Inchkenneth Chapel

One of the possible destinations on our cruise in June is Inchkenneth. I have only been there once, (see Book 1, Chapter 12) and am looking forward to returning. The jewel of the island is the chapel built on the site of St Kenneth's 6th century monastery.

My one visit there was in 2003, and at the time the walled garden (which you can see in the distance in the next photo) was pretty much abandoned. The owner told me they had plans to restore it, so I am looking forward to seeing what they've done.

The next photo shows the altar, which during Boswell and Johnson's visit had an old Celtic hand-bell on it. Sadly the bell has gone missing. Some interesting drawings made of the chapel in 1877 can be found on this CANMORE page.

Set upright against the wall of the chapel is a collection of eight medieval tombstone slabs. And just outside the chapel is the grave of Donald Maclean of Brolas, who died in 1725. If you look close you can see the figure of his dog keeping Maclean's toes warm in the afterlife.

Set amongst the tombstones of the burial ground, which is still in use, is the Inchkenneth cross. Made from a single piece of gray-blue slate, this elegant ring-headed cross stands five feet tall and dates to the sixteenth century. Most of its decoration has worn off over the centuries, but still visible at the bottom of the shaft is a pair of shears. Below them, worn and hardly discernible, is something with bristles, possibly a brush or comb. The significance of the shears and comb may come from their ceremonial use in cutting the tonsure. 

This cross was the same one that Boswell knelt in front of two centuries ago, when visions of ghosts in the dark frightened him, and he had to resort to a rum-rub for an injured foot. In case of injury I had a can of beer in my pack, but if needed the remedy would be applied internally.

Shears and comb on the cross

For such a small island, Inchkenneth has a large history. From the time of saints Columba and Kenneth, to its ownership by the chiefs of the Macleans; its sale to Sir Harold Bolton, then the Mitfords, and finally the Barlows, who still own the island. You can read an interesting article on Inchkenneth that appeared in The Scotsman at this link. It is a delightful island to visit, and I'm looking forward to returning in June.

Lewis/Harris Border

I have walked the Lewis/Harris border. Well, at least I think I've walked the Lewis/Harris border.

The border is artificial, to say the least. It's hard to see on the ground, and even harder to see on the Landranger OS map - because it's not shown there at all. But if you're keen on seeing it on a map, take a look at an 19th century OS map of the area (here is an example). These maps are not at all vague on where the border is; in fact they shout out exactly where it is. This is because the old maps are divided up into shires, and since Lewis is Ross, and Harris is Inverness, the maps that cover the border have vast white spaces for the territory in the opposing shire.

Most tourist only know the border by the signs on the A859 highway - the only road that crosses the border - as it passes through Bogha Glas on the shore of Loch Seaforth. From there the intrepid hiker can climb a foot-path that pretty much follows the border west into the hills. (A description of that walk is described in chapter 17 of book 2.)

Start of the path at Bogha Glas

Going from east to west, the border, starting from Loch Seaforth, follows the stream Amhuinn a Mhuil to the NW for a half-mile to a stone called Clach an Tarpan. From there it follows several straight-line series of highpoints to the west and south until it reaches the stream at the bottom of Glen Lamadale. It then follows a stream called Uillt na Airigh Mhoire two miles west to where it intersects with Loch Chleister. There it makes a dizzying 120 degree right turn to follow the stream Allt a Chlair Bhig. A mile down the stream it passes the amazing intact beehive cells of Allt a Chlair Bhig.

Clair Bhig Beehives - they are in Lewis - photo taken from Harris

From the beehive cells the border continues north along the Clair Bhig stream until it reaches Tota Choinnich (Kenneth's Hut). See book 2 (pages 171-173) for the story of an amazing incident that occurred here

Tota Choinnich

From Kenneth's Hut the border follows the Kinlochresort River for a mile to the sea at Kinlochresort.

Kinlochresort (the hill Beinisbal at upper right)

For that intrepid hiker who has followed the border all the way from Loch Seaforth, reaching Kinlochresort marks the end of ten hard miles of walking. Of course that hiker is now in the middle of the back of beyond - an amazing place to be!  If you make it this far be sure to carry on for another mile to climb Beinisbhal. From its summit you will have a stunning view over the west end of the Lewis/Harris border (highlighted in white in the next photo).

