Friday, December 14, 2007

Boleskine House, Former Home of Loch Ness' Great Beast

As Mark and I (now traveling together) were riding the bus on a tour around Lock Ness, suddenly the tone of the tour guide's voice changed completely and he announced, "On the left, you can see just through the trees the home of Aleister Crowley, the self-named GREAT BEAST." The obviously non-Crowley-friendly lad went on to elaborate on some of the more horrific tales of Crowley's excesses.

I was pleased as could be. I had no idea that the home of the infamous magister was located that near to Loch Ness. (I have always seen Crowley as the black sheep of our Pagan/Wiccan family tree--definitely one of the nuttier nuts, but there on the tree of our ancestry none the less.) Our tour guide went on to describe the purchase of the home by Jimmy Paige of Led Zeppelin fame. He added that house was now privately owned and allowed no visitors.

He did allow us to stop at the cemetery on the right side of the road and peer up at the house. He also regaled us with tales of the barricaded, underground passageway reported to have led to Crowley's ritual room in the main house. This was an unexpected treat for me. I am no huge fan of Crowley's although I do feel that he had a lot more to say if you ignored his enormous ego and his penchant to mislead the seeker with his excesses. I feel these misdirections were meant to shock and derail seekers from discovering their own true will.

Even though there are many things to criticize about Crowley's life and teaching, he is still one of the founders of our magickal path. It is reported Gardner met Aleister Crowley in 1946 supposedly introduced by Arnold Crowther. Many of Crowley's ideas managed to make it into Garnder's ancient/new religion which later came to be called Wicca.

The sketch below and the article give you more, excellent, infomation on Bolesskin House. I have credited both the sketch and the article.



Sketch taken from http://www.geocities.com/athens/parthenon/7069/bole-1.html

Boleskine has long been the site of strange and disturbing events

By PAUL LESTER

OF ALL rock's legendary landmarks, Boleskine House near Foyers on the south-eastern shore of Loch Ness is most deserving of a blue plaque.

Or rather, a black upside-down cross. Because it has long been synonymous with The Dark Side. Look no further than Led Zeppelin's The Song Remains the Same, a newly enhanced DVD filmed during the band's notorious 1973 trek across the US. In one of the fantasy sequences that intersperse the live footage, guitarist Jimmy Page is caught in an eerily innocuous pastoral idyll, sitting by a lake next to his 18th-century manor in Plumpton, Sussex, toying with a hurdy gurdy as the song Autumn Lake plays in the background. He turns towards the camera and his eyes, pure Hammer House of Horror, are glowing devil-red. Then suddenly we're in dense, dark woodland lit by a full moon. Page is shown climbing the steep face of a snow-capped mountain with only a corduroy jacket and a neckerchief to keep him warm. To the strains of Dazed and Confused, he fights his way to the top, where a ghostly hooded creature dressed in white and holding a lantern awaits him. It is the Hermit, a Tarot figure representing philosophical enquiry, though here his face is wizened and has a pallor suggestive of death. The whole chilling sequence was filmed on the mountainside directly behind Boleskine House.

With the possible exception of the Rolling Stones, no band in history has ever been as closely associated with the Dark Side as Led Zeppelin. And of their four members, the one with the greatest reputation for the illicit and degenerate is Page. There are many anecdotes about the guitarist numerous apocryphal stories and rumours of carnal and pharmaceutical excess. But the one fact brought up time and again to capture his amoral essence is this: in 1971, as Zeppelin were about to enter their decadent pomp, Page bought Boleskine House.

Page, who later owned the occult bookshop The Equinox in London, bought it primarily because it had, between 1899 and 1913, been the property of one Aleister Crowley. Page was something of a Crowley aficionado, though the extent of his interest is a matter of speculation. Certainly, Crowley's maxims - "The word of sin is restriction!" and "Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law" - were adhered to with dissolute glee by Led Zeppelin in their debauched heyday.

A poet, novelist, painter and mountaineer, Crowley became a counter-cultural icon in the 1960s (his face is one of the many on the cover of The Beatles' Sergeant Pepper - on the top row, second from left, next to Mae West), when his views were seen to have anticipated the permissiveness of the age. But it is for his alleged practices in the occult that Crowley is best known, and that earned him the nickname The Beast, alias The Other Loch Ness Monster. The tabloid press of the day were fascinated by and fearful of Crowley in equal measure, dubbing him "the most evil man in Britain" and reporting on his supposed dreadful exploits, including human sacrifice, devil worship and black magic. According to Crowley's writings, he bought Boleskine to perform a ritual called the Abramelin Operation, an angel-summoning ceremony "requiring intense and lengthy meditation in a temple or secluded place". Stories of unexplained ghoulish occurrences in the area during his time at Boleskine are numerous. There is one of a local butcher accidentally cutting off his hand with a cleaver after reading a note left by Crowley. Another concerns the disappearance of a housekeeper. A third tells of a local workman employed by Crowley who went mad and tried to kill him.

