Bob Taylor at scene of the incident

Today (09/11) is the 30th anniversary of Robert ‘Bob’ Taylor’s inexplicable encounter with, what is claimed, alien life, and paranormal campaigners are looking for some sort of formal recognition at Dechmont Law, Livingston, the scene of the incident.

It was around 10:30 in the morning of the ninth of November, 1979 when Bob Taylor, then a forestry worker, was walking up the lower slope of the hill with his dog where he saw a large sphere-like object, roughly 20 feet wide, in a clearing. Mr. Taylor decided to head towards the object when suddenly two additional spheres appeared, rolled over to him and attached themselves to his trouser legs. These spheres were much smaller, each around 3 feet wide, with spikes protruding from all around, and were described as looking like “sea mines”.
The next thing he recalls is waking up with a thumping headache, a bitter taste in his mouth, and a sore throat, having been unconscious for, what he estimated, at least 20 minutes.
Bob Taylor went home, arriving around 11:30. His wife, Mary Taylor, was concerned over the state her husband seemed to be in. Assuming that he had been attacked she phoned the police. Taylor got in contact with Malcolm Drummond, a supervisor at Livingston Development Corporation. The two went to the scene of the incident and saw strange indentations in the forest floor which Taylor claimed were not there earlier that morning. One set were said to look like rungs in ladder, whilst the other indentations, which numbered forty in total, were suspected to be the tracks left by the smaller objects.
Taylor saw a doctor who could only find grazings to his chin and to his thighs. The police, who said the incident left them “completely baffled” recorded it as a common assault. The police involvment made it the only recorded incident in which a UFO sighting has been the subject of a criminal investigation in the UK.

Image of what Taylor claims to have seen

Even to this day, people are still very much intrigued with the alleged UFO encounter. Bob Taylor, who was always described as being a man of good character, died in 2007 at the age of 88, still adamant and defending what he claims happened to him to the day he died.
Ron Halliday, chair of the Scottish Earth Mysteries Research (SEMR), believes that there are certainly some convincing parts to Taylor’s story. Though, to him, the most convincing aspect of the tale is that Taylor claimed that he never had any interest in UFOs before or after the event.

To commemorate Bob Taylor and his odd experience, Mr Halliday, along with other members of SEMR, are planning to go to the site of the incident on Dechmont Law.

Johnstone crest

One of the visitors to our site told us about this great Clan Johnstone legend:

The Battle of Dryfe Sands on the 6th of December, 1593 saw the Johnstones and the Maxwells fight it out near the town of Lockerbie.
On the day of the battle Lady Johnstone went out with her maidservant to see how it was all going. She locked up the castle and took the castle key with her (which was a huge iron number). During her walk she came across a ‘regal looking man’, badly wounded and propped up against a tree. He stretched out a hand and begged for her help. He was Lord Maxwell.
Upon recognising her husband’s enemy Lady Johnstone promptly stoved the man’s head in with the castle key.

Dryfe Sands battle site

There is another version of how Lord Maxwell died that day.
The Maxwells were desperate to rid the land of their sworn enemy the Johnstones, and so decided to launch a surprise attack. However, fortunately for Sir James Johnstone, he was somehow warned of the approaching Maxwells. He knew that this was going to be a desperate fight for their existence and so hurriedly called for some assistance from the Grahams, Scotts, Carrutherses, Irvings, Elliots and others, and managed to raise an army of, perhaps, around 800 men.
It said that Lord Maxwell offered a reward to whichever man could bring either the hand or the head of Sir James. Upon hearing this Johnstone made a similar pledge.

On the 6th of December Lord Maxwell and his army approached the Johnstone town of Lockerbie, near a place called Dryfe Sands. Johnstone came up with a plan, and, as the Maxwells marched on, he kept most of his men hidden, only sending out a small number of horsemen to attract the attention of the Maxwell vanguard, and then rout.
The plan worked and the vanguard broke its ranks chasing after the Johnstone horsemen, allowing the main body of Johnstone men to make a surprise attack on the disorganised and surprised Maxwells.
The Johnstones went on to slaughter around 700 Maxwells, and those they didn’t kill were slashed in the face with a sword, recieving horrible wounds which were to become known as ‘Lockerbie Licks’.
During the carnage, it is said that Lord Maxwell begged for his life, offering to surrender. He stretched out his hand, and instead of accepting it, Sir James Johnstone cut off the arm and then killed him.
Legend has it that Johnstone kept the arm and head of Lord Maxwell as trophies, reminding everyone of their decisive victory against the Maxwells.

