The Curious Case of Rose and Laurie

Shades of Rose and Laurie?
(Unknown Climbers, Arran’s A’Chir Ridge)

A Victorian Murder-Mystery in the Mountains of Arran

This blog concerns a true story - a real-life crime drama - which brought infamy to the otherwise sedate Isle of Arran during Victorian times. I remember hearing rumours of this incident during my own early visits to Arran over a century later, vague whispers which I quietly filed away as folklore or local legend. I was interested, yes, but was far too busy holiday-making to pay it much heed.

All of this changed during 2022’s annual trip to the island, when I picked up a copy of Calum Smith’s 2020 book, The Goatfell Murder, in an Arran bookstore. I devoured the contents eagerly, and found that the tale which emerged - sordid as it was - held a certain allure. This was perhaps fuelled by my love of the island’s wee hills, which formed an unlikely cradle for the crime. For me, this pocket wilderness had always been a happy place… yet it’s funny how the mystique of mountains, especially if swayed by brooding skies or a sombre frame of mind, is often tempered by menace.

But how did I relate to the incident itself? And why did it grab me so much? It was hardly trending news. In fact, occurring high on a mountain, so long ago, this grim affair was the very definition of a ‘cold case’.

Yet if the drama seemed remote from my world in terms of time - not only distant but sepia-tinged - it was less separated in space. I discovered that, since my very first adventures on Arran back in 1998, I’d trodden the same granite peaks on which events had unfolded. More than this, I’d literally crossed paths with the story’s two main protagonists. And unlike the wider world, this rocky arena had remained largely unchanged through the intervening decades, the summits stony-faced and impassive as progress marched on far below.

Arran Intrigue

The whole episode was puzzling, too… a curious case of ‘Arran Intrigue’. On a practical level, the treacherous slopes of the Goatfell range were undoubtedly central to the tragic outcome all those years ago - yet the underlying narrative, like the terrain, concealed devious twists and turns. To what extent was this merely a mountaineering accident, as opposed to something altogether more sinister? And if it was sinister, did that automatically make it murder? Generations on, these simple unresolved questions remain at the heart of the mystery.

Brooding Skies (Glen Sannox)… glimpses of Arran’s wild scenery will hopefully frame a more ‘compelling telling’ of this tale! ;-)

I should also stress just how unusual this case really is. While murder-mysteries are ten-a-penny in TV drama or literary fiction, this is the only known murder trial resulting from a real-life incident in the British hills. Yes, similar occurrences have occasionally been reported from semi-wild, urbanised landscapes such as Arthur’s Seat (in Edinburgh). And in extreme cases, remote tracts of woodland or moorland have inevitably (horribly) been used to dispose of bodies. Yet our high mountains have remained mercifully free of serious crime… with this single grisly exception! :-0

Scene of the Crime…
Arran’s Goatfell Range forms a backdrop to craggy Cìr Mhòr
(Viewed from the summit slopes of Caisteal Abhail)

Given the acknowledged influence of The Goatfell Murder, I should credit Calum Smith - plus his own varied sources - with many of the details outlined below. Yet I don’t want this blog to purely précis Smith’s book (which I recommend, by the way, despite my lack of commission!). Instead, my prompt for writing this piece is the realisation that, like an alpine dot-to-dot, I’d unwittingly traced much of the route followed by Rose and Laurie on that fateful day back in Victorian times. With a fair wind, I might be able to add some insights from a humble hill wanderer’s perspective? And even if not, there’s a certain novelty to viewing 19th century events (and landscapes) through a 21st century lens.

Talking of lenses… as you might have guessed, I’ve managed to unearth a few archived holiday snaps with which to illustrate the scene of the crime (although I was merrily oblivious to this when I took them!). In their own modest manner, without disrespecting the tragedy of the underlying story, I hope that these images might also serve to celebrate the grandeur of Arran’s scenery. The island may be small in scale, but it isn’t called Scotland in Miniature for nothing! :-)

Hill-snaps and Smith’s book aside, the final catalyst for this blog came during my May 2023 Arran trip, when I at last visited the old cemetery at the entrance to Glen Sannox. This patch of hallowed ground is hidden away from the road, although easily accessible from the track which winds its way into this most stunning of glens. I’d previously stumbled past on a number of occasions, but was always hurrying to or from the hills in various states of excitement or fatigue. This time I was on a more leisurely family outing, with the opportunity of slowing down and taking things in. And besides, having by now absorbed The Goatfell Murder, I knew that I wanted to pay homage to a certain grave. Perhaps more of a shrine than a grave, poignantly marked by a lone granite boulder.

Acting the Goat(fell)…
the cover of Calum Smith’s otherwise meticulous book, ‘The Goatfell Murder’, actually depicts the Rosa Pinnacle on neighbouring Cìr Mhòr; this is my own take on it from September 2018

Before I circle back to this final resting place, and explain why it moved me so much, it’s only fitting that I should replay events from the beginning. First and foremost, this means exploring the history and ramifications of the incident itself, and better acquainting ourselves with the scene of the crime. For a crime it certainly was. The thing which is less clear cut, and which continues to provide intrigue to this day, is the nature and scale of that crime.

The Bonnie Clyde

To tell this tale properly, we first have to wind back the clock to the summer of 1889. The Industrial Revolution is in full swing… and for all of its hardship and grime, the concept of the decadent summer holiday has arrived for those who are lucky enough to escape the city smog for a week or two. In this part of the world - around the Firth of Clyde - the sight-seeing craze has met the golden age of the paddle steamer, with the annual Glasgow Fair spilling over into booming coastal resorts such as Largs, Dunoon and Millport. Or Rothesay, on the Isle of Bute, where a 32-year-old English tourist named Edwin Robert Rose has taken up residence at an exclusive seafront hotel.

Edwin Rose - known to family and friends as Ned - works as a London builder’s clerk, but has been drawn to Scotland by his well-to-do employer’s son (a Reverend Goodman). Ned is a natty dresser, a well groomed single man with luxuriant Victorian moustache. Seemingly affable and unassuming, he quickly strikes up friendships with fellow guests: most notably, a pair of young gents from Linlithgow named Francis Mickel and William Thom. Their shared Rothesay hotel, the Glenburn Hydropathic, apparently looks as grand as it sounds.

A View to Die For…
the shapely peak of Goatfell -
Arran’s highest point -
is glimpsed from a shady corner
of a different cemetery,
at the entrance to Glen Rosa

Many accounts of this era are a little clichéd, leading us to imagine our Glenburn gadabouts serenading young ladies along the prom before retiring for a game of tennis or a tootle round the bay. Such stereotypes can easily obscure the real lives beneath - though, to be fair, reports do indicate that Ned is particularly fond of his tennis suit and yachting cap!

Either way, as a teetotaler who carries a ‘medicinal’ hip-flask, we can surmise that behind Ned’s straight-laced persona lurks a twinkle in the eye. And the Firth of Clyde offers him the perfect getaway, being cosy and refined yet quietly exotic in its nod to the mysterious Highlands and Islands. It must seem a far cry from Ned’s crime-ridden and often squalid home city, where Jack the Ripper has been brutally stealing the headlines for the past year.

Not exactly Whitechapel… Arran’s Pirnmill Hills are a far cry from Jack the Ripper’s London - here, we are looking across Kilbrannan Sound and Kintyre to the distant Paps of Jura

At some point during the holiday, Ned and his companions steam to the renowned Isle of Arran aboard the Ivanhoe. En route, they engage in conversation with a fellow passenger, a 28-year-old pattern-maker from Glasgow who introduces himself as John Annandale.

Annandale is also a natty dresser; perhaps vainly so, with observers commenting on his unusually white teeth and penchant for wearing knickerbockers. As they chat, he and Ned possibly discover other things in common - both play the violin and are involved in Sunday school - or more likely, they bond over a shared love of landscape as their boat draws level with Arran and steams past the esteemed scenic marvels of Glen Sannox and the surrounding granite peaks.

