Going Home
One hundred and seventy seven years ago, fifty-seven Irish men left Donegal, Derry, Tyrone, for a chance to make their mark in America. They came to work on the Philadelphia and Columbia Railroad, most specifically a single mile of the track named Duffy's Cut. It was so named because Phillip Duffy was the man given the charge by the railroad to build that mile of track.
The men arrived in June and six weeks later all were dead, some from cholera, others from possible violence. No one is sure, but the death rate from cholera is rarely 100%. It is no secret that the neighbors in Chester County were uncomfortable around the immigrants who were for the most part Gaelic speakers. When disease began to decimate their ranks, the fear grew. In any case, fifty-seven men were never heard from again.
Six years ago, Bill and Frank Watson, lured by Railroad paperwork left behind by their grandfather, began to research the history of the site. The site is located nearby Immaculata University where Bill is chair of the History Department. With the help of John Ahtes and Earl H. Schandelmeier, the Watsons began looking for potential burial sites on the site of the current R5 railroad line.
In 2004 the site was given an Historical Marker by the state of Pennsylvania. Later with the help of some ground penetrating radar provided by Tim Bechtel of the University of Pennsylvania's Geosciences department, some clay pipes and other artifacts were uncovered. But the actual burial site eluded them until Friday, March 20, 2009.
On that date, some teeth, two skulls and other human remains were unearthed at the site. The hard work of the team has now begun to pay off. Hopefully, in the very near future, DNA will enable the bodies to be identified and possible repatriated to their native Ireland. In any case, these men will no longer be forgotten. The Watson brothers and their team have assured that these once forgotten men will now be assured their place in history.
To read more about Duffy's Cut, please check out the web site for the Duffy's Cut Project
There is also a book available from Amazon.com entitled: The Ghosts of Duffy's Cut: The Irish Who Died Building America's Most Dangerous Stretch
A Whirlwind Tour of the Central Highlands
In Scotland, during September, the weather ruleth all and so, in 2008, when we arrived on vacation, it had been wet and cool for most of the summer. Fortunately, within a couple of days, the skies cleared, the sun burst forth and it did not rain for almost ten days during which the temperature soared into the low sixties. Remarkable!
During that time my wife and I took a one-day, whirlwind tour of the central Highlands in the company of her sister and brother-in-law, who had a 10 am business meeting in Inverness on Monday, September, 22.
Up with the lark, we set out from Bearsden, a north-western suburb of Glasgow, at 6:30 am, long before sunrise. Heading north on the A 81 through the pretty villages of Strathblane, Buchlyvie, and Killearn, we rounded the Campsie Fells and Fintry Hills, before racing along the Kippen flats on the A 811 in time to see the sun rise over Stirling Castle, second only to Edinburgh Castle in importance and antiquity.
From there we turned north on the M 9 passing Dunblane, another pretty but infamous village, before scooting by Gleneagles, that mecca of Scottish golf, on our way to Perth, the gateway to the Highlands. Dashing around Perth we stayed on the M 9 through Dunkeld, where we saw the dark waters of the river Tay rush alongside us. Next up were Pitlochry then Blair Atholl, home of the Duke of Atholl, the only Briton allowed to maintain his own private army, which these days, is composed of his gardeners and grounds people at Blair Castle.
By this time the temperature had climbed to sixty degrees and the cloudless sky has the most beautiful blue hue. A quick dash through Glen Garry and the Pass of Drumochter had us rounding the Cairngorms on our right and bearing down on Aviemore. Just north of that well-kennt center of Scottish winter skiing, the road divides and the right fork leads to Strath Spey, one of the foremost centers of the Scottish whisky industry, whose waters infuse the legendary brands of Glenmorangie, Glen Fiddich, and Balvenie. Alas, we took the left fork, staying on the M 9 to Inverness, passing the road to Culloden, only five miles away, whose Moor in 1746 saw the last major battle ever fought in Britain. We sighted the Moray Firth shortly before 10:00 am and entering the Burgh of Inverness at exactly the appointed hour, covering 186 miles of Scottish roads in only three and a half hours.
After our businessman left to conduct his business, we strolled leisurely through the town center and made our way to the road that ran alongside the River Ness, which linked Loch Ness to the Moray Firth. It did not take us long to discovered the River Restaurant, a small wine bar near the Friars’ Bridge, which was open for morning coffee. It had the best home made scones we have ever tasted. Needless to say, we quizzed the baker and extracted her secrets for future experimentation. Continuing our walk by the river along Ness Side and Haugh Street, I took this photo of Inverness Castle, which clearly dominates the town, from a footbridge across the river, which was adjacent to the town’s war memorial.
