Short Story
On Hills & Stills
By Irvine Butterfield
Continuing Irvine's short stories of mountain folklore and incidents, this issue he gets drunk in the hills of Perthshire
It had been quite some time since I had last looked at a compendium of mountain tables I had compiled several years ago. This covered all peaks, and tops in England, Wales, Scotland and Ireland over 2000ft, the "tops" being anything with reascent of 100ft on all sides. Locally there are several 2000ft peaks, some with "tops" and it was to these that I directed my attention when looking for a chance day out with promise of some decent photographic weather.
One of the hills easily accessed from Glen Almond by way of the Sma' Glen lies within easy reach of my cottage, and so I found myself at Newton Bridge looking at the imposing flank of Meall Reamhar. From this point a broad ridge stretches northwards to the "tops" of Meall Mor and Creag Grianain, and the turn around the Henzie Burn to the summit of the parent mountain, Beinn na Gainimh.
The ascent of Meall Reamhar, the fat lump, seemed somewhat brutal on limbs which had grown too accustomed to inactivity but there were fine views down the Sma' Glen to compensate so at the very least I had a few pictures for my efforts. My mood was such that if the weather turned inclement I was quite content to turn back. By the time I located the tiny cairn on the summit the long ridge stretching before me promised good easy walking and a fair reward for my initial laboured climb. It was easy walking and I soon got into my stride though wary of an ominous looking cloud which threatened heavy rain. The first blasts of a heavy shower found me seeking the shelter of a convenient wall at the turn towards Geal Charn. Thankfully the rain curtains drew aside and dispelled my lethargy, and with clearer skies in prospect I pressed on towards the cairn of Meall Mor which overlooks the fold of Lochan a' Mhuilinn.
I my mind's eye these hills had been looked upon as merely rounded humps with long broad backs and so I hadn't paid that much attention to the map. It, therefore, came as a bit of a surprise to see that the next peak was sculpted by supporting crags into a shapely horn, quite the most picturesque setting of the whole outing. The words of Poucher sprang to mind - a coign of vantage or a fine belvedere would have been equally appropriate.
The peak boasts a clear view across the deep rift of Glen Lochan to the giddy flank of Meall nam Fuaran. There is a large squared cairn on its northern edge and from it a heathery flank with many a path provided by a slope well trodden by deer gave easy passage to the final lift of the day. A short stiff pull beside an old fence leads to the bare crown of Beinn na Gainimh.Here I discovered that its bland summit spread is marked at its highest point which is little more than a few stones atop a tuft of turf. To get any worthwhile view it was necessary to seek out the lazy slopes on the heather drift towards the end of the ridge on Sron Bealaidh. This looks along the deep trough of Glen Almond to the upper reaches of its draining stream, and across to the endless ridge linking the high points of Ben Chonzie and Auchnafree Hill.
Well satisfied with my ramble sought out the easier slopes at the end of the ridge in search of the track in the lower reaches of the Henzie Burn. A balmy evening breeze brought a refreshing draught of air as I ambled slowly back to Newton Bridge. It had been a perfect day snatched in a moment of enthusiasm, with Creag Grianain long remembered as the highlight of the day.
I was not to know then that Creag Grianain would feature again in my walking and writing year in a way which was quite unexpected. Other things were on my mind when I next looked at a well-thumbed ordnance Survey sheet 52. At the time I was attempting to assess the impact of the proposed wind farms at Callichar and Griffin Forest, and perhaps venture onto the hills north of Glen Quaich to get a photographic record. I had also resurrected another of my archives and the files which dealt with Perthshire's distilleries. One of the distilleries had the name of Turrich which my source material indicated was a site whose location was not known.
It was whilst perusing the map that my eyes alighted on the name of a farm at the head of Loch Freuchie - Turrerich. At that point in time I hadn't found much of interest in the glen which seemed to me unusual as there were local tales of smugglers beating the Excise Officers at Amulree, and nearby Corrymuckloch was the scene of a famous battle between the gaugers, assisted by the Scots Greys, and the smugglers. Glen Quaich seemed a perfect place to have a distillery as its numerous hill streams were well fed by the rich peaty moors round about.
It was thus that I once again found myself taking to the road on a short local jaunt to Glen Quaich. The current occupant of the farm knew of no distillery and first directed me to the remains of an old corn mill behind the farm alongside the Turrerich Burn. this seemed a perfect location for a small distillery and it was not unknown for mills to change their operations to make best use of the barley grown locally. It was suggested that I visit the local keeper Stan Riches, and by good fortune I found him in the larder at the lodge down the glen. I told him of my interest in the glen and that the distillery record I had was very brief, and that the only information I had was that it had been in operation from 1817-18 and run by a man by the name of McTavish. The keeper had no knowledge of Turrich but suggested that I speak to two elderly brothers by the name of McTavish who had been born in the glen and were resident in Amulree.
It was then that Creag Grianain sprang its surprise. Was I interested in illicit stills, and did I known about the old still found on Creag Grianain, he asked. When he first came to the glen some sixteen years previously the retiring keeper had shown him a still found on the hill. The story goes that whilst out with dogs looking for foxes they were on Creag Grianain when the dogs became very excited and continued to scratch at a large flat stone, situated on a ledge on the hillside. When upended the keeper had discovered a pit containing not only two fox cubs but the pieces of an old still. Curiously the worm was not a copper coil, was described as a series of triangular sections joined in the form of a zig-zag. A rough drawing was produced on a convenient scrap of paper. These triangular sections were not thought to be copper and I suspected later that they were probably fashioned from tin plate which would malleable enough to form into the required sections which would then be fused together. The still, said the keeper, had been sent away. To a museum, he thought, though later enquiries in Perth suggested it may have gone elsewhere. Again there was to be a surprise development for in the Perth museum there is an illicit still on display. This was found some years ago in an outhouse at Garden Cottage near the Crieff golf course.
What is so intriguing about Creag Grianain is that when looking at the map, and from observations from the ridge above the site would seem almost impossible to reach. Smugglers were masters of secrecy but would have to carry the malt to their hideout which here would be no easy task. Apart from the steepness of the ground, where I wondered did they find water. Here local knowledge provides the answer for I was told that just along the ledge from the hiding place there is a small spring and that said the keeper "is the finest on the hill and I often take a drink in the passing".
Later researches confirmed that my initial thoughts on Glen Quaich were much as I suspected for I not only discovered that Turrerich was once named Turrich but that the small farmers at Achnafauld and Lynemore also tried their hand at legal distillation for a time. But it was an ill starred trade and sadly tales are fast vanishing of those days when the men who made the good peat reek were the true men of the hills.