National Geographic : 1965 Jul
Red deer browse the moor at twilight. Arran served as a game preserve for lords of old. Heather-clad slopes rise like an amphitheater behind Brodick and its crescent bay. Dew-spangled web calls to mind the legend about Robert the Bruce, which Arranites claim for their island. Defeated six times by English armies, the exiled King of Scotland lay in a cave, watching a spider weave her web. Six times she failed to throw her frail threads from one beam to another. On the seventh attempt she succeeded. Taking heart, Bruce rallied his forces for a seventh-and vic torious-battle in 1320. new meaning. The nearness of everything breeds an intimacy, a personal sense of own ership in glen and burn and hill. There's something for everyone. Game, brown trout, birds, harbors. Rock-climbing, tennis, golf, Highland games (pages 88-9). An cient monuments are strewn all over-earth works, stone circles, mysterious slab-roofed cromlechs, and, by the Machrie Water, the foreboding Standing Stones of Tormore, as high as 20 feet and upright still (page 87). Then, too, a geological fault misplaced Ar ran; it belongs far away with Skye and Lewis and Harris, as students of geology know. End lessly they poke around its granite of the Ter tiary Period to uncover mica, pyrites, and semiprecious stones. The historian can find everything. On the west there's the King's Cave with sketches of the chase on the rough walls-drawn, some say, by the Bruce himself. For the modernist, near Corrie there's the birthplace of Daniel Macmillan, grandfather of the Right Honour able Harold.