Dunkeld & Birnam

River... Trees... Gow... Cathedral... Music!

Having been lucky enough to travel all over Scotland, I am sometimes asked what my favorite place is. The answer is, I have many! Scotland is so varied geologically and culturally that it’s hard to pick just one.

One of my favorites would have to be Dunkeld, because of the river, the live oak trees, walking trails, gardens, the medieval cathedral, the tombstones(s) and house and now the statue of the influential 18th century fiddler Niel Gow, and perhaps most of all, the amazing musical guests we’ve had during our visits there.

The broad, fast-moving River Tay is a relaxing but endlessly fascinating sight. The big stone bridge connecting Dunkeld with Little Dunkeld and Birnam provides a great view in both directions. Niel Gow’s last tune before he died in 1807 was called “Dunkeld Bridge”; the bridge was built by Thomas Telford between 1805 and 1809.

There are walking paths along both sides of the river, which we followed in order to visit the nearby town of Inver, where Gow lived, and to see the Duke of Atholl’s Hermitage, which we talked about in the post about Blair Castle. Sometimes you’ll see someone fishing for sea trout and salmon. These fishermen pay a hefty fee to fish in one section of the river for the day.

The walkways along the river are spacious and lined with tall trees, including some so big we needed 8 people to link hands in order to surround the trunk. These trees give the area the nickname “Big Tree Country.” One live oak there is estimated to be 600 years old, and was around when Shakespeare is said to have visited in 1589. It might have inspired the lines in his play Macbeth about Birnam Wood.

Across the river from Dunkeld, the walking path goes past the River Braan, a tributary to the River Tay. This tributary has the waterfalls we viewed from Ossian’s Hall in our earlier post. Beyond it is the town of Inver, where we saw Niel Gow’s cottage. It has a sign on it, and a plaque that was placed by the Duchess of Atholl in 1949 quoting Robert Burns about the “wondrous fiddle” of Niel Gow. People live in the house today but fortunately are quite proud of its heritage and were happy to let us gawk at the historic cottage. Below is a photo of the cottage, and the life-size statue of Gow which was placed in Birnam in 2020.

Along the river path is a tree where Niel Gow used to sit on the river bank and play fiddle as the Duke of Atholl fished from his boat nearby. After the tree suffered a lightning strike and lost a hefty branch, a bench was crafted from its wood so that people can still sit on and next to Gow’s tree. Carved into the bench are words from a song called “Niel Gow’s Apprentice,” by Michael Marra: “Sit beneath the fiddle tree with the ghost of Niel Gow next to me.” Below is a picture of the bench, and a nice one of Dorothy (my co-leader, who led our walks) sitting on it.

In Little Dunkeld, just off the walking path by the river, is the church cemetery where Niel Gow was buried. The large tombstone is new, having been replaced through a special local fundraising effort. Other area celebrations of Niel Gow have included an annual Niel Gow music festival each March, initiated by fiddler Pete Clark, who lives in the area; he recorded albums on two Gow fiddles, one that’s at Blair Castle and another one that traces back to Gow. Pete was unfortunately almost never around when our group visited the area because he’s an avid fisherman and is usually away on his “trout tour” at that time, fishing by day and playing fiddle concerts by night. For many years, Clark worked to raise money to commission the statue of Niel Gow (see photo above).

Gow’s new tombstone came about because the original had fallen into disrepair. But the original can still be viewed at Dunkeld Cathedral, in a veritable little museum in a side room behind the church's altar. It's full of interesting historical artifacts.

The cathedral itself, started in the 13th century, is huge and intricate. It is still in use but some older parts are roofless, as you can see below on the left. On the right is an arch with a curiously asymmetrical design. The peak of the arch and of the roof above it do not line up. I’ve seen this is some other cathedrals; perhaps someone out there has an explanation!

The cathedral has had a dramatic history during its long life. Marks are still visible in its walls from musket balls fired during the Battle of Dunkeld in 1789, shortly after the Battle of Killiecrankie (mentioned in my post about Blair Castle) during the first Jacobite uprising.

Surrounding the cathedral are pathways, a large variety of trees, and towards the river, beautiful and peaceful landscaping.

A number of special musical treats awaited us in Dunkeld. One was a visit each summer to the pipemaking workshop of Hamish and Fin Moore.

Hamish revived the business of making and playing bellows-blown bagpipes, which have a long history in Scotland. His son Fin has taken over much of the work, and, occasionally joined by Hamish, explained to us all about their stocks of wood, cane for the reeds, and special tools they created for making the pipes. He finished by playing tunes for us on their Highland pipes, Border pipes, and smallpipes. Next week we’ll learn more about Hamish Moore’s impact on Scottish piping.

In Dunkeld, our small groups of travelers were treated to a variety of great musicians. We gathered in the evening at our B&B and listened to them speak about and play their music. Our guests included piper Fin Moore playing with his wife Sarah Hoy on fiddle, and the great fiddler Patsy Reid from nearby Perth. I was grateful that so many great musicians could join our small groups and treat us to such personal performances. In 2016, Patsy apologized for not being able to join us because she had to perform in France on BBC television, along with Julie Fowlis, at the centennial of the Battle of the Somme. Pretty good excuse!

Last summer, we were treated to a performance by singer Alan Reid, a founding member of the Battlefield Band, and once, we heard the creative improvisations of multi-instrumentalist Fraser Fifield, who used to play with the Old Blind Dogs but has experimented with mixing musical cultural traditions.

One of our special guests was Fiona Ritchie, who is an active community member in the Dunkeld area, as well as host of the online Thistle Radio, and NPR’s longest running music program, The Thistle and Shamrock. She spoke with us about her work in radio, her adventures at musical events, and about her book tracing the path of Scottish music to form the basis for American Appalachian and bluegrass music. In the coming weeks, we’ll talk about her work both on radio and in her book.

Sometimes, since some of our travelers could play music, we went to a local session. There used to be regular sessions at the Taybank, a white hotel located, as the name suggests, on the banks of the River Tay. They still have occasional sessions and are open to impromptu ones in its small bar, but it used to be much more musically active in the days when it was owned by the well-known singer-songwriter Dougie MacLean, who lives not far away. He is perhaps best known for his song “Caledonia.”

Several other hotels have pubs with sessions, including the Royal Dunkeld, as you can see below. It’s also where someone from our group snapped a shot of Fiona Ritchie and myself.

Perhaps it’s clear by now why the town of Dunkeld & Birnam is one of my favorite spots? I’ll leave you with a few extra photos below. The thin iron rod with the V’s on both ends is the Dunkeld Ell, the ell being a 37-inch measuring tool to keep weavers honest when they sold lengths of wool. There was a saying, “Give ‘im an inch and he’ll take an ell.”

The evening photo is in Birnam (across the river from Dunkeld, but they are run by the same city council), pretty much across the street from a park dedicated to the children’s author Beatrix Potter. She used to vacation there to write some of her stories. (If you’re a Beatrix Potter fan, you might enjoy a recent Substack post examining Potter’s naturalist diaries, which she wrote in a code of her own, and which someone recently was able to crack. I learned about this post from Substack’s new Notes feature, where you can read short comments and links, and even add your own.)