Category: Seaboard News Gaelic archive

Pearù a tuath – làraichean eachdraidheil

Raon a’ chladaich

Bha mi ann am Pearù 3 seachdainean uile gu lèir. Chuir sinn mu aon seachdain anns an raon rèidh ghainmheach air a’ chosta tuath air Lima, sgìre le mòran phioramaidean tomadach, dèanta às na milleanan de bhricean-eabair (adobe).  ‘S e fuigheall theampuill agus lùchairtean ro-Choluimbeanach (agus ro-Inca) a th’ annta, aig na cultaran mòra Moche (c.100-700 AD) agus Chimu (c. 900-1470), agus bha sinn aig làraichean fìor dhruidhteach mar Huanca de la Luna, El Brujo, Cao agus Chan Chan. Chan urrainn dhut gun a bhith làn mòr-mheasa ro na sgilean-togail adhartach innleachdach a bha aca mar-thà. 

Sgapte air an fhàsach seo tha plantachaidhean-siùcair agus àiteachas eile, nach biodh rim dèanamh idir gun dòighean-uisgeachaidh a stèidhich na cultaran eachdraidheil seo. Tha bailtean brèagha trang ann cuideachd, mar Trujillo, le ailtireachd cholonaidheach agus raointean spàgach de thaigheadais earragis air an iomall.

Uair eile bha sinn nas fhaide tuath san sgìre mu Chiclayo, gus na làiraichean aig Tucume agus Lambayeque (c.800-1350 AD) fhaicinn, leis an taigh-tasgaidh ainmeil “Lord of Sipan”, làn earrasan-uaighe luachmhor à tuama phrionnsail.

Tha taighean-tasgaidh fìor mhath aig gach làrach eachdraidheal, a’ sealladh caochladh iongantach de bhathar-criadha, bhuill-cheàirde, òir is airgead às na cladhaich arc-eòlais, a dh’aindeòin nan linntean de robairean-uaighe.

Andes

Chuir sinn seachdain eile seachad anns na h-Andes a tuath gus tadhail air làraichean ro-Choluimbeach anns na gleannan torrach brèagha àrda, gu h-àraidh an fheadhainn aig na Chachapoyas (c.900 – 1500 AD), “Laoich nan Sgòthan”. An seo ‘s e na cleachdaidhean-adhlacaidh a tha gu sònraichte ùidheil. Ann an Revash, Karajia agus an sgìre Leymabamba chaidh mumaidhean a chur a-steach do chisteachan-laighe neo-àbhaisteach, ann an cruth dhaoine neònach no taighean, làraichte do-ruigsinneach àrd air aodainnean-creige dìreach. Tha an taigh-tasgaidh ann an Leymabamba loma-làn de mhumaidhean. Chì thu cuideachd eisimplearan de “trepanning” an sin, obair-lannsa air a’ chlaigeann gus bruthadh air an eanchainn a lùghdachadh – mar as trice gu soirbeachail. Air sgàth suidheachadh àrd nan làraichean sin, bha againn gu tric ri dìreadh gu math fada, air ceumannan casa, uaireannan le bhith a’ cleachdadh eich! Rinn sinn sin cuideachd dhan dùn ana-mhòr àrd Kualep, iongantach math dèanta à blocaichean-cloiche aibhseach – fada ro na h-Incas.

Bha làrach fada na bu tràithe ann cuideachd aig Cumbe Mayo, faisg air Cajamarca, duct-uisge ro-eachdraidheil (c. 1500 BC). Tha e ag obrachadh fhathast, le lùban toinnte air an gearradh às a‘ chloich gus maille a chur air an t-sruth, gun innealan meatailt a bhith aca, agus petroglyphs inntinneach air an t-slighe. Cuairt-bheinne chas eile againn!

Tha an sealladh-dùthcha shuas anns na h-Andes dìreach òirdheirc, agus chanainn gu bheil na rathaidhean cumhang cas lùbach gu math dùbhlanach, aig a’ char as lùgha!

An ath thuras cuiridh mi crìoch air an aithisg agam leis na làraichean Inca, ceann a deas Phearù – an Gleann Naomh agus Machu Picchu.

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North Peru – historical sites

Coastal plains

Of the 3 weeks in Peru, about a week of our tour was spent in the flat, sandy coastal region north of Lima, with its massive pyramid-shaped structures made of millions of mud-bricks (adobe), the impressive remains of pre-Columbian (and pre-Incan) temples and palaces, especially those of the great Moche (c. 100 – 700) and Chimu c.(900 – 1470) cultures, at El Brujo, Huaca de la Luna, Cao and Chan Chan. You couldn’t but be impressed by the inventive, advanced building skills they had already had then.

The desert is interrupted by sugar plantations and other farming, only possible due to irrigation techniques established by these early cultures, and busy attractive towns like Trujillo with colonial architecture and sprawling makeshift developments on their edges.

Later we went further north to the area around Chiclayo, visiting the Tucume and Lambayeque historic sites (c.800 – 1350 AD) , with the famous “Lord of Sipan” museum displaying amazing finds from a princely burial.
All the historic sites in fact have excellent museums, showing the huge variety of astonishing ceramics, artefacts, gold and silver from excavations, despite centuries of grave-robbers.

Andes

We also spent about a week in the northern Andes, visiting early Andean cultural sites in the beautiful, green high valleys, particularly the Chachapoyas culture c. 900 – 1500 AD, the “Warriors of the Clouds”. Here one of the main focuses was the fascinating burial practices. In Revash, Karajia, and near Leymabamba, mummies would be placed in different kinds of elaborate sarcophagi and somehow lodged high on inaccessible cliff-faces, some house-shaped, some curiously human-shaped.  Leymebamba has a museum full of different mummies, and also examples of trepanning – surgery cutting into the skull to relieve pressure (usually successfully). Most of these high sites meant we had to hike up steep hills to see them, sometimes using horses for parts of the way – also to visit the massive Chachapoyan fortress of Kualep, astonishingly well-built out of huge blocks of cut stone – long before the Incas.

