We traveled to Aberdeen, farther inland and higher in elevation than Maitland, to attend the Scottish Highland Games on a recent Saturday. It was a gorgeous, sunny, chilly day. It's winter time, but we wear fleece jackets at most. Still, we were glad for our jackets this morning.
Many Scottish people settled a part of the Hunter Valley called the New England Plateau during the 19th century . They gather each year at the appropriately named Aberdeen, which is just before Scone on the New England Highway. Farther along are the towns of Armidale and Glen Innes, all good Scottish names. However, the nearby Wee Waa is either the Aboriginal name or somebody had too much to drink. Hmmm.
The games feature a "strong man" competition, a gathering of the clans, and bagpipe competitions. The strong man competition consists of three events: Clach Cuid Fir, also called Manhood Stones, the Sheaf Toss, and the Caber Toss. The men who compete are Scottish Neanderthals. For the Manhood Stones competition, they try to pick up stones in gradually increasing weights and place them on barrels. The lightest stone weighs 100 kilograms and the heaviest weight 165 kilograms (that's 364 pounds!). They are racing for the best time.
Next they try to toss a 7 kg burlap bag of wheat over a pole vault set-up. They toss over their shoulders, facing away from the pole. Clearly they've had to practice to figure out where the pole is supposed to be .
Finally, they toss a telephone pole across open ground. Something to do with the Scotsman Alexander Graham Bell, I'm sure. The huge pole called a caber is supposed to be lifted straight up, carried a bit for momentum, and then hefted forward and flipped, landing as close to straight from the thrower as possible. Sounds complicated, and it is. The crowd had to hustle out of the way a few times when the pole tipped backward instead of forward. Then, toward the end of the competition, the pole cracked and finally broke completely in two. After this competition, the boys were eying every telephone pole we saw and wondering about beginning their practice sessions.
Either you love bagpipes or you hate them. I love their mournful sound. Remember Scotland on a rainy day, or the scenery from Braveheart, and I'm sure you'll agree it wouldn't be Scotland without the bagpipes. So, after eight hours of nonstop bagpipe bands, a bagpipe hater might get tired of them. Not me!
We passed on the haggis for lunch (I know, we're wimps!), but supported the church ladies in their fund-raising food stalls.
Enjoy the photos!