By The River

The River Ness in Inverness, is an interesting piece of water. Inverness derives its name from the Gaelic ‘inbhir’ or ‘invir’ which means ‘at the mouth of’ and with its suffix ‘ness’ from the River Ness, accurately describes its physical location as ‘at the mouth of the Ness’.

By ‘normal’ river standards, it’s only a relatively short stretch of water, but the lower part is fascinating in its diversity. The mouth of the river where it joins the Moray Firth has a narrow opening leading into Inverness Harbour and the basin where cargo boats offload, surrounded by council houses on one side, and the industrial port facilities on the other.

Huge bottlenose dolphins cruise into the basin following yachts out of curiosity, or bow-riding on the pressure wave in front of the large cargo vessels that regularly visit, or chasing salmon running upriver to spawn. Their hunting activity in this narrow channel is violent, dramatic and brutal, salmon thrown skywards and then torn apart.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Only a few hundred metres further up, the river passes under a rail and road bridge (one a of series of several transport and pedestrian crossings) that leads into South Kessock. This is a part of the city that has a reputation for being somewhat rough, and inhabited, many would have you believe, by those who cannot manage to escape to somewhere more salubrious. In truth it is a rich and diverse location filled with ordinary people, and a tiny minority who make mischief, pretty much the same as anywhere else.  It certainly has colour, character & community which is something that I’d struggle to say about some of the more ‘elegant’ parts of the city.

 

 

 

 

 

A few hundred metres beyond this and Inverness city proper crowds the river side, commerce, religion and domestic residences jumbled together. This section of the river is so close to the ocean that it’s tidal, and on full moons when the river is in spate the water sometimes spills over into the city. Recent floods have prompted a new flood defence system which is slowly taking shape.

 

 

 

 

 

And not much further on, the river widens and the Ness Islands become the dominating feature, tall woodlands, small bridges linking the islands and people walking, jogging, cycling, fishing, drinking and occasionally wafting the sweet smell of something less legal through the trees. The drama of  fishermen wrestling with salmon echoes the tussles of the dolphins only half a mile away, but the fishermen stand in the city centre surrounded by passersby, buildings and cars, not distracted by any of it, their focus only on the water and what lies beneath.

 

 

 

The islands are only a little over a mile from the sea but the diversity evident in this short stretch of river is considerable. Otters swim and hunt right through the city centre, swans drift by, herons stalk fish by night under the streetlights. And sometimes an adventurous seal will make its way upriver to chance its jaws on a salmon in the upper reaches before Loch Ness.

 

 

 

It’s easy to view the river as something “that divides the town in two” as I heard someone say. It’s an observation that eloquently reveals the limitation of our appreciation of the river, confined only by our sense of what it prevents – easy passage from one place to another, requiring a walk to a bridge to be able to traverse it.

What many fail to see is the river as a connector – linking Loch Ness to the ocean. Enabling many creatures to run upriver, and many others to come down. In spates it becomes less benign, altogether more fierce, and pushing hard on its passage also grows darker, the water carrying a fine suspension of peat from Loch Ness down through the town. And most important of all, the river connects people with nature.

In the lower reaches salt water floods the river as the tides rise, bringing the ocean right into the city centre, a salty tang of sea in the air for those who care to heed it. In summer it acts a cooling mechanism reducing air temperature with all the benefits that provides. And it is also a place to go to stare, to watch, to listen to the water-ripple, and ‘escape’ from work for a spell and return refreshed.

 

 

Rivers are important, as those who live around them will testify: the Thames, the Liffey, the Forth, the Clyde, the Ely & the Taff, the Lagan and the Severn, to name only a few.

But the water cares nothing for all of this. It wanders when its lazy, and rushes when in spate. And through it all is reflective of all around.  If you have a river near you, enjoy it, they’re precious things and well worth a wee bit of your time.