A much earlier site was the prehistoric (c. 1500 BC) stone aqueduct at Cumbe Mayo, near Cajamarcas, still functioning today, with complicated stone bends cut in the stone walls (without metal tools) to slow the flow, and interesting petroglyphs along the way. Another mountain hike for us!

The scenery in the high Andes is spectacular, and I would call the steep, winding roads adventurous, to say the least!

Next time I’ll finish off my story with the Inca sites in the south, the Sacred Valley and Machu Picchu.

Àiteachas is iasgach an am Pearù

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Beagan seachdainean air ais bha mi cho fortanach is choilean mi bruadar nan làithean-sgole agam, nuair a thachair mi air dealbhan Machu Picchu: chaidh mi a Phearù! Is e an turas as iongantaiche a rinn mi riamh, ann an iomadh dòigh – caochladh nan seallaidhean-tìre, eachdraidh nan cultaran eadar-dhealaichte tro na linntean, am biadh, na bailtean, na daoine, an fhìor-mheudachd dheth… tha mo cheann làn dealbhan, fhuaimean is fhàilidhean fhathast!

Bidh mi a’ sgrìobhadh turas eile mun eachdraidh, ach am mìos seo bha mi airson rudeigin a ràdh mu na chunnaic mi de thuathanasachd is de dh’iasgach, is iad cuspairean ceangailte ris an sgìre againne.

Thòisich sinn air an raonach ri taobh cladach a’ Chuain Sèimh tuath air Lima, is e fàsach a th’ ann gu nàdarrach. Ach b’ urrainn do na treubhan tùsanach tràtha den sgìre, gu h-àraidh na Moche is na Chimù (ro na h-Incas is na Spainntich, am fàsach uisgeachadh le sruthan as na h-Andes, siostam a bhios ga chleachadh an-diugh fhèin fhathast airson nam plantachasan-siùcair mòra, cruithneachd Innseanaich, buntàta, agus ann an àitichean cofaidh. Chleachdadh iad cuideachd am pailteas de dh’èisg a thug na làin-mhara àrda aig El Nino gus lagùnaichean daonna-dhèante a lìonadh. Chì thu seo anns an obair-shnaidhidh  agus na dealbhan air am bathar-criadha aca. Agus bidh muinntir a’ chladaich a’ cleachdadh an aon seòrsa bàta-iasgaich bhig dèanta à cuilc chun an latha an-diugh. Ghabh sin ceviche, biadh-mara sònraichte le iasg ùr is mòran liomaideige, ann am baile beag iasgaich (is surfaidh), Huancacho.

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Às dèidh an raonaich dhìrich sin suas is suas a-steach dha na h-Andes, seachad air dàm dealan-uisgeach mòr – cleachdaidh iad uisge gu math ann am Pearù – agus chuir e iongnadh oirnn dè bhios a’ fàs cho àrd.  Aig 2000-4000 meatair os cionn na mara, fada nas àirde na Beinn Neibhis, tha srathan torrach le bailtean meudmhor mar Cajamarca, tuathanasan beaga, agus coilltean, air an uisgeachadh le lochan is aibhnichean, agus a-rithist le canàlan simplidh ach èifeachdach. Thadail sinn air fear drùidhteach aig Cume Mayo bho 1500-1000 ro Chrìosda. Chunnaic sinn cuideachd loin-eisg airson an tilapia bhlasda.

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Anns an 20. linn chaidh craobhan eucalyptus a chur sna beanntan gus cuideachadh an aghaidh bleith-thalmhainn, gu soirbheachail, is tha iad glè fheumail a-nis airson connaidh is stuth-togalach. Tha an tuathanasachd gu math simplidh, seann-fhasanta shuas an seo – chunnaic sinn treabhadh le daimh, agus bha cearcan, gobhair is mucan a’ ruith ri taobh na rathaidean air an dùthaich.  Agus bha mi toilichte buntàta fhaicinn cho àrd – tha Pearù ainmeal airson nan 6000 seòrsachan eadar-dhealaichte! Tha na margaidean ionadail dìreach mìorbhaileach.

Às dèidh sin bha sinn ann an sgìre nas àirde timcheall air Chachapoyas, Andes a‘ Choille-Sgòtha, far a chùmas adhar blàth bhon Amazon an fhàs-bheatha mèath agus leth-thropaigeach, agus na craobhan ri taobh na h-aibhne làn bromeliads. Tha flùraichean mar hibiscus air feadh an àite.

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San t-seachdain mu dheireadh (à trì), bha mi sìos san taobh a deas gus tadhail air Srath Naomh nan Incas, agus a-rithist chuir an torrachd aig àirdean anabarrach iongnadh orm.  Air an raonach àrd aig Moray (Phearù!), mu 3500 m, bha achaidhean farsaing ann le coirce, cruithneachd agus eòrna, sìol mar quinua, agus a-rithist buntàta – tha seòrsachan ann a dh’fhàsas aig 5000 meatair! Sìos air an raonach tha achaidhean-uisge ris ann cuideachd – pàirt chudromach den bhun-bhiadh. Ach nuair a dh’fhaighnich mi dè rinn iad leis an eòrna, cha robh mi an dùil seo a chluinntinn – an àite uisge-beatha a dhèanamh (nì iad deoch à cruithneachd Innseanach), bidh iad a’ beathachadh nan gearra-mhucan leis! Thèid a ghearradh buileach sìos fhad ‘s a tha e uaine fhathast, agus a thoirt gu lèir dhaibh. Bidh iadsan gan cumail mar chearcan anns a’ ghàrradh, agus gan ithe do dh’fhèilltean sònraichte, mar an Nollaig no co-làithean-breith.

