and the travel to the new family home in North Uist; ‘The daughter of Bryan’, this was reference to Lesley’s maiden name. The Fortingall Yew, now this is an extraordinary tree found in a Church Yard in the settlement of Fortingall in the lower reaches of Scotlands longest glen, Glen Lyon. The Yew tree itself is said to be one of the oldest trees in Britain and Europe. Finally the journey home, Kintail, this is a stunning area of Scotland where the new bride and groom would drive to reach Uig on the North Eastern shores of Skye, from here a voyage to Lochmaddy where the ferry port of North Uist is found.

Lindsay himself is a proud and passionate Scot, who immersed himself in the History of his native land, he proceeded to learn the Mother Tongue and now speaks, reads and writes Scots Gaelic. He is also as previously mentioned an accomplished Piper.