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. 

A Walk to Isle Ornsay

One by one, over the years, I've made a point to visit sites associated with Gavin Maxwell. My interest dates back nearly 50 years to the movie Ring of Bright Water. The movie made quite an impression on me when I saw it at age 12 in the Orpheum Theatre in Seattle.

The first Maxwell site I visited was in 2008, when I set foot on the island of Soay (near Skye), where he had his shark-oil factory (see the December 17, 2016 post). The story of the shark fishery is told in his first book Harpoon at a Venture (1952).

Soay

My next Maxwell pilgrimage was to Eilean Bhan, the lighthouse island now under the Skye Bridge, that Maxwell owned for a while (see the July 18, 2013 post). Of all the Maxwell sites, Eilean Bhan is the easiest to visit, as there are regular tours. On the tour you will be able to see inside the cottage, climb the lighthouse, visit a beautiful wildlife hide, and see Teko's memorial stone.

View from the top of Eilean Bhan lighthouse

Teko's memorial stone

Of course the premiere Maxwell pilgrimage site is Sandaig, a small bay south of Eilean Bhan, and the site of his Camusfearna. I made the hike there last year (see the August 30, 2016 post).  A memorial to Maxwell lies on the site of his house, which burned in 1968. Under some nearby trees is Edal's memorial, the Ring of Bright Water otter that died in the fire.

There was still one remaining Maxwell site I wanted to see; so before heading to the Western Isles last July my wife and I spent a few days at the Eilean Iarmain Hotel on Skye. On the first full day, which was overcast with occasional rain showers, I checked the tide tables. Low water was at 4pm, and so at 2pm I left the hotel to walk a short way to the shore. Off to the east lay my destination: the lighthouse of Isle Ornsay. Along with the cottages on Eilean Bhan, five miles to the northeast, Maxwell bought the Ornsay cottages in 1961 (some sources say 1966).

The tide flats were a bit muddy, but very walkable if I kept close to the shore. The total distance to the lighthouse is a mile, and the halfway point is the island of Ornsay. The lighthouse is actually on yet another tidal island, Eilean Sionnaich, which means either fox or seagull island. I would guess the latter definition is correct, as there were no foxes around, but there were plenty of gulls wheeling high overhead.

Tide flats to Isle Ornsay (at left)

Low tide crossing to Eilean Sionnaich

A curious set of seahorse-balustrades topped the seawall that guards the tidal track up to the island. (Or maybe they're water-horses?)

Just above the seawall lay the forlorn walled garden. A garden of grass and weeds; it's been a long time since any crops have been cultivated here.

Between the garden and the lighthouse stood the two side by side cottages. Maxwell's intent for the cottages, as well as those on Eilean Bhan, is summarized in this excerpt from Richard Frere's excellent book Maxwell's Ghost:  'His idea was to renovate his purchases and, using their splendid wild situations and his well-known name as joint inducements, let them to the public at enormous rents.'

As described in Frere's book, the Isle Ornsay cottages were refurbished and let out to holiday makers during Maxwell's ownership. These days the cottages are private residences for the Sedgwicks. They are fortunate to have a place like this. In an area busy with tourists a more isolated place would be hard to find. (Except for the occasional nosy hiker passing by.)

There was no one in residence when I visited. Which was for the best, as I would not have gone near the cottages if anyone was there. For that matter, I'd have felt awkward even passing near them to see the lighthouse. Set next to the cottages is a beautiful memorial stone to the actress Paulita Sedgwick.

Just beyond the cottages a walkway leads to the lighthouse. On 10 November 1857, both this light, and the one on Eilean Bhan, became operational. Keepers lived here until automation came in the early 1960s.

I enjoyed a snack before crossing back across the still dry shingle beach to Isle Ornsay. Before continuing I took a look at the map, and noticed there was a burial ground and chapel site on the nearby slopes of Isle Ornsay. I love finding these old chapels, and since the tide was still out I had time to look for it.

Once on Ornsay I made my way across a soggy field carpeted with tall grass. Since you can not see the ground, it can be treacherous to cross this kind of terrain. So I slowly made my way to a gate in a fence; a wire fence that seemed to encircle the whole island. Greeting me at the gate was a sign, its red letters not specifically saying 'KEEP OUT', but words to that effect: 'Please respect the privacy of the owner, and keep to the shore side of the fence.'

I would indeed respect their privacy by avoiding any houses. But I had every right to look for the old burial ground and chapel. So I climbed the fence and hiked up the grassy hillside. There was no trace of a chapel ruin that was seen here in 1928, but I knew I was in the right place because of a large, worn tombstone, on a level site that looked over to the lighthouse. (See this CANMORE page for more on the chapel that once stood here.)

It was a beautiful spot, and the owners have done a wonderful job of landscaping.