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Anns gach àite ann am Pearù tha measan ann – dearcan mar an fheadhainn againne, agus cuideachd papayas, mangos, tomàtothan-craoibh, measan-dràgain, measan-siotrachais, fìon-dhearcan, cnòthan-chòco, agus gach seòrsa tiùbair. Bidh tòrr mheasan gan ithe dhan bhracaist no gan òl mar shugh, agus tha deòch ùrachail ann dèanta le cruithneachd Innseanach purpaidh, chicha morada. Tha iad measail cuideachd air pisco, spiorad làidir dèanta à fìon-dhearcan, gu h-àraidh san cocktail pisco sour. Tha Pearù aimeil airson a thioclaid cuideachd, agus tha a ghnìomhacas fìona, ged a tha e òg fhathast, gu math gealltanach.

‘S e dùthaich bheartach chaochlaideach a th’ innte, agus anabarrach inntinneach a thaobh fàs-bheatha leis an dualchas fada de shaochrachadh-bìdh aig àirde. Is fhiach e a thadhail do chroitear no thuathanach sam bith!

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Farming and fishing in Peru

A few weeks ago I was lucky enough to fulfil a dream from my schooldays, when I first came across pictures of Machu Picchu – I went to Peru! It’s the most amazing trip I’ve ever done, in many ways – the variety of landscapes, the history of the different cultures through the centuries, the food, the towns, the people, and the sheer scale of it … my head is still full of the sights, sounds and smells!

I’ll write about the history another time, but this month I wanted to say something about what I saw of farming and fishing there, subjects close to our own area.

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We started off in the coastal plain north of Lima, which is naturally a desert. But the early peoples of the area, especially the Moche and the Chimù (pre-Inca and pre-Spanish),  learned how to irrigate the desert with water from the Andes – a system still in use today, mainly to allow vast sugar plantations, maize, potatoes, and in some areas coffee beans. They also exploited the fairly regular El Nino high tides to store the glut of fish they brought in man-made lagoons. This is all recorded in their carvings, ceramics etc. The type of little reed fishing boat still in use today is the same as on ancient carvings. We enjoyed the coastal speciality ceviche, made with fresh fish and lots of lime, in a small fishing (and surfing) town, Huancacho.

After the plains we went up and up into the Andes, past a huge hydro-electric dam – water is well used in Peru – and were amazed at how much still grows so high up. At heights well above Ben Nevis, 2000 to 4000 metres above sea level, there are fertile valleys with sizeable towns like Cajamarca, croft-like farms, and woods, all watered by lakes and rivers, and again with simple but effective irrigation canals. One impressive one we visited at Cume Mayo goes back to 1500-1000 BC. We also saw what looked like trout ponds, used for their tasty tilapia.

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In the 20th C. eucalyptus trees were introduced to help stop soil erosion, and they have flourished, providing fuel and building materials. Farming is fairly unsophisticated up there – we saw ox-ploughs in use, and hens, goats and pigs run around by the wayside. And I was happy to see some of the taties that Peru is famous for – it has over 6000 varieties! The local markets are just wonderful.

Later we were in a higher region around Chachapoyas, the Cloud Forest Andes, where warm, humid air from the Amazon keeps vegetation lush and semi-tropical, and the trees along the rivers are full of bromeliads.  Flowers like hibiscus are everywhere.

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In my last week (of three), I was down in the south of Peru, to visit the Sacred Valley of the Incas, and again the fertility at high altitude was astonishing. On the high plains of (Peruvian) Moray (c. 3500 m) there are wide fields of grain – oats, wheat and barley, seeds like quinua, and again potatoes – some varieties grow as high as 5000 metres!  Down on the flatlands there are rice paddies too, an important part of their diet. But I got a surprise when I asked what the barley was used for – not for whisky, but to feed the guinea-pigs! It’s cut right down when still green and the whole thing fed to the many domesticated piggies. People keep them in their back gardens like hens, and eat them for special occasions, like Christmas and birthdays.

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Everywhere in Peru there’s also fruit – berries like ours and also papayas, mangos, tree-tomatoes, dragon-fruit, citrus, grapes, coconuts and every kind of tuber. A lot of fruit is eaten at breakfast or drunk as juice, and a popular soft drink is a juice made from purple maize, chicha morada. The strong grape spirit pisco is also popular, especially as the pisco sour cocktail. Peru is also famous for its chocolate, and its still young wine industry is also promising.

It’s a rich and varied country, and exceptionally interesting as regards vegetation and the long tradition of food production at altitude. Well worth a visit for any crofters and farmers!

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Tha òran snog ainmeil tradaiseanta ann air a bheil Dh’èirich mi moch madainn Chèitein. ‘S e òran-luaidh a th’ ann, luath, beòthail, aighearach, làn molaidh air na h-eòin ‘s an ceilearadh, air a’ bhradan a’ leum, agus air àilleachd nàdair. Ann an cuid de na tionndaidhean, tha nuallan a’ chruidh a’ nochdadh, is banarach bhòidheach a’ dol dhan bhleoghan. ‘S e dealbh eireachdail a th’ ann, agus nuair a chluinneas tu an t-òran, no gu h-àraid ma ghabhas tu thu fhèin e, bidh thu a’ faireachdainn toilichte, dòchasach, sìtheil, fada air falbh bhon t-sluagh agus saor o dhraghan an t-saoghail.

