The Falls of Dochart

Monty Python’s Michael Palin is featured in the book, discussing the Falls of Dochart in Killin. Killin is the ancestral home to Clan Macnab, with many of the clan’s chiefs buried on the island situated in the falls – Innis Bhuidhe.

You can read Palin’s piece below, and for more information on the burial island you can read my report from the Macnab chief’s memorial which was held in 2013.

Michael Palin

It’s hard to know where to begin. Scotland is so richly endowed with great landscapes, breathtaking views and fine cities that picking out a favourite place seems unfair to all the others. But if I had to narrow my focus and forget the Forth-Clyde canal walk in Glasgow, the Bruichladdich Distillery on Islay and the King’s House Hotel in Glencoe, I’d settle for the Falls of Dochart in Killin. They’re dramatic without being fierce and the way the water twists and tumbles over the rocks is pleasing rather than awesome. They’re accessible too. You can get close to them. Thrilling for a child, I should think, and not intimidating to an oldie like me. I’d call them the friendly falls.

So much of what is beautiful about Scotland has water at the heart of it, whether it’s the rivers and streams, or the lochs and Sounds and Firths into which they flow. One of the great delights of a visit to the Falls of Dochart is their location. From whichever direction you approach the landscape is magnificent. From the west the valley of the Dochart leads you towards the Falls, with Ben More the sentinel to the south, rising over 1,100 metres. Coming at them from the east the road runs, for 14 glorious miles, beside the silver finger of Loch Tay with the dark flanks of the Ben Lawers range rising over 1,200 metres on the far side. Powerful, mysterious, hugely impressive highland scenery.

I think though that a favourite place has to be something more than just an aesthetic choice. There have to be personal elements. And so there are with me and the Falls of Dochart. In my mid-teens I’d met a girl on holiday in Suffolk, and we’d got on very well and the next year we’d met up again by the chilly grey North Sea and our holiday romance blossomed again. The year after that she wasn’t there and I was, for a while, very sad, as I never expected to see her again. Two years later, through the letter-box, came one of those significant communications that can change the course of a lifetime, like unexpectedly good exam results or a successful job application. In my case it was a postcard with a picture of the Falls of Dochart on the front.

On the back was a message from the girl I’d never expected to see again. She was on holiday up in the Highlands and had heard via a friend that I had got into Oxford University. This was followed by some snide reference to the fact that they must have lowered their standards, which, as humour had always been at the heart of our relationship, I found deeply reassuring. 
Reunited by the Falls of Dochart, we later met up and the holiday romance has developed into a 46-
year marriage.

Was it predestination or just plain good fortune that led me to another relationship that was to shape my life, and which was to bring me to see the Falls of Dochart for myself? Whilst at Oxford I met and started to write with a Welshman from Esher in Surrey called Terry Jones. A few years later, by way of The Frost Report and Do Not Adjust Your Set, he and I teamed up with three fellow writers and performers from Cambridge, called Idle, Cleese and Chapman. Joined by an American animator named Gilliam, we became Monty Python’s Flying Circus. After a few years of television we wrote and produced our first film, Monty Python and The Holy Grail. Among many other things it featured a killer rabbit that lived in the terrifying Cave of Caerbannog.

The film was almost entirely shot in Scotland and the home of the killer rabbit was on the hillside overlooking Loch Tay. Which is how, on 6 May 1974, on an afternoon free of filming, I first saw the Falls Of Dochart for myself. I was with John Cleese and we sat on the rocks with the water spilling around us and talked about the future of Python and John’s urge to be free of his obligations to the group. When the time came to go, my hired car wouldn’t start and John helped me push it up the hill to Killin’s only garage.

In 2005, Terry Jones and myself returned to Scotland to film a short video of our search for the Holy Grail locations which was to be included in a new DVD release. By now, just over 30 years after John had expressed his frustrations with the group, the Holy Grail had been a huge international success and transformed the outlook for 
Python. We had stayed together, on and off, for two more films, the 
Life of Brian and The Meaning of Life.

Before Terry and I went on our quest to rediscover the location of the Cave of Caerbannog I insisted that we stop at the Falls. I stepped carefully out onto a rock in the middle of the river, sat down, took my shoes off and dangled my feet in the cool fast-flowing waters of the Dochart. I thought about my life and how this place had come to mean so much to me.

Seven years has gone by since then. John Cleese has just got 
married, for the fourth time, Terry Jones and I are meeting for a drink tomorrow and my wife has just rung to check on our three-year -old grandson who has come down with what he calls chicken 
pops. And a few hundred miles north the river will be bubbling and swirling down the Falls of 
Dochart.

