It is perhaps puzzling to the stranger to learn that Loch-na-gar is a
mountain, 3768 feet above the level of the sea, though there is on the
summit, and hemmed in by steep precipices, a small sheet of water that
gives its name to the hill. But in the Dhu Loch, a little further in
the heart of this mountainous district, we find one of the most
striking scenes in Scotland. It was of the hill and its surroundings
that Lord Byron wrote his familiar lines,
'Away ye gay landscapes, ye gardens of roses,
In you let the minions of luxury rove.
Restore me the rocks where the snowflake reposes,
Tho' still they are sacred to freedom and love.
O Caledonia, beloved are thy mountains,
Round their white summits though elements war,
Though cataracts foam, 'stead of smooth-flowing fountains,
I sigh for the valley of dark Loch-na-gar.'
The _Dhu Loch_, or black loch--a well-deserved name--has its bed, as
shown in our view, in steep and desperate precipices of granite, and
for sternness of outline is not excelled. The red-deer on its banks
are undisturbed, for seldom does the foot of man intrude on their
repose, and while the water is clear, it is strongly discoloured by
the peat, and the absence of foliage, with the sterile loneliness of
the scene, make men shun rather than court its remote solitudes. 'The
scenery is beautiful here,' says the Queen, in her _Leaves from the
Journal of our Life in the Highlands_, 'so wild and grand,--real
severe Highland scenery,' and the description is surely a true one. No
one can come about the Dhu Loch without being prepared for 'several
scrambles,' like the royal party, and without being prepared also to
endure the 'severity' as well as enjoy the beauty of the place. If he
does not, like Lord Byron, admit Loch-na-gar to be 'the most sublime
and picturesque of Caledonian Alps,'--for perhaps some hill already
named in this volume, unknown to Byron, such as Blaven, or Ben Eay,
might dispute the title--still he will acknowledge that it is a
wonderful region. It is said that on a fair calculation of what
elements go to make up a desirable climate, the kingdom has nothing
better to offer than Braemar, and that Balmoral is the ideal site for
a residence. The district is like all that belonged to the little bear
in the child's story. The hills are neither too high nor too low, but
just right. The climate is neither too mild nor too severe, but just
right. The rainfall is neither too much nor too little, but just
right. In short it is a perfect region,--perfect in its variety of
scenery, from the rich woodlands of its lower ranges to the wild
grandeur of its mountain recesses. Perfect is it also in its fine
lochs, its picturesque waterfalls, its brattling burns, and its
rolling rivers.
The waters from the Dhu Loch run into Loch Muick, above which lies the
hut at Altnaghuissac, a favourite _shiel_, or mountain summer house of
the royal family when living at Balmoral. This lies in the very
innermost recesses of a grand region, and here the pure air, and the
splendid views, combine to make a haven of retreat, whether, as in the
case of royalty, from the cares of state and the turmoil of politics,
or, in the case of the jaded man of business, from the burdens and
anxieties of the daily grind of life. Those characteristics, more or
less true of the whole inner region of Aberdeenshire, have made the
district a favourite _sanitarium_, while for the mere pleasure-seeker
it presents a succession of delights, full of unalloyed beauty, unless
indeed the weather should break down, and the unwary traveller is
caught in the rains and mists of winter, which may make the ascent of
Loch-na-gar dangerous.