Chants and Chancels - Lowlands, Scotland

When you conjure up an image in your head of Scotland, it is likely of the rugged highlands; you may even people the image with a blue-faced William Wallace or a red-haired Jamie Fraser.  Personally, I picture the stud in the photo above, but clothed in nothing but a kilt.  

William Wallace Statue at Bemersyde House

When actually going to Scotland, however, make sure you take time to see the southern part of the country before heading north, as there is an array of architecture, history and nature that is not to be missed.

During the twelfth century, several abbeys of considerable size were erected along the Scottish/English border.  They were established by differing orders of Christian Monastics, most financially aided by King David I.  Not only were they places of worship, but also a way to demonstrate to the rest of Europe that Scotland was by no means the backward civilization England claimed, but a country that placed great emphasis on piety, centers of learning, and costly building projects.

Much time has since passed, and these once architectural phenomenons have now become romantic ruins, yet they are still able to evoke heady feelings of awe and a great sense of rest.

Although there are four worthy of time and attention, we focused on two this trip, starting at Dryburgh Abbey.  This abbey is in the most picturesque of settings.  An old-growth forest surrounds the abbey, with the quiet but stolid River Tweed flowing nearby. The grounds were owned by Sir Walter Scott’s family, and in the early nineteenth century it was he that further beautified the ruins by clearing rubble and bracken, planting exotic trees, and making the grounds accessible to visitors.  He is now laid to rest near the heart of the transept.  

It was difficult to be in such a lovely setting with such a stuffy nose, however. I had picked up head cold a couple days prior, likely a parting gift from New York’s Grand Central Station. Last time I was in the border abbeys I floated about, imagining myself a young woman of rank. This time I waddled around with multiple layers on and a tissue at the ready. “Take my picture, dear husband, and you die.”

There are no headsets at Dryburgh Abbey, so you may want to learn a bit about its history before visiting. They do play Gregorian Chants in parts of the abbey, and to it Luke and Serenna enjoyed a game of hide-and-go seek among the tombs, cloisters, and dormitories. 

We chose to stay in a tent and caravan campground in the town of Melrose, as we planned to see its abbey the following morning. For us, saving money is a priority, so despite the extra baggage, we travel with our gear - plus we love camping! Check out our post on Camping in Europe if you plan to do the same. 

The town of Melrose is really quite quaint, so Adam and I woke early the next morning and walked about, armed with a cup of coffee and a freshly baked sausage roll. Harmony and Priorwood Gardens are nearby and free to enter, the latter focusing its energies on growing historic apple varieties and perennials well suited for dried flower arrangements.

Melrose is huge. Originally built in the twelfth century, most of what you now see was from re-construction efforts during the fourteenth. Richard II had razed the abbey in a show of power, but then promptly supplied money to have it re-built. He feared the fires of hell. The pink-hued sandstone has stood the test of time remarkably well despite its delicate nature, and though prone to erosion, it was at one time the perfect material for detailed carvings and delicate arch work.

Our headsets gave us a very detailed picture of what life was like for the Cistercian monks first installed in the abbey's halls. What started as a group of men bent on a frugal, simple existence, became what could now be considered one of Europe's first corporations, an organized house of great power and influence. Of such importance was its standing, that it is even said that Robert the Bruce's heart is buried here; with current archeological evidence to raise its probability. 

As I wandered, I would come across Adam from time to time.  He looked amused as he faced what were once the kitchens, and I knew he was learning about the monks’s preferences for beer over water.  Was it similar to lager, IPA, or pale ale; I knew he was dying to know. 

I could have stayed all day, but hide-and-seek had been played out, and it was time for something new, and so we ended our time with a picnic at Sir Walter Scott's favorite view overlooking the River Tweed.  Go, and I promise the gentle rolling hills, dotted with plots of yellow rapeseed, will create in your heart a special regard for the lowlands.  Luke leaves us with a story of Scott below.