Islay
Our last week in Scotland was blessed with wonderful anticyclonic weather and the lightest of winds. Luckily we were heading down the Sounds of Luing and Jura , an area renowned for its strong tides, so rather than reach for the starter button we spent a couple of days tiding South , dropping a hook for the foul tides in deserted and rocky anchorages which we shared with the ducks, divers , seals, otters ,gannets and guillemots as they got on with raising their young and like us , enjoying the quiet weather. Eventually we drifted in to Port Ellen at the South end of Islay.
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| From Islay |
I knew I was going to like Islay as soon as I saw a lovely 26ft double ended varnished open boat dancing at her mooring . Those of you who know me will not be surprised at the time I spend pouring over the local traditional craft , and it has not always been a joyous occupation up here . With the notable exception of Stornaway and a fabulous Sgoth Niseach, many of the little out of the way harbours and beaches were festooned with lovely old open boats left to rot , although I would estimate that most of them were well over 50 years old. Here it was different. Tied up to the mooring jetty were two brand new double enders , albeit in fibre glass, with new oars and obviously well looked after. It seemed that they had recently been rowed the 40 odd miles across the North Channel to Ireland and I recognised the lines as being those of the Yawls or Drondheims of the Northern Irish coast fishery of 100 years ago. As the varnished boat demonstrated all too plainly , they are near ancestors of the Viking boats that swept through these waters 1500 years ago , and none too far removed from the galleys of Grace o’Malley who had so fascinated us all those weeks ago in the waters of Mayo.
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| From Islay |
Islay is a very “civilised “ island with roads and cars to hire so we set off to find Finlaggan – the ancient seat of the lords of the Isles. It was sited on a couple of crannogs ( artificial islands on inland lochs built originally as defensive structures in the bronze age ) and the ruins were overbuilt in the 16th century by one of the minor chieftains of the area who was wont to spend his summers fighting as a mercenary back in Ireland .His grave stone depicted a highland warrior in typical period armour above a galley , as befits one who would travel over the sea to carry out his “work”. His galley looked very similar to the little varnished yawl bobbing about on her mooring back in Port Ellen and the circle seemed to be completed when I picked up a book about a replica galley that had been built in Ireland , and sailed from Clew Bay to Stornaway just as we had done . It didn’t surprise me to learn that the varnished yawl was built, by the same builder as the galley , for a local fisherman whose grandfather had fished in just such a vessel 50 years before.
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| From Islay |
I had a lovely evening rowing one of the yawls and yarning with Jim McFarlane , the owner of the varnished boat. It seems that the Drondheims spread from Northern Ireland to the islands of Islay and Colonsay in the same way that the Galleys of yesteryear sped back and forth over the North channel, uniting the two lands physically and culturally . It was wonderful to see how one man’s passion and determination to keep alive the tradition of these marvellous craft looks set to preserve them in at least one area of the Hebrides.
He invited me to sail with him , but with a big weather system looming we had to cross the North channel the next day or be storm bound for a week, so we set off at dawn and were swept down to Belfast lough, like thousands of galleys and drondheims before us , by the enormous tides of the North Channel.
I will be back to take him up on the offer.