Ach san darna leth den 19. linn, aig àm na strì airson còraichean nan croiteirean, nochd faclan eile air an aon fhonn – faclan politeagach. An turas seo ‘s e moladh air duine a th’ ann seach air nàdar, is esan Teàrlach Friseal Mac an Tòisich, neach-lagha a sheas airson nan croiteirean,  sgrìobhaiche is òraidiche gun sgìos, ball den Choimisean Napier – agus neach-iomairt sgairteil airson cleachdadh na Gàidhlig anns na sgoiltean (toirmisgte aig an àm sin), mar chànan co-ionnan ri Beurla. ‘S e seo a tha ga chomharrachadh san tionndadh ùr den òran.

B‘ e duine comasach buadhach a bh’ ann, agus araidh air òran le cinnt. Agus nochd e gu dearbh ann am fear eile, le Màiri Mhòr nan Òran fhèin, a chuidich e, a rèir coltais, nuair a bha i fo chasaid mèirle breugaich. ‘S ann a thaing aigesan cuideachd a chaidh Leabharlann Saor Poblach ann an Inbhir Nis a a stèidheachadh ann an 1883, gus cothrom a thoirt do gach neach foghlam is fiosrachadh fhaighinn gus nach biodh iad tuilleadh ann am muinghinn breugan an luchd-politigs no nan uachdaran.

Mar sin, nuair a chomharraicheas sinn Là nan Còraichean Luchd-Obrach a’ chiad latha den Chèitean am bliadhna, bu choir dhuinn a bhith a’ smaoineachadh cuideachd air na gaisgich againn fhèin air a’ Ghàidhealtachd, a dh’oibrich airson nan còraichean againne – agus tha gu leòr ann dhiubh!

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There’s a lovely traditional song called Dh’èirich mi moch madainn Chèitein (I arose early on a May morning). It’s a waulking song, fast, lively, joyful, full of praise for the birds and their singing, the salmon leaping, and the beauty of nature. In some versions there are also cattle lowing and a pretty milkmaid. It’s an idyllic picture, and when you hear the song, or particularly if you sing it yourself, you can’t help but feel happy, optimistic, peaceful, far away from the crowds and free of the worries of the world.

But in the second half of the 19^th century, at the time of the struggle for crofters’ rights, another set of words appeared to the same tune – political words. This time it was praising a man instead of nature, and that man was Charles Frazer Mackintosh, a lawyer who stood up for the crofters, a tireless writer and speaker, a member of the Napier Commission – and a vigorous campaigner for the use of Gaelic in the schools (at that time forbidden), on an equal basis to English. This is what is being celebrated in the new version of the song.

He was an able, influential figure and most certainly worthy of a song. And indeed he appears in another one too, by Màiri Mhòr nan Òran (“Big Mary of the Songs”) herself, the poet and land-campaigner whom he apparently helped defend when she was wrongly accused of theft. It’s thanks to him too that a Free Public Library was founded in Inverness in 1883, to enable everyone to access education and information, so that they would no longer be at the mercy of lying politicians or landlords.

So when we celebrate International Workers’ Rights Day on the 1^st of May this year, we should also spare a thought for our own Highland heroes who worked for our rights – and there are plenty of them!

DH‘ÈIRICH MI MOCH MADAINN CHÈITEIN

Tionndadh tradiseanta: Dh’éirich mi moch madainn Chéitein, Fail ill é hill ù hill ó, Hiuraibh ó na hó ro éile Fail ill é hill ù hill ó. Mas moch an-diugh bu mhuich’ an dé e. ‘S binn a’ chòisir rinn mi éisdeachd. Smeòraichean air bhàrr nan geugan, Uiseagan os cionn an t-sléibhe.    ‘S bòidhche fhiamh ‘s a’ ghrian ag éirigh, Madainn chiùin fo dhriùchd nan speuran, Bric air linneachan a’ leumraich. Leannaidh slàinte agus éibhneas Riùthasan a bhios moch ag éirigh.   

Traditional version: I arose early on a May morning.    If early today it was earlier yesterday.    Sweet was the choir I listened to, thrushes on the tops of the branches, larks above the moor.    Beautiful is the prospect, with the sun rising, a calm morning under the dew of the heavens, trout leaping in the pools.    There will follow health and happiness for those who rise early

Tionndadh ùr: Dh’èirich mi moch madainn Chèitein Faill il o hill u ill o, Hiùraibh o ‘s na hòro èile Faill il o hill u ill o Chuala mise sgeul bha èibhinn Gun robh gaisgich dheas air èirigh A chur beatha ‘n cainnt na Fèinne Chaidh iad cruinn a ceann a chèile Thuirt iad gu robh chànan feumail Anns an sgoil cho math ri Beurla Siud an duine a rinn feum dhuinn Friseal Mac an Tòisich gleusta Togaibh luinneag agus sèist dha Àrdaichear e gus na speuran Leis na Gàidheil ‘s gach àite ‘n tèid e.   

New version: I arose early one May morning I heard news which gladdened me That the able heroes had risen To put spirit in the language of the Feinne They had gathered together Declaring the language of use In the schools as well as English Now there was a man… Wise Fraser MacIntosh Sing songs and tunes for him Let him be praised to the heavens By the Gaels wherever he goes.

Kathleen MacInnes (new version of lyrics):

‘S ann anns a’ Ghearran a tha mi a’ sgrìobhadh seo, àm nan gealagan-làir.  Anns na mìosan dubha den gheamhraidh bidh sinn a’ fèitheamh air a’ chiad sealladh dhiubh,  is iadsan comharra an earraich ri teachd, geal mar an sneachd agus deàrrsach mar sholas na maidne. Anns a’ Ghàidhlig tha an t-ainm a’ ciallachadh “rud beag geal an talmhainn”, ach tha ainm eile ann cuideachd, blàth-sneachda –  “flùr den t-sneachd”. Uaireannan bidh iad a’ nochdadh tron t-sneachd fhèin, uaireannan am measg dhuilleagan donn seargte, ach an-còmhnaidh nan samhla di-beathte dòchais.

