Clanlands

by Sam Heughan

  Clanlands

  Whisky, Warfare, and a

  Scottish Adventure Like No Other

  Sam Heughan and Graham McTavish

  www.hodder.co.uk

  First published in Great Britain in 2020 by Hodder & Stoughton

  An Hachette UK company

  Copyright © Sam Heughan and Graham McTavish 2020

  The right of Sam Heughan and Graham McTavish to be identified as the

  Author of the Work has been asserted by them in accordance with

  the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Cover design by Sarah Christie @ Hodder & Stoughton

  Cover photographs © Dave Foster

  Illustration by Owain Kirby (owainkirby.co.uk)

  Maps & diagrams by Rosie Collins (rosiecollins.co.uk)

  Lyrics to ‘Scotland the Brave’ written by Cliff Hanley

  ‘Massacre of Glencoe’, words and music by Jim McLean

  ‘Porridge’ by Spike Milligan, reproduced with permission

  from Spike Milligan Productions LTD

  ‘Spean Bridge’ by Barbara McPhail, 2003. Reproduced with

  permission from the Estate of Barbara McPhail

  Extract from Homes & Properties magazine, © James

  Mowbray / The Evening Standard

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,

  stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any

  means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be

  otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that

  in which it is published and without a similar condition being

  imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library

  eBook ISBN 9781529342024

  Hardback ISBN 9781529342000

  Trade Paperback ISBN 9781529351309

  Hodder & Stoughton Ltd

  Carmelite House

  50 Victoria Embankment

  London EC4Y 0DZ

  www.hodder.co.uk

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  This book is for my Mum and Dad who showed me the power of dreams, and for my children, Honor and Hope, who have given me more than I could ever have dreamed of.

  – Graham

  To our fans. For coming on this journey and always supporting me.

  To Scotland and its people for remaining welcoming and progressive. I hope we always embrace newcomers to experience the mountains, glens . . . and midges.

  ‘Alba’ has constantly inspired me and filled my heart.

  – Sam

  Contents

  Clanlands Route

  Foreword

  1 Taken for a Ride

  2 Freedom and Whisky Gang Thegither

  3 The Land That Begat Me

  4 Scotland Was Born Fighting

  5 The Massacre of Glencoe

  6 Mounting Mountains

  7 The Sweetest Morsel I Ever Tasted

  8 Sleep No More!

  9 The Circle of Life

  10 Castle Leod

  11 Rocking the Boat

  12 A Bicycle Made For Two

  13 Culloden

  14 The Great Escape

  15 The Journey Ahead

  16 Men in Kilts – The TV Show

  Outlander Filming Locations

  Acknowledgements

  Picture Acknowledgments

  Author bios

  Picture Section 1

  Picture Section 2

  MEN IN KILTS

  Foreword

  Well, in The Beginning . . . there was a man in a kilt.

  I’ve always figured that if there’s something you want to do, you should start doing it, and if it’s the right thing, the universe kind of comes out to meet you. So, I started writing a novel about a man in a kilt, and the universe brought me a television show.

  I’ve been indirectly responsible for a lot of strange things since I wrote Outlander – from:

  . . . five seasons (so far) of a hit TV series

  . . . the names of dozens of purebred dogs, racehorses and housing developments

  . . . thousands of babies named Brianna or Jamie (no one has ever, to my knowledge, named a child ‘Murtagh’, which is puzzling . . .)

  . . . Lord John Grey’s Tea

  . . . symphonic band compositions

  . . . a musical

  . . . a Scottish woolen mill specialising in tartan

  . . . a marvelous pair of cookbooks

  . . . three million knitted cowls

  . . . dozens of female fans who lower their trousers at book signings to show me ‘Da mi basia mille’ tattooed on their tailbones (as my husband remarked to me, ‘Well, how many people can say, “Kiss my ass” in classical Latin?’)

  . . . a 72% increase in Scottish tourism (as VisitScotland was kind enough to tell me), and

  . . . an excellent whisky called ‘Sassenach’

  But this book may be one of the strangest, and definitely one of the best!

  I’m deeply honoured that Sam and Graham have asked me to write the foreword to one of the most interesting, unusual (to put it mildly . . .) and hilarious books I’ve read in a long time. I’m not quite sure what you’d call it, but then I’m used to not being able to describe my own books in twenty-five words or less, so this is probably not a problem.

  To start with, it’s a buddy book. Two good friends banter (and bicker) their way across the Scottish Highlands, risking life and limb in that casual way that makes men attractive. Why? Well, because they’re both Scottish and they have both been a large part of Outlander (not just the television show, but the whole weird phenomenon), have realised that they are Scottish (wearing a kilt every day for two years will do that to you), and want to find out where their heritage came from and what being Scottish actually means (aside from being born liking whisky).

  It’s also a road book. (Think Jack Kerouac, but with fewer drugs, more paragraphs and no sex. Well, almost no sex . . .).