If Ned and John are both drawn to the high life, the jagged profile of Arran’s northern mountains dangles the carrot of a literal high life. Here is an obvious challenge to anyone seeking adventure, bringing a wedge of Highland wilderness to the otherwise genteel surroundings. And if vanity or one-upmanship does indeed play a part, these hills could conceal some mountain-sized bragging rights. It soon becomes clear that their initial day-trip just won’t do the place justice.

So Ned and John decide to come straight back to Arran for a few days, seemingly on a whim or a dare, to explore the island and ‘bag’ its highest summit. John indicates that he’s climbed it before, which bestows a certain authority and makes him the pair’s de-facto guide.

Having returned to Arran, John secures basic lodgings in a Brodick outbuilding owned by a Mrs Walker. Space is at a premium, but Ned is granted permission to squeeze in. The accommodation is sparse, with only one bed, and John alone is offered a place at the breakfast table in the main house. Still, Ned is not disposed to complain - after all, adventure beckons. Outside the door, the impressive cone of Goatfell - their target peak - dominates the view across the bay.

The Cone of Goatfell… seen across Glenrosa Water (Brodick seashore)

The Mountains of Arran, seen from the south
Goatfell is the high, prominent peak on the right-hand (east) side

Friends In High Places

Despite forming such a quickfire friendship, we should remember that the two men are actually strangers to each other. This leaves plenty of room for secrets - and unbeknownst to Ned, John is harbouring a pretty significant one. I was careful with my words earlier when I said that Ned’s new friend ‘introduces himself’ as John Annandale - for in truth, this isn’t really his name at all. Annandale is actually John Watson Laurie, a man whose pseudonym provides cover for his nefarious activities as a petty thief. Laurie (a.k.a. Annandale) has an unfortunate habit of leaving lodgings without paying, and only a few months previously had been arrested for pilfering jewellery (settled behind the scenes by his father).

Like Ned, Laurie is currently vacationing on Bute, apparently choosing this location to keep tabs on (stalk?) a young woman who’d turned down his advances. He is doubtless impressed to learn of Ned’s salubrious Rothesay hotel, pegging him as a wealthy lone traveller. It seems that Laurie is also something of an opportunist: when he disembarks on Arran, for example, he does so clutching a conspicuous yellow holdall which he’s believed to have ‘acquired’ from a hapless fellow passenger on the steamer. From the outset, it’s possible that Ned is being groomed for similar treatment.

They are joined on Arran by their new-found pals, Mickel and Thom, who in turn arrange introductions to noteworthy ‘friends of friends’. Mountaineering aspirations are put on hold as time passes in something of a social whirl.

One excursion finds the group in Corrie - a small coastal community beneath the eastern slopes of Goatfell - where they take tea at the holiday residence of the Gilmours, a high-flying father-and-son team. Young Andrew Gilmour is a 24-year-old medical student, while the elder Dr Gilmour (also called Andrew) is a prestigious physician and long-standing Provost and Sheriff of Linlithgow (the West Lothian home town of Mickel and Thom, famed for its grand ruined palace). Younger and elder Gilmour are each destined to feature in subsequent events, the eminent doctor in a rather grisly professional capacity.

Perhaps even topping tea with the Gilmours, another of Mickel and Thom’s friends can be found bobbing around on a private yacht in Brodick Bay. This is William Horton Smith*, an outdoor enthusiast who apparently possesses knowledge of both sailing and mountaineering. Mickel and Thom are in fact staying on the yacht, while Ned and Laurie pay it a visit. Learning of the planned Goatfell expedition, Smith sources a pair of gaiters for Ned, and possibly offers expert advice on hill-craft and local navigation. Indeed, this may be how Ned and Laurie hear of a cross-country option for linking Goatfell to the celebrated Glen Sannox (though a smattering of guidebooks describe similar routes, albeit sketchily).

*Not to be confused with WH Smith, the British ‘High Street’ retail company.

Echoes of Smith’s Yacht?
Boats in Brodick Bay, Arran…
Goatfell and Brodick Castle beyond

Aside from high tea at Corrie and shindigs on yachts, the group hang out in coffee shops and play billiards in the decadent Douglas Hotel (where I will stay myself over a century later, slightly less decadently, during my own inaugural visit to Arran). The merry gang of tourists gradually expands to comprise not only Rose and Laurie, then Mickel and Thom, but also the ever-resourceful Smith.

Sunshine and Rainbows…
Rose and Laurie’s party view Holy Isle from Lamlash in the run-up to ascending Goatfell;
here, we are on the hallowed slopes of Holy Isle, looking back to the shadowed Goatfell Range

On their penultimate day, they tramp over the hill from Brodick to Lamlash - where the hallowed form of Holy Isle dominates the bay - before tirelessly tramping back again. Ned and Laurie then continue right through Brodick and into Glen Rosa, almost forging on into the equally-esteemed Glen Sannox (which they are ever keener to view at close quarters). This is clearly the heyday of the bracing power-walk!

Reading between the lines, however, all is not sweetness and light (or even sunshine and rainbows). Yes, the group are outwardly having a rare old time as social wheels are greased and Arran reveals her hidden delights. Yet Laurie seems slightly withdrawn, complaining of toothache and occasionally disappearing for prolonged stretches. He even hints that Ned has imposed himself for the duration of their visit, casting doubt on the strength of their burgeoning friendship. (On the other hand, if Laurie is genuinely frustrated over Ned’s presence, perhaps he hasn’t invited him along to be scammed after all?)

Notwithstanding Laurie’s apparent wavering, he and Ned plan to ascend Goatfell on their final day together. Mickel repeatedly advises Ned against it, seemingly with mounting suspicion of their mutual companion. Using the Victorian vernacular, he claims that Laurie is ‘not a clean potato’. But Ned evidently wants to climb Goatfell (with or without a soiled spud), and this is his sole opportunity before returning home to the workaday bustle and busy-ness of London.

The Fateful Ascent

On the day in question - Monday 15th July - Ned and Laurie delay their expedition in order to wave off Mickel and Thom on the afternoon steamer. This makes them curiously late starting; you might say irresponsibly late, given that they intend to go right over the summit of Goatfell, traverse the knobbly ‘Stacach’ ridge, and descend via a hazardous route into Glen Sannox.

Or perhaps they set off suspiciously late, if the pair’s scheming leader actually wants to place his quarry in a remote, secluded location as darkness begins to fall? It’s certainly a possibility, though I’d be wary of reading too much into it. When I first climbed Goatfell myself, with two friends back in 1998, we only decided to ‘go for it’ after lunch in the Corrie Hotel, departing similarly late in the day. Much like our infamous forebears, we ended up traipsing over the summit and traversing the high granite blocks of ‘The Stacach’… before, in our case, stumbling back down to Corrie in the evening gloaming. Our lack of organisation was because we were basically young and carefree, not because anyone had murder in mind (though I can’t speak for my companions’ inner musings during that dark stumbling descent!). ;-)

Anyway, back to 1889, and Ned and Laurie’s own late afternoon ascent: they pick up the tourist track from Cladach (near Brodick) around 4pm, keen to make up for lost time. Onward and upward they go, through Brodick Castle’s lush woodland and out onto the heathery open hillside. Here they catch up some other walkers, a party of three with whom Ned converses while Laurie (his silent guide) presses on ahead. A short rain shower intervenes as they crest the east ridge, beyond which the terrain steepens and becomes bouldery.

Then, finally… success! Ned and Laurie are seen to reach the top around 6pm, and admire that famous view. Though Laurie remains a little quiet, they are seemingly in good spirits (if not ‘high’ spirits!).

Goatfell from Cladach Beach…
Near the start of the tourist track followed by Rose and Laurie

Popular as Goatfell is (and was, even back then), its summit has few visitors at this hour on a Monday. Curiously, however, one of Ned and Laurie’s random fellow ascensionists - from the aforementioned party of three - is a Reverend Hind from Paisley, an (alleged) associate of Ned’s friend Reverend Goodman (who knows Ned from London and drew him to the Firth of Clyde for the present holiday).