© Michael Palin from My Favourite Place, which is being distributed throughout Scotland as part of Book Week Scotland

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Macnab Country – The village of Killin and Loch Tay from Stron a’Chlachain. Photo by Andy Hall

Last Friday Amanda and I attended the memorial service for James Charles Macnab of Macnab, 23rd Chief of Clan Macnab. The memorial was held in the Killin Kirk, followed by interment of the ashes of James and his wife Diana on the ancient Macnab burial island of Innis Bhuidhe.

The journey from Edinbugh to Killin took us about two hours by car; passing through quaint Stirlingshire countryside, then the very edges of the Highlands via The Trossochs National Park. I’m rather ashamed to admit that I haven’t been further north than Edinburgh since I arrived in Scotland, so once we were on the road I felt an instant sense of relief when the grey and charcoal stone of Edinburgh gave way to brown and khaki earthy fields. We passed the still, deep waters of Loch Lubnaig, then on through the rocky and unforgiving mountain ranges towards Killin. My ears popped as we drove further up winding roads into the hills; passing mountains with giant cracks in their sides, snow capped peaks and weathered shards of rock poking out of steep slopes. The landscape certainly does remind me of New Zealand, but there’s a much more imposing, dramatic element to it that I have completely fallen head over heels for.

Dochart Falls, Killin

The beautifully wild Dochart Falls greeted us upon arrival in Killin. Situated on the River Dochart, the falls pass through the town, past the island of Innis Bhuidhe then onto Loch Tay. We walked to the kirk at the other end of the town, where inside a sea of mourners were wearing tartans of all different colours and patterns. The minister began the service by mentioning that the kirk was not very old by Scotland’s standards – it was only built the year before the 1745 Rising. The service featured songs and readings by the youngest generation of Macnabs, and a stirring eulogy delivered by the new chief, James William Macnab of Macnab. He recollected his father’s fantastic sense of humour, and his love for the land around Killin. The late chief was a particularly keen shot, and would insist upon hunting in his kilt. On one particular outing the chief jumped into a bush, disturbing a trio of grouse who got caught in his kilt as they tried to flee.

The procession gathers outside Killin Kirk

After the service the attendees gathered outside the kirk for a procession along the main street of Killin towards the burial island. With a piper leading the way the new chief and his brother carried the ashes of their father and mother, followed by family, clansmen and other mourners. As we were walking we noticed black smoke rising further along the road, which turned out to be a barn that had caught fire. As we got closer firefighters told us that we would not be able to get through as there was a risk of explosion, and we would have to turn back. We had turned around when the new chief yelled out to us to follow him through a field around the burning building. In a moment of comedy that I’m sure the late chief would have appreciated, hundreds of mourners (some of us hobbling in heels) were sent marching through a field around the outskirts of Killin.

The procession begins

The procession on Innis Bhuidhe

The Macnab Crypt at the far end of Innis Bhuidhe

The ancient burial island of Innis Bhuidhe was absolutely beautiful. Roughly half the size of a football field, the island is covered in lush woodland with a path leading down the middle towards the ancient crypt where Macnab chiefs are buried. The procession was lead to the crypt by Pipe Major Greig Canning playing the Macnab piobaireachd – The Gathering of the Macnabs. After a short prayer the ashes of the late chief and his wife were laid to rest, and his pennon and cap badge were handed over to the new Macnab of Macnab, announcing the new chief. Following the interment we stopped briefly at the hotel where the wake was being held. We chatted with the new chief, and toasted him with a glass of whisky that I’m sure flowed freely for the rest of the evening.

On our way back to Edinburgh we passed a number of Highland Heritage tour buses going in the other direction. Each bus was emblazoned with a clan name across the front – MacLeod, MacGregor, and Macnab to name a few. How amazing that a few miles back along the road, the modern day versions of those great clans had gathered just a few hours earlier.

You can view our photos from the memorial in an album on Tartan Footprint, and I have also uploaded the Order of Service here. Oh and just in case you’re wondering, I do have more travel in Scotland planned for April!

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Clan Macnab – Let Fear Be Far From All

One of the most fascinating things about Scotland is the way that a country steeped in history and tradition is colliding with the new. This is especially true of Scotland’s clans – distinguished by heraldry tracing back over a thousand years – and how this is manifesting itself in modern life. Last week I had the pleasure of meeting my first chief – Macnab of Macnab, 24th chief of Clan Macnab, and perhaps Scotland’s newest chief. Expecting to meet a dirk-wielding highlander straight from a history book, I instead found myself in an office in Edinburgh’s New Town, chatting to the Director of Country House Sales at Savills Estate Agents.

“It’s quite interesting how people react to my title. People who know about the clans, in particular people from the Highlands, have been saying ‘Congratulations, I’m sure you’ll do a good job’. Which is very bolstering. But to other people, especially in the South, they don’t have a clue what it means. To them it’s just a strange name.”