  Our two friends are in fact making a television series about several historical locations in the Highlands. Accompanied by a small film crew – including a talented makeup artist and a drone operator – they visit spectacular historical locations in the Scottish Highlands to learn the true history of some of the best-known massacres, fights, betrayals, beheadings, and other typically Scottish recreational activities. This is the story of that journey, accomplished via an aged Fiat campervan, tandem bike, kayak and any number of other improbable modes of transport that only make sense to people suffering from testosterone poisoning.

  And on their way, they talk. Not only to each other, but to themselves. In some of its phases, the book is a twin memoir. Each man recalls his life as an actor – in bits – because every actor (like every writer) pretty much makes it up as they go along. Which means a lot of the stories are of the kind that are only funny to the protagonists with twenty years’ perspective, but are endlessly entertaining to the spectators.

  These reminiscences include a good many stories from the Outlander set, as well. I’m only on set myself intermittently, but I do recall the day in Season Two when Sam’s horse – which he was preparing to mount – decided to take its mother’s advice and relieve itself before setting out (there’s a reason why most costumes are made in multiples). And another occasion during Season Two wherein Graham was required to ride a mechanical horse (as the director said to me, ‘It looks like shit, but you won’t be able to actually see it on film’).

  The mechanical horse was carried on the back of a truck, followe
d by another truck with a camera, and Graham was supposed to leap into the mechanical horse’s saddle while moving (supposedly jumping from another horse). This being television, they filmed the scene many, many times to ensure enough footage to get the effect they were after. When they finally stopped, Graham staggered downhill from the road where they’d been doing this, pausing by me and Anne Kenney (brilliant writer of the other episode in that block of filming) to say, ‘I’ve just been having a conversation with my balls. They said, “We’d really rather you didn’t do that again”’. And staggered on, muttering, ‘I knew I should have worn a cup this morning . . .’.

  And finally, there’s the actual history of the ‘clan lands’, woven through this tale of a journey. The travelers reach the most interesting/famous/relevant Highland locations, where they do learn what their history and heritage are, assisted by some of the most colorful inhabitants of those places.

  So, you’re actually getting four books in one! (A real bargain . . .).

  But the most important part of this book is the friendship between its authors, that colours and illuminates every page.

  I was both intrigued and immensely entertained by the story, but also touched on a personal level. One of the most unexpected aspects of the whole ‘Outlander phenomenon’ is the amazing way in which it seems to draw people together. People read the books and watch the show – and they want to talk about it. So, they form fan groups and book clubs and Facebook forums, and deep, lasting friendships, all because of a shared love of a story.

  I will always recall one woman who brought me a book at a signing, who told me that she lived alone, had been alone for many years, seldom got out and had no family – but that she’d become attracted to the story, found others who felt likewise, and who invited her to go with them to book-signings, premieres and conventions. ‘Now I have friends!’, she said. She cried, and so did I.

  I hope you’ll feel that sense of friendship in these pages.

  A final word, since this book is all about returning to one’s roots:

  Some years ago, one of my novels won the Corine International Prize for Fiction, and I was invited to go to Germany to accept the award. This was rather a Big Deal for the German publisher, and they took advantage of my presence to have me interviewed by the entire German press corps; newspapers, magazines, radio, television, literary journals, you name it. By the end of the week I was sleep deprived and a bit glazed over when I met a nice gentleman from one of the literary journals.

  Delightful man, he went on at great (and flattering) length about the books. He loved my narrative drive, my characters were tremendous, my imagery transcendent!

  So I’m sitting there in a pleasant daze, thinking, ‘Yes, yes, go on . . .’, when he suddenly said, ‘There is just one thing I wonder: can you explain to me, what is the appeal of a man in a kilt?’.

  Well, had I been totally conscious, I might not have said it (then again . . .). Anyway, I looked at him for a moment and said, ‘Well . . . I suppose it’s the idea that you could be up against a wall with him in a moment.’

 

  A few weeks later, home again in Arizona, I get a packet of interview clippings from the German publisher, and on the top is the interview from that journal. The publisher had attached a Post-it note, saying, ‘I don’t know what you said to this man, but I think he is in love with you!’.

  A man in a kilt. A very powerful and compelling image, yes . . .

  And now you have two of them . . .

  Pour yourself a good dram, open the covers and enjoy yourself!

  Slàinte mhath!

  Diana Gabaldon

  Scottsdale, Arizona

  August, 2020

  CHAPTER ONE

  Taken for a Ride

  ‘The story of two men who know nothing.’

  Sam and Graham

  ‘It’s a dangerous business, Graham, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to.’

  Sam Heughan on behalf of J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings

  INT./EXT. CAMPER VAN. CAR PARK. GLENCOE VALLEY. SCOTTISH HIGHLANDS – DAY (September 2019)

  GRAHAM

  AS I BUCKLE up in the passenger seat of the Fiat Auto-Roller Camper a creeping sense of dread begins to form in my stomach – I have never been driven by Sam before. Ever. We all know our own abilities. I’m a very good driver. I have a fast mid-life-crisis car; however, I do not exceed the speed limit. (Okay, maybe I’ve exceeded the speed limit a couple of times) and in forty years I’ve never had an accident. Sam, on the other hand, has a litany of prangs and scrapes to his name.