It remains unknown (to me, at least) whether this is a genuine coincidence, or indeed whether Ned and Rev Hind made the connection as they chatted. Doubtless they would have spoken either way, as people do when the shared bond of wilderness breaks down the usual barriers of privacy and reserve. It would have been ‘irreverent’ not to! :-0

“Goat-fell-it on the Mountain” (as the song goes!) - Arran’s highest peak, viewed from the Ardrossan-Brodick ferry
The solid annotated line marks the standard tourist route from Brodick (specifically Cladach), which Ned Rose and John Laurie followed (more or less) for their July 1889 ascent,
before traversing the bobbly North Ridge (‘The Stacach’) and descending on the far side of the col beyond North Goatfell.
(The dashed line denotes my own cross-country ascent route of October 2018, with descent down the solid line.)

Then, as now, the majority of successful summiteers return by simply reversing their ascent route. If they’ve climbed Goatfell via the established path from Cladach (or a similarly well-worn route from Corrie), this is by far the safest option. As mentioned, however, Ned and Laurie harbour grander aspirations. Unlike their fellow walkers, they head north from the summit, along a ridge of bobbly granite tors known as ‘The Stacach’. Beyond this they hope to descend remote, rugged terrain into Glen Sannox, either for aesthetic reasons (the glen is justifiably famed for its ‘savage grandeur’), or because one of the party has a dark ulterior motive. Either way, when Rev Hind observes the two men leaving Goatfell summit around 6:20pm, it is the last time Ned Rose is seen alive.

Planet Granite…
Approaching Goatfell summit from the south
(Rose and Laurie’s ascent is via the right-hand skyline)

The next confirmed sighting of Laurie is close to 10pm that evening. Just down off the hill, he turns up for ‘last orders’ at the Corrie Hotel, where he chats with local campers. Aside from failing to mention his missing companion, he doesn’t appear to behave suspiciously - and strangely, given later accusations, there is no sign of blood on his person or attire.

Suitably refreshed, Laurie leaves on foot for a late night trek back to Brodick. He departs his lodgings early the following morning, without settling his bill with Mrs Walker. He is seen on the Arran ferry with two bags, presumed to be his own (the yellow one stolen earlier) and Ned’s (newly stolen from their shared room). The witness who subsequently reports this is none other than young Andrew Gilmour, evidently also leaving the island (from Corrie) early that same morning. Back on dry land, Laurie and Gilmour go on to share a train compartment.

A High Wire Act…
Looking back along ‘The Stacach’
(Rose and Laurie’s route upon leaving Goatfell summit)

Initially returning to Glasgow, Laurie then resumes his holiday in Rothesay - where, bizarrely, he is observed wearing his absent friend’s tennis suit and yachting cap. It is clearly suspicious that he is in possession of his companion’s clothing, yet equally baffling that he would choose to wear these items if he had indeed just murdered their rightful owner. After all, this is a place where they share mutual friends or acquaintances, and where Ned himself was based until his recent ill-fated foray to Arran.

Then again, it may have been widely known amongst his fellow holiday-makers that Ned was returning to London shortly after his Goatfell expedition. Perhaps because of this, his sudden disappearance from Arran (or Rothesay) at first goes unnoticed. However, being from a close-knit family of seven siblings, this won’t be the case for long. Three days after his portentous climb, Ned is due to meet one of his brothers at a London train station. When he fails to arrive, frantic enquiries are made. It is quickly established that Ned has not been seen since attempting Goatfell with a man named Annandale - who did return, only to flee his lodgings. The Rose clan, with Arran police, rally over 200 volunteers for a painstaking search of the Goatfell range.

A Gruesome Discovery

The initial searches draw a blank - there’s a lot of ground to cover, much of it treacherous - but on the afternoon of Sunday 4th August, almost three weeks since Ned went missing, a gruesome discovery is made by a hill-combing Corrie fisherman (with the elder Dr Gilmour hot on his heels).

Ned’s body is found beneath a large boulder in Coire nam Fuaran, on a secluded cross-country descent route between North Goatfell and Glen Sannox. Some of his possessions, including a walking stick and torn waterproof, are strewn across the steeper slopes above. This is hazardous terrain, a landscape of gullies and granite slabs. Two mini-cliffs of 19 feet and 32 feet provide ample opportunity for a fatal fall.

The Mountains of Arran from the upper slopes of Caisteal Abhail
The small red x marks the steepening terrain on Rose and Laurie’s descent route from the skyline notch above;
the incident is focused just below this, with Rose’s boulder situated midway between the x and the ‘Coire nam Fuaran’ label.

Ground Zero - A Scene of ‘Savage Grandeur’
A Closer View of the Mullach Buidhe/North Goatfell Skyline;
X marks the start of Rose and Laurie’s fateful descent; the red F marks the location of Ned’s suspected fall, his body being concealed beneath a boulder at B.

And a fall may well have been the cause of death, for Ned clearly has non-survivable head injuries. As well as suffering multiple skull fractures, his face is barely recognisable. A subsequent post-mortem at the Corrie Hotel coach-house (courtesy of Dr Gilmour and colleague) will identify several displaced vertebrae, a dislocated shoulder, broken ribs and a buttock wound. All of the major injuries are on the body’s left-hand side.

This would usually be put down to a simple mountaineering accident, albeit an especially horrific one for poor Ned and his family.

And yet… there is clearly more to it than this.

Upon discovery, it immediately becomes apparent that Ned’s remains have not come to rest naturally beneath the boulder. He has been consciously secreted here, and a deliberate attempt made to conceal the corpse… maybe even, grotesque as it sounds, to obliterate his facial features. The entrance to the hidey-hole - known to hill-folk as a howff - is blocked by stones, leaving just a protruding arm. Some of the stones are actually on top of the body, as though crudely and coldly burying it. Rather than visual confirmation, it is the unfortunate odour of decomposition which gives the game away to the anguished searcher who makes the discovery.

Furthermore, Ned’s pockets have been turned out. It seems that he has been robbed, most likely posthumously. He is known to have carried a gold watch and chain, for example, which is conspicuous by its absence.

Roving the Goatfell Range
Goatfell (left) and North Goatfell, viewed from Mullach Buidhe… Ned’s fatal descent route starts from the col just beyond the foreground granite outcrop, dropping down steep broken ground to the right

Perhaps influenced by this litany of suspicious evidence, the doctors who initially examine Ned’s body (including the ubiquitous Dr Gilmour) conclude that his head injuries are the result of repeated blows from a heavy instrument, such as a rock. Other medical experts disagree, pronouncing the trauma consistent with a serious fall. But even if the latter is true: did he fall, or was he pushed?

We may never know the answer to this. We do know, however, that Laurie’s behaviour in the aftermath of the incident continues to elicit suspicion (to put it mildly). Upon learning that a search is underway for a missing English tourist on Goatfell, Laurie immediately quits his job and goes on the run. Leaving Glasgow - and his nearby home town of Coatbridge - he remains a fugitive for a number of weeks, travelling throughout the UK and Ireland. Laurie knows the game is up when police discover that he is synonymous with the mysterious Annandale.

(Francis Mickel helps the authorities to identify their man… while Laurie’s long-standing friend James Aitken, who knows him as Laurie and was one of the Bute holiday set, also presents the police with key evidence.)

While evading the law, Laurie protests his innocence in letters to the press. In one such letter, he claims that he left Ned on the summit of Goatfell in the company of two men from Lochranza (a village on Arran’s northern tip). Ned descends to Brodick with these strangers (or plans to), while Laurie himself heads down to Corrie to meet with friends. Laurie magnanimously declines to name these friends (which unfortunately means they can’t corroborate his story), though he may have had the Gilmours in mind (two men from Linlithgow, as opposed to Lochranza).

