She departed to the sounds of early-morning birdsong, her loyal Balmoral staff’s subdued sobbing, and Glen Gelder, a favourite lament performed by a lone piper—her own piper, of course—who was also playing the pipe.
Elizabeth, Queen of Scots landed at the most attractive of her cities yesterday night to find its most renowned street packed to capacity more than six hours and 175 miles after making her last trip through the country she may have loved more than any other.
She wandered through the harsh glens, towns, and cities of Eastern Scotland, moving at a stately pace and being hailed by weepy people, cattle, and even tractors.
She was the only person still living who knew them all. Because throughout her record-breaking rule, there couldn’t have been very much of this road that she hadn’t owned, opened, or visited at some time. (It was astounding to realise that she had also inaugurated the nearby Forth Road Bridge in 1964 as her convoy approached the Queensferry Crossing over the Firth of Forth, which she opened in 2017,).
Finally, the late Queen came last evening to spend her final night at the Palace of Holyroodhouse in Edinburgh in preparation for today’s important state ceremonies in Scotland.
It is reasonable to conclude that Balmoral, Elizabeth II’s haven of freedom from infancy, was the place where she felt happiest.
She made her last exit from the castle at 10 o’clock yesterday morning, being carried out on the shoulders of six gamekeepers.
Her grandpa and father had already started their last trips while being carried out by their guardians (from Sandringham, in their cases). But this was more than simply a matter of custom.
Even before she chased her first deer as a young lady, the Queen was acquainted with all the Balmoral keepers. She was familiar with their children’s names and liked their tales.
She and Prince Philip were on a hillside in the 1990s with a beloved caretaker when the man had a heart attack and passed away. The Queen was the one who accompanied him and waited for assistance. Such were her ties to this reliable group of men.
The Scottish oak coffin she was buried in was surrounded by flowers from the Balmoral estate, including sweet peas from the walled garden of which she was so proud and white heather from the hills, as well as the Royal Standard of Scotland.
The late and much lamented queen was first seen by the public when she left Balmoral’s gates.
The Princess Royal and her husband, Vice Admiral Sir Timothy Laurence, rode behind the funeral in the Queen’s State Bentley. We have naturally been captivated with our new King and Queen amid the shock of the succession. Therefore, yesterday’s sight of the late monarch’s only daughter leading the cortege was appropriate and acceptable.
It was Princess Anne who, when working in Scotland and living with her mother in her latter days, talked to the Queen virtually every day in her later years. Last Thursday morning, she was the one who had sounded the household alarm. Her ties to and passion for Scotland are a huge source of pride for her country (just ask any Scottish rugby fan).
The Earl of Dalhousie, Lord Steward of the Royal Household, and the Reverend Kenneth Mackenzie, minister of Crathie Kirk, where the Queen had undoubtedly worshipped for the longest time of anybody, followed after them.
The Queen was never a fan of huge motorcades, therefore the convoy was headed by a single outrider, and it quickly arrived on the A93.
They couldn’t have chosen a finer day, since Deeside looked just as spectacular in the absence of its inhabitant. It was broadcast globally via aerial television cameras. How pleased the Queen would have been to learn that her last trip may have given the struggling Scottish tourism sector a much-needed lift.
The Queen came upon the first major gathering of mourning in lovely old Ballater after travelling a few kilometres across gorgeous countryside with sporadic concentrations of bowed campers and farmers.
Since Queen Victoria’s reign, this community has provided the castle with supplies. More royal warrants must be present there per square foot than anyplace else in the realm. One is even at the newsstand. No surprise. Years ago, the local TV repairman saved the day just in man for the start of Dad’s Army when the Queen Mother’s television broke down.
He was then asked to sit down with her and watch the programme. Of course, the hamlet was crowded as the convoy slowed to jogging pace and passed storefronts covered with portraits of the Queen.
Elizabeth Alexander, 69, of Huntly, Aberdeenshire, who came just after 7am with her two daughters, Melissa Simpson, 42, and Claire Green, 44, and three little grandkids, Gracie, Florence, and Hamish, said, “She’s the type of person we should all be, but often fail to be.” Near the Glenmuick Church in the heart of the hamlet, they put up their picnic tables and attached Union flags to the walls.
