9-17 June 2007
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The Gaelic Language
Everywhere I have seen road signs in English but also in Gaelic. Gaelic pronunciation does not come easily to the uninitiated. At least, it easy to read Gaelic as it uses the English alphabet. This pronunciation does not matter to the idle tourist content in visiting notable tourist spots. However, it is quite important for the mountain climber. Most of the peaks have only Gaelic names. If we were to be understood correctly and identify a peak without ambiguity, it is important to get this pronunciation right.
I learnt a few basics in this discipline. In the Great Wilderness there is a notable peak by the name A’ Mhaighdean. “Mh” is pronounced as a “V”. The suffix in Letterewe and Poolewe is a “yu”, written in Gaelic as “Iu”. This is yet another difference. Names like A’ Mhaighdean are Gaelic while Poolewe is an Anglicised spelling of its Gaelic origin. The second word in “Beinn Eighe” is a tough one and although I was corrected in this matter a few times I am sure I have now forgotten the right way of saying it.
Most Gaelic names are basically accurate descriptions of the land features they name. In some cases, a poetic metaphor is implied. As an example, let us take the mountains, peaks and settlements around Torridon. The following is taken from a leaflet published by the National Trust for Scotland which manages Torridon.
| Gaelic Name | Meaning |
| An Ruadh-mheallan | Small Red Hill |
| Abhainn Alligin | River of the Jewel or Pretty Woman |
| Beinn Alligin | Hill of the Jewel or Pretty Woman |
| Tom na Gruagaich | Fairy-woman’s knoll |
| Inveralligin | Estuary of the Jewel or Pretty Woman |
| Sgurr Mhor | The Big Peak |
| Coire Mhic Nobuil | MacNoble’s Corrie |
| Baosbheinn | Wizard’s Hill |
| Sgorr a ‘Chadail | The Peak of Sleep |
| Beinn Dearg | The Red Peak |
| Beinn an Eoin | Hill of the Bird |
| Fasag | Little Dwelling |
| Liathach | The Hoary Place or Grey One |
| Mullach an Rathain | The Ridge of the Pulley |
| Spidean a’ Choire Leith | The Pinnacle of the Grey Corrie |
| Seana Mheallan | Ancient Small Hill |
| Beinn Eighe | The File Peak |
| Ruadh-stac Mor | Big Red Cliff |
| Sgurr Ban | White Top |
A study of the above will yield a few truths. “Beinn” is for a peak and where the peak is less distinct it is translated to a hill. “Inver” is an estuary as in Inverness which is the estuary of the river Ness. Modern published spellings also differ as pointed out by H.T. Munro when he made his list in 1891. “Mor” or “Mhor” are equivalent words for big. Likewise, “Sgurr” or “Sgorr” are equivalent for a peak. There might even be a subtle difference between a “Beinn” and “Sgurr”. The former is generally used for a hill with a peak. The latter is used when the peak has greater prominence over the hill on which it stands, such as when it rises sharply and steeply from the underlying hill.
While in English names the topographical detail appears often as a suffix (-dun, -ford, -ham, -mere), it is the reverse in these Gaelic names. So while we have Buttermere and Windermere, in Scotland we have Loch Ewe and Loch Ness. The names Beinn Eighe and Sgurr Ban indicate the same pattern. This is only a general practice rather than a rigid rule.
In the case of qualifiers, the qualifier appears at the end. This is the case with the use of “Mor” as in Ruadh-stac Mor. Another example is in Mamore Forest. There are two peaks named Binnein Beag (943m) and Binnein Mor (1130m), the smaller and the greater peak of the same name.
Analysing these names is well and good as a matter of curious study. It does little to keep the language alive. People must use it actively. The language must move with the times. It must invent new words and expressions to describe the changing world in which we live. In all my travels in Scotland, I have not heard Gaelic spoken even once anywhere. It is English everywhere or some foreign language spoken by tourists or immigrants. The woman I had met in Mamore Forest corrected me on some Gaelic pronunciation. She knew the pronunciation well but confessed that she did not speak the language at all.
I have not seen any books in Gaelic, neither modern nor ancient texts. There are shops that sell Gaelic music. I have listened blanky to BBC Gaelic on the radio which is aired once in a while. The language is being kept alive by a small minority but it has no prominence in Scottish life and culture. The Lonely Planet guidebook, “Walking in Scotland”, which has been my main source of research for this trip’s walks, claims that there are 80,000 people in Scotland who speak Gaelic. The language is claimed to have revived greatly in the last two decades. Except for road signs in Gaelic, I have seen no evidence of this revival. It is as good as dead.
A Little Disappointed
On the whole, I would say that this trip has been somewhat of a disappointment. Although I had done a good amount of planning I had not planned every single detail. I have not made the best of my time. I did not climb any Munro apart from Ben Nevis. I did not climb any significant peak in the Great Wilderness. I was confident of climbing Slioch but such a climb did not happen. I had hoped to do some thrilling walks in Torridon but all I did was a relaxed stroll. A much anticipated visited to Glen Coe did not happen, let alone walks in that region.
