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.

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.