Mul Thàgaraidh of Pairc

In May I was fortunate to go on a boat trip organized by John Humphries of the Gatliff Trust. I was even more fortunate in that it departed from the old jetty at Rhenigidale; possibly the first time in decades that a large group has used the jetty.

As we waited for the boat to arrive, Widget came by. Widget's main home is Taigh a' Phuist, the Postman's House on the coast of Loch Seaforth, a half mile north of Rhenigidale. Widget, the bog-hopping kitty, can often be seen wandering the path between Rhenigidale and Taigh a' Phuist.

The fishing boat that had been hired, the bright red Manranath, appeared right on time. Then the eight of us made our way down the rough stones of the jetty to step onto the tender. In short order we were aboard the boat where we met Finlay and Donald, who are based on Scalpay. Their usual work is fishing, but to take shepherds to the Shiants they'd obtained a license to transport passengers.

Under sunny skies, we motored east to transit Struth nam Fir Ghorma, the stream of the Blue Men: storm kelpies known to devour anyone unlucky enough to fall into the water. If we survived the kelpies, we were going to visit Bhalamas and the Shiants later in the day, but our first stop was Mul Thàgaraidh. In terms of land access, Mul Thàgaraidh may be the most remote place on Lewis. It lies at the base of a vast bowl of hills, 850-foot-high Fiar-Chreag to the north and 400-foot-high Creag Mhor to the south. 

In the 1820s there were four crofts at Mul Thàgaraidh, including a family of MacKays and MacInnes. Only one building remains intact, one that was enlarged over the years when Mul Thàgaraidh was a sheep farm. I'd often thought of hiking to Mul Thàgaraidh: thoughts that were squashed when I realized it would require an extremely difficult 16-mile round trip coastal walk from Eisgean. (Or an even more challenging 12-mile walk across the hills). I was fortunate to get there the easy way. The swell was light, so it was a straightforward landing on the storm beach. 

The crystal-clear waters of Abhainn Mul Thàgaraidh cleave between the hills surrounding Mul Thàgaraidh. In its half-mile journey from Loch Doimhne (Deep Loch) to the sea, the stream drops over 300 feet, then snakes its way past the house before forcing its way through the large stones of the beach.

In the 1860s the house was the home of the shepherd Norman MacDonald. He was here until Pairc became a deer forest in the 1880s. Just past the front door a narrow stairway led to the upper floor. It's a guess, but from the appearance of the rusting bedsteads, rotting mattresses and chairs, the house looks like it has not been occupied for decades.

The bedroom reminded me of my college dormitory. 

After exploring the house, I wandered up the hillside to get some photos of the entire site. It was a seaside paradise, on that sunny day, anyway. 

A look across the glen to the summit of Fiar-Chreag made me recall the story of the Hudson bomber that crashed there in 1942. It was foggy at the time, and the pilots were flying blind when they hit the hillside 10 feet below the summit (NB 3607 0727). I had thought about finding the wreck. But there was no time, as it involves a climb of 700 feet across a distance of a half mile. For more about the wreck and the three crewmen who perished, see this page on the Pairc Historical Society website:  Hudson III plane crash at Mulhagery @ Comunn Eachdraidh Pairc (cepairc.com)

After having the privilege of spending a couple of hours at Mul Thàgaraidh we returned to the boat. Next stop: The Shiants.