Having driven up the A9 towards Inverness dozens of times over the years, I was well aware of the Highland Folk Museum at Newtonmore, just short of Aviemore. In fact Nicole and I stopped by many years ago. My mother, who has travelled on this main artery hundreds of times on the way to the caravan at Embo, had never set foot inside the Folk Museum as my dad always wanted to complete the drive in one go. She therefore readily agreed when I suggested we head up for a day trip. We departed early on a Saturday morning and Nicole came as well. In fact, she drove while I chilled in the back. I could get used to this!
It took just under two hours to reach Newtonmore and we drove along the main street to reach the museum at the other end of the village. We spotted a couple of cafés that looked as if they might be potential lunch venues. The Highland Folk Museum opened on its present site in 1996. It had previously
stood a couple of miles along the road in Kingussie. Both villages are hotbeds of shinty and a crowd was starting to gather on the playing fields as we passed. Numerous sandwich board signs had been erected to advertise today's match. Admission to the museum is nominally free of charge but a notice in the kiosk informed us it cost £11 per visitor to run the place and much of this figure was sourced from donations. Basically we were guilt tripped into buying a guide book for a fiver and we made a voluntary contribution on top of that. I'm always more than happy to support this type of project. The compound is divided into three areas: the middle village, working farm/croft and 1700s township. The latter is a few hundred yards away in the woods and Nicole and I decided to go there first, while mum decided to sit this one out. The layout of the 1730 township has been interpreted from other archaeological remains and written sources. A reduced version has been recreated here and it is estimated the actual local settlement from this time period had around 30 houses. This was prior to the reorganisation of land use that led to the controversial Highland Clearances. I've read a couple of books about these bleak times but not enough to give me a broad picture. Not every region of the Highlands was treated in the same way by the landowners and in many cases the way of life was unsustainable due to the constant subdivision of land as the population increased. Two guides were on hand to supply the historical background and one of them pointed out the ringfencing of territory to create deer parks i.e. pleasure grounds for the wealthy, was a major factor in compounding the peasants' misery. They were hemmed in with no room to expand and improve their lifestyle.
Many of today's settlements up this way only came into being as a result of the railway line being built in the mid-19th century. Suddenly a channel was opened that enabled goods to be quickly transported across the entire country with ease. The poor souls in the 1700s had to contend with severe isolation. No proper road network and no ports within reach. It must have been a harsh life. More so in winter. By the time of the first national census in 1841, the Highland Clearances were almost complete. The dwellings on display consisted of turf walls built over a wooden frame that rested on a stone foundation. The interiors were dark and smoky. Some of the houses had integrated byres and space for the drying of crops. Others were much smaller. As the guides pointed out, there was very much a pecking order within the community and it wasn't a case of everyone being united against the big bad laird. The township was used as a filmset for the first series of popular TV series Outlander. As if on cue, four American fans of the show arrived just as we were preparing to move on. It may be a load of tosh, but the fantasy tale puts a few shillings in Scotland's pocket. We walked back to the central village, collected mum and had a look around the various buildings. The village school was fully accessible and we walked into a classroom from the 1930s. Forty single desks with inkwells faced the front and the programme of learning was written on the board. Heavy emphasis was put upon reading, writing and mental arithmetic. Today's curriculum is infinitely more varied but the fundamentals have to be in place and - dare I say it - some pupils would be better served by focussing mainly on the three R's. Speak to someone who performed well at primary school in this era and they'll probably tell you that everyone was literate and could count. I'm sure this wasn't quite the case but is trying to instil each pupil with a knowledge of French verbs a more useful strategy? Methinks not.
There were around 40 buildings to explore. Many could be entered, or you could at least stick your head in the door. A few were only viewable from the outside. We had a look around the interior of the tailor's workshop and several other exhibits, too numerous to list individually. The sweetie shop was staffed and bags of goodies were laid out but - alas - I had no coins and it was a cash-only affair. Not to worry the assistant assured me, I could also satisfy my sweet tooth at the main gift shop. I'll leave you to guess whether I actually did that. The final group of buildings was the farmstead. Various implements were on display and there was also a mock-up of a 1930s living room inside the main farmhouse. Other services were dotted around the field. The tiny post office had packages tied up with string and a pile of letters awaiting dispatch. Mum spent many years working as a postmistress and this exhibit was of particular interest to her. I was drawn to the railway halt, actually situated within spitting distance of the Highland Main Line, just outside the museum boundary. A couple of trains hurtled by as we wandered around. The waiting room display is actually a repurposed signal box and timetables for long-gone routes were pasted on the wall inside. Having seen everything, we headed back to the entrance and visited the gift shop. It had definitely been worth the long drive and I can recommend the museum to anyone with an interest in Scottish history. The open-air aspect appealed to me as it gave a better appreciation of scale. The on-site café sold hot drinks, cakes and biscuits and we decided to drive back to the centre of Newtonmore for a sit-down meal. The purple-painted Wild Flour bakery had a restaurant through the back and also a few tables in the garden. It was a breezy (although pleasantly warm) day and we opted to sit inside. We all ordered a plate of Cullen skink (fish soup) with a sandwich to follow. The décor was quirky and local crafts were for sale. Just our sort of place.
The rest of the afternoon was dedicated to birdwatching. RSPB Loch Garten wasn't far away and is one of the few places where you can observe crested tits. The little birds thrive in the Caledonian pine forests. The reserve is also famous as being the location of the osprey's return to Scotland, when a breeding pair were spotted in the 1950s. The RSPB now manages a large part of Abernethy Forest surrounding the visitors centre. Our membership cards gained us free entry and we had a look around the shop and exhibition. Of particular interest was a screen showing recorded footage of a goshawk nest in the area. I've never seen this reclusive bird in the flesh. Meanwhile a girl of around 10 was rummaging through the large selection of pin badges. I collect them myself und stick them in my woolly RSPB hat. The ultimate geek look. The largest patch of ancient forest exists around here and the habitat at one time covered most of the country. Until mankind invented the axe, I suppose. Perhaps a greater culprit was the fuelling of furnaces to produce weapons. For some reason, the osprey nest failed this year but I'm sure they will return. Nicole managed to spot the crested tit and tick it off her year list. I missed it as I was browsing the shop. We listened to a short talk by one of the staff members and Nicole hand-fed a coal tit. Then it was time to drive down the A9.
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