An Island Odyssey. Hamish Haswell-Smith
clams, mussels, lobsters, cockles, etc., which might be pickled and exported in great quantities.
Some years ago we moored Jandara in Ardantrive Bay at the north end of the pleasantly rural island of Kerrera. Kerrera, which forms a natural breakwater for the important harbour of Oban, once had a population of nearly 200 and still supports about forty residents. The island’s main function for many years was a stepping-stone for the annual cattle drive from Mull to the mainland.
It was a damp evening and Peter, Ian and I retired below to find the saloon chilly and unwelcoming. Craig, who is our expert on such matters, disappeared into the lazaret and twenty minutes later warm air was circulating pleasantly. He had fitted a larger diesel jet in the heating system, he explained.
Some time later, food, sea air, warmth and wine were having their inevitable effect. The ship-to-shore radio spluttered occasionally in the background. Someone was calling Oban Coastguard about a yacht which was on fire and there appeared to be no one aboard.
‘Where are you?’ asked the Coastguard.
‘Ardantrive,’ said the caller.
We grabbed our cameras and rushed on deck. Our motivation may have been heroic dreams of rescue or a photographic scoop – but more likely it was pure mindless curiosity.
We peered through a dense cloud of black exhaust fumes coming from our heating system and with great difficulty saw the red-faced skipper of the adjoining craft asking the Coastguard to cancel the call as it now appeared that there were four men aboard the yacht and that they had the emergency under control.
We switched off the heating system, thanked both the helpful caller and the Coastguard for their concern, and retired shame-facedly to our bunks.
Most of Kerrera’s 3000 acres have belonged to the Clan MacDougall since Somerled’s time in the 12th century. Although it is so close to bustling Oban it is a world apart with lovely views and quiet walks. An easy climb up Càrn Breugach through shrub woodland is rewarding for its magnificent view of the Lorn coast.
Gylen Castle
It was in Horseshoe Bay in the beautiful Sound of Kerrera that Alexander II’s fleet anchored in July 1249. Alexander slept aboard ship. In the morning he said he had dreamed that St Columba had come aboard and told him he should return home immediately. Alexander’s nobles felt he should heed the warning but Alexander scoffed at the idea and went ashore. But as he stepped off the vessel onto Kerrera’s soil he stumbled and before he could be carried back on board he died. The land behind the bay is still called Dalrigh – ‘the field of the king’.
The tall ruin of Gylen Castle – ‘castle of the springs’ – is on the south coast of Kerrera above natural springs which provided ample fresh water in case of siege. It was built in 1587 by the 16th MacDougall chief, on the site of an earlier fortification. In 1647 during the Covenanting Wars it was besieged by General Leslie who promised the defenders safe passage if they surrendered. They accepted, but as soon as they had left the castle every single one of them was slaughtered and the castle burnt. On a gloomy day the ruin still looks formidable poised above the steep and rocky coastline and an inscription inside seems to say – ‘Trust in God and sin no more’.
Gylen Castle was the repository for the MacDougalls’ famous Brooch of Lorn which is said to have belonged to Bruce. It is a large disc of Celtic silver filagree with a cavity for sacred relics and a huge rock-crystal circled by eight jewelled obelisks. For two centuries the MacDougalls believed that it had been destroyed in the fire but in 1825 General Sir Duncan Campbell of Lochnell confessed to having inherited it. His ancestor, Campbell of Inverawe, one of Leslie’s officers, had looted it after all the defenders had been massacred and before the castle was burnt down. The General chose to make amends by presenting it to his neighbour, MacDougall of Dunollie, at a public ceremony.
Achadun Castle
LISMORE
. . . It is not the habit that makes the monk, nor doth the garb in fashion qualify him that wears it to be virtuous. The inhabitants have humanity, and use strangers hospitably and charitably.
Howling wind, driving rain and failing light are not the best conditions for trying a new passage between strange rocks and I was unwise to consider it but we were all tired and with one of the crew very seasick I thought the short-cut would be worthwhile. I knew the north passage into Port Ramsay at Lismore like the back of my hand but the sailing instructions made the west passage between two skerries seem easy – and it would save nearly half an hour of further misery. ‘The face of the southerly pair of cottages (and only these) kept in sight leads clear north of the rock. . . ‘said the instructions. Harry had the binoculars and Duncan was at the bow as I brought Jandara round and headed for the distant cottages which could be seen faintly through the spume. Suddenly we came to a shuddering stop and there was a crash from below as we reared gently upwards and then slipped back again. Fortunately our speed had been slow, the rock well-cushioned with seaweed and the crash was our seasick sailor falling down the companionway with, luckily, no serious consequences except injured pride. I bore away hastily and resigned myself to a slow slog against the wind.
By comparison the Lynn of Lorn is relatively free of rocks and the story goes that in AD561 two competitive saints, St Moluag and St Mulhac, had a boat race across it after agreeing that the first to touch Lismore would be entitled to found his monastery on the island. St Moluag realised at the last minute that he would not reach the island first so he cut off his finger and threw it ashore. It landed on the beach just north of the broch at Tirefour and this gained him the title.
St Moluag was an Irish contemporary of St Columba and his monastery became an important ecclesiastical centre. More than six centuries later when John the Englishman, Bishop of Dunkeld and Argyll, confessed to the Pope that he was unable to learn to speak Gaelic, the Pope split the diocese and Lismore was chosen as the seat of a separate diocese of Argyll whose bishops were known as Episcopi Lismorenses.
Lismore soil is exceptionally fertile thanks to its limestone base and this probably accounts for its name – lios-mór in Gaelic which means ‘big garden’. The wild flowers are profuse – field gentians, rock rose, mimulus, tutsan, ivy-leaved toadflax, wild orchids, cranesbill, brooklimes, water mints and speedwells to name a few. There are many fine trees and shelter belts, mainly sycamore, ash, lime and chestnut, but little natural woodland, although in the 16th century the whole island was very thickly forested with oak.