After enjoying this lovely place for a while I headed back to the shore to follow a meager path to the tidal crossing. The return to Skye was as messy as the walk out, as the route is half on gravel, half on mud flats. Even so, I meandered a little, taking time to explore two small islets before the tide isolated them. Along the way there were good views over to the hotel - the pub looked especially inviting.

After changing out of my muddy pants my wife and I enjoyed an excellent meal at the pub. After that we walked to the shore below the hotel. The tide was high, and Eilean Sionnaich was, once again, an island; its tower lit to a brilliant white by the setting sun.

The Great Bernera Mill

For me, seeing the restored Great Bernera Norse Mill was a two-year challenge. I first saw it from the sea in 2015 (see the June 30, 2015 post). It looked so intriguing I promised myself that someday I'd take the time to walk to it.

And so, a year later, with Explorer Map 458 in hand, I walked to the end of the road east of the Bernera Museum. The map showed a dotted line path that went directly to the mill, a quarter-mile farther east. All I saw at the road's end was a gate leading into a marshy field. There was nary a trace of a path of any kind, and it looked so swampy I knew I'd sink to my knees if I tried to cross it. You can see the gate to nowhere at the left in the following photo.

I scratched my head, looked at the map again, and gave up. It was late in the day, and the museum was closed. With no one around to ask directions I drove to the Bernera Mini-Mart. I showed the man on duty the map. He had no idea where the path was.

I then drove the east Bernera circuit road looking for a way to the shore. I saw nothing that looked doable, and gave up. My wife and I were returning to the mainland the next day, so I had to put seeing the mill on the list for next time.

So, fast forward to last month. My wife and I were staying on Great Bernera for a week. On a clear, sunny day I set out to visit the mill. I asked for directions at the museum, telling them about my previous failed attempt. They told me to simply follow the red marker posts, and so I returned to that same road's end I'd visited the year before. There were no red posts anywhere, just that same swampy field beyond a gate; a gate that looked like it had not been opened in years.

I returned to the museum and told them so. The woman on duty said there'd been some 'vandalism'. What! Vandals attacking marker posts on Great Bernera?  This was certainly odd. Then she gave me the key to the mill; not a real key, just a suggestion. I needed to walk right up to the house at the end of the road, which you can see to the upper right in the previous photo.

And so I walked up to the house. And there it was. Just to the left of the driveway stood another gate not visible from the road below. This must be the place. But there was no red marker post, or a sign of any kind. Very odd.

I could be wrong, but I surmised the 'vandalism' was that the marker post had been removed to discourage walkers from passing so close to the houses. After following the path past the house I finally came across a red post, one not visible from the road.

From there a series of posts led east over a hill. From there ten minutes of walking brought me to the mill on the shore of Loch Riosaigh.

It was fantastic, like stepping back in time. The mill was used until the 1920s, and had been rebuilt in 1995. Its restored thatch roof was mostly intact, and along the side of the building the mill race flowed to the sea. 

Water in the mill race could be redirected to flow through the lower level of the mill to turn the paddle-wheel. But the water was not going that way so, torch in hand, I entered the dark opening to see the wheel.

On the upper level of the mill were the two millstones, and a wood funnel used to pour grain into the stones.

I then thought about visiting the giant lobster pond and dam on the far side Loch Riosaigh. I'd seen it from the sea back in 2015, and it looked like quite an impressive structure. It is one of the largest lobster ponds in the isles, and was in use until the 1960s. (You can read more here.) 

The pond was only 500 meters away. But getting there involves following the rough coastline around the head of the loch, a distance of 1000 meters. It was getting late, and so I decided to save it for next time. Before heading back I walked out to the tip of a small headland east of the mill, as I'd seen some sort of structure there. On reaching it I discovered it was just a large cairn, probably built by hikers taking a break in this beautiful spot. I left my own mark by building a portal dolmen from three large stones.

Looking at my handiwork I started chucking to myself. I'd suddenly recalled a hilarious event that happened many years ago in the west of Ireland. I was at the Polnabrone Portal Dolmen, one of the most impressive dolmens in the world. I was with Gloria and Regina, two of my nieces. After seeing the dolmen we walked out onto the rocky terrain of the Burren, where we sat down and set about building our own mini-dolmens from the many flat stones that covered the area; none of them more than six inches high. No sooner had we finished when we heard stomping behind us. Up walked the site warden, who proceeded to knock down our creations. He seemed to think future researchers would confuse our little dolmens with the real thing.  

There was no warden at the mill to knock down my creation, only the coming winter storms. I left the headland and made the short walk back to the road. At the hidden gate I was tempted to transplant one of the red posts to it, so it would be visible from the road. But it would probably disappear, too.

Now that you know the way, if you are ever on Great Bernera be sure to visit the mill. It is well worth the short walk. You can read more about the mill here.