The twin factors that contributed to this are infrequent public transport and unavailable accommodation. Take the case of Torridon. I had planned to take a 0930 bus from Kinlochewe to Torridon. This schedule was given to me on the Internet, generally a reliable source of information. However, this bus never turned up. The next bus was the Postbus at 1355 hours. So I was forced to spend the morning at Kinlochewe. I visited the Beinn Eighe Reserve Visitor Centre. I was recommended to do a woodland walk which started from a car park two miles north of the centre. This was not a suitable walk for me since I had to be back at Kinlochewe early enough to catch the Postbus.
At Torridon, the only cheap accommodation was at the YHA. The hostel is in a picturesque setting with great views but it is inconvenient and almost useless for a walker. The main path that climbs to Beinn Alligin is two miles away. The path to Liathach to the east is even farther. Having arrived at the YHA so late in the afternoon, I could not risk the extra distances in addition to challenging climbs. So the visit to Torridon was a waste except for the singular view of Liathach.
Another example is Glen Affric, a glen much praised for its beauty. This was dropped from my plan early on because it has no public transport whatsoever. A trip to the YHA is in itself a lengthy trek.
At Glen Coe, the story was a little different. The original plan was to stay at Fort William for three nights. Fort William has sufficient connections for me to get to Glen Coe, Ben Nevis, Kinlochleven and Corrour. These are all places with great opportunities for walking. Unfortunately I could not get accommodation at Fort William even for a single night. For the first night I stayed at the YHA at Glen Nevis. This was just perfect for my climb to Ben Nevis. For the second night I had to settle for the bothy at Meanach. For the third night I had to move to Inchree. As a result of these wanderings, I could not visit Glen Coe. I could not walk the West Highland Way. I could not climb any of the Munros in the region.
Yet another disappointment presented itself yesterday evening. I was wandering in Fort William looking for accommodation when I saw a poster for a ceilidh night at the Ben Nevis Inn at Glen Nevis. A ceilidh, I believe, is some sort of a gathering where traditional Scottish folk music is played to which people sing and dance. It was a promising invite but I had just walked from Glen Nevis. I had no inclination to walk back that way in darkness. Even if I did, what about the return? Private transport would have solved this problem without a fuss. In lieu of this missed opportunity, I picked up a music CD titled “Scotland the Brave”, a compilation of fifty favourite Scottish tunes played with bagpipes.
End of the Road?
Even at the start of my trip in the Great Wilderness, I had the feeling that I have come to the end of my travels in Britain. The Great Wilderness in particular was so complete in its isolation that everywhere I looked it was just spectacular mountains set in an unending landscape. After a few such scenes I had become immune to these natural wonders. How many more mountains and wild terrains will I visit, see or experience? Every mountain is different but once we sense the beauty of one, all mountains are essentially the same. So are the peaks, the rivers, the waterfalls, the cliffs and the crags. There is a limit to how much we can appreciate beauty. There is a limit to beauty itself as we perceive it with our senses. All beauty we see is only material. The more I see of it, the less appealing it becomes. They lose their enchantment. I begin to question and search deeper for a new level of experience. Yet this trip has been worthwhile because I have sensed a little of a new experience.
The Great Wilderness is such a vast landscape against which we are tiny. We realize we are small but not insignificant. Every little living thing has a space in this mighty space. The little insect that is struggling against the wind has a purpose. The family of midges seeking to survive has a purpose. The deer roaming like monarchs of the glens have a purpose. The cotton-grass dancing in the breeze has a purpose. Every drop of water in the flowing stream has a purpose. Their lives are simple. Their thoughts, if any, are simpler. What is our purpose? What should be our thoughts? The very fact that we exist, think and live imply that there is an unknown meaning to our lives. We live for something and that something is what we define within the bounds of civilization, material comfort and happiness. Yet there ought to be another something that is far greater than the little pursuits of our lives. It is only a wilderness as this that can make us believe the possibility of such greater things, unknown and unsought.
I kept vacillating between two ends. On one hand it was lovely to be walking in a wilderness amongst the mountains. It was lovely to be active in the great outdoors, especially at the start of a brilliant day after a good night’s sleep. It was lovely to witness nature in her fullest scope and in her wildest ways. It was lovely to live life in a simple way freed from the complexities of deadlines, routines and commitments. On the other hand, at the end of a long day, I began to question if all this was worth the effort at all. Did I not sometimes consider this an ordeal? Did I not grumble with myself as I walked an uphill path with a heavy backpack? Did I not miss my sleep when rats kept me awake in a bare bothy? Did I not discover the value of everyday comforts when I had been denied the same? Most of all, had I not become bored with the mountains by their repetition? Had not Beauty bared her soul and left me with nothing more to look forward to?
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