Scarp

I was fortunate to have been able to visit one of my favourite islands, Scarp, twice this year. It is a hard island to get to, and most visitors come from passing sailboats, It was a bit busier in the past, for from 1966 to 1971, the island was home to the most remote hostel in Scotland - which was located left of centre in the following photo. I have an article about the hostel in the latest issue of Scottish Islands Explorer Magazine. You can find the print and digital editions at the following link:

https://www.scottishislandsexplorer.com/index.php

PS: It's been a while since I posted. The main reason is that my PC crashed, another is that after managing to avoid Covid for over two years, I caught it during my trip to Scotland last month. Based on when my symptoms started, I believe caught it on the train ride from Oban to Glasgow (no one was wearing a mask). Fortunately, that was at the end of the trip. My advice is to mask up when travelling on all public transport.

The Adventures of Hjalmar Bjorge - Season 5, Episode 2

The Continuing Adventures of Hjalmar Bjorge

Season 5 - Episode 2 - Isay to Scarp

Exploring the Isles of the West Cruise    April 18-May 2, 2022

After our exploration of Isay we steamed across the Minch under cloudy skies. After passing through the Sound of Harris, Charlie took us up past Taransay and into the Sound of Scarp. As we passed Huisinis, on the Harris side of the Sound, we could see the Stiomar cutting across the Harris slopes. It is a thrilling, steep path, that leads from Husinis over to historic Cravadale. (For a description of that walk see this link: Cravadale Walk). Most who take the path do not go to Cravadale, as a side trail halfway along branches off to Traigh Mheilein, one of the most stunning beaches in the Hebrides. 

When I'd hiked the path in 2013 I did not take the detour to the beach, as I was exhausted. Little did I know that we'd be visiting that glorious beach the following day, and in doing so encounter the most surprising thing I've ever seen on a remote island beach. In the following photo you can just barely see the Stiomar path halfway up the hillside.

We anchored for the night just off the Scarp settlement, which saw its last full-time residents in 1971. The following morning we were greeted with sunshine and mostly clear skies that would be with us for several days. 

After landing on Scarp I led the group through the blackhouse settlement of North Town, and then to the old shop, post office, and burial ground.  

We then hiked up to the old schoolhouse, which is still in the process of falling down. When I first visited Scarp, in 2004, the roof was intact. But instead of scholars, a large class of sheep was sheltering inside. A while back the owners put a bit of money into the structure, complete with flush toilets. But they did nothing to improve the roof. Needless to say, winter winds took the roof, and the building won't last much longer.

Before leaving Scarp we stopped in to see Brian and Shiela Harper, who have been spending their springs and summers on the island for many years. They are a lovely couple, and it was a delight to see them again over a cup of tea. (See this link for more on Scarp and the Harpers: Scarp Posts.)

Brian then told me something surprising: a wedding was going to happen that afternoon on Traigh Mheilein beach, just opposite Scarp on Harris. So when Charlie offered to run us over to the beach for a couple of hours, some of the group decided to come along.

Magnificent does not come close to describing Traigh Mheilein: a mile-long stretch of blinding-white shell sand. What few visitors it does see, have to climb the Stiomar from Huisinis, a mile-long hike along that path that climbs 300 feet as it hugs the steep slopes of Huiseabhal Beag. (Most are not as fortunate as we were to be set ashore from a boat.) The following photo shows the view from the path looking down to Huisinis.

It was an entrancing walk along the beach to its north end, from where an easy hike over the dunes led to Loch na Cleabhaig. In the following photo the lone house of Cravadale can be seen on the far side of the loch.

From the high ground above the beach I had a birds-eye view over the Sound of Scarp, with Hjalmar Bjorge resting peacefully at anchor.

When I returned to the beach I had a vision: A lovely young woman in a flowing white dress slowly walking across the white sands, accompanied by a tall man in a kilt. (As it turned out, she'd injured her leg on the hike out.) From a discrete distance, I took a photo of the wedding party before Charlie came to return us to Hjalmar Bjorge. While he was ashore, Charlie was approached by someone from the wedding party, who asked if it would be possible to return the bride to Huisinis in the RIB, so that she would not have to make the strenuous return hike with a bad leg. Charlie was happy to oblige. Hjalmar Bjorge, a former rescue boat, had come to the rescue once again.

Back on the ship, we sat on the deck to watch the ceremony, which took a very long time; a drone flying around to take photos of the event: Charlie patiently waiting on the beach for over an hour.

All in all, it was one of the most unusual, and delightful, Hebridean days I've ever had: I'd seen old friends, showed off one of my favourite islands, and witnessed a beach wedding. We spent the night anchored in the sound, and in the morning set off for the Flannan Isles.

Three men alive on Flannan Isle,

Who thought on three men dead.