The Stacach Ridge leading to North Goatfell… viewed from a point just below where Ned was last seen alive by Rev Hind

The described parting on Goatfell summit clearly doesn’t tally with the eye-witness testimony of Rev Hind and other hill-walkers, though it does - if taken at face value - conveniently send Ned in the opposite direction to where his body is found.

This will prove to be the first, and perhaps least plausible, of several differing accounts which Laurie gives over the ensuing years. His shifting tales seem driven almost by whim or tactic-of-the-day, as opposed to anything more truthful. (Much later Laurie confesses to the full murder, though even this appears dubious… it occurs when he hopes to be released from prison, cognisant that an acceptance of culpability is his best chance of achieving parole.)

The hunt for Laurie garners national interest, for a while usurping even Jack the Ripper on the front pages. The press, and indeed the public, take an all-too-familiar delight in swapping one tale of murder and mayhem for another.

Laurie is finally captured in Lanarkshire on 3rd September (1889). Upon being chased and cornered by police, he unsuccessfully attempts suicide with a razorblade. In the heat of the moment, he then exclaims what might possibly be a succinct summary of the entire case:

“I robbed the man but I did not murder him!”

The Scottish court disagrees, though Laurie’s murder conviction is by the slimmest of margins: 8 Guilty verdicts against 7 Not Proven. The jury’s split decision is hardly surprising, given that the polarising accounts of defence and prosecution are equally tenuous. Laurie’s defence reverts to his story of descending Goatfell separately to Ned - effectively pleading total innocence - which does little to explain the defendant’s highly suspicious behaviour after the event. By contrast, the prosecution claims that Laurie lured poor Ned to a remote hillside and beat him to death with a rock… assisted where required by a shove over a cliff, possibly after drugging him. There is no hard evidence for this, and a motive of only petty theft.

The middle ground of a mountaineering accident combined with opportunist theft - the latter in line with Laurie’s character, and prompting ever-spiraling measures of concealment and subterfuge - does not appear to have been formally considered. Indeed, Laurie is never tried for the lesser offences of robbery or theft, despite this line of reasoning presenting far more of an open and shut case. Instead, the jury are effectively forced into an ‘all or nothing’ scenario. And while the evidence for cold-blooded murder is purely circumstantial, Laurie’s shady past and obvious evasions (including his use of the Annandale pseudonym) weigh in firmly for the prosecution.

Morning Light, Glen Rosa… for Ned and Laurie,
this peaceful arena is very much the ‘Calm Before the Storm’

All too predictably, Laurie is initially sentenced to hang… though with the clock ticking down, this is commuted to life imprisonment on grounds akin to insanity. And rightly or wrongly, in this instance, ‘life’ does indeed mean ‘life’. By the time he dies in 1930, still incarcerated at the grand old age of 69, Laurie has become Scotland’s longest-serving prisoner.

(For those interested in Laurie’s prison years, the latter part of Calum Smith’s The Goatfell Murder contains some meticulous research. This reveals Laurie to have been quite the wordsmith, many of his prison letters - by modern standards, at least - coming across as almost comically verbose.)

Gathering Storm, Glen Rosa…
Explored by Ned and Laurie the day before their fateful ascent of Goatfell

Given his lifetime in jail, and with his status as a murderer open to doubt, John Laurie may himself be an unwitting victim of this whole tragic affair. Yet what of the story’s more obvious victim, the hapless Edwin Rose?

Well, in life, Ned never did achieve his goal of treading the celebrated Glen Sannox. In death, however, his mortal remains were carried down this way. To be melodramatic, you might say that Ned completed his journey - both literally and metaphorically - through a hallowed portal to whatever lies beyond.

Departing Storm, Glen Sannox…
A ‘Hallowed Portal’, visited by Ned only in death

After the post-mortem at the Corrie Hotel - ironically, the same establishment that Laurie had reached for post-walk refreshment (or to establish an alibi?) - Ned is laid to rest at Sannox Cemetery. Services are held at both Corrie and Sannox, attended by his brother Benjamin (who had been active in the search). A large number of local people also pay their respects. For better or worse, Ned couldn’t have remained any closer to the scene of the incident which sadly ended his life.

Supposition and Suggestion

Before I come full circle and pay my own respects at the cemetery, I’d like to consider some of the supposition and suggestion about what might have really happened all those years ago on the Goatfell range. And let me say from the outset that I don’t claim to know how events unfolded… if I’ve hinted at a hybrid accident/theft scenario, that’s largely because it’s a plausible solution that was given short thrift at the trial. But the fact is, there simply isn’t enough evidence to determine this for sure. The forensic leads have long since been lost, while the actors and witnesses can no longer be quizzed. We can only really speculate, and weigh up the odds.

Arran’s Northern Wilderness…
This vista from the Pirnmill Hills, over Loch Tanna to the distant Goatfell Range (centre), is largely unchanged since Victorian times. Back then, the island’s four highest peaks had yet to be dubbed ‘Corbetts’… however, interest in outdoor exploration was ramping up. Perhaps balancing the negativity of the ‘Goatfell Murder’, 1889 was also the year that the esteemed Scottish Mountaineering Club was formed, one of its founding members being Sir Hugh Munro (who listed all of Scotland’s 3,000-footers).

But what, if anything, can be gleaned from basic hill-walking considerations?

Well, if we focus on the case for the prosecution - that Ned was lured to a remote corner of the hills and then battered with a rock - it seems to me that two key questions arise.

Firstly, were Ned and Laurie on a viable route, one which may have been followed in the absence of pre-meditated foul play?

And secondly, is it likely that a mountaineering accident (i.e. a serious fall, as opposed to murder) might have occurred in the vicinity of where Ned’s body was found?

From my own experience of the Goatfell range, the answer to both of these questions is a resounding “Yes”.

In terms of the route, Ned and Laurie were admittedly taking a risk by heading north from Goatfell so late in the day, as opposed to simply returning to Brodick the way they’d come (or descending via the alternative path to Corrie). Yet we have evidence to suggest that they were keen to visit Glen Sannox, which in Victorian times was even more revered than it is today. And as mentioned, I can personally relate to their calculated gamble, for I’ve also departed Goatfell summit along ‘The Stacach’ as evening shadows began to lengthen.

In my case (and maybe theirs), this gamble was taken primarily because the aesthetics of a mountain route - its challenge, intricacies or even degree of circularity - can feel just as important as reaching the main summit.

So let’s say that our two hapless wanderers have their hearts set on linking Goatfell to Glen Sannox. And let’s also say that they’ve set off and are approaching the end of ‘The Stacach’, the prominent granite ridge which leads from Goatfell to its rocky sub-top of North Goatfell. Nowadays, the standard route from here to Glen Sannox firstly descends the North-West Ridge of North Goatfell to attain a key col known as ‘The Saddle’.

The Goatfell Range’s western flank, from the slopes of Cìr Mhòr
Rose and Laurie reach Goatfell summit from the far (east) side, then roughly follow the skyline to the X. From here, they descend steeply toward Coire nam Fuaran. Perhaps passing behind the summit tor of North Goatfell, they miss the usual descent route to Glen Sannox via the North-West Ridge and ‘The Saddle’.
The red F marks the location of Ned’s suspected fall; his body is later found beneath a boulder at B.

Challenging terrain around the head of Coire nam Fuaran
The prominent high point at upper right is now known as North Goatfell, though it’s an unnamed granite tor when Rose and Laurie visit this rocky arena back in July 1889. This anonymity, combined with lateness in the day or deteriorating weather, perhaps reduces their desire to reach its true top. As a consequence, by design or otherwise, they miss the established North-West Ridge (foreground), instead tackling steep craggy slopes at background left.

‘The Saddle’ is a crucial landmark for navigating Arran’s northern mountains, forming both a low point (col) between its greatest massifs (locally separating North Goatfell from Cìr Mhòr), and a high point (pass) between its greatest glens (Rosa and Sannox). On the Sannox side of ‘The Saddle’, a sharp downward scramble skirts the crags of Cìr Mhòr before spilling out into the graceful upper reaches of the glen. Then it’s just a question of ambling along the floor of the glen - a beautiful U-shaped valley, punctuated by the gurgling Sannox Burn - and if conditions are kind, admiring that starkly sublime scenery.