The Proclamation of King Charles III was read aloud on the church steps by the senior administrator of Aberdeenshire Council not long after the convoy had gone by.
It came after the concurrently held declaration event in Belfast and Cardiff that was significantly larger and held a bit earlier in Edinburgh.
Even though we live in an instantaneous digital information age thanks to the internet, there’s nothing quite as soul-stirring as news being spread in the old-fashioned manner.
Yesterday, the same announcement was made in similar ceremonies in cathedrals and town halls around Britain.
The Monarch of the Glen passed by some really beautiful sights as she travelled down the A93. A group of cattle farmers had lined the road with many tractors close to Banchory (clean ones, too).
Many people saluted with their diggers up, evoking the cranes along the London docks when Sir Winston Churchill passed away. Her Late Majesty would have been moved by it as much as by a 96-gun salute.
The neighborhood’s equestrians had gathered outside Peterculter on their horses and ponies.
When the Queen arrived at Aboyne, cheering had replaced the respectful seriousness that had preceded it. I saw that the Royal British Legion was present in large numbers in each hamlet I visited.
White roses were sometimes thrown, despite police requests for people not to do so.
A few flowers were not an issue, but if it spread when the convoy was passing through a densely populated area, it may have required frequent windshield clearing stops or a diversion.
Long sections of concrete began to swell as the suburbs of Aberdeen drew near. The numbers were both unexpected and encouraging considering that the Scottish people had less than 24 hours’ notice of this motorcade and its itinerary.
The convoy stopped for a “refreshment break,” as the government likes to refer to it, after travelling for three hours to Brechin Castle, which is also Lord Dalhousie’s family home (albeit now on the market due to the costs of upkeep).
However, a royal insider assured me that the Princess Royal had nothing to do with the halt.
She often forgoes lunch and can merrily get by the whole day on a kiwi fruit from her purse. But some of the outriders and drivers of the support vehicles needed to take a break and refuel.
The convoy quickly arrived in Dundee once back on the A90. Even though Scotland is now a hotbed of nationalism, there was the biggest gathering ever to honour the late Queen of Scots here.
In any event, the Bowes-Lyon family’s residence, Glamis Castle, was where her mother had grown up (and birthplace of Princess Margaret).
It was now time to close off a section of the road in Perth leading to the Queensferry Crossing to all other southbound traffic.
It was suddenly tremendously touching to see this little truck passing slowly over this enormous work of modern engineering that was spanning the Forth.
Here was all that our late Queen exemplified about ancient and contemporary culture.
The crowd became larger as she got closer to Edinburgh. It was unfortunate that they did not take a side trip past the HMY Britannia, a member of the Royal Family who is berthed at the Leith ports.
There was just no more space on the Royal Mile. Some had waited for many hours. Three generations of her family were travelling with Jennifer McLean, 61, of Peterhead, who had awakened at the crack of dawn and drove for more than four hours. She said that she had complete trust in the new King and remarked, “She’s simply been there all my life.” “I cherished his remarks.” Exactly correct.
Many had travelled in large family units. Oddly, none of those I met were travellers. They were all proud Scots honouring a fellow Scot. Actually residing close to Balmoral, Cassie Stewart, 12, and her younger brother Peter participated in last week’s Braemar Games there (she in the Highland dancing competition, he in the sack race).
However, they were not going to pass up the opportunity to say farewell to their late royal neighbour. They had travelled to Edinburgh to stay with their grandmother, Penny McKerrow.
It’s the Queen’s composure that I shall remember, Penny reflected. I don’t know how she did it, but nothing seemed to faze her.
Perhaps the most breathtaking image of the day was as the convoy began to descend from Lawnmarket towards Holyroodhouse and the sea beyond. This might have been the national football team’s homecoming to a championship if not for the solemnity. Edinburgh is very proud of its royal ties, and it was obvious. (My only worry is how the city will handle the expected large crowds for today’s procession to St. Giles’ Cathedral.)
Finally, as a light drizzle started to fall, the hearse sped through the Holyroodhouse gates.
The Princess made the deepest bow as her mother’s casket passed through the state entrance. After all, the Queen of Scots was returning home.