Gryff Rhys Jones on why he loves Scotland
Griff Rhys Jones reveals why he can’t resist life in the land of wilderness
Visiting an eagle’s nest high on a crag in the Scottish hills was an unforgettable experience. I am not free to tell you precisely where it is, but suffice to say it had a stunning view over the loch below, and was surprisingly easy to get to, once you knew the way.
This mess of twigs and branches was one of several nests that this pair had in the region. Eagles are second homeowners – changes in climate or game encourage them to change location.
The nest was the size of a dinner table and, as I discovered, laden with dinner. The whole surface was smothered in halfrotten carrion.
There were small deer, rabbits, fox cubs, badgers and lambs, their bones poking through remnants of skin and fur, skulls gaping with rows of sharp teeth, and backbones arching out of what seemed like a soup of prey. Delicious.
An eagle has the power to crush a roe deer’s head with its talons. It was an eerie sight, this eyrie.
I was there in September. When the spring comes, the eagles will return and clear their nest for another brood and more supplies, so I understood my skull was relatively safe.
One of the wonders of Scotland is the warmth of the welcome. We stayed in great hotels and guesthouses and were attended to by lovely people, but my journey also took me to various islands, up hills, and into bars.
And it is out there that you find real companionship. My favourite new chum was David, a forester and naturalist. He lived out on the soggy sides of the Bens and offered up a bottomless wealth of extraordinary stories about the wildlife and the climate.
I felt at home. I may be Welsh, but my legs were built for clumping up and down steep hillsides. I was born for the glories of Scotland.
My early trips to Scotland, dating back 15 years, took me to snowy Altnaharra, into the ice of the Cairngorms, through dark Douglas fir forests, and out to the isles. Before that, as a student, I had gawped at the cityscape of Edinburgh and rambled all night down steep flights into the Grassmarket and other shadowy and romantic crannies. I loved it. I loved the New Town even more.
And not to be partisan, let me just say that one of the happiest periods of my life was spent working on a film in Glasgow where, on my days off, I explored what must surely be the greatest concentration of museums and galleries in the UK.
Even though I have climbed a lot of mountains and canoed many rivers and tramped Wade’s roads, there is still so much more to explore.
My favourite places for a Scottish break would have to include Dumfries and Galloway in the south, and I need to go back to the isles with my boat – which is called Argyll.
I long to sail past Eigg and Rum and up to Skye again. I want to get out to Orkney on a good day once more, to eat seafood and get blasted by those North Atlantic winds. I have been to Tiree and Ronaldsay, but Scottish islandhopping is always exhilarating. We sometimes stay with friends in Loch Hourn. I need to go back there, too.
For sheer settled cosiness and charm, driving in Perthshire is unbeatable. And, let’s face it, I need quiet time being civilised in Edinburgh New Town as well. But as I write this, I think of all those places I have been lucky enough to have been taken over the years. I have possibly seen more of Scotland than many a Scot. One day I must put on my boots and climb Suilven mountain again, by the way.
And, most of all, I would like to take my wife and show her all the things I saw this time around with a film crew in tow making my new TV series, Griff’s Great
Britain.
Scotland is the territory where magical things can happen. Climbing the north face of Ben Nevis was a blast, while my hike up Suilven in the snow was a memorable introduction to the power of Scotland to seduce and awe. I have flown by sea-plane to land in a snowstorm next to Tongue. I have driven cattle on to a ferry from Skye. I have canoed rapids and abseiled down the Grey Mare’s waterfall. But I think I will never forget swimming along the Tay through Perth in November. Don’t do it.
Making Griff’s Great Britain ITV’s exploration series, we were around Loch Lomond for three days. It was a comparatively short shoot, but nonetheless we got airborne, waterborne and road-borne, driving wiggles in a million-pound restoration of an E-type Jag.
We still saw nothing of what we might have done. This very southern part of the Highlands is overpoweringly spectacular and I wish I’d had more time to get really deep into the wilds.
So, have I ‘done’ Scotland? I have driven cattle from Skye to Falkirk, sailed up the Western Islands, canoed from west to east, climbed many of the highest mountains and presented programmes on the art and history of the country.
I have appeared on stage in Scotland and braved the Play house in Edinburgh and the Exhibition Centre in Glasgow. I have skied in the Cairngorms and climbed in the Cuillin Ridge in Skye. I have holidayed in Invergarry and faced many a Hogmanay in the Borders.
I have helped try to preserve houses in Jedburgh and Kirkcaldy, among other places. I have danced in ceilidhs in Ronaldsay, the Shetlands, Skye and Perthshire. I have fished for salmon on the Dee and mackerel in Loch Hourn, and gone scallopdredging out of Mallaig. I have bagged a few Munros and done some shopping in Edinburgh. But that is really, really not very much of this country.
My advice to future visitors of Scotland? Keep coming back. Aye. You’ll find there’s always more.