Jamie Macnab was announced chief of Clan Macnab in January this year upon the passing of his father, James Charles Macnab. Born in 1963 in Edinburgh, a pipe band greeted the infant Jamie and his parents upon return from the maternity hospital to the village of Killin, deep in Macnab territory. A newspaper article at the time referred to him as the ‘Younger, Younger of Macnab’ as his father, then heir, was known as ‘Younger Macnab’. However it was never something that differentiated him from other children in the village. “I was just Jamie, I don’t think anyone ever thought about that. I wasn’t particularly a leader, I had my pals and got on with them in the normal way. But I’ve known all my life that one day I would be clan chief, so I’ve had a lot of time to get used to the idea.”

“We all lead pretty ordinary lives. There’s a range of people who are clan chiefs, from the Duke of Buccleuch, to one of the chiefs who sells goods by hand up and down The Royal Mile, and another is French. So there’s no typical chief.”

Like other Scottish clans, the Macnabs are scattered globally. “There’s not a Macnab in the Killin telephone directory at the moment, we’ve all been very dispersed. But the people who live in Killin do recognise that this is where the Macnabs are from.” The Macnabs were present at The Gathering, the 2009 clan convention and largest recorded meeting of Scottish chiefs. “The Gathering was described as life-changing by a lot of clansmen from Scotland and abroad, and it was for me because there aren’t that many Macnabs in Scotland. My father and I manned the Macnab tent from 9 o’clock in the morning till 10 o’clock at night, and I met the most fantastic collection of people, it was truly inspirational… The fact that they were all so pleased to come to Scotland and pleased to connect with us, it was all very humbling.”

“One clansman said something to me that had a real resonance, and suddenly made it all make sense. Macnabs are not necessarily coming to a clan event to meet me – although that is part of it because I’m the representative of the clan. But it’s more to work out where they fit in. Finding out where you come from leads to quite a strong path of emotion in people, and it would be fantastic if we could help people with their genealogy to knit the family heritage together. All the chiefs lineage is pretty well documented. For me, on my fathers side, I don’t even have to think about who my great, great grandfather is because it’s all in a booklet. But most people don’t have that, so it would be nice to give them a framework to work within.”

He draws attention to how important the clans are to modern-day Scotland. “There are five million people living in Scotland, but worldwide there are thirty million that claim Scottish descent. So for a small country like Scotland with a limited economy, heritage is hugely important to tourism. The chiefs and clans play a part in that to make Scotland relevant in the modern world, because linking with your past is a very powerful thing.” Using the web and social media to connect Macnabs is a high priority on Jamie’s list for the future of Clan Macnab. His father had no concept of the internet, so Jamie wants the Macnab presence to be as visible and approachable online as it has been in person. “Over the last five years there has been a lot of correspondence between Macnabs around the world, and I want to build on this communication. It’s my challenge to try and work out how to pull them all together”.

Jamie is hoping to reestablish the Macnab Clan Society in Scotland, and hopes to meet with the American Clan Macnab Societies. “A lot of Americans are more Scottish than the Scots. It’s probably because they’re geographically removed. If you’re in Scotland you’ve probably got quite a secure thought of your place and where you’ve come from. But when you’re removed from it, it then becomes more important… So I’ll have to get out to the States.”

I asked Jamie if any clan rivalries from the old days still survived, and he proudly showed me his signet ring depicting the severed head of a Neish. Legend goes that the Macnabs and Neishes had a great battle near Loch Earn. The defeated Neishes took refuge on an island in the Loch, managing to ransack all of the Macnab Christmas provisions as they were being transported along the Loch to Killin. Clansman Smooth John Macnab was a huge, terrifying highlander, and one of four brothers. Their father said “If my lads were lads, I’d have my Christmas dinner.” The brothers picked up a boat and carried it over a mountain and back down and onto Loch Earn and rode it over onto the island where Smooth John hammered on the door of the dwelling on the island. Drunk on Macnab wine, the Neishes shouted out “Who’s there?” to which Smooth John replied “Who would you least like it to be?” They replied “Smooth John Mcnab”, to which he said “Smooth John it is”. With one smash of the hilt of his sword he broke through and beheaded everyone inside. There was no food or wine left, but the brothers took a sack of heads back over the hill. When they arrived back in Killin their father asked them if they had any Christmas dinner, to which Smooth John replied “No, but I’ve got some balls for the children to play with” and emptied out all of the heads onto the floor.

A hero of the Macnabs, Smooth John’s antics are centuries removed from modern clan life. “I haven’t had much of that in my lifetime. I’ve played a bit of rugby but that’s about it… When I was at college there was a guy called Ed Neish who knew the story of our two families. He’d had an accident and he had metal plating in his neck, so I was always joking with him that if I’d ever had a need to behead him I would have needed an angle grinder”.