Mar sin is beag an t-iongnadh gun nochd a‘ ghealag-làir anns a‘ bheul-aithris mar lus sònraichte. Chì sinn aon deagh eisimpleir san uirsgeul Biara, Brìde is Aonghas. B’ e Banrigh a’ Gheamhraidh a bha ann am Biora Dhorcha, boireannach mòr, grannda, cruaidh, agus chùm i Brìde, bana-phrionnsa òg, àlainn, mar phrìosanach, ag obair na tràill. Aon latha thill Brìde air ais bhon allt reòthte far am b’ fheudar dhi clòimh bho chaora dhonn a nighe geal, saothair gun fheum, le bad ghealagan-làir na làimh, agus abair fearg a bha air Biara, is fios aice gum biodh an rìoghachadh aice a tighinn gu crìoch.  Dh’fheuch i a h-uile rud gus an geamhradh a chumail a’ dol, le stoirmean is gaillinn-sneachda air feadh na h-Alba, ach aig a cheann thall chaidh aig a’ Phrionnsa Aonghas nan Òg às an Eilean Uaine (seòrsa Tìr nan Òg) air Brìde a shàbhaladh, agus chaill Biara a cumhachd. Thàinig an t-earrach agus rìoghaich Aonghas is Brìde mar Rìgh is Banrigh an t-Samhraidh – gus an tilleadh cumhachd Biara sa gheamhradh a-rithist.

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Tha gealag-làir shònraichte a’ nochdadh ann an sgeulachd eile. Anns an fhiolm ghoirid tarraingeach Foighidinn – the Crimson Snowdrop le Simon David Miller (2005), tha duine òg uasal air an leannan aige a phuinnseanachadh le tuiteamas, agus feumaidh e an aon chungaidh-leigheis san t-saoghal a sireadh – gealag-làir chrò-dhearg, flùr dearg a‘ chridhe, a dh’fhàsadh air mullach nam beann as àirde ach a chaidh bàs o chionn linntean. Ach cumaidh e a‘ dol, fad seachd bliadhna, gun an ruig e an Cuiltheann san Eilean Sgitheanach…. ma bhios sibh ag iarraidh faighinn a-mach dè thachair an uair sin, seo an fhiolm (14 mionaidean): https://vimeo.com/7855573.

Às dèidh dha a bhith soirbheachail le Foighidinn, rinn Miller fiolm fada mar leasachadh den sgeulachd, Seachd – the Inaccessible Pinnacle ann an 2007 – fiolm uabhasach math cuideachd.

Tha gealagan-làir gu math cumanta ann am Breatainn, ged a tha iad nas sgaoilte air feadh a‘ Ghàidhealtachd ’s nan Eileanan, ach chan e lus dùthchail a tha innte. Tha e coltach gun tàinig iad às a‘ mhòr-thìr Eòrpach mar fhlùraichean sgeadachail san t-siathamh linn deug ach cha deach an clàradh mar lusan fiadhaich ach aig deireadh an ochdaimh linn deug. Tha seòrsaichean gu math eadar-dhealaichte ann san eadar-àm, bhon fheadhainn simplidh as fheàrr leamsa, gu cuid eile le coltas dreasaichean dannsairean-ballet. Tha daoine ann air a bheil Galantophiles a tha gu sònraichte measail agus eòlach air gealagan-làir is iad a’ feuchainn an uiread ‘s a ghabhas de sheòrsaichean a lorg ‘s a chlàradh.

Bha mi dìreach aig Caisteal Dùn Robain gus na gealagan-làir ainmeil aca fhaicinn, agus leugh mi air sanas gun do thog an t-àrd-gàirnealair an sin, David Melville, seòrsa ùr de ghalag-làir ann an 1879, Galanthus Melvillei, agus bidh na Galantophiles a’ feuchainn ri eiimpleirean dhi a lorg sna coilltean, agus a’ tadhail air an uaigh aig Melville sa chladh ann an Goillspidh, far a bheil diofair seòrsaichean de ghealag-làir a’ fàs.

Tha na gealagan-làir measail air coilltean agus pàircean, agus gu h-àraidh air cladhan – bidh mòran rim faicinn ann an cladhan na sgìre againne. Agus an robh sibh riamh aig Poyntzfield san Eilean Dubh sa Ghearran? ‘S e sin an làrach as fheàrr leam fhìn air an son. Tha an dà thaobh den cheum suas dhan ghàrradh-lusan loma-làn de ghealagan-làir is winter aconites buidhe. Thèid mi ann gach bliadhna a dh’aona-ghnothach.

Agus chan ann bòidheach a-mhàin a tha gealagan-làir – nì iad feum cuideachd, cuide ri conaisg, dha na seilleanan tràtha, gus an stòr poilein is meala den t-seann bhliadhna a mheudachadh.  Lusan àlainn, feumail is làn dòchais – cò dh’iarradh a bharrachd!

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I’m writing this in February, snowdrop season. In the dark months of winter we wait for the first sight of them, a sign of the spring to come, white as the snow and shining like the morning light. In Gaelic their usual name means “wee white thing of the ground” but they have another name too, blàth-sneachda – “blossom of the snow”. Sometimes they emerge from the snow itself, sometimes against withered brown leaves, but always a welcome sign of hope.

It’s therefore small wonder that the snowdrop appears in oral tradition and legends as a special plant. One good example is in the old tale of Biara, Angus and Bride. Biara the Dark was the Queen of Winter, a big, ugly, cruel woman, and she kept Bride, a beautiful young princess, a prisoner, working her like a slave. One day Bride returned from the frozen stream where she had to wash a brown sheep’s fleece white – a senseless task – with a bunch of snowdrops in her hand. What a rage Biara was in, knowing that her reign was coming to an end. She tried everything to keep the winter going, with storms and blizzards across Scotland, but in the end Prince Angus the Ever-young, from the Green Isle (a kind of Land of Youth), managed to rescue Bride, and Biara lost her power. The spring came and Angus and Bride ruled as King and Queen of the Summer – until Biara’s power gradually returned again in winter.

