One of the places well worth visiting on the isle of Arran is Lochranza. At least, in my mind, that is what I thought before I went there. Lochranza has been in my mind for years with no good idea of what to expect. The castle there has been mentioned in so many different sources, I thought it might be spectacular.

And, it was. Though I would not say it was what I expected. For one, it was considerably smaller than what I had thought. For another, it was more magical than anything I had expected.

Situated in a glen and surrounded by hills, washed by the sea, the spectacular nature of the castle can only have sparked the imagination of the local people.

I did not get a good view of the sea from where I was because I arrived at low tide, but I imagine that at high tide, seeing the sea surround the castle on three sides can only be a wonderful experience. Similarly, to have experienced a storm in the centuries gone by in that castle, overlooking the sea with the fury of Earth straining against the masonry of the castle…

Lochranza wasn’t what I expected; it was better than what I expected.

Lochranza Castle

Sir Walter Scott also wrote a few lines about this:

On fair Lochranza streamed the early day,
Thin wreaths of cottage smoke are upward curl’d
From the lone hamlet, which her inland bay
And circling mountains sever from the world

— Sir Walter Scott, ‘The Lord of the Isle’

The Mull of Galloway

The Mull of Galloway is Scotland’s most southerly point which I have visited by now twice. It has also been featured on ‘Coast’ which is an amazing series that I’d recommend to everyone. But, the sight which is featured is similarly awesome.

‘Coast’ is there because of the fog horn – a historic means of warning on misty coastlines to keep people from a potential danger. The Celtic Sea, after all, in its time claimed many a victim, and the RNLI was also founded on the same coasts.

I was there for both — checking out the southernmost point of Scotland as well as seeing the fog horn.

The confluence of currents

One of the more memorable places there are the two platforms overlooking the sea, both of which illustrate the ferocity with which the two primary currents meet. It is all very poetic.

The sunset I saw in February underlined all that even more:

The lighthouse on the Mull of Galloway

Review: Rome’s Northern Frontier AD 70–235: Beyond Hadrian’s Wall

Rome’s Northern Frontier AD 70–235: Beyond Hadrian's Wall
Rome’s Northern Frontier AD 70–235: Beyond Hadrian’s Wall by Nic Fields
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

A comprehensive review of the Roman fortifications of the first two centuries in the area to the north of Hadrian’s wall. I was impressed by the plentiful tables, totalling not only the benefits and drawbacks of the wall but also it’s construction plan, manhours spent, garrison sizes, etc. Overall, this review stands out as a very brief but strong introduction to Rome in Scotland.

What I found missing was the political context. Though the Severian re-expansion into the north is mentioned, barely half a sentence touches on it. The Antonine and Flavian periods are covered in far greater detail, and I think if the book had restricted itself to the pre-Severian period in what it covered, it would have achieved it’s goals superbly.

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‘Rough Castle’, Vallum Antonini

The Antonine Wall is a cousin of the more familiar Vallum Aelium, or Hadrian’s Wall. Was it a sign of imperial hubris by a man who wanted to leave his mark on the world, or an example of unintentional overextension? What did it represent to the hundreds and thousands of men who had seen the previous wall being built to the south? What did it represent to the thousands sent to serve at the very edge of their civilisation, in common contact with people who did not acknowledge the southern customs?

To Victory, the VI cohort of Nervii, under the acting command of Flavius Betto, Centurion of the XX Legion Valeria Victrix, gladly, willingly, and deservedly fulfilled its vow.

This vow was to march north and build a new wall where they thought they could draw the limit of civilisation. They were right, for a time — and are we all not right for only a certain time? It is amazing for me to think that such an inscription has preserved through nineteen centuries to come to us. We, the loyal soldiers of the Emperor Antoninus Pius, “we gladly, willingly, and deservedly fulfilled” our vow. Many others have done far worse.

Overall, it is a miracle to consider what we do and do not know. We know the names of some of the people who served here. We do not know the names of the forts (excepting one for this wall, but this point is also more generally true in Roman Britain). But, I guess, the people matter more than the places in any case?

When I visited this fort, what I thought about was how a person born in what is modern Glasgow — or near there — shared an identity, a Roman identity, with millions of people from modern Syria to Greece to what is now Morocco. These people had the theoretical rights and opportunities to make themselves into anything they wanted. I am sure in practice this was not as easy, but the simple consideration that for millions of people over thousands of square kilometres, the only language they knew was their very own Latin and the only government they had any reason to think about was their Imperial government. What a thought!

Admittedly, the occupation of the frontier that far north did not last for long. The reasons for this are of more academic interest than relevant for present considerations. Hadrian’s Wall has a similar impact to a visitor: at least if that visitor is me. But what matters more is that this monument to power has come down through time from the latter part of the second century. What have its ramparts seen? What secrets have they heard? Were people regretful to demolish it or to use its resources to build their homes?

What would a Strathclyde farmer in the 8th century have thought of this structure? Did it carry connotations of power, of strength, of survival? Or was it a monument to occupation and a despised foreign government? Again, as with so many of these mysteries that have survived ages, we can never know. All we can do is think, and to place ourselves in the shoes of the people who came before us.

‘Rough Castle’, Vallum Antonini

As with so many of these places, I would say that if you can, go and visit it. See what emotions it brings about, and what thoughts awaken in you. I have shown you mine.

For a closing thought:

I like knowing, but in cases where I cannot know, I am happy to speculate. And in cases like this, there is so much we need to speculate about. Further, the speculation leads me to regard in surprise and admiration the entrepreneurial sense of these ancient people. And, what I always wish is that more people would recognise the beauty of the mysteries ancient sites like this present all around the world. Visit them and give them a new life.

Of Scotland, and of People

I’ve just returned from a short visit to Scotland (Oban, Argyll), and I reached a point during the journey back when I thought: “I wonder how this never appeared to me before this moment.”


What this “this” was would have been a thought that thought by landscape and the general look of the land, Estonia and Scotland are so very different, there is a marked similarity in the people (or at least the people I saw there). I think it would be even more so deeper into the Highlands.

How I came upon this thought was by following my pattern that if I lived under those mountains for five years, I would be changed by that. But changed how? And how would then people who have fifty generations live under the mountains change?

These are interesting questions all, but something in them made me think of the people. And I think I managed to draw a point of comparison that told me a Scottish person is not all that different from an Estonian, although it might appear different. But how we have come to that point is different. The Scot has been led there by the Highland landscape which has formulated him to be careful when walking and yet happy in the rain, and the Estonian has been shaped by the course of history which has taught the same lessons.

And I did think that the Finnish landscape offers some points of similarity. And I want to return.

The Thoughts of Scots

With the past few days rainy, a thought has remained more permanently in my mind though it has visited a few other times : with this much rain over here, and even far more up in the Scottish mountains (with an average over a year of every month having 21,25 rainy days in Stornoway), what did the people of that land think of it ages ago ?

It is unlikely anyone offered scientific reasons until just a few centuries ago, so man being man, I am sure that people thought of explaining how and why exactly their lovely place got so much more rain than… well, it isn’t even important how much more rain than place X.

What was important that people could likely feel themselves better on a sunny day, and seeing how few of those there were for them, that must have made them think some rather interesting thoughts. I just wonder, what exactly they were. 🙂

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