A Walk to the Aird Mhor

In July I made a three-day hike from Morsgail to the Aird Mhor on the far southwestern tip of Lewis. The journey was made to photograph some of the more intact beehive cells and shielings found in one of the most remote places in the Hebrides. The story of the walk, which followed the route shown below, can be found on the Aird Mhor Walk tab.

Beehive cell above Loch Reasort

2018 Guided Cruise - One Spot Left

Get it before it's gone! There is only one remaining spot on the 2018 Guide Cruise (for a male sharing a twin cabin). Our voyage will focus on islands to the south and west of Oban; including Oronsay and the Garvellachs. If conditions permit, we'll head as far south as Càra. For more information see the 2018 Cruise tab. To book see the Northern Lights website.

Prior Colin's Cross - Oronsay

Equipment Failure and a Shieling Salvation

I made several hikes on Lewis over the past three weeks. One of them did not go as planned. I had bought a new pack in June, and before heading to Scotland I took it out for a test drive on an overnight visit to Blake Island in Puget Sound. It was a sunny and hot trip, and the pack worked well.

So fast forward a couple weeks to July 16 when, with my new pack, I set out on a two day hike on Lewis from Stacaiseal to Shawbost. A route that would take me by several beehive cells and shielings.

The hike started at the middle of the Pentland Road, eight miles southeast of Carloway. Just after my wife dropped me off, and I began hiking north, it started raining. It was not too bad at first, and I was able to get some good photos of the cells near the summit of Stacaiseal, a hill that rises to 700 feet, a mile and a half north of the Pentland Road.

From Stacaiseal I turned to the northwest to head to Uiseal. It was then that it started raining hard, with a fierce wind that blew the rain sideways. I did not know it at the time, but the rain was being driven into my new pack through its strap-down lid. Around 7 pm, just as I reached the shielings of Uiseal, I noticed my pants were getting wet; the way the pack was riding on my back had opened up a gap in my overtrousers, allowing the rain running down the pack to pour in. I was going to have to set up my tent, and try to dry out as soon as possible, or I'd have a miserable night. 

But the terrain was mushy, soggy, and boggy; terrible for setting up a tent. I have seen many shieling sites in the past that are surrounded by close cropped grass on solid ground, perfect for pitching a tent, and I kept hoping I'd find such a spot. But eight o'clock came and went and no decent campsite came along. I was about to give up looking when I noticed a stone structure on the hillside above me. Maybe it was a ruined shieling, whose walls would give my tent some shelter from the wind. 

As I neared the little building it looked like its turf roof was intact, and the one doorway had been barricaded with an iron crowbar to keep the sheep (and the fairies?) out. Had my prayers been answered? Would I have a dry place to sleep?

Inside the structure I could see that half its turf roof was intact, and under the intact bit was a narrow plywood bench I could lay my sleeping bag on. It was only then, as I opened the pack to get the sleeping bag, that I discovered the rain had got inside. My sleeping bag was wet, as were my spare clothes. There was nothing to do but make the best of it, and so I spread the damp sleeping bag out on the bench.

Inside, next to a fireplace, was a pile of dried peat, along with an assortment of rusted peat cutting tools. I tried to build a fire, but I had no kindling or newspaper. I did have an emergency candle, one I've carried on every backpacking trip over the past 20 years. I'd never used it in all that time, and I tried pouring melted wax from it on the peat, and then lighting it. But it did not work. 

Fireplace

Around 10 pm, in my damp clothes, and with my candle burning on the ledge next to me, I slid into the damp sleeping bag. It would be a long night, and between bouts of shivering I managed to get some sleep. Fortunately I was shielded from the wind and rain. In the morning I packed up as soon as it was light, and then went out to take photos of the many shielings that dot the terrain east of Loch Rahacleit. Around noon I reached the public road at Shawbost where my wife picked me up. Lesson learned: Always test out your gear in miserable conditions near to home, before using it in miserable conditions miles from home.  

Although all did not go as planned, the memory of finding a surprise shieling shelter, on a stormy island night, is one I will treasure.

Wet lens view of my accomodation

NEW - 2018 Guided Cruise

The itinerary has now been set for the June 2018 guided cruise on Hjalmar Bjorge. Our voyage will focus on islands to the south and west of Oban, including the Isles of the Sea. And if conditions permit, we'll head as far south as Càra. For more information see the 2018 Guided Cruise tab. To book see the Northern Lights website.

PS: I will be offline for a few weeks. It's back to the isles for some extended hiking on Lewis to Kinlochresort, Ardmore, Ardveg, and Fidigidh. I also hope to visit some of the lost villages on the south coast of Pairc; such as Bhalamus, Thinngartsaidh, and the infamous Bàgh Ciarach.

Monastic ruins on Eileach an Naoimh of the Garvellachs (The Isles of the Sea)