Culbin: the disappeared villageMyth, legend, superstition and witchcraft are all intertwined with the natural disaster that saw the destruction of a community in 1694. The estate of Culbin on the south shore of the Moray Firth, just west of the estuary of the River Findhorn was destroyed and abandoned by what was known as the Great Sand Drift of 1694.
This destructive natural event forced people from their homes and farms and transformed a once fertile, grain-growing area into a desert. It was the uprooting of marram grass for thatching, and possibly the cutting of coastal turf as a fuel source in the seventeenth century which contributed to the movements of the sands. Although the events of 1694 can be easily explained by science, there are many tales and legends connected with the destruction of Culbin and even today, whilst walking in the forest or on the idyllic beach there it is possible to sense the strange footsteps of the past walking alongside. John Martin, from Elgin, wrote of the Great Sand Drift at the time: |
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"The wind comes rushing down through the openings between the hills, carrying with it immense torrents of sand with a force and violence almost overpowering. |
In the years and decades immediately after the Great Drift, it was regarded as being Divine Intervention and that supernatural forces had been at work. The Laird of Culbin, Alexander Kinnaird, blamed a witches' curse for the loss of his estate. Thirty years earlier, Isobel Gowdie, a woman living in nearby Auldearn, had been suspected of witchcraft. Over the course of a six-week trial, she gave a vivid and detailed account of making a pact with the devil. She said the devil foretold that a farm at Culbin would be smothered by sand. It has been suggested that she made up the stories, telling the trial what it wanted to hear, to spare herself a more violent interrogation. Following her trial, Gowdie is believed to have been strangled and then burned at the stake.
Others, however, suggested that it was because of Kinnaird’s own disregard for the Sabbath. He is said to have been playing cards late one Saturday night and, despite being reminded, insisted on playing past midnight, boasting he would play on even if the Devil were one of his partners. With that there was a clap of thunder and the Devil appeared, and the game went on so long that Kinnaird failed to notice the sand engulfing the estate. Either way, The Laird of Culbin became a pauper in a matter of hours of the 1694 storm happening. Later, he appealed to the Scottish Parliament for tax relief. His home was amongst the properties reputed to have been buried under the rifts of sand.
Others, however, suggested that it was because of Kinnaird’s own disregard for the Sabbath. He is said to have been playing cards late one Saturday night and, despite being reminded, insisted on playing past midnight, boasting he would play on even if the Devil were one of his partners. With that there was a clap of thunder and the Devil appeared, and the game went on so long that Kinnaird failed to notice the sand engulfing the estate. Either way, The Laird of Culbin became a pauper in a matter of hours of the 1694 storm happening. Later, he appealed to the Scottish Parliament for tax relief. His home was amongst the properties reputed to have been buried under the rifts of sand.
Photograph courtesy of Anne Burgess.
Some also saw the sandstorm as punishment for having hidden smugglers regularly amongst the dunes. There are many stories about smuggler and buried treasure revealed and lost amid the dunes, including one about a cargo of illicit import of tobacco and whisky that was buried by the smugglers overnight until it could be safely moved from the shore. When the smugglers returned the next day, the wind had moved the sands so much that they could not find their hoard - and neither could local search parties who set out to try and discover it for themselves soon after. Apparently they worked all night by the light of a bright moon.
Culbin came to be viewed as a romantic desert, particularly in the nineteenth century. Many writers, poets and dramatists have written of the destruction of Culbin’s; Andrew Young’s work The Culbin Sands includes a verses, which sum up the feeling of Culbin’s constant capacity for amazing natural change:
Culbin came to be viewed as a romantic desert, particularly in the nineteenth century. Many writers, poets and dramatists have written of the destruction of Culbin’s; Andrew Young’s work The Culbin Sands includes a verses, which sum up the feeling of Culbin’s constant capacity for amazing natural change:
Here lay a fair fat land |
The ever-moving sands seem to have shifted enough over the years to reveal a doocot, chapel and even parts of a laird’s house (thought to have been revealed in after a huge storm in the early nineteenth century). The chimney of the house was apparently once revealed, and a brave soul shouted down it; he was so frightened by a strange ghostly reply (perhaps an echo) that he fled in terror. Another local legend claims that as the sands continued to shift, the Laird’s orchard was revealed - or at least the top branches of some of the trees - and that they blossomed and bore excellent fruit.
Today, the vanished estate and its farms and croft houses remain buried under sand planted with trees. The first trees, Scots pine, were planted in the 1850s and, between 1922 and 1931, the Forestry Commission took over Culbin and increased the level of tree planting. The Forestry Commission's early attempts at forestry at Culbin were not always successful as sand often buried seedlings, or they were whipped out of the ground by the wind. Marram grass was replanted in advance of the trees to help stabilise the sand and, by the 1950s, there was a well-established forest at Culbin.
The story of Culbin is far from completely explained or understood, and as the sands and tides continue to shift - and our own climate continues to change - more of its past may yet be revealed to future generations. It is a beautiful place but one with a strong sense of hidden mystery.
Today, the vanished estate and its farms and croft houses remain buried under sand planted with trees. The first trees, Scots pine, were planted in the 1850s and, between 1922 and 1931, the Forestry Commission took over Culbin and increased the level of tree planting. The Forestry Commission's early attempts at forestry at Culbin were not always successful as sand often buried seedlings, or they were whipped out of the ground by the wind. Marram grass was replanted in advance of the trees to help stabilise the sand and, by the 1950s, there was a well-established forest at Culbin.
The story of Culbin is far from completely explained or understood, and as the sands and tides continue to shift - and our own climate continues to change - more of its past may yet be revealed to future generations. It is a beautiful place but one with a strong sense of hidden mystery.