  Whilst in Los Angeles he locked his keys in the boot, reversed a Mustang into a post (which apparently ‘came out of nowhere’) and scratched a brand-new electric car down the entire passenger side, allegedly the fault of the City of Angels as it was ‘a bad place to put a pipe’.

  I look at his boyish grin as he jiggles the gearstick, barely able to stifle sniggers, and realise this is a man capable of anything. Perhaps he’ll drive us off a cliff, just to see what it’s like. Perhaps he’ll jump out as we are moving, leaving me to wrestle control of a runaway RV. All these thoughts swirl around my hung-over brain as Sam engages ‘reverse’ on the gearstick.

  Ka-chunk wheeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrt ka-chunk

  I assume he’s engaged the clutch but the screeching of the gearbox tells me otherwise. He manhandles the gears some more, looking at me with the smile of a psychopath and, in that moment, Clanlands is born – with no plan, no script, just our true selves: a man masquerading as a tough guy about to be driven by a total maniac.

  I know with certainty Sam is going to find new and awful ways to risk my life.

  Sam: As if I would . . .

  He casually tells me he hasn’t driven a manual for five or six years and never anything as big as a large camper van. Marvellous.

  Sam: I’ve no idea which pedal to use?

  Graham: You are joking?

  Sam: No. Er, ABC.

  Graham: Yes, but which order? Does it start from the left?

  Sam: It starts from the left.

  Graham: No. It’s from the right. Accelerator, Brake, Clutch.

  In modern driving parlance it also means Antecedent, Behaviour, and Consequence, but this is a man who thinks he can bluff his way through, act the part of a competent driver and that consequences are just exciting events that haven’t happened yet.

  SAM

  Sam: You all right there, Graham?

  If he had a handbag, McTavish would be clutching it tightly now and we hadn’t even left the car park. Yes, there is a gear crunch or two but in my defence I’ve not driven a manual (stick shift) for years, maybe five or six . . . and never a vehicle as big as this, not that I am going to tell Graham . . . yet. I finally find reverse, take a breath and back out at speed.

  Graham: Jesus!

  As Graham holds onto the handrail, squirming in his seat, I get a surge of adrenalin – this is going to be fun, even if we don’t make it out of the car park. Just seeing him squeak and squawk is deeply satisfying. He gives me a withering look as I crash the gearstick into first and we start gaining speed, missing the Kingshouse Hotel sign by inches.

  ‘Well, here we go!’ I say with great confidence. ‘Clanlands, the story of two men who . . .’

  ‘. . . know nothing!’ Graham finishes.

  And he is right. We are setting off on a journey together – a journey of discovery to find the real Scotland and what it means to be Scottish, but we only have a rough plan. We know we want to discover more about six of the main Highland clans and meet as many interesting people as possible, from clan chiefs (still bickering) to musicians, historians, chefs (Graham needs feeding) and, of course, master distillers (well, why not?). But with only a week to pack everything in, it’s going to be a full-on adventure fuelled by whisky, adrenalin and caffeine.

  HuuuuhhhhhuurrruH-GUNKKKK

  Gra
ham: That’s second, not fourth.

  GRAHAM

  We are starting in, arguably the heart of the Highlands – Glencoe – a steep-sided glen (valley) formed by an ice-age glacier which the River Coe runs through. It’s an area of Scotland I know well having visited and holidayed here many times and it’s also the site of the 1692 Glencoe Massacre, which piqued my interest in Scottish history over twenty years ago.

  Well, in 1992 to be exact.

  I was the ripe old age of thirty-one. It shocks me to think that Sam was probably only getting ready to start secondary school and was possibily still in short trousers. Perhaps wetting the bed? I’m going to take a moment to absorb this painful realisation.

  I was at Pitlochry Festival Theatre, doing the season there, immersed in the Highlands for nine months performing six different plays a week. It was fantastic. I’ve always been fascinated by the Highlands and felt a deep connection to the area. My father couldn’t wait to get away from Scotland. Born and raised in Glasgow, as a pilot he had travelled the world. Whenever he flew over Scotland he always used to say it was cloudy! So whatever caused me to become so interested in the Highlands and their history came from within; almost like some kind of ‘race memory’, a notion which says experiences that have happened to a group of people or ‘tribe’ over hundreds of years can be passed on.

  Whilst at Pitlochry I’d become fascinated with the infamous massacre at Glencoe and had previously done exhaustive research at the British Library. My plan was to write something for the 300th anniversary of Glencoe so I wrote a treatment called Clanlands and tried to get people interested in making it into a TV programme with me, but as a thirty-year-old Scottish theatre actor that was never going to happen.

  Years later I’d talked to Sam many times about my love of Scottish history on the set of Outlander, as one of the things I immediately liked about him was his enthusiasm for such a lot of things. Sam loves to jump in but little did I know when I met him again, six years later, he’d be behind me on a tandem bike in Argyll. But I’m getting ahead of myself . . .