A very special snowdrop features in another story. In the gripping short film Foighidinn – the Crimson Snowdrop by Simon Miller (2005), a young nobleman has accidentally poisoned his sweetheart, and has to search for the only cure in the world – the crimson snowdrop, red flower of the heart, which grew on the highest mountain peaks but which had died out centuries ago. But he keeps going, seven years long, until he reaches the Cuillins on the Isle of Skye…. And if you want to find out what happens, you can watch the film here: https://vimeo.com/7855573.

After the success of the short film, Miller made a full-length one as a development of the story in 2007 – Seachd – the Inaccessible Pinnacle. Also a wonderful film

Snowdrops are fairly common in Britain, though more scattered in the Highlands and Islands, but they’re not actually a native plant. It’s likely that they came from the European mainland as an ornamental plant in the 16^th century but they were not recorded in the wild until the end of the 18^th century. There are many different varieties in the meantime, from the simple ones I prefer to the ones that look like ballet-dancers’ tutus.  There are people called Galantaphiles who are particularly fond of and knowledgeable about snowdrops, and who tray to find and record as many varieties as possible.

I’ve just come back from a visit to Dunrobin Castle to see their famous snowdrops, and I read on a notice that a head-gardener there, David Melville, raised a new variety in 1879, Galanthus Melvillei, and the Galantophiles go looking for it in the castle woods, and visit Melville’s grave in Golspie, which is surrounded by many varieties of snowdrop.

Snowdrops are fond of woods and parks, but especially of graveyards – you can see masses in our own local graveyards. And have you ever been to Poyntzfield on the Black Isle in February? That’s my favourite site for them. Both sides of the path up to the herb-garden are lined with carpets of snowdrops and yellow winter aconites. I go there every year specially.

But they’re not just a pretty face – they’re of use, alongside the whins, to the early bees too, supplementing their diminishing store of pollen and honey from the old year. These snowdrops are beautiful, useful, and full of hope – what more could anyone ask for!

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Taing do / Thanks to Anne MacInnes (Logie Wester images) agus Allan Bremner (Oldmeldrum).

Seo òran beag simplidh do chloinn, air cuspair freagarrach dhan Seaboard! Tha e ag obrachadh san aon dòigh ‘s a chunnaic sinn leis an òran Uiseag Bheag Dhearg, a sgrìobh mi mu dheidhinn o chionn greis. Tha gille òg a’ cur cheistean air iasg beag agus an t-iasg a’ freagairt. Dh’fhaodadh seo a bhith na gheama, le còmhradh eadar pàrant is pàiste, no dithis chloinne, no ann an clas sgoile, le ceòl is cleas. Tha clàradh le facail agus fonn ri chluinntinn air làrach-lìn Urras Leabhraichean na h-Alba. An dòchas gun còrd e ribh!

Èisg bhig

Èisg bhig, èisg bhig,
nach tu tha math air snàmh!

Gu dearbha feumaidh mise sin
oir bidh mi snàmh gu bràth.

Èisg bhig, èisg bhig,
am fairich thusa fuachd?

Chan fhairich idir, ‘ille chòir,
ged tha mi measg nan stuadh.

Èisg bhig, èisg bhig,
a bheil thu idir sgìth?

O chan eil, chan eil, chan eil,
cha toigh leam bhith air tìr.

Èisg bhig, èisg bhig,
a leig thu idir d’ anail?

Is math a dh’fhaodas mise sin
a-staigh am measg an fheamainn.

Èisg bhig, èisg bhig,
dè dh’ith thu an-diugh?

Lugaichean is boiteagan,
is smodal anns an t-sruth.

Èisg bhig, èisg bhig,
càite bheil do dhachaigh?

Tha mo dhachaigh anns a’ chuan
mìle mach on chladach.

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Here’s a simple wee song for children, on an appropriate subject for the Seaboard! It works in the same way as the song Uiseag Bheag Dearg / Little Red Lark, that I wrote about a while ago. A young lad is asking a wee fish questions, and the fish is answering. This could be done as a game, with a conversation between parent and child, or two children, or in a school class, with actions. There’s a recording with words and tune on the website of the Scottish Book Trust. Hope you enjoy it!  (I’ve written the English translation so that the rhythms are the same as the Gaelic, so it can be sung to the same tune.)

Wee fish

Wee fish, wee fish, you’re awful good at swimming!  

I certainly have to be – I have to swim forever!

Wee fish, wee fish, do you ever feel the cold?

I don’t at all, dear laddie, though I’m in among the waves.

Wee fish, wee fish, are you ever tired?

No, I’m never, never, I’ve no wish to be on land!

Wee fish, wee fish, do you ever take a breather?

I may well do that, when I’m in among the seaweed.

Wee fish, wee fish, what did you eat today?

Lugworms and grub-worms and morsels in the stream.

Wee fish, wee fish, what do you call home?

My home is in the ocean, a mile out from the shore.

Fonn / tune (taing do/thanks to The Scottish Book Trust):

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(All pictures Wikimedia Creative Commons)

Turraisg gheal na Nollaig / White Christmas pudding

Taing do Janet, caraid dhomh ann an Liverpool, airson an reasabaidh seo. Rinn i an turraisg shònraichte seo do bhuidheann chàirdean gach Nollaig fad bhliadhnaichean, agus am bliadhna fheuch mi fhìn oirre – agus bha i blasda fhèin! Tha i math mar roghainn eile ma bhios tu sgìth den turraisg na Nollaig àbhaisteach, agus tha i fada nas fhasa ri dèanamh. Ach tha i ceart cho sàthach!