Inverness Castle by the River Ness
We were actually looking for the Glen Morriston House Hotel which we had seen featured in a Gordon Ramsay Kitchen Nightmares program the day before we left the States, and, sure enough, it was there by the riverside. Their Riviera restaurant no longer existed but had been replaced by the Accent restaurant and the Contrast Brasserie, whose prices appeared to be very reasonable. We had planned to have lunch there but at 11:30 am we received a phone call to say that business had been concluded early and that we could head home to Glasgow by the more tortuous but scenic route via Loch Ness and Glen Coe.
As we headed south along Loch Ness on the A 82, like most tourists we kept an eye out for Nessie but she must have been resting up that day as nary a sight of her did we spy. Half way down the loch we had a beautiful view looking from Temple Pier over the Bay at Drumnadrochit to the ruins of Castle Urquhart, the spot where Nessie has been most frequently seen. Castle Urquhart is now run by Historic Scotland and we had planned to make a brief stop there but the $13 entrance fee seemed steep for a few minutes walk around the garden so, with deeply ingrained Scottish frugality well to the fore, we settled for this photo of the castle and loch from the new visitors’ center which, not surprisingly , was packed with Japanese tourists.
Overlooking Castle Urquart on Loch Ness
By now, hunger pangs were beginning to make themselves felt so we began looking out for a suitable watering hole. We raced past Fort William and Ben Nevis, Scotland’s highest peak at 4, 404 ft, which rekindled memories of the coldest night we ever spent under canvas in Glen Nevis during one weekend in March decades before. We eventually stopped around 2:00 pm at the Onich Hotel and Lochside Gardens, a magnificent spot to rest up on the journey south, with fine views both down loch Linnhe to the holy island of Lismore and to the east, of Ballachulish sitting at the entrance to Glen Coe, which is in the middle of the photograph, where a relatively new bridge replaced the ferry that used to ply across Loch Leven, saving a road journey around the loch of some twenty miles.
The author enjoying the tranquility of the Lochside Gardens with Ballachulish and Glen Coe in the background
Feeling replete and rested, we struck south again through the craggy massif of Glen Coe, infamous for the Massacre (of 38 souls) that took place there in 1748, ostensibly because a McDonald chieftain was late in paying homage to the crown after the battle of Culloden. As we passed the last of the mountains on the south side, Buachaille Etive Mor, I was again reminded of my only climbing experience with my university climbing club up a moderately severe ascent of the Buachaille with ropes and crampons, again many decades before. Before we knew it we were up an over Rannoch Moor and heading to Tyndrum then Crianlarich, lonely, snow-encrusted outposts in winter but beautiful oases on a fine autumn day.
The miles flashed by as we passed the Falls of Falloch and descended to Ardlui at the head of Loch Lomond while essentially following the West Highland Way, the recently opened trail for walkers that runs from Beattock Summit, in the south of Scotland to Fort William and which is now a sine qua non for serious walkers in Scotland.
Loch Lomond was looking grand as we flashed along its Bonnie Banks with Ben Lomond towering over us on its eastern shore. Through Tarbet then Luss we sped on our way to Balloch at the other end of this 26 –mile-long body of water that is the largest in Britain. As we wended our way through Balloch we caught a glimpse of the Maid of the Loch, the old steamer that is being lovingly restored by volunteers and which may, one day, sail again. Currently, it is opened only as a restaurant and tourist attraction.
Looking north from Balloch at the Maid of the Loch on loch Lomond
At this point a tiny worry set in as we had been unable to find a petrol (gas) station on our approach to Balloch and we ended up driving to Gartocharn on the A 811, another rustic Scottish village, around the south bank of the loch, to one that we knew existed and the day was saved. A quick sprint along the Stockiemuir Road, the A 809, past the local beauty spot known as the Queen’s View looking north to Ben Lomond, and we were back in the Glasgow area shortly after 6:00 pm after an exciting day’s travel round the central Highlands of Scotland in a little under 12 hours.
Looking north from the Queen’s View on the Stockiemuir Road to Loch Lomond and Ben Lomond on the right.
For anyone with limited time in Scotland, I would recommend this whirlwind tour, provided the weather cooperates!!
Andrew McGhie 10.17.08
