Scottish village of Strathpeffer, a vitrified Pictish fort

It was a little early that day when we wound up via Inverness, to reach our hotel in the beautiful Scottish village on a glen, called Strathpeffer in Ross-shire , with still existing Victorian buildings, sulfur springs and a population of—hold your breath!—1 ,500! When I asked the hotel manager about how to make the best of the four hours up to sunset, she smiled and started rummaging for something in the drawers under the counter. She came up with a map.

“If you can make it to Knockfarrel, there right there, you will have a beautiful view of the lakes besides beautiful vistas from that height!” She pointed a raised finger towards the window in front.

What she hadn’t told me was that I would have to tramp through thick forests abounding in all that was wild and weird. Also, that I might have to turn back again and again, fearing the woods with slush and dreading tracks that weren’t there.

I took the Black Muir Wood track which wove through an uncompromising loop, leaving me where I started—with no let up or outlet. Surprisingly, there were no wild creatures’ calls; nor any twitters and sweet-nothings of birds. It was a pure game of light and darkness, calmness and serenity, poise and distilled silence.

All I could then hear was the pounding of my heart, as I advanced with apprehensive yet eager steps towards the hilltop of Knockfarrel — also called Stone-Fort.

With dangling cameras, an emptied water bottle on my shoulders and perspiration trickling from my hat, I moved on through dark patches that turned into bright ones all of a sudden. The sun was to set none too soon but it still had full sway on the horizon, its intrusive rays penetrating through thick foliage.

The air was filled with sensuousness of sorts and I could feel it go down to the suffocated chambers in my lungs. Though I did not have any spiritual or physical emptiness, I devoured the pears, apples and bananas in my rucksack—less to sate hunger than to keep myself occupied on the steeply uphill track that left my legs almost wobbling.

Steep climb serene lake

Ialso found myself trapped in slush and mud at places where even the walkers’ trail disappeared. In trepidation I decided not to go any further as the environment had become spooky. I decided to return and take another route.
The new track led me on to a smoother but steeper climb.

My patience started giving way but the desire to ‘conquer’ Knockfarrel kept me going. The hilltop not being in sight disappointed me but I caught a glimpse of a portion of a blue waterbody to my right. That was just the tonic I needed to press on. And suddenly, there was the still waters of Loch Ussie, glimmering in the setting sun.

From the hilltop I looked down tp see a valley leading to the village of Strathpeffer, a tiny hamlet with slanted roofs, towers, turrets, pinnacles, steeples and belfries. In between lay, sprawling fields with crops in hues ranging from light yellow to mustard to green and to purplish brown.

Walking on the glen towards Cat’s Back, a ridge to the southeast of Strathpeffer, I saw a human figure in the distance, wearing blue jeans and a yellow top. It was a young Scottish lass.

We exchanged smiles. I asked her if there was any convenient way I could roll down hill—disengaging my brain! She did not appear to understand me very well but she pointed out a route with hand movements like the hotel manager. She was obviously not one to linger but I managed to persuade her to take some photos of me, after which she departed with a modest smile.

The summit of Knockfarrel has steep sides, its flat top a wide, grassy, square, fringed by weird looking rocks that are believed to be the remains of an extensive Iron Age Pictish fortress.

Stone maze

The Picts lived and ruled in eastern and northern Scotland in the late Iron Age and early medieval era but were later subsumed in the wider Scottish identity. Vitrified forts are common in these parts, whereby stones are heated to very high temperatures and fused into a continuous mass of rock.

I hung on there at the hilltop to see Castle Leod (built on the site of a Pictish fort) in the distance before making the return trip downwards.

An interesting fact about standing at any Pictish hill fort is that at least one other similar fort is visible from there. The warrior Picts developed an early warning system of fire beacons that would be seen and conveyed from fort to fort, not unlike the system in certain parts of India!

The descent meant more tense moments. particularly as the sun had gone down by then. At places the grass on both sides of the trail was higher than I was but not wanting to attract any predators that might lurk in the underbrush, I kept moving briskly, not caring about cuts or bruises.

A fork led me to a ‘stone maze’ — 81 stones, arranged in 5 concentric circles like some other prehistoric sites in England and Scandinavia. This amazing placement of huge Scottish rocks is a must see and was probably once associated with local pagan festivals.

When I got back and told my wife about ‘knocking out’ Knockfarrel to my wife, she exclaimed, “Why did you go all alone?” Another bout with Knockfarrel was thus set!