A Story of Scotland
Scotland's terroir is found in her people
I suppose there’s something magical in Scotland. The landscapes absolutely will if the Scottish personality doesn’t make you a believer. The darkness of the sky as the stars start to peer through the clouded atmosphere, the rich greens, browns, blues, and aquas of various lochs, bays, firths, and rivers, surrounded by their more terrestrial brethren. All these things and more are the magic that creates the stories we’ve told each other from time immemorial.
I’d love to believe that the simple collection of carbon atoms coalesced into this frame of mine has something intrinsically attached to this soil, this air, this space, but the mythos of “what” and “who” Scotland is still lies just that much more out of my reach. Each time I visit, however, I understand more of why this place resonates with my soul.
Scotland is formed more by its people than its places. Perhaps one influences the experience of the other. Still, if you focus on the mutable, changeable, fascinating people that comprise her stories and history, you understand how “places” become her swan song.
It’s written into the eclectic nature of your interactions, from the tchotchkes lining the shelves of the Stein Inn in Waternish to the laughing eyes of the lass who measures your waist to ensure the kilt fits just so because this is the Scottish equivalent of every “I am Irish” trope proceeding from an American’s mouth. It’s mirthful and sarcastic, yet hardly the deadly poison one would expect, given our tendency to blow words out of proportion.
I found moments where you couldn’t help but laugh at how people intertwine themselves in history and circumstance. The Englishman with an Ecuadoran wife running an antique vertical knitting mill on the Isle of Skye, the staff of a Michelin-starred restaurant and lodge tucked away in the gentle curves of the road in Edinbane from Malaga and Glasgow, each with polish and air unique to their own stories. And, if you listen closely, their stories are ripe for the taking.
Scotland is her people but also her terroir. Perhaps I use that word somewhat inappropriately, but bear with me. As much as people define Scotland, we know the land has influenced the people. Its craggy shores and flattened Munros, blazing purples of heather, the lanolin-shaded wool of sheep grazing, the blazing sunrises arching from the ocean to their fiery setting over the Outer Hebrides. These places and features have grown her people and created an indomitable spirit we’ve attempted to capture, albeit poorly, on screen and in cinema. It’s a land grown up, prehistoric and ancient, designed for people whose roots never leave, regardless of where they journey.
The castles and rudiments that humanity has carved and placed on islands, around the lochs, and overlooking the harbours and glens have their mysteries, to be sure. They’re a testament to the nature of humanity to conquer and, in turn, to be conquered. It’s a proud, if not bloody, portion of heritage we all have to countenance. We can only peer back at the writings and retellings of Robert the Bruce, William Wallace, Mary Queen of Scots, Rob Roy, and Flora Macdonald in an attempt to understand what bound this people to this land and caused them to fight against the colonizing horror that was (and still is, to some) the Crown. As I stated previously, the indomitable spirit of the Scots still agitates to this day, run through with the blood of the martyrs and saints from their fabled history.
And yet, through it all, there’s a vibrancy and life to Scotland, regardless of weather and history. There’s the foundation of hope, inclusion, and a beautiful graciousness lent, in no small part, from the land itself. The fierce tenacity of the people who cling to this craggy land is mirrored in the coos and sheep, the heather that explodes everywhere to be burned back (falaisg), and the richness of the ocean’s bounty landed on your plate.
Scotland is magical, and her terroir is the people who are her lifeblood. If you spend time and listen, really listen, you’ll hear the gentle call urging you back time and again. If you let yourself believe, even for the briefest of minutes, you can feel the pulse of her life coursing through your veins. If you pause and consider, you’ll see evidence that the sea, the sky, and the land beneath your feet are incredible places upon which proud and passionate people have grown.
I wish for you to find your Scotland, even if it’s far removed from the geography I’ve highlighted above. It can be the Cape Breton Highlands of Nova Scotia or even the concrete-hewn streets of New York City. It can be pavement as much as pasture, steel-and-glass as much as desert. It is what you make of it, founded on the people and provenance of our collective histories as humans. Never forsake the paths that lead you, the stories that guide your heart, and the people who colour in the lines.
May it ever be so.