The Scarp Hostel

One of my favourite Hebridean islands is Scarp. I well remember several visits to Harris in the 1990s, standing at the slipway at Hushinish looking over to Scarp. I had no idea then how to get there, and neither did anyone I asked. Over a decade later, in the spring of 2004, I finally set foot on the island during a cruise on Hjalmar Bjorge. Since then I have been fortunate to have visited Scarp a half dozen times. To date I've not had the chance to spend a night on the island, something I'd dearly like to do. 

But between 1965 and 1971 several hundred travellers managed to do just that. During those six years there was a Gatliff Trust hostel on Scarp, truly the most remote hostel in Britain, even more remote (in terms of accessibility) than the Trust's hostel at Renigidale. To date I have not been able to identify where the Scarp hostel was. I am guessing in the village near the shop and phone box, but that is pure speculation. Brian Harper, a spring/summer resident of Scarp for many years, has no idea where it was. And neither does John Humphries, who has been involved in the Gatliff Trust for a long time.

The only information I can find on the Scarp hostel are the reports on its status published in the Gatliff Trust's yearly reports (which you can find here.) Put together, these reports provide a bare-bones sketch of the hostel's six-year life. What follows are excerpts from those reports relating to Scarp between the years 1965 and 1972. Placed between each year's report are photos from a cross-island walk made over the top of Scarp in 2013: sights those visitors to the hostel would have seen, and remembered.

The 1965 Gatliffe Trust yearly report has this first mention of Scarp: There is good prospect of our having next summer the use of old thatched houses in the islands of Scarp and Berneray.

The 1966 report states: The Scarp hostel opens. 75 bednights recorded. Scarp is harder to get to than Renigidale as the mailboat only makes the crossing every other day, and the twice-weekly bus to Husinish does not run on those days. Those who went found it very well worthwhile; for Scarp is not only beautiful in a rugged way but probably the most 'apart' of all islands still inhabited in the Hebrides and gives a very special welcome to visitors.

The 1967 report states: 95 bednights recorded. Scarp is more difficult to reach, because the bus service is scanty, hitching not to be relied on and the sea crossing infrequent and sometimes difficult. But those who are prepared to sleep out for a night on the way, or in sufficient numbers to meet the expense of special transport or a boat, and have several days to spare, can find it an even more rewarding adventure. A boy of 17 wrote "No one is likely to forget the strange feeling of having suddenly been washed up on the shores of a Tristan da Cunha."  The hostel had last summer rather more use than we had ventured to hope. An American hosteller commented: "Most enjoyable stay anywhere made more so by the hospitality of the MacLennans and the people of Scarp."

The last entry in the 'house book' for 1976 is a suggestion to advertise the Scarp hostel more widely, and include it in the S.Y.R.A. handbook. Just following this comment, but in different handwriting, is: "No please don't. Let it be the wonderful surprise to others as it was to us."

The 1968 report states: 107 bednights recorded. The Maclennans have left Scarp and live at West Tarbert, but Norman Macinnes has taken charge of the hostel. He and others however are probably leaving before long, and it may be that the island must become a sheiling lived in only during the summer. 

The 1968 report states: 60 bednights recorded. Angus and Joan MacLennan have retired to the mainland, and, sad as it is to see old people leave their island homes, no doubt it's best they should go where life is easier. Norman McInnes, who took over, is still there and we are glad to hear he'll be for another summer at least. Fewer hostellers reach Scarp than Howmore or Rhenigidale, but those that do find it very rewarding. A visitor wrote "To stay in Scarp hostel is a great privilege; the house is a living page from the folk history of Scotland." It's strangely moving to find this written of the most primitive hostel in Britain. 

Scarp from all we hear will be lived-all-the-year-round-in for a little while yet, but as those who live there get older it may not be possible or indeed right that they should remain much longer. If not it may still be possible for some of them, and some of you who love the island, and such bodies as the Schools Hebridean Society to keep it lived in in summer, a live sheiling, including the hostel.

The 1970 report states: 146 bednights recorded. The news from Scarp was not so good. We heard in October that part of the roof had fallen in, and the house was no longer habitable. We were not clear which part, or whether it was due to Act of God (wind) or act of cow (grazing) - the hostel is believed to be the only inhabited house in Britain (except perhaps flats in the Barbican in the City of London) that has grazing grass on the roof. 

At Easter however Michael Gerrish and two friends went over with a lot of polythene, found it was only the barn end that had fallen in, probably by act of sheep, not cow, and made the hostel part weatherproof for at any rate another summer, though perhaps after that the walls will fall in or out. Whilst more people are leaving the island, one or two are likely to remain all the year round, at any rate for some years. We are considering whether we should try to get the use of some other building.

The 1971 report states: 139 bednights recorded. In the Autumn of 1969 we heard that one end of the building had fallen in and was really no longer suitable for use. However, Myke Gerrish and friends going over in the Spring found it was the byre end, and did considerable first-aid. This survived for a while and the hostel was just usable. But the wind damaged the first-aid and, more important, the roof over the other end, the dormitory, began to collapse. We reluctantly had to recognize that the building could not be kept habitable and must be abandoned. However for 6 years it had provided something unique in Britain.

