Wednesday 13 May 2015

Visiting the Island of Lewis: a Hebridean oddysey


A Lewis Odyssey


 

Iain Smith, Sam Tullis & Robert Locke
 
[Background note : Lewis and Harris is an island of the Outer Hebrides in the Atlantic Ocean. It has been part of Scotland for much of the last 900 years.]
 
 
 
 
Saturday 25 April 2015

Drive Glasgow to Ullapool. Snow shower at Aviemore. We board the new Loch Seaforth ferry ; and battle across the Minch in a heavy swell for some two hours or more.

Sunday 26 April

The morning dawns - with snow falling outside as we tuck into a good hotel breakfast. Fortified, we set out for a walk.


Sunday walkers

Our walk takes us through the town and across Glen river into the Castle Grounds

 

 (look carefully) a very disconsolate heron


Despite the snow showers, there is a good view from the Castle Grounds of Stornoway harbour.



Stornoway Harbour from Castle grounds

The castle has a controversial past: built about 1847 or so by Sir James Matheson, then the biggest and most notorious drug-dealer in the world. A man who makes the drug dealers of modern Scotland or Mexico look small time.


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Muriel Mackenzie is a lady who has chosen to be a missionary teacher in the land of her forebears: previously she taught in Glasgow with my two pals. She takes my pals for lunch, while I visit my brother's house and collect a Merc to use for later travel.

Then Muriel drives my pals and me to her ancestral heartland: Uig.


An Uig Beach; near Timsgarry

She shows us the remains of her grandmother's house: what is left of a traditional 2-roomed straw-thatched dry-stone "black house”.
Muriel at Granny's House

And we climb to the top of a hill to look both south-east into Harris  and west towards Aird Uig. It is cold, and plenty snow lies on the hills. But the snow showers have died out.
 

Looking South- East: Harris hills
 
Looking West : Aird Uig
 
 
Monday 27 April

We drive 30 miles north of Stornoway to the very tip of the island. First we walk on the machair land and the spectacular beach at Europie. (Not far away, as a result of the sands, there are well-drained, high-lime, low-acid - and therefore high-yield-  crofts.) The weather is kind; and we play around on the dunes and on the beach, just as one of us was wont to do in that very place some 60 years ago. 


Two little boys at Europie


Big boy on Europie beach



Then we visit the Butt of Lewis lighthouse and view with awe the cliffs and seas. The lighthouse, inevitably, is a Stevenson construction; and it is thought that, as a child, RLS may have visited it.




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Then the short drive to Port of Ness, its history now well-documented by Comunn Eachdraidh Nis or the visitor. And here lived and worked John F Macleod, builder of the "sgoth" boats and, on 1 January 1919, the hero of the Iolaire disaster.



Port of Ness Harbour

 





Port of Ness acquired a pier about 1835 : the number of  boats fishing from there quickly climbed from five to thirty. By about 1890-1914, life for some in Ness was quite good: fishing (mostly cod and ling) was plentiful and lucrative. An information board of Comunn Eachdraidh Nis at Port tells us that that a ling would sell for one shilling at a time when an average daily wage was three shillings.


 But there was a cloud in the generally sunny skies. “high-tech” boats i.e. steam-powered drifters, mostly not locally owned, came to dominate the fishing: the Ness “sgoth” was in essence obsolete very early in 20th century. By 1922, things had become very grim. The privations of 1923, notably in Ness, are well recorded by Roger Hutchison and Jim Hunter.  They were probably a major contributor to emigration, notably on the Metagama (1923) and the Marloch (1924).

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We drive down the west coast, taking in the community centre (Comunn Eachdraidh Nis) at Cross : cake and coffee; an impressive World War I display; and school archives from the 1940s and 1950s, where I quickly find photographs of my father, of my middle brother, of me and of some well-remembered teachers.
 

On to Bragar, my father's ancestral village; and where he and others of my family are buried.