In addition to the view that you'll find atop the hill, 600 feet above the sea, you will also find a cairn relating to the Lewis/Harris border. The cairn is mentioned in the following excerpt from DDC Pochin-Mould's book West Over Sea. To put this excerpt in context, she is describing how the border was determined in the 1850s while she is making a long walk to Kinlochresort in the 1940s.

  Near the sheep fank on the flank of Benisval there is, so they tell me, a stone commemorating the visit of Lord Campbell, Lord Chief Justice in the 1850s. When I splashed through the Kinloch Resort river, I crossed from Harris into Lewis, and it was Lord Campbell's boundary that I went over.
  There was a long dispute concerning the boundary line between Harris and Lewis in this part of the country. Along Loch Seaforth there was no dispute, but here, in the featureless moors, the problem was more difficult. It all began long ago, when a Macleod of Lewis married Kintail's daughter. After a year, he grew tired of her and sent her away, and took a Macleod of Harris' daughter to wife. For her dowry she brought a strip of land upon the borders of Harris in the Kinloch Resort district.  
  As time went by, this piece of land became a subject for dispute. People from Valtos in Lewis would go to make ready their shielings for the summer season and come back to find the Harris people had destroyed all their work. If the Harris men worked on what they claimed as theirs, the Valtos people destroyed it all again.
  Eventually, Seaforth took the case to the courts. Much interesting evidence of old methods of marking the boundary between the two districts was cited. One way was to bury charred peats on the march line. 
  The case dragged on. Seaforth sold the Lewis to Sir James Matheson, and it was he, after the case had reached the House of Lords, who got Lord Campbell to the actual ground. Up Benisval went the Lord Chief Justice and from the top determined the boundary line, taking the shortest route from the head of Loch Resort up the Kinloch Resort River and across to Aline on Loch Seaforth.

The cairn and commemoration stone Pochin-Mould did not find, but is described in her book, is still there to be found, standing next to the trig-pillar on the summit of Benisval (Beinisbhal). However most of the marble tablet is missing. What's left reads:

...of England

....This Cairn

I am guessing the full text on the marble tablet once read something like below. (If anyone knows what the exact text was, please let me know.):

"(To commemorate the visit of Lord Campbell, Lord Chief Justice)? of England

(Sir James Matheson Erected)? This Cairn"

The Lewis/Harris border walk is a classic Hebridean hike. With some planning you can do it in one day; starting at Loch Seaforth and walking out to the north via Morsgail, or to the south via Meavaig. Even better take a tent and sleeping bag; spend the night at Kinlochresort to let your sore legs recover before carrying on; and as you do, and as night falls, close your eyes, listen to the cookoos singing, the snipe drumming, the deer barking, and the sea lapping on the remote shore of a place as far from it all as you can get.

Beehive View

I have always wanted to sleep in one of the beehive cells that are to be found in the remoter parts of Lewis and Harris. They are such beautiful structures, structures that had survived for centuries; and sleeping in one would be like going back in time. Imagine waking to the view below, which is of Loch Bodabhat seen from inside the beehive of Bothan Aird, a mile southeast of Hamanavay.

So far conditions have precluded spending the night in one of these cells. The Bothan Aird cell looked so unstable that I did not feel safe staying inside for long. Another cell I visited would have been good for sleeping - except there was a dead sheep inside. Other cells have had floors of jagged stones fallen from the roof, or the inside was a miazma of mud mixed with loads of sheep poo. In one case the inside of a beautiful cell near Loch a' Sguir was flooded with a foot of accumulated rainwater (next photo). 

There are still quite a few cells I hope to visit. Perhaps one of them will not be too wet, too unstable, or too rocky: a Goldilocks Cell; one just right to lay out a sleeping bag and spend the night. 

Rona's An Teampull & Rev. Billy Graham

The recent death of the Rev. Billy Graham reminded me of something I was told many years ago. The subject of the discussion was the chapel at the south end of Rona (AKA South Rona). This beautiful little chapel, known as An Teampull, is one of the most enchanting ruins in all the Hebrides. 

In the chapel grounds is a small burial ground. Etched deep into the only readable tombstone is:

JOHN GRAHAM AND FAMILY

What was mentioned in passing about this burial ground is that there is some thought that the Graham family of Rona were ancestors of Rev. Billy Graham. If anyone knows if this is true I would appreciate to hear from you.