Glen Sannox - A Beautiful U-Shaped Valley
(Viewed from Cìr Mhòr Summit, May 2017)

This is a descent route which I followed myself in May 2019, while traversing the southern skyline of Glen Sannox. Unlike Ned and Laurie, I’d ascended the Goatfell range via its precipitous northern outlier (a peak known as Cioch na h’Oighe)… but once I’d crossed the next top along (Mullach Buidhe) and reached the vicinity of North Goatfell, I essentially faced the same decision as my famous forebears: how best to safely descend into Glen Sannox.

I elected to follow the now-standard route described above… yet it’s notable that this isn’t the line which Ned and Laurie found themselves on back in 1889. Their route - swooping into the rocky cirque of Coire nam Fuaran - is, at first glance, something of a shortcut. However, it’s also steep and awkward in its upper reaches, and thereafter largely cross-country (which means stumbling over rocks and into heather-covered hollows).

Today, ironically, I suspect Coire nam Fuaran is mostly frequented by people on Goatfell Murder walking tours! Nonetheless, it is an understandable location for inexperienced or hurried hill-walkers to be tempted into, especially in Victorian times (when there were fewer paths or guidebooks, and scant use of map-and-compass).

My own solo foray along the southern Glen Sannox skyline (May 2019), treading much the same ground as Rose and Laurie 130 years earlier;
the prominent image at top-right depicts the notorious granite ‘Rock Monster’ (as I call it), which straddles the North-West Ridge of North Goatfell.
(I wish I could credit the friendly walker who took my photo atop North Goatfell, lower-right; beyond, she did a fine job of capturing Cìr Mhòr, Caisteal Abhail and the spell-binding Witch’s Step!)

There are, moreover, very good reasons for missing the North Goatfell turn-off which marks the top of the standard route. For hill-walkers leaving Goatfell summit and traversing ‘The Stacach’, the least demanding line of attack - especially if wary of heights or short on time - is to by-pass the gnarly granite tors which punctuate the crest of the ridge, and instead follow a trail slightly lower down on the right-hand (eastern) side. The logical extension of this approach is to by-pass the actual summit of North Goatfell, and to make an inadvertent beeline for the lower of two minor cols between North Goatfell and Mullach Buidhe. And this spot directly overlooks the enticing gully which leads down into Coire nam Fuaran… i.e. the exact same route which Ned and Laurie took.

It’s sobering to think that the beautiful vista from this col - if conditions were clear - is effectively Ned’s last view…

Descent Option #1 - Cìr Mhòr and Caisteal Abhail from the vicinity of North Goatfell… the granite towers in the lower part of the image mark the daunting line of the NW Ridge

Complex Terrain - Looking back to North Goatfell from its upper NW Ridge… this is the crux of the standard descent route, which Ned and Laurie may have consciously avoided

Descent Option #2 - Overlooking the tempting gully which offers a shortcut into Coire nam Fuaran… the main difficulty (scene of the 1889 incident) is hidden, lower down to the right

It seems likely, in fact, that Ned and Laurie never intended to summit North Goatfell at all. They were essentially tourists rather than peak-baggers, and North Goatfell is basically just a sub-top. Back in 1889, it had yet to be dignified with a name. Even if they did climb it, the view looking down its NW Ridge is decidedly daunting… the upper section of the ridge comprises sheer granite towers and slabs, abutting significant cliffs to the north. This hardly presents itself as an easy option, especially if the viewer is aware that further hazardous terrain lies in wait beneath ‘The Saddle’. So in short, Ned and Laurie may have consciously chosen to avoid the modern-day standard descent route.

Scrambling The Saddle (looking down)…
Coire nam Fuaran can be seen beyond,
beneath the Mullach Buidhe-North Goatfell skyline

Scrambling The Saddle (looking up)…
This steep granite dyke forms the most viable means of bisecting the lower crags of Cìr Mhòr

If we throw in considerations of poor weather (rain or hill-fog may have blown in and made navigation difficult), and add unreliable Victorian guidebooks (some of which misplaced ‘The Saddle’ and other key features), we can see it’s not at all surprising that Ned and Laurie ended up descending sketchy ground into Coire nam Fuaran. So while we can’t rule out nefarious scheming on Laurie’s part, this is hardly a pre-condition of their being there.

As for my second question: is this a likely location for a mountaineering accident?

Well, we’ve already seen that the steep descent into Coire nam Fuaran is a landscape of gullies and granite slabs. The more precipitous sections are masked from above, including those mini-cliffs which were later measured at 19 and 32 feet. Weathered granite can erode into dangerously loose ball bearings, while earlier (perhaps ongoing?) rain showers will have made the pathless terrain slippery.

Furthermore, most hill-walking accidents occur during the descent, when momentum is directed downward and the walker is both mentally and physically tired. Factoring all of this in, and with knowledge of our duo’s presumed route from Brodick to Sannox: if I had to predict a single spot where an accident was likely to befall poor Ned, I’d point to the slopes immediately above the boulder where his body was found.

Crux of the Matter…
Precipitous granite slabs on the line of
North Goatfell’s upper NW Ridge
(not chosen as Laurie’s crime scene)

We can, of course, flip this question on its head, and instead ask: if somebody planned to push a fellow walker over a crag, where would you go in order to perform this dastardly deed?

I don’t intend to dwell on this subject, as it’s disturbingly macabre (and I don’t want to give anyone ideas!). But if you’ll indulge me just slightly… from the briefest of thought experiments, I can pinpoint a number of places on the Goatfell range that would provide a better bet than the chaotic descent into Coire nam Fuaran. Yes, the mini-cliffs and gullies of the corrie headwall are more than capable of delivering a fatal fall (as we’ve seen)… however, if an assailant actually had murder in mind, I suspect this type of terrain might be too broken or scrappy to do the job reliably.

By contrast, there are numerous precipices bordering the skyline above - from the tors of ‘The Stacach’, to the upper NW Ridge of North Goatfell, to the fearsome cliffs of the Devil’s Punchbowl (on the eastern flank of Cioch na h’Oighe) - that would be ideal candidates for a terminal fall.

Or indeed, given that Goatfell is the most populous peak on Arran (by a country mile), why visit the Goatfell range at all for this kind of sordid activity? Suitably primed, I’m sure an eager and adventurous tourist (such as Ned) could just as easily be coaxed onto neighbouring tops and ridgelines. If so, why not take your would-be victim to one of the island’s quieter granite playgrounds, where you have drops galore and are less likely to be caught in the act?

Terminal Velocity…
The upper crags of the Devil’s Punchbowl, somewhere along from Cioch na h’Oighe
(not chosen as Laurie’s crime scene)

Several such venues spring to mind, all within grasping distance of either Glen Rosa or Glen Sannox. The eastern precipices of Beinn Nuis or Beinn Tarsuinn, for instance. Or the notorious A’Chir Ridge (whose mere mention still gives me chills). Next along is Cìr Mhòr, whose Gothic grandeur - almost uniquely among Britain’s hills - offers an equally murderous North or South Face. Then there’s Caisteal Abhail, Arran’s second-highest peak, its craggy summit ‘castles’ guarding the ominous notch of the Witch’s Step (cue yet more chills!). The list goes on: we’re clearly becoming spoilt for choice…

Arran’s A’Chir Ridge…
This is the central (easier) portion, with silhouetted figures giving scale at centre left

A’Crazy Silhouette…
One of the trickier sections of the notorious A’Chir Ridge

Ceum na Caillich, Witch’s Step…
Scene of my own scariest ever scramble!

