ARDNAMURCHAN
My dad was a gamekeeper and he also joined
the TA, which was part of the Lovat Scouts. They were called up in 1914 and the following year sailed for Gallipoli, to fi ght the Turks. When the Turkish trenches were fl ooded and their soldiers were forced over the walls, my father shot over a dozen of them. Because of his shooting prowess, my father
was sent back to Scotland to join the Lovat Scout sniping unit, which was deployed at the Somme for the rest of the war. He was decorated for his actions. His shooting genes have con ti- nued down the line – my son, John, is an excellent shot: he represented Scotland in the Commonwealth Games in Delhi, and missed out on a medal by just one shot. My mother was from Morvern in Argyll, a
direct descendant of the very famous doctor and bard from over there, Dr John MacLachlan, who wrote many Gaelic songs and poems. She was very musical: she was always singing to me, and in my early days I think I knew every psalm in the book. My mother was Free Church and my father was Catholic, so I was brought up on both sides of the ‘great divide’. There was never an issue with it in the community and it certainly didn’t do me any harm – I am tolerant towards both sides and I have no time for sectarianism. Ardnamurchan is a truly beautiful part of
Scotland. The landscape is fantastic, with hills, valleys, lochs and some of the most spectacular beaches in Britain – such as the Singing Sands at Gortenfern. The area around Loch Sunart contains an ancient oak forest and the whole of the peninsula is abundant in wildlife. I’ve spent much of my spare time stalking in the hills around Glenuig, and for the last forty years I’ve helped with deer management on one of the estates. I’ve spent so many happy days there. There is also excellent fi shing, which is another of my passions. Ardnamurchan is rich in history, and there is a
wealth of castles and historical sites to visit. Right on my doorstep, for example, is Castle Tioram, which sits on its own island in Loch Moidart. It was from here in 1715 that Alan Macdonald mobilised his Clan Ranald regiment before the Battle of Sheriffmuir. Macdonald sent back a detachment to burn the castle so it could not be
Right: Performing with Phil Cunningham at Celtic Connections, 2010. Opposite: Music and the Ardnamurchan landscape are Fergie’s two great loves.
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occupied in their absence. The castle (pictured on previous pages) has been left untouched ever since, but there is a debate raging about whether or not the roof should be put back on. Personally I’m all for the castle being preserved otherwise there will come a time when it will disintegrate into Loch Moidart. My fi rst recollections of growing up in
Ardnamurchan are of war. The whole area was used for commando training and preparations for D-Day. The place was awash with military personnel: British and Polish commandos, American rangers and GIs.
Just about every
night you could hear the sounds of machine- gun fi re and mortars going off. In 1944 I was six years old, so I have quite a
vivid memory of everything. There were only ten of us at school and our toys were ammu- nition: bullets and empty mortar shells. At break time we used to gather them from the ‘dump’ – which was up in a wood. The older boys would hit the live bullets with rocks and make them explode. At home I would do the same thing. It made such a noise. It’s a miracle no one was killed. During that period we lived right next to
the village hall. There were dances there every night, with the local musicians playing fi ddles and bagpipes. I often wondered what a GI from Harlem must have made of this type of music,
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