The Enchanted Isles

The road to Tarbert

For some time a trip to the Shiants  has seemed like good way to enhance our annual pilgrimage to the Outer Hebrides. but we never quite got round to it. This time we did.
A car drive down to Tarbert in Harris and then aboard the twin-hulled motor cruiser and off we went, bound for these elusive islands that seem to change shape according to the weather conditions.

www.isleofharrisseatours.co.uk

The Shiants, Na h-Eileanan Seunta, lie off the east coast of Harris.The name translates as "holy", "enchanted" or "charmed".

 They comprise of three islands, Eilean an Taighe ( The Island of the House), Garbh Eilean ( Rough Island), Eilean Mhuire ( the Island of the Virgin Mary) and a line of rocky islets, the Galtachans, with equally evocative names Galta Beag, Bodach (old man), Stacan Laidir, Galta Mòr, Sgeir Mhic a' Ghobha and Damhag (bullock)

Approaching the Shiants

                                     

The Galtachans 

Eilean Muirhe

Once owned by Compton Mackenzie, though he never stayed there, they have been occupied since at least the Iron Age and supported five families in the eighteenth century.

Old "tigh dubh" or black house in ruins on Garbh Eilean

Uninhabited for many years, they had become over-run with black rats, probably from a shipwreck.

A successful programme of eradication removed the invaders and allowed the seabird colonies, particularly the puffins with their nesting burrows, to flourish. It is hoped the shearwaters and petrels will also return. The re-introduced white-tailed sea eagles are ruling the skies. We saw five in the course of the trip. Watching a raven harassing a circling eagle, we later discovered the reason when we noted a pair of them guarding their nest in the rocky outcrops on Garbh Eilean.

Sailing round to the eastern side, we passed rafts of guillemots. razorbills and puffins as well as shags, cormorants and eider duck.

 Porpoises and seals investigated our boat and bonxies, great skuas, wheeled overhead chasing the kittiwakes for their catch.

The landing was a bit tricky as we scrambled ashore from an inflatable on to the shingly isthmus between Eilean an Taighe and Garbh Eilean then clambered up the rocky "path" from the shore.

There are no longer any sheep on the islands so the wild flowers flourish with lousewort, milkweed, tormentil and hebridean orchids between the rocky outcrops and yellow irises in the marshy spots along with the insectiverous butterwort.

Tormentil, Hebridean Orchid, Yellow Iris, Butterwort, Lousewort

The islands are geologically much younger than the rest of the Outer Hebrides and the dolerite columns of their cliffs, similar to those on Staffa and the Giants Causeway, provide nesting for tens of thousands of sea-birds.

The cliffs on Garbh Eilean are pierced by a spectacular arch. Toll a Rhoime though passing through it would be a hazardous business.

Approach to Toll a Roimh - No passage through !

On the way back to Tarbet , we passed the deserted coastal village Bhalamus.

 A settlement with no road to it. A reminder of a time when the sea was the easiest way to transport people and goods.  

Finally, under the arch of the bridge to Scalpay to tie up in Tarbert and have a wee dram of Tamnavulin to finish off the day.

Ne'er cast a cloot

The May Tree

Beltane, half way between the vernal equinox and the summer solstice, has come and gone.

Now sanitised into the May Bank Holiday, it was once the time when the cattle were led out to the summer pastures, passing between two fires in symbolic purification. Youngsters would leap over the fires in celebration of the start of the growing season, a time of fun and courting when maidens would wash their faces in the first dew and dream, that night, of their husband-to-be.

The may bush, the hawthorn, was central to the rituals, the flowers being used to decorate the doorways of houses.

This year, the may bushes have hardly started to blossom.

 Geans and Scrogs

The geans and the scrogs (bird cherry and crab apple for the Anglophones) are in bloom in the garden of the Priory ruins where the old symbols still manage to find a place in the imagery.

The Green Man

The Green Man peeps from the carvings and the hawthorn still holds pride of place.

The wind from the north has a touch of Arctic ice in its veils and the may flowers stay tightly closed except for a few on the sheltered south facing hedge.

The fleece jackets are still zipped up and the old adage holds true.

"Ne'er cast a cloot 'til the may is oot"

We will have to wait.