How to Time Travel
- lindaglamour
- Sep 2, 2016
- 4 min read
In the early 1990's the novel Outlander by Diana Gabaldon was first published. It is mixed in genre; part Historical fiction, Romance, Fantasy and Adventure. It tells the dramatic story of Clare Beauchamp who quietly disappointed with her life, travels to Inverness and the Scottish Highlands with her husband. As Clare climbs the hill of Craigh na Dun and enters the ancient stone circle she is transported back to 18th Century Scotland and into the arms of the handsome and dashing Jamie Fraser.
Scotland seems to breathe romance, from its heather covered hills and expanse of loch through to the wild and remote Highlands. It is no wonder that there are great romances from this country, like that of Clare. One in particular has always drawn my attention and that is of the relationship between Mary Queen of Scots and Lord Bothwell. Tempestuous, dangerous and thrilling, their relationship was one vital component on Mary's path to destruction.
Standing in the midst of the excavation pit at Vindolanda I looked up and I could see the purple haze over the surrounding hills and I realised just how close I was to the Scottish border. Without hesitation I decided to travel and explore the villages of the Scottish Borders. In particular, Jedburgh and the house once owned by Mary Queen of Scots and her base for visiting Bothwell. Of course, I would keep my eyes open for my own Jamie, some strapping Scot in a kilt....
The countryside is stunningly beautiful and it has made me realise that another visit must be devoted to the Highlands. The green shaded roadways snaking through the hills drew me to Jedburgh. A small market town it welcomed me. I thought of my parents who many years earlier had also visited this place and wondered how much it had changed since their time.
The house is remarkably small but impressive. As I walked up the slim slightly spiralled staircase I wondered how Mary and her ladies in their expansive dresses fared. There is little, to be honest, that remains of Mary here in her house at Jedburgh. The rooms are sparse and one must use all of one's imagination to people this place. A macabre hand painted death mask taken from Mary at the time of her decapitation is the highlight of their display.
Before leaving Jedburgh I make a brief stop at the Abbey. It rises up at the top of the town - an impressive ruin. While the long gallery invokes awe, it is the smaller features that impress me. To one side a crypt with the local Lord rendered in marble, still sleeping peacefully after hundreds of years.
With plenty of the day to spare I decided to head deeper and further north into the border area. The village of Melrose beckoned and another romantic lure - Abbotsford House, the home of Sir Walter Scott. The house, nay Castle, is a true 'grand design' and drove Scott to bankruptcy but as one walks through the building and you admire its fine handcrafted bookcases in his study and library, the expansive views into the estate gardens and indeed, the fine homely feel it had, one can't but help feel that this Grand Design was worth it and Gavin McLeod would have approved.
Romance drew me to Haworth.
"I've dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas: they've gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the colour of my mind."
Wuthering Heights
The love affair of Catherine and her Heathcliff has informed the romantic life of many a woman and I am no exception. The only novel of Emily Bronte who died at age 30, a year after it was published, Wuthering Heights has drawn both the landscape and the emotions of the protagonists clearly and sometimes brutally. Once derided for its stark description of cruelty between Cathy and Heathcliff it remains however a classic for it is depiction of a love that transcends time, space and place.
Haworth is a wonderful place. The small town with its cobbled main st is, in all weathers, incredibly atmospheric. Walking up its steep incline to the Bronte Parsonage, I admire the mix of small houses between pubs, cafes and local amenities.
Turning to the left at the summit and walking along another narrow cobbled lane past the Church where the Revd Bronte preached, I reach the pleasant and imposing Parsonage.
The house is lovely and is filled with the treasures of Emily, Anne, Charlotte and Branwell. It is here, as I have often found before, that being close to the personal items of the person, in the rooms that they dwelt, one is transported to their time. Perhaps I am overly romantic but here I can imagine the girls writing, sharing their stories; one engages in a very real sense of time travel.
I walk the moor. The day is overcast and I tread a muddy, narrow and sometimes rocky path. Under the cover of the dense tree growth surround the parsonage and its crowded cemetery, one bursts forth into the sparse expanse of the moor. As the sky darkens it is easy again to see how Emily was inspired for Wuthering Heights. I would not be the first woman, alone, who stood still and scanned the horizon for Heathcliff. I strained to hear his voice and what I heard was silence.
The moor paths are tricky. It is easy to step over one muddy path while walking another and I suddenly realise that I am not accurately retracing my steps. With confidence I step forward and am rewarded with the sight of a couple walking their dog and a paved path...and with google maps back in action on the roadway, I walk 1/2 a mile back into town in the drizzly rain.
Sitting with my glass of wine at The Old Haworth Inn, I contemplate Heathcliff. I think of Jamie Fraser while I look at the empty seat opposite me.
In one week I shall be in Poldark country - I shall walk a different moor and this time, a rugged Cornish coastline and gaze at turbulent seas. It occurs to me that perhaps dramatic scenery engenders dramatic and heightened feeling. I shall not be as Clare and time travel through an ancient stone circle nor Catherine seeking her Heathcliff from the other 'side'. Rather, I shall use literature and my imagination to travel through time....but I shall still keep my eyes open for a good man wearing period costume!
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