OK, so maybe Laurie wasn’t familiar with these alternative locations. Perhaps I’m over-thinking it. After all, it’s possible that the Coire nam Fuaran incident was just an opportunist shove, or an ad-hoc altercation resulting from a stressful descent. And admittedly, if the assault was pre-meditated, Laurie might have overlooked the corrie’s drawbacks, deliberately targeting a small, secluded cliff that would allow easy recovery of the body (in order to hide it and pilfer the pockets).

Either way, my real point is: these questions are at least worth asking. For the ensuing deliberation just might conclude that Coire nam Fuaran is a prime location for an accidental fall, less so for pre-meditated murder.

Then again, I may be wrong. Who can really say?

If I were a Scottish juror, I think my two-word summary would have to be: Not Proven.

Cons and Conspiracies

Before wrapping up this analysis, I should go slightly left-field and consider another angle entirely: the possibility that Ned’s untimely demise was the result of a wider plot, or (dare I say it) a conspiracy. In this scenario, Ned is a victim of mountain machinations (if you will), while Laurie himself is potentially framed.

Let me just state at this point that I’m no conspiracy theorist. Almost by definition, nearly all conspiracy theories fail the test of Occam’s Razor (a useful if imprecise maxim that the simplest solution is usually correct). These theories can also assume an unlikely degree of covert efficiency - a caricatured cunning, if you like - on the part of the alleged conspirators.

Nonetheless, we shouldn’t be too put off by the wild internet memes and mis-directions which today’s conspiracy cults seem to attract. Some conspiracies clearly do exist, and good investigators will always follow the evidence as honestly and objectively as they can. The key, I think, is never to become so wedded to your preferred theory that new evidence can’t prompt a change of mind. These days, sadly, online bubbles can all too easily provide echo chambers for this kind of polarisation and entrenchment (though I won’t delve too deeply into this particular rabbit-hole!).

Back in 1889, of course, there were no online conspiracies. And no internet trolls. These peculiarly modern-day delights would be another hundred years or so in the making. However, this doesn’t mean that Victorian trolls didn’t exist… for while culture and technology is ever-evolving, human nature is not so easily changed.

In the context of high-profile murder enquiries, the trolling was traditionally done via mysterious hoaxed letters to police or press. It happened in the Jack the Ripper case (Jack’s iconic name derives from one such letter), and it happened again in connection with the Ripper’s contemporary-in-crime: our Goatfell Murderer, John Laurie.

Yet, while the Ripper case comprised proven crimes in search of a perpetrator, the Goatfell incident comprised an alleged perpetrator in search of an unproven crime. Thus, the masked writer(s) of the Goatfell letters - some of which may have been genuine - were afforded a certain amount of wiggle room in terms of content and direction.

One such mystery letter (addressed to Sheriff Nicolson) is from somebody confessing to Ned’s murder… while another (reaching the Lord Advocate in Edinburgh) is more conspiratorially-minded. The latter, all in block capitals (and doggedly mis-spelling Mickel’s name), reads partially as follows…

“MAN FOUND DEAD AT ARRAN IS THE CARIER THAT TOOK ROSE’S BODY FROM WALKER’S HUT. NOW THEY HAVE DRUGED HIM… THE GILMOURS, MICKIL, THOM, GOODMAN ALL KNOW LAURIE AS LAURIE. HIND DID NOT NEED TO ASK ROSE, FOR GOODMAN AND HIM ARE KNOWN FOR TWO BLACGUARDS IN NEWCASTLE.

THE MAN WAS DEAD LONG BEFORE HE WAS SMASHED AND HIS BODY WAS NOT TAKEN TO THE HOLE ON MONDAY NIGHT. ASK MICKLE. WHAT HE WANTED THE SMITHS YACHT FOR… AITKEN KNOWES ALL THIS AND KNOWS ALL NAMED HERE.”

The Return of Smith’s Yacht?
Arran’s Lamlash Bay - visited by the gang
(including Rose and Laurie) back in 1889

So what do we make of these anonymous revelations (which, by accident or design, aren’t the easiest to comprehend)?

Well, I’m not sure how much of the case background was public knowledge at the time, but the letter writer certainly seems au fait with the main players and events. WALKER’S HUT presumably refers to Mrs Walker’s outbuilding, where Ned and Laurie stayed in Brodick. Then there’s the main cast of characters, who are probably due a quick recap…

• Mickel and Thom (a pair of Linlithgow holiday-makers who make Ned’s acquaintance in Rothesay and then join him and Laurie on Arran);

• The Gilmours (medical father-and-son whose Corrie holiday residence is visited by the gang; Gilmour junior later witnesses Laurie’s fleeing of the island, while Gilmour senior - eminent doctor and Sheriff of Linlithgow - examines Ned’s body and testifies that he’s been fatally assaulted);

• Rev Goodman (the son of Ned’s boss back in London, who is responsible for drawing Ned to the Firth of Clyde on holiday);

• Rev Hind (a touring Paisley clergyman, overtaken by Ned and Laurie during their fateful ascent of Goatfell; he chats with Ned and witnesses him leaving the summit with Laurie);

• William Horton Smith (sailor and mountaineer; the gang socialise aboard his yacht in Brodick Bay, where Mickel and Thom stay while visiting Arran);

• James Aitken (a long-standing friend of Laurie’s who is holidaying on Bute but doesn’t relocate to Arran; whereas Laurie is introduced to his new acquaintances as Annandale, Aitken knows him as Laurie).

Plan It with Granite…
A Fresh Perspective on the Bouldery Goatfell Massif

While I don’t pretend to have deciphered all of the letter’s contents, some of the inferred allegations may be along these lines…

• A Cast of Accomplices:-
  All of the story’s main players (except for poor Ned) apparently know Laurie’s true identity; i.e. they KNOW LAURIE AS LAURIE, being aware from the outset that Annandale is a pseudonym.
  This implies that the listed individuals are either in cahoots with Laurie (to some degree), or perhaps are using him for their own nefarious purposes (e.g. setting him up as a ‘fall guy’… no pun intended!).

• Relative Deceit:-
  As an aside, subsequent research by mountaineer and historian Robin N Campbell (for his 2001 article The Arran Murder of 1889) reveals at least a minor degree of subterfuge concerning the Gilmours. At Laurie’s trial, there is no suggestion that Gilmour Senior and Junior, as respective key witnesses, are in fact related… or that they entertained Ned and Laurie at their Corrie holiday home just a couple of days before the incident. Even if we stop short of outright conspiracy, it seems likely that the esteemed Dr Gilmour (Snr) - whose expert medical testimony is crucial in swaying the narrow murder verdict - will have formed an undeclared pre-conceived impression of the defendant.

• The Irreverent Clergymen:-
  The Reverends Goodman and Hind are actually known to each other, both being linked to (unspecified) scurrilous activities in or around Newcastle (where they did indeed used to reside).
  Since Goodman drew Ned from London to the Firth of Clyde, while Hind is with him on Goatfell, this potentially links Ned’s home/work life to events on the mountain… thus opening up wider cross-connections and motives. (It is unclear what Hind DID NOT NEED TO ASK ROSE… presumably this relates to their conversation on Goatfell?)

• A Posthumous Assault:-
  Ned dies LONG BEFORE HE WAS SMASHED… perhaps this means before his ‘fall’ injuries, or (more likely) before his face is battered with a blunt implement such as a rock (presumably in an attempt to conceal his identity). Remember, it is this assault which the prosecution sees as being central to Ned’s cause of death… yet if it happened after death, this would explain the relative lack of blood. Indeed, combining this point with the next revelation, the lack of blood on Laurie when he descends to the Corrie Hotel could be because the posthumous assault and hiding of Ned’s body hadn’t yet occurred (these being the handiwork of others after the event)…

• A Posthumous Hideaway:-
  Ned’s body WAS NOT TAKEN TO THE HOLE - i.e. it wasn’t hidden beneath the boulder - on the night of his death, i.e. Monday 15th July. If true, this would help to explain one of the more challenging ‘accepted’ sequences of events… that Laurie either witnesses or causes Ned’s death in the corrie (around 7pm?), pilfers his belongings, drags his body over rough ground to the boulder, hides it, builds a retaining wall, then descends alone in creeping darkness to the Corrie Hotel in time for 10pm (where he mingles freely with no blood about his person and no apparent sign of panic). I know people were fit and resourceful in this era (before the spread of motorised transport), yet where do we draw the line of credulity?