Whichever way Lord Maxwell did die, whether he was bludgeoned by Lady Maxwell and her castle key, or if he was slain by the sword of Sir James Johnstone, one thing that is for sure, it probably wasn’t a pleasant death.

Pass of Killiecrankie

The Battle of Killiecrankie, fought on the 16th of July, 1689, was part of the Jacobite Risings trying to get James VII/II back on the throne in Scotland, England, and Ireland. It was a bloody victory for the Highland Jacobite army against the government troops (mainly comprising of lowland Scots, incorrectly referred to as ‘English’) who supported William and Mary of Orange.

There were thousands killed at Killiecrankie - mostly Government men, but also, notably, the Jacobite commander, Viscount ‘Bonnie’ Dundee - so it’s not surprising that there are a number of ghost stories surrounding the area where the battle was fought.
Here is one taken and adapted from Elliott O’Donnell’s book ‘Scottish Ghost Stories‘.

“On a cycle tour in Scotland, making Pitlochry my temporary headquarters, I rode over one evening to view the historic Pass of Killiecrankie. It was late when I arrived there, and the western sky was one great splash of crimson and gold - such vivid colouring I had never seen before and never have seen since.

I paid no heed to the time, nor did I think of stirring, until the dark shadows of the night fell across my face. I then started up in a panic, and was about to pedal off in haste, when a notion suddenly seized me: I had a latchkey, plenty of sandwiches, a warm cape, why not camp out there till early morning?
The idea was no sooner conceived than put into operation. Selecting the most comfortable-looking boulder I could see, I scrambled on to the top of it, and, with my cloak drawn tightly
over my back and shoulders, commenced my vigil. The cold mountain air, sweet with the perfume of gorse and heather, intoxicated me, and I gradually sank into a heavenly torpor, from which I was abruptly aroused by a dull boom, that I at once associated with distant
musketry. All was then still as the grave, and, on glancing at my watch, I saw it was two in the morning.

A species of nervous dread now laid hold of me which oppressed and disconcerted me. Moreover, I was impressed for the first time with the extraordinary solitude which seemed to belong to a period far other than the present. This feeling at length became so acute, that, in a panic of fear - ridiculous, puerile fear, I forcibly withdrew my gaze of the area and concentrated it abstractedly on the ground at my feet. I then listened, and in the rustling of a leaf, the humming of some night insect, the whizzing of a bat, the whispering of the wind as it moaned softly past me, I detected something that was not right. I blew my nose, and had barely ceased marvelling at the loudness of its reverberations, before the piercing, ghoulish shriek of an owl sent the blood in torrents to my heart. I then laughed, and my blood froze as I heard a chorus, of what I tried to persuade myself could only be echoes, proceed from every crag and rock in the valley. For some seconds after this I sat still, hardly daring to breathe, and acting extremely angry with myself for being such a fool. With a stupendous effort I turned my attention to the most material of things. One of the skirt buttons on my hip - they were much in vogue then - being loose, I endeavoured to occupy myself in tightening it, and when that was done, I set to work on my shoes, and tied knots in the laces. But this, too, ceasing at last to attract me, I was desperately racking my mind for some other device, when there came again the booming noise I heard before, but which I could now no longer doubt was of firearms. I looked in the direction of the sound and my heart almost stopped.
Racing towards me - as if not merely for his life, but his soul - came the figure of a Highlander, with eyes fixed ahead of him in a ghastly, agonised stare. He had not a vestige of colour, and, in the powerful glow of the moonbeams, his skin shone livid.
He ran with huge bounds, and, what added to my terror and made me double aware he was nothing mortal, was that each time his feet struck the hard, smooth road, upon which I could well see there were no stones, there came the unmistakable sound of the scattering of gravel. But on he came, with cyclonic swiftness. It was all infernally, hideously real, even to the minutest of details: the flying up and down of his kilt, sporran, and sword less scabbard; the bursting of the seam of his coat, near the shoulder. I tried hard to shut my eyes, but was compelled to keep them open, and follow his every movement as, darting past me, he left the roadway, and, leaping several of the smaller obstacles that barred his way, finally disappeared behind some large boulders.
I then heard the loud rat-tat of drums, accompanied by the shrill voices of fifes and flutes, and at the farther end of the Pass, their arms glittering in the moonlight, appeared a regiment of scarlet-clad soldiers.