A low, pink-walled mansion situated across the water from the snow-capped Meall Fuarvounie 21 miles south of Inverness, Boleskine House was built in the late 18th century by Archibald Fraser - it remained in Fraser family ownership until Crowley bought the estate. According to legend, a church once stood on the ancient site. When it caught fire the congregation was trapped inside and burned alive. The nearby Boleskine Burial Ground is notable for the remains of the original chapel and a grave watcher's hut: the grave watcher was employed to prevent body snatchers from defiling the graves.

Not surprisingly, a tunnel between the graveyard and the house is said to be best avoided after dark. As for Boleskine itself, it has long been the site of all manner of strange and disturbing events. In 1965, for example, an army major who lived there killed himself with a shotgun. Malcolm Dent was invited by Jimmy Page, his boyhood friend, to supervise the restoration of the house after the guitarist bought it. While Page himself only spent a total of six weeks there in the two decades he owned it, Dent lived in it for years, raising a family there. Apart from random slamming doors and moving chairs and rugs, not to mention the odd headless spectre, Dent had to contend with streams of ghouls making pilgrimages to Boleskine because of its association with Messrs Crowley and Page.

"I knew Jimmy had some weird interests, but that was about it," Dent said at the time. He was less respectful of Page's acolytes. "I have them from every corner of the world. A lot of them are nutters. Many are downright dangerous lunatics. There's a constant procession of these sick-minded people." Often Dent would have to bolt the doors and windows at night to prevent their access to the grounds. "They're a damned nuisance, a real pain," said Dent.

Page sold Boleskine House in 1992. Subsequent owners, ignoring its turbulent history, have run it either as a private residence or as a guest house. And, judging by the graffiti in the graveyard, it's clear Boleskine still attracts a certain type of tourist, with a penchant for the macabre.

"We don't get too many enquiries about it these days," the woman at the Inverness Tourist Information Centre tells me. "But those who do seem to be drawn to it for its unusual history. Things like the tunnel between the house and the graveyard, which is meant to be haunted by witches." Is it a frightening place to visit? She pauses. "Well, it's certainly... curious."

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

On from Inverbervie--

I spent about two weeks exploring Inverbervie, Stonehaven and Aberdeen, Scotland while I stayed with my friend John. The folks on the northeast side of Scotland seem to spend most of their time in the pub and not pay too much attention to the world around them. (Actually, most of Scotland seemed this way to me.) Of course, the Scottish economy is pretty grim. Despite this, they still haven't lost their sense of humor or fun. Most of the Scots that I met were low-income, unemployed or retired and living in council houses. The oil industry that used to employ most of the Scots from this area is dying rapidly and many are out of work.

It was a very different way to live for me. Americans are so driven to achieve. It is so refreshing to be in a place where you can just sit in the pub with some friends and have a good laugh. Unfortunately, the driven American finally surfaced and I realized that I was wasting away my precious vacation time sitting in the pub with John and his buddies. So--off I went toward the highlands.

There was another lad from Glasgow that I had been exchanging emails with for months. This was Mark. Mark had sent me flowers and indicated quite an interest in me. In a moment of redheaded craziness, I emailed him and said, "Well, if you want to meet me so badly, meet me tomorrow at the Inverness train station at 4:00 PM. I will be arriving from Aberdeen." Mark says it was quite a flurry of activity, but he managed to be packed and ready to meet me with a rose in his hand and wearing his best suit when I climbed down off the steps from the train. How he knew exactly where to be and at which pair of steps off the train, I will never completely understand. The rest, they say, is history. It took a couple years, but I finally married this wonderful, wacky Scotsman. Unfortunately, it didn't last and we divorced a year later, but it was wonderful while it lasted.

Mark and I spent a couple days exploring Inverness and getting to know one another. It was magickal. Every moment that I ever spent with him IN Scotland was magickal. It seemed it was when we were outside of Scotland, that things ever became less than magick for us.