Dancing with the Devil…
Skirting the Devil’s Punchbowl, Cioch na h’Oighe
(Sannox Beach at far right)

• Gonna Need a Bigger Boat - The Significance of Smith’s Yacht:-
  It seems that William Horton Smith - the mountaineer with the yacht - is also being drawn into the plot. It’s unclear what his yacht is needed for (we’d need to ASK MICKLE), but it does open up opportunities for moving covertly along the coast between, say, Brodick and Corrie. It could even provide a private means of coming and going between Arran and Bute, which may be relevant if (for example) Mickel and Thom made too much of a show of leaving the island when they were waved off on the afternoon preceding Ned’s demise. As a tantalising postscript, Smith himself will later be convicted of violent assault, suggesting aggressive tendencies which - save for the ‘Goatfell Murder’ itself - are not so readily apparent in the light-fingered Laurie.

Unpicking the Plot

All things considered, you might think that the case for conspiracy is looking pretty convincing. And you might be right. But have we considered all things? I’ve hinted above that I’ve struggled to accept the timeline which is required for Laurie to have committed his dastardly deeds. And it’s true, this is a real challenge. However, it may be possible to mitigate these concerns by considering two additional factors…

Firstly, did Laurie (or other concealers of Ned’s body) really need to construct the wall of stones at the base of the boulder, or was this loose structure already present? In other words, was the boulder and its hidey-hole already in use as a makeshift shelter by shepherds, climbers or wild campers?

This question wasn’t explored at all at Laurie’s trial, though inferences can be drawn from the Goatfell searchers’ original accounts. (If the court lacked mountaineering rigour, this is ironic considering that the presiding Sheriff was Alexander Nicolson, a famed pioneer who first climbed - and lent his name to - Sgurr Alasdair, highest peak in the Cuillin of Skye.)

As highlighted in Robin Campbell’s 2001 article, the reported presence of turf between some of the piled stones implies an attempt at draught-proofing… which in turn suggests that the boulder did indeed serve as a pre-existing howff.

If so, no time-consuming collecting and arranging of stones is necessary on the part of the covert body-concealer(s). As a point for the prosecution (not that they needed it!), Laurie’s challenging timelines have become just a little bit easier.

Beware ‘Adverse Camber’
(though all in a day’s work for WH Murray!)… a granite skyscraper terminates in the precarious Rosa Pinnacle -
Cìr Mhòr, South Face

As a logical corollary to this line of thought, we might also ask ourselves whether Laurie (or accomplices) actually knew about the howff before stumbling upon it, implying a previously-unsuspected degree of pre-meditation. Certainly this would be a highly specialised piece of knowledge to possess… yet it’s not impossible.

In his classic 1951 book, Undiscovered Scotland, climber WH Murray recounts an epic ascent of the Rosa Pinnacle on neighbouring Cìr Mhòr. Looking for a bivouac beneath the mountain’s ‘cyclopean walls’, Murray boasts that one of his companions, the redoubtable Norman Tennent, “knows the size and shape and relative merits of every stone on Arran big enough to shelter man or beast”. Tennent’s boulder-lore is apparently so renowned that he “could stow away a whole mountaineering club on the bare slopes of an Arran hill.”

Such intimate familiarity with the mountains is clearly rare… though back in 1889, we do have one potential candidate in William Horton Smith, our story’s resident outdoor enthusiast. And intriguingly, just to re-iterate, Smith later picks up a criminal conviction for violent assault.

It’s admittedly tenuous, but perhaps this means that the ‘turf-in-wall’ revelation is edging us back in the direction of conspiracy after all? (As in any worthwhile plot, the same piece of evidence can be used to support opposing theories!)

Living on the Edge…
A lone (unknown) walker on Mullach Buidhe summit,
viewed from the northern end of the Goatfell massif

On the Brink… the author on Mullach Buidhe summit,
peering over the edge into Coire nam Fuaran
(whose craglets are largely hidden from above)

Taking the High Road… on North Goatfell’s upper NW Ridge, with Coire nam Fuaran below to the right; the ridge route to The Saddle goes over, or left of, the foreground pinnacle

The second consideration which might ease Laurie’s timeline is the route which he took to the Corrie Hotel (where we know he arrived before 10pm).

Since he and Ned were clearly descending into Coire nam Fuaran, which in turn leads to Glen Sannox, an assumption has often been made that this doubled as Laurie’s line of escape. Timings have been estimated accordingly; reconstructions, even. Yet this presumed route is far from the most direct line between Ned’s boulder and the Corrie Hotel. It’s rough and cross-country - not to mention being on the wrong bearing - until landing in the base of Glen Sannox far below. The glen then leads to Sannox village, whereupon a further trek along the coast is required to reach Corrie.

The Coire Lan Route to Corrie (Goatfell beyond)…
considerably easier terrain than the Coire nam Fuaran side!

Instead, by first re-ascending the headwall of Coire nam Fuaran (this is the counter-intuitive part), Laurie would have found himself on the established Coire Lan path which leads straight down the Goatfell massif’s eastern slopes to Corrie.

This is the descent route which I followed during my own first Goatfell expedition… and even on my later round of the South Glen Sannox skyline, I had this path in mind as an emergency escape in the event of injury or poor weather on the high tops (despite being parked at Sannox, not Corrie).

I wonder if this was also Laurie’s emergency exit - one which might have saved him some crucial time in his rush to order refreshments and/or establish an alibi down at the hotel bar?

For balance, I should point out that a local shepherd did report seeing a rushing man near Sannox around 9:00-9:30pm… but two female companions later contradicted this, casting doubt on the reliability of his account. One of Laurie’s own subsequent accounts mentions descending via the Coire Lan path to Corrie, so we know that he was aware of it. Robin Campbell suggests that this may have been Ned and Laurie’s intended descent route all along, regarding their fatal foray into Coire nam Fuaran as a simple navigational error. And this is plausible… the error would just involve descending west instead of east from the North Goatfell/Mullach Buidhe col, which is feasible if disorientated by poor visibility.

Yet, as with the turf-walled howff, knowledge of the Corrie descent route doesn’t really shed any light on the conspiracy angle. It might increase the odds of the single-person perpetrator (by easing Laurie’s timelines), but it doesn’t preclude the involvement of accomplices (who he may have been hurrying down to Corrie to meet). So let me briefly round off all of this conspiracy talk…

Looking down toward Corrie from the vicinity of Mullach Buidhe (the blue background isn’t sky but the Firth of Clyde!)

Now if this were a fictional crime drama - if, say, Shetland or Vera were set on Arran - we can see that a number of intriguing scenarios might present themselves. (Given the case’s age, perhaps I should instead evoke Agatha Christie… or the era-appropriate Sherlock Holmes?)

Maybe Laurie is used as a ‘patsy’, knowingly or unknowingly, to deliver Ned Rose to murderous accomplices on the Goatfell range. (This could be neatly squared with Laurie’s original account of leaving Ned with ‘two men from Lochranza’.) Laurie might still have theft in mind (of Ned’s bag from their lodgings), little suspecting that the accomplices have a wider motive for murder.

Or maybe Laurie does indeed witness Ned fall to his death (pushed or otherwise), perhaps pilfers his pockets, but then flees and reports it to associates down in Corrie… who, in return for a share of the spoils (or for other, undisclosed reasons), later revisit the scene and clean up the evidence. Now complicit, they not only hide Ned’s body, but attempt to render him unrecognisable (knowing that the bouldery hidey-hole will only delay discovery for so long).