At the head rode a mounted officer, after him came the band, and then, four abreast, a long line of warriors; in their centre two ensigns, and on their flanks, officers and non-commissioned officers with swords and pikes; more mounted men bringing up the rear.  I could hear the ground vibrate, the gravel crunch and scatter, as enormously tall men, with set, white faces and livid eyes steadily and mechanically advanced.
Every instant I expected they would see me, and I became sick with terror. But from this I was happily saved; no one appeared to notice me, and they all passed by without as much as a turn of the head; their feet keeping time to one everlasting, monotonous tramp.
I got up and watched until the last of them had turned the bend of the Pass, and the sheen of his weapons and trappings could no longer be seen; then I remounted my boulder and wondered if anything further would happen. It was now half-past two, and blended with the moonbeams was a peculiar whiteness, which rendered the whole aspect of my surroundings indescribably dreary and ghostly.

Feeling cold and hungry, I started on my beef sandwiches, when a loud rustling made me look up. Confronting me, on the opposite side of the road, was an ash tree, and to my surprise, despite the fact that the breeze had fallen and there was scarcely a breath of wind, the tree swayed violently to and fro, whilst there proceeded from it the most dreadful moanings and groanings. I was so terrified that I caught hold of my bicycle and tried to mount, but I was unable as I had not a particle of strength in my limbs. Then to assure myself the moving of the tree was not an illusion, I rubbed my eyes and called aloud; but it made no difference - the movement and noise continued. Summing up courage, I stepped into the road to get a closer view, when to my horror my feet kicked against something. Looking down, I saw the body of a Government soldier, with a ghastly wound in his chest. I gazed around, and there, on all sides of me, from one end of the valley to the other, lay dozens of bodies,–bodies of men and horses, - Highlanders and lowlanders, white-cheeked, lurid eyes, and bloody-browed, - a hotch-potch of livid, gory awfulness. Here was the writhing figure of an officer with half his face shot away; and there, a horse with no head. I cannot dwell on such horrors; the very memory makes me feel sick and faint.

The air, that beautiful, fresh mountain air, resounded with their moanings and groanings, and reeked with the smell of their blood. As I stood rooted to the ground with horror I suddenly saw drop from the ash, a Highland girl, with bold, handsome features, raven black hair, and the whitest of arms and feet. In one hand she carried a wicker basket, in the other a broad knife. A gleam of avarice and cruelty came into her large dark eyes, as, wandering around her, they rested on the rich facings of the Government officers’ uniforms. I knew what was in her mind, and - forgetting she was but a ghost - that they were all ghosts - I moved heaven and earth to stop her. I could not. Making straight for a wounded officer that lay moaning piteously on the ground, some ten feet away from me, she spurned with her slender, graceful feet, the bodies of the dead and dying Government soldiers that came in her way. Then, snatching the officer’s sword and pistol from him, she knelt down, and, with a look of devilish glee in her eyes, calmly plunged her knife into his heart, working the blade to assure herself she had made a thorough job of it. Anything more hellish I could not have imagined, and yet it fascinated me - the girl was so wickedly fair and shapely.
Her act of cruelty over, she spoiled her victim of his rings, epaulets, buttons and gold lacing, and, having placed them in her basket, proceeded elsewhere. In cases when unable to remove the rings, she chopped off the fingers, and popped them, just as they were, into her basket. Neither was her mode of dispatch always the same, for while she put some men out of their misery in the manner I have described, she cut the throats of others with as great a nonchalance as if she had been killing fowls, whilst others again she settled with the butt-ends of their guns or pistols. In all she murdered ten, and was decamping with her booty when her gloating eyes suddenly encountered mine, and with a shrill scream of rage she rushed towards me. I was an easy victim. Raising her flashing blade high over her head, an expression of fiendish glee in her staring eyes, she made ready to strike me. This was the climax, my overstrained nerves could stand no more, and ere the blow had time to descend, I pitched heavily forward and fell at her feet. When I recovered, every phantom had vanished, and the Pass glowed with all the cheerful freshness of the early morning sun. Not a whit the worse for my venture, I cycled swiftly home, and ate as only one can eat who has spent the night amid the banks and braes of bonnie Scotland.”