 

 



Bragar: l to r - Grandfather; Grandmother; oldest Uncle; (then) Father, Mother

In Bragar we also visit Jewel, the younger of my only two surviving aunts. We have a great time with her.  Jewel has just invested in an I-Pad.


The weather has turned foul.



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At Garenin, there are well-preserved and restored  traditional 2-roomed straw-thatched dry-stone "black house”. Only after the 1886 Act gave security of tenure to crofters did it make much sense to invest in home improvements; and it took over half a century for the larger and healthier mortared-walled and slate-roofed “white houses” to become common and to acquire electricity and running water. The “black houses” at Garenin were inhabited into the 1970s.


Above and below: Wet afternoon at Garenin



Inside Garenin Black house



Harris Tweed weaving: Garenin


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We visit the  ancient Callanish stones and the excellent modern visitors centre associated with them.
 

 
 
 

Back in Stornoway, we visit An Lainntair  (Stornoway cultural centre) if only to watch the shipping in the harbour; and have an excellent curry back in our hotel.


Tuesday 28 April



We drive to Holm


Iolaire Memorial, Holm

 
Here died over 200 people on 1 January 1919, the majority of them Hebridean sailors returning from naval war service. One of them was my grand-uncle John.
 
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We travel a few miles from Holm towards the Eye peninsula, the district also known as Point. Much of Point consists of relatively recent settlements, but Aignish the first village is different, largely because of its fertile machair lands. In particular it has an ancient graveyard and chapel, the latter now in the process of being restored:



 Eaglais Na H-Aoidhe





 




We visit a friend of mine mid-morning for tea/coffee and biscuits. Given that she is 96 years old, I feel obligated to help in this process. She says “Iain, you are much improved.”

As with Port of Ness the late 19th century was a time of considerable buoyancy in the fishing industry in Point. We visit the old Knock school, set between Aignish and Swordale and now an interesting and lively community centre. Here studied three of my grand uncles, who became fishermen, a grand uncle who became a missionary in Africa and my maternal grandmother.




John Munro (“Iain Beag”) son of a fisherman was born in 1889 in Swordale and raised in Aignish. He also was educated in Knock School; went to the Nicolson Institute where he was dux in 1911; and was killed in France in 1918. He wrote about the Lewisian gneiss:-

What wonder tho’ thy hills be weather worn,

And surface bare of blooming trees, until

Th’ unfeeling, thoughtless ever, call thee bleak?

Know they the sorrows that have o’er thee passed?

The scars thou bear’st to show how thou has felt

The grind of grating ice, ton upon ton

And oceans broad, that capped the long gone world?
 
 
 
 

We have lunch in Aignish with my cousin and co-author Murdo, who talks with enthusiasm about his sheep. He also has insights into the deep divide in the crofting community on the merits and demerits of wind turbines (of which we have seen many in the last three days).
 


 
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We go to Lews Castle College to be given a guided tour by my cousin Donnie

Cousin Donnie and colleague
Copyright : Lews Castle College

    
   I once made a speech in this place:-
Old codger makes a speech: August 2013
Copyright : Lews Castle College


"But let me turn for the moment to the foundation of Lews Castle College. Four people met in a room in Stornoway in 1950. They had a dilemma that most of us will never face.

They were part-owners of a castle; and they were unsure what do with their castle.

These 4 people in 1950 eventually reached a conclusion:  'Let us make this castle a place of learning.' And that is how Lews Castle College UHI began. Wise people they were. And their decision was a significant one. Out of a building created from infamy, they created an institution for good."



Wednesday 29th

It is wet and bleak. Ian Minty takes us for a tour. The Shoe Burn , he tells us, was called that because it was where rural visitors to Stornoway paused to wash their feet and put on shoes.




We repair to the hotel, have coffee and cake; and I monitor the harbour for the arrival of the ferry:-
Loch Seaforth  and Stornoway harbour



At 1400 hrs we set sail for Ullapool.


A day later I write to the hotel on Facebook:  "Three of us stayed with you for 4 nights 25-28 April. We enjoyed the experience!"



IS
13 May 2015