Day 5: Roaming the haunted halls of Tulloch Castle
A castle of winding paths and private doors
As I roamed the hallways and rooms of Tulloch Castle, Dingwall, in the early morning – awake again before 5am – I was struck by its quiet grandeur. The layers of history are tangible here, built up over centuries as the castle expanded and adapted, begining all the way back in 1122 AD.
The castle’s layout is delightfully confusing. Many rooms have more than one entrance or exit, and it’s easy to become disoriented. With so many doors marked “Private,” and sprawling grounds that hint at secrets, you’re left with the sense that Tulloch Castle is holging far more secret than it’s prepared to share.
I loved the details most: the heavy tartan carpets underfoot, the dark-wood stairwell, the tapestries, and the gold-framed portraits of generations past – faces and landscapes quietly watching you pass.
The family tree and its mysteries
Proudly displayed on one wall is the Davidson lineage. It isn’t quite as self-explanatory as the author may have hoped — many birth and death years are missing – but it still offers a tantalising glimpse into the family’s past.
What struck me most was how many marriages some individuals had, sometimes three… even five. I couldn’t help but wonder what became of the women. Poor health? The perils of childbirth in an era before modern medicine? Or were some quietly hidden away, institutionalised, and lost to history?
Ghosts in the castle
A ghost tour would have been the perfect way to uncover the castle’s secrets in all their eerie glory – one we sadly missed this time.
Speaking of ghosts, I did feel something at the bottom of the stairwell: a sudden, jarring unease. Prickling sensations on my skin. And a television in Room 15 that turned itself on and off several times while we were unpacking.
Side note: while later researching the castle’s history (courtesy of the internet), I discovered that Room 15 was once the bedroom of Lady Elizabeth Davidson – also known as the Green Lady.
According to legend, she fell down the stairs to her death after witnessing her father in a compromising position with a maid. It’s believed she was running back to her room from Room 10.
Room 15 – the one we stayed in – along with Room 8, are said to be the most haunted in the castle.
Untamed Scotland and the contrast of empire
Outside, the gardens share the wild, overgrown character common across Scotland, so different from the manicured perfection of English gardens. Those tightly controlled English landscapes made me wonder: were they a metaphor for the empire itself? A desire to tame and shape the world, to impose ownership and order over wildness. To assert strength. To dominate. Perhaps even to erase. Slaying kings and queens across continents, drawing borders where there were none, all to expand control and influence. In contrast, the Scottish grounds feel honest–untamed, enduring, alive in their own way.
In the fields, thick-coated, black-faced sheep tended their lambs, calling to them in familiar bleats echoing across the countryside. There’s a nurturing quality to this land–wild, yet deeply comforting.
Cherished moments in room 15
Back in room 15, on the very top level of the castle, I pulled a high-backed armchair–upholstered in royal blues and tans that matched the heavy drapes and four-poster bed–to the window. There I sat, absorbing the township below: green rolling hills, leafy trees, and a lone wind turbine on the horizon. A single bird kept flying past the window at the same height, in the same direction, like a loop from a video game.
From the chair, I could hear Lark giggling at RaRa’s hilarious antics as they sang and engaged in life’s daily ritual of getting ready to explore the day. Their joy is grounding–a sweet, modern contrast to the echoes of history in these old stone walls. A soundtrack that will keep me warm as a little old lady, wistfully yearning for these days once again.
Breakfast at Turrets
When 7am rolled around, it was time for a full Scottish breakfast at Turrets Restaurant–our old favourite, haggis, made a welcome appearance alongside a new addition: black pudding. Lark enjoyed hers with a generous dollop of strawberry jam. I simply enjoyed mine, no questions asked.
Farewell to the castle
We lingered in our top-floor room for as long as checkout would allow, soaking up the last of that castle magic. Then it was time to venture downstairs, say our goodbyes to the deers trophies and hamish the highland cow doorstop, and give a final wave to the turrets as we drove off toward our next stop: Glenmorangie Distillery!