Gil Bhigurra - An Oasis in the Pairc

Take a look at the OS map that covers the centre of Pairc, in the southeast of Lewis. And as you do, see if something unusual stands out; for there is something odd there. Don't see it yet?  Here's a hint: look two miles southwest of the head of Loch Sealg. There, in amongst all the swirling brown countour lines, you will see a small bit of green, possibly the only green on the map of Pairc. That bit of green is Gil Bhigurra.

Hiking into Gil Bhigurra

Gil Bhigurra

Gil Bhigurra is a geologic wonder, and a beautiful one at that: a short, narrow gorge, running east-west for about a quarter-mile, that is host to a rare native woodland. The trees growing on its steep sides are a mix of rowan, birch, holly, aspen, and several varieties of willow.

There is no easy way to visit Gil Bhigurra. It is about as remote as you can get in Lewis; lying as it does some five hard miles from the nearest road at Eisgean. I visited it as part of a eight-mile one-way walk with John Randall from Tob Smuaisibhig to Eisgean. The route we took is shown in the following map, and the walk is described in the August 11, 2017 post.

Lying somewhere near, if not in, Gil Bhigurra, is Airigh Nighean an Airgiodach: the shieling of the wealthy daughter. Walking up the south side of the ravine we kept on the lookout for any ruins, but all that could be seen was a cluster of stones down in the ravine that may have been a structure a long time ago.

It would be interesting to know the story of the shieling of the wealthy daughter. A clue to it is that five miles to the northwest lies Sidhean an Airgid; the hill of wealth. Perhaps the daughter found her own Uamh an Oir, one of the fabled caves of gold, high atop Sidhean an Airgid.

When I hiked into Gil Bhigurra in the summer of 2017 it was on an exceptional Hebridean day. The temperature was in the 80s (F); and the gully, gorge, ravine, or whatever you might call Gil Bhigurra, was an amazing sight; a green oasis of tall trees buried in the vast moorland of central Pairc. It would be interesting to know what the Gaelic name means. 'Gil' is a small mountain stream; but I have been unable to decipher 'Bhigurra'. If anyone out there has an idea please let me know.

East end of Gil Bhigurra 

Looking east from Gil Bhigurra to the head of Loch Sealg 

The interior of Pairc is a vast and fascinating area; one usually only visited by folks who stay on the Eisgean estate. But you can see some of it without doing that. Just be courteous, visit outside stalking season, and let the estate know you might be leaving a car near road's end, and that you'll be walking through the grounds of the lodge, which is pretty much the only way to access the track along the northeast shore of Loch Sealg. It is worth the effort to be a good visitor, for many treasures of the Pairc, like Gil Bhigurra, await the hardy hiker who sets out on foot into this remote area.

You can read a little more about Gil Bhigurra in this Woodlands Restoration Survey Report.

North Rona - A Return

The dates have been set for my 2019 guide trip. It will run from July 10 - 19, and the primary destination will be North Rona. I have been fortunate to have visited Rona on two occasions. The first was in 2002; an exhilarating, but short, visit on the ship Poplar Diver skippered by Rob Barlow (see Chapter 28 of Book 2). 

Approaching Rona - MV Poplar Diver

Poplar Diver at Rona

My second Rona visit was in 2011 aboard MV Hjalmar Bjorge, skippered by Mark Henrys (see chapter 29 of book 2).

Approaching Rona - MV Hjalmar Bjorge

Hjalmar Bjorge at Rona

I am looking forward to returning to Rona in July of 2019; a suspenseful 17 months away. I say suspenseful because any visit to Rona is dependent on conditions. But the odds, in my case, anyway, have been fairly good. Only one of three attempts to get there over the years has failed. The unsuccessful attempt was in 2009. Although conditions precluded getting to Rona that time, we had some excellent Plan B options: Setting foot on Tanera Mor, Isay, South Rona, Shiants, Scalpay, Skye, Canna and Muck. (The Isay visit is described in chapter 4 of book 2).

Below are some photos of Rona from 2011. If visiting this far-off isle appeals, consider joining us in 2019. Getting there is, as always, dependent on sea conditions. But if anyone can get you there it's Mark Henrys at the helm of Hjalmar Bjorge.

Sula seen from Rona (zoom)

Departing Rona

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.