The Lords Forrester were a principal family in the Corstorphine area of Edinburgh. Their main home was Corstorphine Castle, a 14th century stronghold which, by the 18th century, was nothing but ruins, and today nothing of the castle remains but a 16th century dovecot.

Sometime during the 17th century, a James Forrester was laird at Corstorphine Castle. Forrester was a popular man, known for charm and affable nature. However, he was also known for his vices, and loose morals; most notably in regards to women and drink.
One of Forrester’s lovers, and who, incidentally turned out to be his last, was Lady Christian Nimmo. Lady Christian was not only married, but was also the Laird’s niece, so the affair was kept as discreet as possible.

James Forrester would usually meet his lovers at the dovecot on his grounds, and so, like normal, arranged to meet Lady Christian at their secret location. She arrived promptly, only to find no-one else around. The Lady waited for a bit, knowing full well that her lover would be at some local pub, and so sent a servant to find him.

Corstorphine Dovecot

James finally turned up drunk and in a very irritable and rude state. Inevitably a heated argument started. It is said that Forrester called Lady Christian a “whoor”, making her so angry that she quickly pulled her lover’s sword out of its sheath and killed him with it.
Lady Christian Nimmo was arrested, tried, and executed in 1679 for the murder of James Forrester.
At the trial the Lady claimed that the death was an accident and that she took the sword as an act of self defence, however this story was not believed and she was beheaded in Edinburgh.
On the day of the execution Lady Christian wore a snow-white hooded gown, and it is said that she is still seen to this day, wearing the same gown, haunting the dovecot in Corstorphine and forced to carry the blood-stained sword for all eternity.

Overtoun Bridge

Near the village of Milton in West Dunbartonshire lies the Overtoun Bridge; an arch bridge which has become famous for the bizzarely large number of dogs who have leapt over the side to their death.

Built in 1895 by Lord Overtoun, the Victorian bridge stands 50 feet over the Overtoun Burn which flows below. The dog jumping phenomenon started sometime in the 1950s continuing to be a common occurence for the following five decades, with each account having certain similar details.
It is said the majority of dogs who have clambered over the bridge wall have been long nose breeds, such as labradors, collies, and retrievers. Also the dogs have all gone over at the same point on the bridge when, more often than not, it has been a sunny, dry day.
It has even been reported that the dogs who jumped, but did not die from the fall, immediately made their way back up to the bridge to do the exact same thing again, and usually dying second time round.

Contemplating his purpose in life.

There have been a number of theories as to why the dogs are choosing to go over the edge, ranging from the bridge being haunted to the canines suffering from depression, or even picking up depressed or suicidal feelings from their owners. However, the explanation which seems to be the most logical involves the presence of minks on the banks of the burn. The mink’s powerful anal glands leave marks wherever they go and the strong musty smell they produce apparently interest dogs. So it is suggested that the height of the bridge’s granite walls significantly impairs the dogs’ sense of sight and hearing, so when they go to investigate the smell, they are unaware of the massive fall that awaits them. This would explain why the dogs all went over on clear and dry days, because the mink smell wouldn’t have been strongly dilluted by the rain.
However, this explanation doesn’t satisfy all. For some, it is still puzzling as to why the dogs all jump from roughly the same spot, and why the dogs that didn’t die, went and jumped again. Perhaps they would prefer the paranormal explanation rather than the logical one.

The Overtoun Bridge is now known all over the world as the infamous suicide bridge for dogs, with some people coming to visit it to see how it affects their dogs, whilst the more loving pet owners are too wary of the crossings reputation to walk across it.

