The Long Island

We've just returned from a trip across the sea to a land where the natives speak an ancient tongue, a place where there are temples to the sun and the moon and tombs of the ancestors, a place of turquoise waters lapping on white sandy beaches, a place where orchids grow wild and dolphins splash in the surf.

 No, not the Spice Islands nor the Grecian archipelago – the Outer Hebrides!

We sailed from Oban up the sound of Mull to Barra. The entrance to Castlebay is dominated by Kisimul Castle. Our hotel room provided us with splendid views of the seat of the MacNeils of Barra. 

No visit to Barra is complete without witnessing the sight of an aeroplane landing and taking off from the beach Traigh Mhor

 

Sustained with superb local food, we crossed by a small ferry to Eriskay - the island of the Love Lilt and the Eriskay ponies and the original site of the story of "Whisky Galore" and proceeded up "The Long Island". South Uist, Benbecula and North Uist are all joined by causeways with only the ferry to Harris still need to complete the journey to Lewis.

Staying at Langass Lodge, we visited the 5000-year old, Neolithic tomb at Barpa Langas-Barpa Langais- a great mound of stones over a central tomb. The entrance passage is easily found but is partially collapsed. Apparently, cremated remains were found within. Not far away is the fine stone circle of Pobull Fhinn.

On the way to the ferry from Uist to Harris, we stopped at the island fort of Dun An Sitcir - the "fort of the skulker" - a 16th century redoubt built on the remains of an Iron Age broch.  

The dun was inhabited by Hugh MacDonald, one of the MacDonalds of Sleat and son of Hugh the Clerk, until 1602. He sheltered here after plotting to slaughter his kin, but was eventually captured to be starved to death in Duntulm Castle on Trotternish, in Skye. They were tough times in those days !

The ferry to Harris brought us to Tarbert and our stay at the Harris Hotel where again the cuisine was mouth-watering. A visit to the Harris distillery introduced us to Harris Gin with its unique infusion of local sugar kelp. The addition of a few drops of Sugar Kelp Aromatic Water as a bitters to the neat spirit was an experience!

The drive through the rocky landscape of Harris took us across An Clisham, the highest point of Western Isles to the flat moors of Lewis and our last stop at Aignish of the edge of Broad Bay where our old friends, the basking seals waved a flipper of welcome.

The next day a trip to the nearby moorland had us watching the arctic skuas harassing the terns to disgorge their catch, a bit foolish as the terns were heading out to sea. The skuas would have been better waiting until they returned after their fishing trip.

Another Neolithic chambered cairn, An Dursainean, occupied the high ground. It would seem that a stone circle or a tomb is around every corner in this trip up the Hebrides.

It passed only too quickly.

Beinn Bragar and beyond

 

Beinn Bragar

Beinn Bragar isn't much of a hill, less than a thousand feet, but on the flat Lewis moorland it, and its two companions, Beinn Rahacleit and Beinn Choinnich, stand out as a mini-massif on the peat bogs. The ramparts of ancient stone promised some energetic scrambling with the prospect of some decent views of the coastline to the north and west.

A good scramble!

The path in from Shawbost took me over abandoned peat hags and squelchy mosses to the base of the ben then a stiff but relatively quick, even for an old guy, climb to the upper stony redoubt.

The entire climb was accompanied by the call of cuckoos, perhaps voicing an opinion of the sensibility of the blogger, and the warbling wheep of curlew. The approach slopes were steep enough to keep my face parallel to the ground and gave me a passing inventory of the flora and fauna of the hill - the insectiverous butterworts, spotted hebridean orchids, busy burying beetles, marsh violets and delicate sedges.

The scramble to the top was quite exhilarating and the views, as expected, were beautiful.

To the north, I saw a good track which looked a lot easier than the peat moor that I tramped across and seemed the best way out but, as I discovered, everything has its price.  The descent was not as easy on the northern slopes. 

No easy way down

 Somewhat bruised but intact, I made my way back to have look at the remains of an Iron age fort – a dun,on   the edge of the appropriately named Loch an Duna, in the village of Bragar.

Dun Bragar

Built in the first millenium B.C., it was occupied up until the middle ages when defensive sructures were still essential in the habitual clan battles between Morrisons, Macalays, and Macleods.

http://www.theguardian.com/uk/2009/jun/21/scotland-windpower-lewis-morrisons-macaulays

Now, the only occupants of the loch are grey lags and mallards, raising their broods in peace.

  Down by the sea, I came across the somewhat grandly named Port Mhor Bragar,  translating as the big port of Bragar which only consists of a slipway but, like so many of the spots on the Hebrides, has an a view round every corner.

Another relic of the middle ages is the pre-reformation chapel, Teampull Eoin, at Port Mhor Bragar.  Like so many of these charming little early churches along the coastline of Lewis, it has been allowed to fall into ruin, despoiled by modern graves dug in its interior.
 Strange that islanders so famed for their religiosity should treat the places of worship of their forefathers in such a cavalier fashion.

Teampull Eoin - St John's chapel

   Despite the bruises, a good day out.