Grìtheidean (do mu shianar)

150 gr spuinnse thioram (leithid trifle no cèis flan), air a briseadh ann am pìosan glè bheag

1 no 1 ½ tiona orainsearean mandarin, gun sùgh!

75 gr measan tioram measgaichte

100 gr siristean glace

50 gr cnòthan-almoin bleithte

50 gr siùcar-fùdair

50 gr ìm, air a bhogachadh

1 spàin-bhuird sherry

Dòigh

Buail an t-ìm agus an siùcar gus am bi iad nan uachdar agus paisg na cnòthan-almoin a-steach dhan mheasgachadh. Cuir an sherry ris.

Measg a-steach, beag air bheag, na pìosan spuinnse, na measan tioram agus na siristean.

An uair sin cuir an darna leth de na h-orainsearan mandarin (air an deagh thraoghadh!) ris, agus measgaich gu math a-rithist. Thèid na pìosan a bhriseadh – tha sin ceart gu leòr, bheir iad taiseachd dhan mheasgachadh.

Aig an deireadh cuir an leth eile de na mandarins ris, gu cùramach, gus nach bris iad seo.

– Ma bhios am measgachadh ro thioram, cuir barrachd mandarins ris; agus ma bhios e ro fhliuch, barrachd spuinnse. Feuch blasad agus cuir barrachd siùcair no measan ris ma thogras tu, a-rèir do bhlais fhèin.

Cuir ann am bobhla-milseig e agus brùth am measgachadh sìos. Cuir film-còmhdachaidh air an uachdar agus fàg tron oidhche anns an fhrids e.

Mus cleachd thu an turraisg, tionndaidh a-mach air truinnsear i, agus sgeadaich i le “sneachd” siùcair-fhùdair agus measan no dearcan air a’ mhullach, no cuileann, agus ith le uachdar no reòiteag i. No ma bhios tu ag iarraidh turraisg fìor gheal, faodaidh tu a còmhdachadh le uachdar dùbailte no uachdar air a bhualadh.

Nollaig chridheil dhuibh uile!

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White Christmas pudding

Thanks to Janet, a friend of mine in Liverpool, for this recipe. She made this special pudding for a group of friends every Christmas for many years, and this year I gave it a try myself – and it was delicious! It’s a good alternative if you’re tired of the regular Christmas pudding, and is much easier to make. But it’s just as filling!

Ingredients (for approx.. 6)

150 gr dry sponge-cake (e.g. trifle sponges, flan case), broken into very small pieces

1 or 1 ½ tins mandarin oranges, without the juice!

75 gr mixed dried fruit

100 gr glace cherries

50 gr ground almonds

50 gr icing sugar

50 gr butter, softened

1 tablespoon sherry

Method

Cream the butter and icing sugar and fold in the ground almonds. Add the sherry.

Gradually work in the sponge pieces, the dried fruit and the cherries.

Now add half the mandarin oranges (well-drained!), and stir well in. The pieces of mandarin will break up – that’s OK, as they give moisture to the mixture.

At the end add the rest of the mandarins carefully, so these don’t break up.

– If the mixture is too dry, add a few more mandarins. If it’s too wet, add more sponge. Taste it and add more sugar or fruit if wished, to your own taste.

Put into a pudding-basin and press the mixture firmly down. Cover the surface with cling-film and leave in the fridge overnight.

Before serving, turn out onto a plate and decorate with icing-sugar “snow”, and fruit or berries on the top, or some holly, and eat it with cream or ice-cream. Or if you want a completely white pudding, cover it all over it in double cream or whipped cream.

Merry Christmas!

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Turraisg gheal na Nollaig / White Christmas pudding

Taing do Janet, caraid dhomh ann an Liverpool, airson an reasabaidh seo. Rinn i an turraisg shònraichte seo do bhuidheann chàirdean gach Nollaig fad bhliadhnaichean, agus am bliadhna fheuch mi fhìn oirre – agus bha i blasda fhèin! Tha i math mar roghainn eile ma bhios tu sgìth den turraisg na Nollaig àbhaisteach, agus tha i fada nas fhasa ri dèanamh. Ach tha i ceart cho sàthach!

Grìtheidean (do mu shianar)

150 gr spuinnse thioram (leithid trifle no cèis flan), air a briseadh ann am pìosan glè bheag

1 no 1 ½ tiona orainsearean mandarin, gun sùgh!

75 gr measan tioram measgaichte

100 gr siristean glace

50 gr cnòthan-almoin bleithte

50 gr siùcar-fùdair

50 gr ìm, air a bhogachadh

1 spàin-bhuird sherry

Dòigh

Buail an t-ìm agus an siùcar gus am bi iad nan uachdar agus paisg na cnòthan-almoin a-steach dhan mheasgachadh. Cuir an sherry ris.

Measg a-steach, beag air bheag, na pìosan spuinnse, na measan tioram agus na siristean.

An uair sin cuir an darna leth de na h-orainsearan mandarin (air an deagh thraoghadh!) ris, agus measgaich gu math a-rithist. Thèid na pìosan a bhriseadh – tha sin ceart gu leòr, bheir iad taiseachd dhan mheasgachadh.

Aig an deireadh cuir an leth eile de na mandarins ris, gu cùramach, gus nach bris iad seo.

– Ma bhios am measgachadh ro thioram, cuir barrachd mandarins ris; agus ma bhios e ro fhliuch, barrachd spuinnse. Feuch blasad agus cuir barrachd siùcair no measan ris ma thogras tu, a-rèir do bhlais fhèin.

Cuir ann am bobhla-milseig e agus brùth am measgachadh sìos. Cuir film-còmhdachaidh air an uachdar agus fàg tron oidhche anns an fhrids e.

