WEST HIGHLANDS
THERE are few places in Scotland as
poignant as a dumpy, drumlin-like hillock
that lies in the shadow of the Blackwater
Dam near Kinlochleven. A low, wooden
fence straddles the hillock and traces the
outline of the most bizarre graveyard
I’ve ever seen. Twenty-two headstones
stand proud of the ground, stark concrete
plinths, some with names etched on them,
some without. In springtime, daffodils
sway in the breeze, offering a hint of
softness to the harsh surroundings of
heather, rock and water.
Here lie the remains of some of those
who perished in the construction of the
Blackwater Dam and the reservoir that lies
behind it. Names are crudely scratched on
the stones – John MacKenzie, W. Smith,
Darkey Cunningham and, curiously, Mrs
Reilly, a solitary woman in this male-
dominated world of toil and trouble.
What stories lie behind these simple
memorials, tombstones not of marble or
granite but concrete, the material with
which these men worked? Another stone
bears the word ‘Unknown’, a reminder
that these folk were the misfits of the day,
itinerant workers who knew no home or
family. This humble graveyard, in its wild,
remote and magnificent setting, is more
than just a cemetery. It could be regarded
as a monument to those who were once
described as ‘the outcasts of a mighty
industrial society’.
The Blackwater Reservoir project was
the last of its kind, when men, using hand
tools and without the use of mechanical
earth-moving machinery, gouged this
great excavation from the earth. It is
thought to be the last major project of the
traditional ‘navvies’, who made such a major
contribution to the construction of Britain’s
canals and railways from the late 18th to
the early 20th Centuries, a time when the
concept of Health and Safety was unheard of.
One of those navvies, an Irishman
called Patrick MacGill, wrote a book about
his experiences as an itinerant labourer.
Sold to a farmer as a child at a ‘feeing fair’
in County Donegal, MacGill (1889-1963)
was a remarkable character who fought in
World War One, wrote over 20 novels and
several volumes of poetry, and eventually
rose to the giddy heights as King’s Librarian
to George V.
His book Children of the Dead End
vividly portrays the horror of the time
and describes the growth of Kinlochleven
from a tiny settlement of two or three
farmhouses and a shooting lodge into a
‘model village’ to house the hundreds of
itinerants who were expected to come and
work on the smelter project. To provide
the power for the aluminium smelter, the
Blackwater Reservoir, 7km east of the
town, was slowly gouged from the bowels
of the mountains themselves.
As the early years of the 20th Century
saw radical change in the Kinlochleven
area, the hills that frown down on
the village remained ‘undefiled and
unconquered’. In Children of the Dead End,
MacGill described the mountains that
look down on Kinlochleven, recognising
– perhaps prophetically – a cruel sense of
irony in the timelessness of the peaks.[previous page] The graveyard [above] Below Na Gruagaichean
[right] Binnein Beag from Binnein MorPerfect base
Their ‘spirit of ancient mightiness’ certainly
remains unbroken. Instead it’s the smelter
that’s been run down and the workforce
is gone, ‘rejected when not needed’. The
hills remain inviolate and paradoxically
there is a ray of optimism shining on the
area. Tucked away at the head of the fjord-
like Loch Leven, Kinlochleven nestles
at the foot of the Mamore Forest and is
completely dominated by high peaks and
soaring ridges, mountains that offer hope
for a resurgent green economy.
The popular West Highland Way, a
152km (96-mile) long-distance trail that
runs from Milngavie to Fort William,
passes through Kinlochleven and brings
welcome revenue and jobs. A bunkhouse
and campsite have been established. An
indoor climbing wall with a permanent
ice-climbing facility, the Ice Factor, attracts
climbers year round. The hill slopes around
the village boast a remarkable network
of stalkers’ paths, many of which attract38 The Great Outdoors August 2019