Mullach Buidhe punches the skyline between distant Goatfell and North Goatfell; Coire nam Fuaran beckons down to the right

One of the more outlandish conspiracy theories (hinted at by the above letter) even asserts that Ned is drugged and killed back in Brodick, only later being carried up the mountain to his rocky crypt. Given that a yacht also features in this scenario (for stealthy transportation round to Corrie or Sannox), it would be reasonable to ask why disposal at sea wouldn’t have been simpler? Still - while some hypotheses will always be more plausible than others, the fact of the matter is that we just can’t say what really transpired all those years ago. Only the mystery remains, plus the hills themselves (who stoically guard their secrets).

What I will say, though, is that we should keep Occam’s Razor - that call for simplicity - firmly in mind. Just because events might have unfolded in accordance with some elaborate conspiracy, it doesn’t mean that they did. Feeling that we’re part of a select few who uniquely know the truth can be a powerful drug, especially once we’ve invested in it.

For this very reason, we should always be cautious of our own biases, and ensure that we constantly review all evidence - not just that which supports our favoured theory.

This is, of course, easier said than done!

The Shadow of Goatfell encroaches upon Cìr Mhòr… just as it encroached upon Rose and Laurie all those years ago!

There is also an ethical factor at play: if our theory tempts us to throw accusations around like spindrift - just as Ripperologists have retro-fitted a very long list of Jacks - we should bear in mind that the key players are not fictional characters after all but real people, with legacies and reputations which persist to this day.

As for Mr Laurie himself: if he were aware of a Goatfell Murder conspiracy, it’s curious that he never mentioned it in his own defence (even when facing the death penalty). Then again, if rational actions and decisions were always followed, I dare say this case wouldn’t be the perplexing paradox that it is! :-0

Top and Tail

Before concluding this tragic tale, I’d like to highlight a couple of quirks associated with the ‘top and tail’ of Ned’s hill-walking attire.

The ‘top’ is his tweed cap, which is one of the items found strewn across the steep ground above Ned’s grisly boulder. Given the presumed sequence of events, its location is no particular surprise. The surprise, however, is that the cap wasn’t merely ‘strewn’ (as though from a fall). It was folded neatly in four, weighed down by a stone, and left at the foot of what would later be called the ‘19-foot drop’. In wet conditions, it would be in the bed of a watercourse.

Such deliberate placement clearly doesn’t fit with the ‘random fall’ theory, nor with the scenario of a robber (potentially murderer) clearing up the scene of a crime. So what had happened here?

Holy Isle Haar…
As nebulous as the ‘Goatfell Murder’ case!

Alas, we can only really speculate. Maybe Ned had rested in the lee of the crag, donning a waterproof (say), and pinned down his cap to prevent it blowing away. Or maybe Laurie (or someone else?), tidying the scene after the incident, found the cap and stashed it to pick up later (after concealing Ned’s body). Or did such a person deliberately place it in the watercourse to rinse away traces of blood? Perhaps the cap had even been positioned to mark the best line of ascent, which could be relevant in fading light if a fleeing perpetrator intended to follow the route mentioned above; i.e. to regain the Coire nam Fuaran skyline, before descending on the far side of the ridge via the established Corrie path.

(I’ve occasionally used temporary markers myself in hazardous or complex terrain, if I know I’ll be returning the same way and need to identify a key navigational turning point.)

I’ll offer one more alternative… maybe the ‘19-foot drop’ is indeed the scene of Ned’s fatal fall, and the cap was left behind by a witness (presumably Laurie) as a kind of makeshift shrine. If so, it’s intriguing to consider that the incredibly callous act of plundering Ned’s pockets and hiding his body (if indeed Laurie did this) might have been offset by just a shred of humanity. Or maybe that’s naïve wishful thinking on my part?

The retrospective view which Ned never saw…
The North Goatfell skyline from the depths of Glen Sannox
(the 1889 incident occurred on the slopes at background left)

Coire nam Fuaran…
Viewed from Glen Sannox
(Ned’s bouldery ‘howff’ is marked with a B)

At the risk of sounding flippant, the other attire-related anomaly is a little more humorous (at least with the passage of time). It concerns Ned’s boots, which were removed prior to the funeral and buried beneath the waterline of a local beach. This was the handiwork of an Arran police constable, who evidently subscribed to the superstition that removing and burying a murdered person’s boots prevents their restless spirit from roaming the locale.

Unfortunately, in saving Ned from his fate of forever haunting the neighbourhood, the police had inadvertently disposed of key evidence. Forensic science was in its infancy at this point, yet it quickly transpired that analysis of the boot nails may have helped to establish whether a fatal slip had occurred on the Goatfell granite.

In more senses than one (with apologies for the pun), this must truly have been a ‘sole-destroying’ experience! ;-)

The Final Word

So now I think I have come full circle, and can return to the sanctuary of Sannox Cemetery.

Hopefully the above tragic tale helps to explain why, after so many years, I found the contemplative act of visiting Ned Rose’s grave to be so moving. Even writing about it can be emotional… and indeed, when I first drafted this concluding section for my 2023 Gallery, I realised that I was doing so on the anniversary of Ned’s death. The 134th anniversary, to be precise. How time moves on! So much changes, and yet so little…

Coming ‘Full Circle’…
Sea of Holes, Corrie Shore Sandstone

Visceral and Serene… Cioch na h’Oighe, viewed from near Sannox Cemetery

I actually thought Ned’s grave might be hard to locate, but it’s not far from the cemetery gates. It’s also highly distinctive, on account of the hefty granite boulder which was heaved down from Glen Sannox on the first anniversary of his burial. Given that poor Ned was originally deposited beneath a similar (larger) boulder, it could be argued that this unsubtle adornment is in dubious taste. Still, it aligned with the wishes of his family, and does forever link him to the wild countryside which he so wanted to explore.

The location is a suitably tranquil one, and beautiful too. In some ways, once you leave behind the island ring-road, this landscape feels as visceral and serene as it ever did. You could almost imagine that we’re still in Victorian times. There may be more mountain trails these days, bearing transient splashes of Gore-Tex, yet their incursions seem puny in the grand scheme of things. Even the old baryte mines, which once brought industrial clamour to the mouth of Glen Sannox, are now being silently reclaimed by nature.

Approaching the cemetery, the only sounds are the rushing burn, birdsong, and a gentle rustle of the trees. The solitude seems somehow fitting.

Once through those cemetery gates, I found the most poignant punch to be on an altogether smaller scale: the abundance of coins, trinkets and flowers which, even now, are left as offerings atop Ned’s final resting place. Arran is first and foremost a peaceful place, and the violent death of a tourist must have sent shock waves through its close-knit island community. Perhaps because of this - and no doubt due to the strange nature of his demise - Ned has never been forgotten. His grave serves as an eternal shrine.

Like the mystery of his death, the memory of Edwin R Rose lives on.

Sannox Cemetery and Ned’s Grave (visited in May 2023),
with Cioch na h’Oighe (Goatfell Range) looming beyond

Final Resting Place…
The Grave of Edwin R Rose
(Sannox Cemetery)

Sources / Bibliography

• The Goatfell Murder by Calum Smith (Hog’s Back Press, 2020)

• The Arran Murder of 1889 by Robin N Campbell (Scottish Mountaineering Club Journal, 2001; also available online)

• Mountaineering in Scotland / Undiscovered Scotland by WH Murray (Diadem Books compilation 1979; originally published 1947 & 1951);
  not specific to the 1889 Goatfell incident, though each book has a chapter on Arran / Cìr Mhòr (recommended for those interested in Scottish mountaineering history)

Original Material

• This blog is expanded from Arran Intrigue - The Curious Case of Rose and Laurie, first published online via my 2023 Gallery

• Additional hill-walking observations collated from my own Arran wanderings over Goatfell or neighbouring peaks and glens (1998; 2000; 2010; 2017-23)

• All accompanying photographs date from the author’s annual (spring or autumn) Arran trips of May 2017 through to May 2023 (various digital cameras)

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