I also wondered how clan life coincides with Jamie’s family life. He explained that they’re a very ordinary, Edinburgh-based professional family. He told me his wife said that it was very worthwhile being married to a clan chief the day that Chanel came knocking looking for chiefs to attend their recent show at Linlithgow Palace. And how does James, Jamie’s son feel about his eventual chieftanship? “His only experience was The Gathering in 2009 when he was 9 years old. He had a sudden realisation – ‘I have to stand up the front so there must be something in this’. I asked him about it again this morning and he just said ‘boring question’. So there’s no real concept at the moment I don’t think. I think it’s something that will gradually soak in on him over a period of time. It’s quite a mysterious thing for him.”

As I left Jamie’s office and walked along Princes Street in the shadow of Edinburgh Castle, I thought about how many clan chiefs had walked in the same shadow over the years. My first meeting with a chief gave me a tangible sense of Scotland’s past, and as clans adjust to life in modern times, it seems the way forward is helping people connect to their past in a very 21st century way.

Clan Macnab at the Clan Parade. The Gathering, Edinburgh 2009.

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Clan Macnab – Timor Omnis Abesto (Let fear be far from all)

We are very saddened to hear news that James Charles Macnab, 23rd Chief of Clan Macnab, died on January 11 aged 86. Macnab served as a member of the Royal Airforce, the Scots Guard and a Lieutenant in the Seaforth Highlanders, and played an active role on the Standing Council of Scottish Chiefs.

Macnab was a much loved member of the community in Killin, the centre of Mcnab territory. He met with clansfolk regularly and was involved in the organisation of the International Gathering of the Clans in 1977 and the subsequent Gathering at the Scottish Homecoming of 2009. He is particularly remembered for being what a fellow chief affectionately termed “a dominant character” at the Lochearnhead Games, being chieftain on several occasions.

Born in 1926 in London, Macnab was the eldest son of James Alexander Macnab OBE TD, de jure the 21st Macnab of Macnab, and Ursula Watford (nee Barnett). His father won an Olympic gold medal in the coxless fours at the Paris Games in 1924. Young James was evacuated from London in 1940 to Ottawa, returning four years later as a war effort volunteer before enlisting as a soldier. He took part in active service in the final year of World War Two in India, Java and Singapore, before being commissioned into the Seaforth Highlanders. In 1948 he transferred to the Federation of Malaya Police Force where he served for nine years first as Assistant Superintendent, then Acting Deputy Superintendent. He was involved in many gunfights against guerillas, and on one occasion rescued Ian Tedford, a then Ghurka officer. Colonel Tedford retired to Scotland, and always credited Macnab with saving his life.

Macnab retired from the Police Force and moved to Scotland in 1957, aged 31. He took up residence with his Great Uncle at Kinell House, eventually taking over the running of the estate and farms.  He married Diana Mary Anstruther-Gray, elder daughter of Lord and Lady Kilmany, on 11 April 1959 at St Andrews Episcopal Church. For a time they rented Auchtubhmor House, Balquhiddrer from Sir Gregor MacGregor of MacGregor, before purchasing Finlarig and Tirarthur Farms in Killin. He returned as a Captain in the 11th Battalion Seaforth Highlanders from 1960-1964, until his work as a Local Government Councillor prevented his regular attendance.

Following the death of his great uncle in 1970, Macnabb succeeded Archibald Corrie Macnab of Macnab as Chief. However he inherited high death duty liabilities, and in 1978 was forced to sell Kinell House and a large portion of the estate. Macnab stayed in the Killin region until 1985, when he moved his family to Leuchers (near St. Andrews).

History shows that Clan Macnab survived somewhat against the odds. Known as a “considerable clan” before the reign of 13th-century King Alexander III, the then Macnab chief fought against King Robert Bruce, having his lands and possessions ravaged in return. Further lands were lost when 6th chief Finlay Macnab mortgaged a great portion of territory to the Campbell of Glenorchy ancestor of the Marquis of Breadalbane. Support for the Royalist cause of Charles I led to Covenanters burning Macnab lands, and the clan was saved from extinction possibly only by support for the Hanoverian cause in the 1715 and 1745 Risings.

James Macnab is succeeded by his eldest son, James (Jamie) William Archibald Macnab. Jamie is the director at Savills in Edinburgh, and a member of the Royal Company of Archers, Queens Bodyguard in Scotland. All clansmen are welcome to attend the memorial service which will be held at the Killin Parish Kirk at 2pm on Friday 15th March 2013. The memorial will be followed by a procession to Innis Bhuie (The Macnab burial island) for internment of the ashes.

James Charles Macnab of Macnab, 23rd Chief of Clan Macnab 1926 – 2013

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