Castle Maol

Kylekin is a small promontory that juts out of the east end of Skye and is crowned by the ruins of Castle Maol. The main wall of the ruin is an impressive eleven feet thick, but ended up defeated by the great storm of 1948. On Febuary 1st 1948, the main wall of Castle Maol cracked from top to bottom. But the castle still stands.

It was originally built by ‘Saucy Mary’, a Norwegian princess, wife of a MacDonald of the time, who used the castle to extract toll from every ship that passed through the Kyles. It is said she had a chain across from the castle to the mainland shore. This would have been some chain! Later, Castle Maol came into the possession of the MacKinnons of Strath.

Castle Maol

Pabay is a small island just off Skye. On Pabay are the ruins of a small chapel, built originally by St. Columba’s monks. After the chapel fell into disuse and the monks left, it became a refuge for outlaws ‘broken men’ and robbers. They caused much trouble on the main island of Skye. Legend has it this bunch of criminals met their end in a very unusual way. They had, of course many enemies and their chief decided to rid himself of them all with the help of the Devil. The band made up a huge fire and roasted three cats alive chanting the appropriate spells, an infallible way of raising the Evil One if you get the spells right. It was told that several minor demons appeared, but the robber chief insisted that he would only deal with the Devil himself.

Eventually Satan rose from the earth and asked their will. The robber chief told the Devil to kill two men whom the chief feared. The Devil responded “The price of two lives is two souls”. This worried the gang and an argument began. Now, the chief had been known to boast that if he could only get swords that would not melt, he would be able to conquer Hell and capture Satan himself. The Devil reminded him of this and accepted his challenge, offering to kill all his enemies if he won the battle. The Devil was to fight the band for their souls ‘here on the shore where swords do not melt.’ The robber chief was so arrogant that he agreed. A fearfull battle ensued, the Devil and his legions overcoming all the bandits who were armed with claymores or broadswords but failed to harm the chief, whose sword had a cross hilt. Suddenly a great black cat jumped from nowhere onto the chief’s sword arm, causing him to drop his blade. He was never seen again.

The blackened stones where the evil fire was lit, on the beach near Ardnish can still be seen, proof to the truth of this tale.

Mohamed Al-Fayed

Egyptian businessman and Harrods owner, Mohamed Al-Fayed has said that he wants to be president of an independent Scotland.
Al-Fayed, who owns a 65,000 acre Highland estate, is hoping that Scotland will go to a referendum and vote for independence, and he has urged  his ‘fellow Scots’ to denounce the monarchy and become an independent, self governing nation.
But the Egyptian is not a big fan of Scotland’s current leader, Alex Salmond. He was quoted saying,
“When you Scots have your independence, I’m ready to be your president.

“You have been living in a coma for too long.
“Whatever help is needed for Scotland to regain its independence, I will provide it. I have lived in England for 40 years but now the home that I want is Scotland.”
“It is time for you to wake up and detach yourself from the English and their terrible politicians. But I don’t want this Alex Salmond. I asked to meet him but he refused. Salmond would be better off fishing for salmon than being a politician. He is a dickhead.”

A spokesperson for the SNP leader did admit that Mr. Al-Fayed requested a meeting with Alex Salmond to talk about a potential donation, but the request was declined, adding that “no disrespect was intended”.

If Scotland did leave the United Kingdom, then Al-Fayed said that he plans to buy Balmoral Castle and turn it into a museum. But, for now, it is now the businessmans intention to erect a statue in honour of Scota, an Egyptian princess who is said to have founded Scotland some 3,600 years ago.
Al-Fayed said, “You Scots are originally Egyptians. Like Scota, I travelled north and I found the Balnagown estate. I will erect a statue of her to honour the links between Scotland and Egypt.”
However, unfortunately for Mohamed Al-Fayed, historian Richard Oram, from the University of Stirling, has said that the myth connecting the two countries was “rubbish”.

One of the most treasured possessions of the clan MacLeod is the famous Fairy Flag of Dunvegan. The story behind the flag is one of the greatest romantic tales in all the highlands…read full story >>