ON the 23rd of August, 1305, at what is now Smithfield in London, William Wallace was put to death. On the orders of Edward Longshanks, the manner of his death was to be cruel and, even allowing for the less than gentle ways of the early 14th century, it was most certainly that. Taken down from the gibbet while still just alive, his large frame was not only subjected to the most obscene and barbaric mutilation but also, after death, parts of his poor, violated body were despatched to be displayed in Newcastle, Berwick, Stirling and Perth - pour encourager les autres, as the Plantagenet may well have said.
Seven hundred years to the day later, over 200 of us gathered in a field behind Powis Mains farm (west of Blairlogie) in the lee of the great monument to his name and memory. Yes, we were there to commemorate this most notable anniversary of Wallace's death, but, it has to be admitted, we were also there to take full advantage of the occasion to highlight publicly another form of violation - that of the land at the hands of Scottish and Southern Energy (SSE) with its proposal for a massive pylon line stretching from Beauly (and, almost certainly, beyond) to Denny.
Heather the Weather's forecast on Reporting Scotland the previous evening had been less than favourable; in truth, it had been downright depressing, although she did hint at a possible improvement come the afternoon. And she was right. At lunchtime on Tuesday the 23rd, the morning's teeming rain stopped and, by the time we got to the field for the 1:30pm start of events, patches of blue were bravely showing through the previously lowering sky.
The scene was one of much activity - stewards directing cars to the parking area, half of Alloa's Bowmar pipe band (the half that was able to get off work) having a practice skirl, the public chatting or heading in the direction of the modest but adequate marquee; and then there was the highpoint - literally. Tethered to a farm trailer and soaring 157 feet above us was a yellow, helium-filled blimp bearing the slogan No Giant Pylons. The above-ground measurement was critical since SSE's monstrosities would, on average, stand that high.
The marquee was the centre of things; displays illustrated both the inhuman scale of pylons and wind-turbines and a map showed where windfarms exist and where they're proposed in Scotland today. (The latter was quite horrifying.) There were several different organisations, each with its own particular emphasis, but all were united in defence of the land against the depredations of such as SSE with its pylons and the dreaded landowner/developer combinations with their massed ranks of turbines.
Alison Grave of the group Views of Scotland was the organising spirit behind the day's events and she introduced the half-dozen or so speakers. First off, author and mountaineer Cameron McNeish gave a typically ebullient performance exhorting us to fight all the way those who would despoil our spectacular countryside in their relentless pursuit of profit; he also reminded us that all the proposed hardware is really for the benefit of energy-poor England and asked why, for instance, areas such as the white cliffs of Dover or Devon and Cornwall shouldn't be used for windfarms, instead of Scotland, which is already energy-rich. Next, Ian Paterson of Stirling Against Pylons stressed the possible threat to health posed by SSE's 400kV line passing too close to habitations - an aspect of its proposal almost totally ignored by the power company. Brian Monteith MSP offered us his unequivocal support (now there's daring for a politician), and, after speakers from Ullapool and Argyll had added their bit, local boy Kenny Logan, hot-foot from Murrayfield, strode into the marquee to whip us into shape for what was to come - the march up to the Wallace Monument.
With a paradiddle on the snares, the Bowmar band struck up and we were off, Kenny in the lead bearing a large saltire, a phalanx of placard-carriers behind him. To describe our progress as a "march" is, I suppose, stretching it a bit; the very nature of the fields over which we stumbled precluded any thought of keeping in step and, at one point, ranks had to be severely broken in order to negotiate a very narrow (and temporary) bridge over a drainage ditch. But it all made for a brave show and it certainly gave the tourist hordes something extra for their money when we reached the monument. And then it was back to the marquee for tea and home.
Did it do any good? Well, we certainly got publicity out of it - the posse of photographers which accompanied us and the TV cameras at the monument saw to that - and, as everybody knows, publicity is the lifeblood of ... well, something. To date (it's mid-September as I write), SSE still hasn't submitted a formal application to the Scottish Executive but, even though they're now six months behind their own schedule, we're in no doubt that it'll happen - it probably will have by the time you read this.
There is a sad footnote to this little piece. The big yellow blimp is indisposed. For some days after our gathering, it bravely flew at its anchor point and then, quite suddenly, it disappeared. Some said it had been the victim of a bird-strike, others that it had been targeted by vandals. (But it surely couldn't have been them, could it?) Whatever caused its deflation, £300 worth of helium escaped into the atmosphere to the bewilderment of some squeaky-voiced crows nearby. The good news is that its owner has assured us it'll soar again when SSE's application is finally lodged.
A monument, some trees, and the sky where the blimp used to be
Ed. - Dramatic late news. The balloon or blimp, call it what you will, has been repaired and there will be a small ceremony to mark its relaunch between 12 and 2pm on Monday 31 October, somewhere near Manor Powis roundabout. All welcome!
