Morvern Lines – 31.8.23 - Reaching your boundaries
Land boundaries, or marches as they are often called in Scotland, have been a source of trouble from the beginning of time.
In his book on the origin of the inequality of mankind, the philosopher and writer, Jean Jacques Rousseau (1712-78) wrote: “The first man who, having enclosed a piece of ground, bethought himself of saying this is mine, and found people simple enough to believe him, was the real founder of civil society”.
Before the days of GPS and digital mapping it was the custom when land changed hands for the new owner to walk with his family, the outgoing proprietor, estate factor and several old retainers.
Fixing and checking them was a way of preventing encroachment by neighbouring deer-stalkers, shepherds, cattle graziers and goat-herds.
Sometimes boundary markers and rough stone cairns would be moved, fences and walls put up or taken down, so it was important that a folk memory of the true extent of an estate was necessary to maintain the integrity of its borders in oral tradition.
On large properties the line often followed ridges of land that separates waters flowing to different rivers, basins and lochs called “watersheds”. In places where these natural features were vague and open to dispute, some of the party, usually young men, were often stripped naked and flogged to make them remember the exact spots many years later giving rise to the expression, “beating the bounds”.
Sometimes fires were lit on important salient points leaving beds of charcoal which would remain in situ for centuries. In England, Wales and probably Ireland, many parishes still carry out a regular beating of the bounds as a way of strengthening the community and giving it a sense of place. In the Scottish Borders the colourful Common
Riding ceremonies, which go back to the 13th and 14th centuries, take place every year to commemorate local legend, history and tradition.
In 1982, when the late John Yeoman of Foster Yeoman Ltd bought the rugged 6,000-acre Glensanda Estate in Morvern from the executors of Arthur Strutt of Kingairloch to build a quarry on, he asked me to point out his boundaries. I told him of the old tradition and encouraged him to bring his board of directors up from Somerset to walk them.
He looked at me askance and asked if I really wanted to finish them all off quite so soon. It wasn’t until later, when I saw that most of them were either of pensionable age or hadn’t missed many lunches, did I fully appreciate the idiocy of my suggestion!
READ MORE: Whisky galore was all over the West Highlands
The western boundary of Glensanda, formerly part of Kingairloch, marches with Ardtornish Estate. On the southern slopes of Beinn a Chaisail not far above Loch nan Sula Bige, there is a piece of ground where the march, which is also the parish boundary between Morvern and Ardgour, is described on the 1872 Six Inch to the Mile Ordnance Survey maps, as “undefined”.
Along this route there are seven small boulders with capital letters K [Kingairloch] and A [Ardtornish] incised on either side. Evidently the place, which used to be popular with deer that have long since gone, had been the source of some disagreement between the estate stalkers at one time.
The eastern boundary of Glensanda is a deep gaping ravine through which a burn tumbles into Loch Linnhe. A few yards before it disgorges into the sea, it spreads out like a fan. In a hollow in this gravel outwash are the ruins of a tiny cottage last occupied by an elderly woman of the name of Maclean.
The story goes that the day before the factor of Kingairloch usually called to collect her rent – such as it was – she would go up the hill and divert the burn with a large stone, effectively making her a tenant in Glensanda. As soon as the Kingairloch man disappeared she moved the stone back again so that when the Glensanda factor turned up, he was told that by an act of Providence she was in Kingairloch that year. By outwitting both parties in this way she lived there rent free until she died.
Tempers often flared up between neighbours over boundary issues. Two Moidart estate owners in the early 1900s appeared to have enjoyed parting with their wealth in the Court of Session over ridiculously small bits of land.
I once looked at a piece of nondescript ground which was in dispute for years. It was no more than a 100 yards long and five yards wide consisting of mere heather, rock and bog, and would not have produced enough grass to feed half a dozen rabbits, let alone a sheep or a deer. The point at issue was whether the boundary was an old wire fence or a rivulet. In the end both parties settled out of court months or years later and the only winners were the lawyers.
So heated became another march issue in the same area that one owner sent the other a letter which read, “I have never in my experience known of any one, laying claim to the position of a gentleman, behaving in the manner in which Mr —– has thought fit to do in this matter. I decline to take further notice of his letter”.
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