The 1972 report states: Scarp, as we said in our last letter, had to be abandoned, and we were unable to find any replacement there; indeed, the island is no longer inhabited all the year round. 

* * *

The last year-round residents of Scarp left in 1971. Today it is only occupied for several months in the spring and summer. If you ever get a chance to visit Scarp, do it. It is a large island with some challenging terrain; an island that takes several visits to completely see, and those are the best kind.

A View to Scarp - and Others

Sometimes you stumble upon something special, something you've never heard of. This happened to me in the August of 2017, when I was driving to the road end in Mealasta, on the southwest coast of Lewis. As I neared the end of the road my attention was drawn to the amazing view south to Mealasta Island and Scarp. But even so, I did notice something unusual set between the road and the sea. It looked like a stone circle.

I parked the car, then made my way down the hillside to see what it was. It turned out to be a very unique view-indicator. The circle was comprised of eleven boulders, each with an embedded metal plaque that listed the place the boulder pointed to, and the distance to it. There are four island-stones, the south-most pointing the way to Scarp, just 5 miles to away. So close - yet so hard to get to.

The Scarp Stone

The four other island-stones point the way to Geisgeir, the Monachs, St Kilda, and the Flannans.

There are also three hill-stones that point to the nearby summits of Mealasbhal, Griomabhal, and Tamanasbhal. The final three stones point to some very far-off places: Nova Scotia, New Zealand, and the North Pole. If you ever make the drive to road's end at Mealasta, be sure to pay a visit to this impressive view indicator. It is a great place to go and dream of visiting the special places marked by the stones. I have been to about half of them, and someday I hope to get to the others - well, maybe not the North Pole.

New Zealand - 11,288 miles

Scarp Calling

After a calm night tied to the Leverburgh pier, we watched the three St Kilda day-boats head out at 8am. The island on our plate for that day is as interesting as St Kilda, and much less visited: the island of Scarp. After breakfast we headed up the Sound of Harris, out past Toe Head, and into the Atlantic. After two hours of steaming we circled the top of Scarp to motor into Cearstaigh Bay at its north end. It's a good spot for eagles, and we floated for a while searching, but none were seen.

Cearstaigh Bay

From there we headed down the east side to drop the hook off Scarp Village. The island looked as inviting as ever from the sea, and we were soon ashore.

Scarp Landing

Like St Kilda, Scarp has a line of old blackhouse dwellings, long abandoned, and we started our tour by wandering among them. In 1881 over 200 people called Scarp home, but by 1971 the population had dwindled to seven. The island’s moment of fame came in 1934, when Gerhard Zucker experimented with rocket powered mail delivery. After the fuse was lit, instead of shooting 1000 feet across to Harris, the rocket exploded, and the mail got a little charred. Zucker's rocket experiments were depicted in the 2004 film The Rocket Post, which was filmed on nearby Taransay,

Our next stop was to take a look at the crumbling remnants of the school. It's a sad sight, but next to it stands the beautifully redone church. When I first visited Scarp (2004), the church was also in a sad state; full of sheep, half its floorboard rotted, and there were missing doors and windows. But unlike the school, it was rescued several years ago.

Ruined school (left), restored church (right)

After exploring the village we headed to the top of Beinn fo Tuath. Even though mist topped the distant hills of Harris, the view over to the three large sea-lochs that cut into the west of Lewis is truly spectacular. A group photo was called for.

Atop Scarp - misty hills of Harris in the distance

From the top we descended to Loch a’ Mhuilinn (Mill Loch). It is a special spot, for lying in the stream that runs from the loch to the sea are a pair of Norse mills, their millstones still in place. It was here that Alan fired up his drone and got some footage flying over the mill loch and the interior of Scarp.

Loch a' Mhuilinn

Alan prepares the drone

Following the stream downhill we came to the mills, their grinding stones still in place. For more photos of Hebridean mills (including Scarp's) see this link.

Where the mill stream reaches the sea we came to Mol Mor. The Gaelic name means big pebbly beach, but it's locally known as Treasure Beach, for the occasional treasures that wash ashore. There was no sign of anything valuable, unless you treasure old fishing floats and plastic flotsam.

Looking for treasure...

An easy coastal walk took us back to the village, where there was time for a brief visit with Brian and Shiela Harper, who call Scarp home part of the year. Their resilience in making it to Scarp every year is impressive. Getting here, even in the summer, can often be a challenge. See the August 6, 2013 post for photos of Brian, single-handedly, landing his inflatable on a windy, and wavy, summer day.

It was getting late, and so we had to leave Scarp in our wake to steam five miles around the Ardveg Penninsula to look for an anchorage for the night in Loch Hamanavay. Hamanavay is the one of the most remote, and least visited places in the Western Isles. We were in the Hebridean Back of Beyond.

To be continued...