Aird Laimisiadair

I just saw the Call the Midwife episode that was filmed on Lewis.  The scenes filmed at the Gearranan blackhouse village reminded me of one of the best short walk on Lewis, one that most tourists never make: the clifftop walk around the Aird Laimishader headland. 

I described the one-way hike to Laimishader from Gearrannan in the June 26, 2015 post, which you can read here. That is the best way to see the area, but it does involve a two-mile road walk back to Gearrannan. The easiest way to see it is the out-and-back hike from Borghaston; a beautiful three-mile hike to the headland and back described in Chapter 18 of Book 2.

What follows are photos taken during several visits to Laimishader, and from a sail past it; photos that span a period of 22 years, from 1997 to 2019.

Route of the walk from Gearrannan

Route of walk from Borghaston described in Book 2, Chapter 18

The original headland beacon at Aird Laimishader in 1997

The headland beacon in 2015 (now an IKEA tower)

Inland from the headland is Loch na- h-Airde. Anyone familiar with the prologue of Alasdair Alpin MacGregor's The Haunted Isles knows of the stepping stones that cross the stream here.

Loch na h-Airde - stepping stones at lower right

Stepping Stones - 1997

Looking out to the isles of Loch Rog

Old settlement site at Laimisiadar

Laimisiadar - once a monastery

St Ciaran's Well at Laimisiadar

A last look back at the headland

Author's Memorials

Whenever possible I like to find the graves of authors whose books about the islands have influenced me over the years.  Here are six I've been able to locate so far.

Two of the graves are in the same cemetery, Cille Barra, at the north end of Barra. The first is Compton Mackenzie, best known for Whiskey Galore.

Grave of Compton MacKenzie

The second grave in Cille Barra is that of John MacPhearson (AKA The Coddy).  His Tales from Barra is a classic.

Grave of John MacPhearson

A very prolific author of island books was Alasdair Alpin Macgregor. Two of my favourites are Behold the Hebrides and The Goat Wife.

Alasdair's memorial stone is in Balquidder Cemetery; but he is not buried there. His ashes were sprinkled in the Hebrides.

MEM Donaldson is buried in Pennyfuir Cemetery just north of Oban. For the story of finding her grave see the August 21, 2015 post. Her books Wanderings in the Western Highlands and Islands, and Further Wanderings - Mainly in Argyll, are invaluable resources for anyone interested in the islands.

MEM's grave in Pennyfuir Cemetery

Another author's grave I've visited has one of the most elaborately decorated tombstones I've come across; and that is the grave of Alexander Carmichael, who died in 1912. (See the June 8, 2017 post for the story of finding Carmichael's grave on Lismore.) Carmichael produced the amazing Carmina Gadelica; described by one of the book's publishers as follows: 

Carmina Gadelica is the most complete anthology of Celtic oral tradition ever assembled. During his travels, Alexander Carmichael spent hours with peasants in their huts in front of peat fires listening as they "intoned in a low, recitative manner" these poems and prayers. This unique collection of living spirituality drawn from the depths of Celtic Christianity, and represents a hidden oral tradition of great power and beauty, handed down through countless generations.  

Alexander Carmichael's grave - Lismore

I found the grave of John Lorne Campbell on Canna totally by accident (see the March 22, 2014 post).  Campbell's book Canna - The Story of a Hebridean Island is the definitive book about the island. Campbell was the premiere Gaelic scholar, and I hope his vast collection of material will someday be available to the public. St Edwards Church on Sanday (connected to Canna by bridge) was supposed to be a study centre for his material, but I don't think that's going to happen (see the October 12, 2015 post). You can read Campbell's obituary here:

Grave of John Lorne Campbell in Canna woods

There are three other graves that I hope to find someday. The first is Neil Munro's: his book Children of Tempest  - A Tale of the Outer Isles is an island classic.  I searched for his grave in the Inverary Cemetery. But I could not find it; and no one in the tourist office knew anything about him (sadly I was not surprised about that).

The second grave I hope to find is that of Seton Gordon; author of The Immortal Isles, Afoot in the Hebrides, Afoot in Wild Places, The Charm of Skye, Islands of the West and many more. He lived for a long time on Skye, but I am not sure where he's buried.

