Pictish Stone and Cross Slab Fragments, Tarbat Discovery Centre, Tarbat, nr. Tain, Scotland

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Pictish Stone and Cross Slab Fragments, Tarbat Discovery Centre, Tarbat, nr. Tain, Scotland
Good Morning from Scotland
Sunrise - Tarbat Ness Lighthouse by Michael Carver Via Flickr: Another one from Tarbat Ness Lighthouse near Portmahomack, this time from the other side. Back with the borders too, I think I prefer them, despite what Mr Getty tells me ;o)
Return
In the early 1850’s my great great grandfather, James Fiddes, along with two of his siblings, set sail from the Scottish Highlands to start a new life in a new country, Australia. A brave and hopeful act to move from a seaside village, Tarbat, to the newly developing (for Europeans) land at the other end of the world. I am grateful he did, 160 years later I live a life built from his original endeavour and adventure. We live now in a time when we see so much displacement of peoples due to war and persecution; seeking refuge and immigration is commonplace. Whilst I do not know the circumstances surrounding James’ decision to immigrate I must remember that I am the descendant of someone who made that courageous decision; I pay tribute to him and to all those who have either been forced to move or who have made the move voluntarily. I do believe that the world is better for the brave actions of these people. And now, in 2016, I return to Tarbat in the hope to gain some small insight to the world from where he came.
It is with great excitement that my partner, Nick, and I engage a local driver to take us from Inverness to Tarbat. The drive there is full of anticipation and in the cool autumn air the sky is mostly blue, the land undulates poetically and is rich in the greens and browns of farming. When we arrive in Tarbat the first sight we see is the Free Church of Scotland (Continuing), a modest but well maintained church at the beginning of the town of what is now Portmahomack.
This was the church where my family had worshipped and the local reverend had previously sent me details of the pew rental that the family paid. Whilst I had written to the local reverend Rev John MacLeod, beforehand to let him know of our visit I had not heard back from him. But by chance he was there on the church grounds and graced us with a tour of the church. Being a Catholic you grow up with a sense of pomp, circumstance and decoration with your religion. Not so the Free Church of Scotland, they are minimalist in their appearance and practice and steeped in a strict view of scripture. For the first time I gained an insight into the reformist nature of the protestant faiths and their theological basis. The nature of the religion seems to reflect the character of the local people and brings images of hard work, strong faith, family, intellect and simplicity, with a good side of dry humour. My great great great uncle Angus Fiddes was also a well known reverend in the area and the Rev McLeod know of him and intimated that he was a strong personality with views not always appreciated by the local church hierarchy. So a rebel in the family.
The village itself is small, set against the seaside. It’s beauty comes from the rolling hills, cottages of white, grasslands and view across the sea. To the side of the church is a road sign, Balnabruach. I had for years seen this on family papers but had never been able to see it on a map or atlas, now standing before me plain as day was the sign for Balnabruach. This is the actual village where my great great grandfather was born and lived along with the rest of the family. Village is perhaps an overstatement for Balnabruach is essentially a side road that runs from the church down to the sea with cottages built along the firth. I felt as if I discovered the ruins of ancient Rome. Size does not matter in history, but context and connection are everything.
After the tour of the Church we ambled to the Tarbat Discovery Centre which is housed in the old parish church of St Colman and the only Pictish monastic settlement excavated in Scotland to date. The site is well maintained and has a cemetery in the grounds where I knew at least some of my family might be buried. We looked around and then asked one of the administrators, Michele, where we might find any Fiddes memorials. Turns out that the Gravestone for my great great great parents Donald Fiddes and Jane Smart stood outside the front of the museum and was one of the largest and best kept in the cemetery. Further, a friend of Michele’s was a Fiddes descendant and lived in the Fiddes family cottage in Belnabruach! We drove down Belnabruach as spotted the cottage called St Margaret’s but chose not to arrive unannounced on my distant cousin. The thrill of winding down the road and seeing the cottage was enough. Apparently also my great great great grandmothers family the Smart’s are also still a presence in the area.
I came hoping to find some small sign of the family and was overwhelmed to find so many family connections still there. I understand that in some African cultures a common greeting is: who do you belong to? For some of us that sense of belonging is all around - in the land, the family and friends that surround us. For some the sense of belonging is harder to come by. I feel I belong in Australia and to the family and friends I have there but there has always been a sense of where did I come from. Is there anywhere else that I belong. On this visit to Tarbat I did get a sense of connection, it may be a hard stretch to say it was belonging but maybe that will grow.
The Fiddes family of Tarbat is but one of the multitudes of families that over generations have given me my place and to them and all those families I say thank you. Time shall not separate us, distance shall not keep us apart, we may travel far and take our time to return, if we ever do, and so we say for auld lang syne.