The third grave I hope to find is that of Daphne D C Pochin Mould, who passed away in 2014: Author of The Roads from the Isles, Scotland of the Saints, West Over Sea and several on the Irish islands. I assume she is buried in Ireland, but I have no idea where.

If anyone knows the location of these three graves I would love to hear from you.

In parting I'd like to say 'Rest in Peace' to all these authors; authors who've left written legacies that inspire people to this very day to explore the highlands and islands of Scotland.

Alasdair Alpin MacGregor (1898-1970)

He is much maligned. And over the past 40 years it has seemed incorrect to say anything positive about him. But I will.

Alasdair Alpin Macgregor was an author I discovered in 1989, when I was obsessed with finding books about the Hebrides. There was an old book shop in downtown Seattle called Shoreys, and while perusing their section on Britain I noticed a tiny book with a purple dust jacket. Its title was written in an intriguing font, and incorporated an exclamation point: It was Behold the Hebrides!

After 1989 I slowly collected all of Macgregor's books long before I learned of the controversy stirred up by The Western Isles, and how his writing style had been satirized after that. So I’m saddened by how some people see his works today. Summer Days Among the Western Isles, The Haunted Isles, Searching the Hebrides with a Camera, and A Last Voyage to St Kilda are works I will always treasure.

Macgregor's books are profusely illustrated with his beautiful photos. Martin Padget, in his book Photographers of the Western Isles (2010), has a chapter on Macgregor in which you'll find more biographical information on him than anywhere else. Macgregor's photos are brilliant, and they first captivated me in his book Searching the Hebrides with a Camera (1933). It is a book whose title built upon two earlier works on the islands that focused on exploration with a camera: Richard and Cherry Keaton's With Nature and a Camera (1898), and Erskine Beveridge's Wanderings with a Camera (1922).

Macgregor wrote many more books, all with titles guaranteed to make an island addict drool: Islands by the Score, The Enchanted Isles, An Island Here and There, and The Farthest Hebrides. Macgregor's best book - in my opinion - is The Goat-Wife (1939), which tells the story of his Aunt Dorothy, and her house Cnocnamoine (Hill of the Peats) near Ardgay. It is a beautiful book that describes his childhood stays there with his aunt.

In the epilogue of the book Macgregor describes how he returned to Cnocnamoine in 1937, fourteen years after his aunt died. He finds the property derelict, but the house is still standing, barely. Inside he finds his aunt's rusting iron beadstead, in which she died in 1923. Most of the rest of the furnishings had been taken.

His aunt's house in 1937: Photo AA Macgregor

The Goat-Wife is so good that, over the years I've read it several times, and in June of 1995 I paid a visit to Cnocnamoine. I do not know about today, but in '95 you could drive within a quarter-mile of the site of his Aunt Dorothy's house (NH 5921 8988). It was an easy hike in, and what I found was sadder than what Macgregor saw in 1937. One gable end of the house stood, but most of the rest was rubble. In amongst the ruin were rusting bits of a broken-up iron bedstead, perhaps the one in which his aunt had died.

As maligned as much of Macgregor's writing is, I found it intriguing, and addictive. Especially to someone who'd just 'discovered' the Hebrides on a typically hurried American tourist's first visit. A visit that whetted my thirst for more. But due to the expense of travelling I had to slake this thirst by reading books during the 50 weeks between visits. During those 50 weeks I was delighted to read Macgregors books over and over, even if they colorfully viewed the isles through rose-tinted glasses, or via 'purple-prose'. A parodied prose that in some instances seems to me to be direct English translations of Gaelic terminology.

Alasdair Alpin MacGregor passed away in 1970. His (and his father's) memorial stone can be found in Balquhidder burial ground in Perthshire. But Alasdair is not buried there. He became part of the isles when his ashes were scattered in the Hebrides. 

The Water-Horse of Dùbhrachan

When I was on Skye in July (sounds like the start of a bad poem) I paid a visit to Loch nan Dùbhrachan. I went there because of a book I found on Iona 25 years ago: Alasdair Alpin MacGregor's Somewhere in Scotland, first published in 1935.

Chapter 7 of the book is entitled The Ancient Highway to Skye. In it, MacGregor relates an interview with a man named John MacRae who, at the time, lived in Glenelg. The subject of the interview was the each-uisge, the water-horse, of Loch nan Dùbhrachan.

MacRae lived as a child on Isle Ornsay in 1870, and was present during an attempt to capture the water-horse. In the words of John MacRae (quoting directly from Somewhere in Scotland):

"A cattleman and his wife came to (Loch nan Dubhrachan) to cut rushes to thatch. They sat down to take a rest, and the man observed a small, black object on the shore of the loch. So he went down. As he neared, the beast swam out with his head below water, putting little waves ashore."

"You may be sure the people was terrified. They were certain it was the each-uisge. Lord MacDonald said he would dredge the loch - trawl it like, for the monster. Well, he got all his gillies and gamekeepers out one day with a big net. And they started walking along opposite sides of the loch like, dragging the net after them."

"I saw the thing myself. I was a boy going to school. We got a holiday that day. Well, we were all watching carefully when the net got stuck, and all the gillies got the fear of death on them. So they just dropped the net, and ran back from the loch. A whilie after they commenced again; and after a whilie the net came away on a sudden. Well, then, they pulled it in like, afraid all the time what would be in the net. There was nothing in the net at the finish but some mud and two small pikes."

Haunted lochs almost always seem to be in remote, hard to get to spots. But that's not the case for Loch nan Dùbhrachan (the name means black-braes loch). It lies right next to the A851, three miles north of the Gaelic college Sabhal Mor Ostaig. The loch is impossible to miss. It has its own sign, which is unusual, and its own parking area.

A short, grassy walk of 30 seconds leads down to the lochside. It is a large loch, about 500 feet wide. (Lord MacDonald must have had a very large net.) It was quiet, the only sounds that of the wind fanning the grass and driving low ripples across the loch. I was about to leave when I was startled by a loud plop. Was the monster on the attack?  No. Just a fish jumping to catch a bug. Yea! one less midge to worry about. A few minutes later I returned to the car to head to my next destination: the castle of Dunscaith, where Cuchulain learned to throw spears with his toes. 

Next time you're on Skye take a few minutes to visit the the Loch of the Black Braes. Take a packed lunch with you, walk down to the shore, have a seat, and while you're eating think what fun it must have been for all those school children 147 years ago. Off for the day, watching all the gillies dredge the loch, and then see them run scared when the net snags. But while you're eating, be sure to keep an eye on the loch. You don't want to be lunch, yourself. 

Through the Sea-Gate - Ensay

One of my favourite island books is Alasdair Alpin MacGregor's Searching the Hebrides with a Camera (1933). I acquired the book in 1992, and while reading it I first learned about the island of Ensay. 

Searching the Hebrides with a Camera was one of MacGregor's earliest books. In 1993 I came across his very last book: An Island Here and There (published in 1972, two years after his death). In it is a chapter entitled Enchanted Isles, where MacGregor reminisces about his visits to Ensay some 40 years after they occurred. Ensay made such an impression on MacGregor that I had to visit the island. But five years would pass before the opportunity arose in 1998 (see chapter 13 of book 2).

Ensay House, Chapel, and standing-stone (upper right)

The way MacGregor described arriving on Ensay via the sea-gate, struck a chord in my mind: words I found memorable.

I enter the precincts of Ensay House by the sea-gate, which is reached by a stone staircase leading up from the sands, and the fringe of straws and shrivelled seawrack left by high tides.... For a moment I am back in the Middle Ages when I gaze at the old wall flanking the garden, and the chapel standing nearby.

Ensay House and the sea-gate (1998)

And so when I landed on Ensay in '98 I made a point of entering the grounds of the house via the sea-gate. I was fortunate that there were people staying in the house at the time. They invited me in and handed me an ancient set of rusting keys, pointing out the one for Christchurch chapel. The chapel is mostly 16th century, but bits date to the 11th. As I entered it, it felt like I, too, was back in the Middle Ages.

Christchurch Chapel (1998)

In the chapel

The keys to Ensay

Although I've not been back to Ensay since 1998, I've sailed by a dozen times in the intervening years. The most recent was in May of 2016 aboard the ship Hjalmar Bjorge. After a visit to Boreray in the Sound of Harris, we motored past Ensay on our way to the Shiants. The sun was shining, and Ensay looked beautiful. Oh how I wished we'd had time to go ashore so that I could ascend the sea-gate once again after an 18 year absence, and nearly ninety years since Alasdair Alpin MacGregor.

Ensay House and Chapel (2016)

A young visitor at the sea-gate in '98