Mus cleachd thu an turraisg, tionndaidh a-mach air truinnsear i, agus sgeadaich i le “sneachd” siùcair-fhùdair agus measan no dearcan air a’ mhullach, no cuileann, agus ith le uachdar no reòiteag i. No ma bhios tu ag iarraidh turraisg fìor gheal, faodaidh tu a còmhdachadh le uachdar dùbailte no uachdar air a bhualadh.

Nollaig chridheil dhuibh uile!

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White Christmas pudding

Thanks to Janet, a friend of mine in Liverpool, for this recipe. She made this special pudding for a group of friends every Christmas for many years, and this year I gave it a try myself – and it was delicious! It’s a good alternative if you’re tired of the regular Christmas pudding, and is much easier to make. But it’s just as filling!

Ingredients (for approx.. 6)

150 gr dry sponge-cake (e.g. trifle sponges, flan case), broken into very small pieces

1 or 1 ½ tins mandarin oranges, without the juice!

75 gr mixed dried fruit

100 gr glace cherries

50 gr ground almonds

50 gr icing sugar

50 gr butter, softened

1 tablespoon sherry

Method

Cream the butter and icing sugar and fold in the ground almonds. Add the sherry.

Gradually work in the sponge pieces, the dried fruit and the cherries.

Now add half the mandarin oranges (well-drained!), and stir well in. The pieces of mandarin will break up – that’s OK, as they give moisture to the mixture.

At the end add the rest of the mandarins carefully, so these don’t break up.

– If the mixture is too dry, add a few more mandarins. If it’s too wet, add more sponge. Taste it and add more sugar or fruit if wished, to your own taste.

Put into a pudding-basin and press the mixture firmly down. Cover the surface with cling-film and leave in the fridge overnight.

Before serving, turn out onto a plate and decorate with icing-sugar “snow”, and fruit or berries on the top, or some holly, and eat it with cream or ice-cream. Or if you want a completely white pudding, cover it all over it in double cream or whipped cream.

Merry Christmas!

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Chunnaic sinn am mìos sa chaidh mar a dh’fhalbh na Hiortaich mu dhèireadh ann an 1930. San latha an-diugh chan eil daoine ann a’ bhios a’ fuireach anns an eilean ach buidheann luchd-obrach anns an stèisean beag an airm, feadhainn eile ag obair airson an Urrais Nàiseanta, agus bho àm gu àm luchd-saidheans tadhalach.

Bha ceangal ann eadar Hiort agus na Feachdan aig àm a’ Chogaidh Mhòir, mar a chunnaic sinn, le stèisean-siognail an nèibhidh 1915-19, agus bha fiù ‘s ionnsaigh le U-Boot ann an 1918, a rinn cròn mòr air an stèisean agus gu ìre air cuid-seilbhe muinntir an eilein. Ach cha robh uidh idir aig am MOD ann an Hiort anns an Dàrna Cogaidh agus cha b’ ann ach sna leth-cheudan, tron Chogadh Fhuar, a thàinig an t-arm gus stèisean eile a thogail – an turas seo stèisean-radar gus na rocaidean bhon rainse ùr ann an Uibhist a Deas a thracadh.  Tha iad anns an eilean a-nis o chionn 1957. Agus tha ceangal Seaboard ann – cò eile a bha an sas anns a’ chiad ìre-thogail ach Geordie Oliver againn fhein, aig an àm sin a’ dèanamh greis san RAF!

Bhon a’ chiad champa shimplidh, is iad a’ cleachdadh na h-eaglais mar sheòmar-bidh agus thaigh-dealbh, bha iomadh leasachadh ann, gu h-àraidh sna trì-ficheadan. An ceann ùine dh’fhàs e gu bhith na ionad steidhichte leis a h-uile goireas, fiù ‘s taigh-seinnse beag air a bheil The Puff Inn. A-nis tha iad dìreach ga ath-thogail ann an cruth nas fheagarraiche dhan eilean, togalaichean ìosal le còmhdach fiodha agus mullaichean sgratha, agus stuth-togail is uidheam gan toirt air tìr le soithichean-landaidh, mar aig an toiseach. Tha raon-laighe heileacoptair ann cuideachd a-nis. San eadar-àm ‘s e QinetiQ, fo-chùmhnantair ùghdarraichte den MOD, a bhios a’ ruith an ionaid.

Tha an làrach air mhàl fad-ùineach dhan arm bho Urras Nàiseanta na h-Alba, aig a bheil na h-eileanan o chionn 1957, agus tha an com-pàirteachas seo annabarrach feumail dhan Urras. Bidh taic leis an obair aca ri fhaighinn, co-chleachadh nan goireasan (m.e. dealan is cian-chonaltradh, còmhdhail, an t-ionad-slàinte – agus am Puff Inn) agus bidh iad a’ co-roinn cuid mhòr de na cosgaisean. Tha an t-Urras ag obair bho sheann taigh a’ mhinisteir, ri taobh na h-eaglais agus bho sheann taigh no dhà san t-sràid. Is obair an Urrais a bhith a’ coimhead às dèidh an dà chuid an dualchas eachdraidheil agus an àrainneachd. ‘S e Làrach Dualchas na Cruinne dùbailte a th’ anns na h-eileanan Hiortach.

Agus bidh luchd-saidheans ann gu cunbhalach, sa mhòr-chuid gus na caoraich Shòthaigh a sgrùdadh. Tha na caoraich seo air feadh an eilein, agus ‘s ann gu tur fiadhain a tha iad. Cha bhithear gam biadhachadh no gan rùsgadh. Tha iad uabhasach brèagha, nas lugha agus nas caoile na an co-oghaichean air an tìr-mhòr, agus a’ mhòr-chuid donn, dorch no soilleir. Ach chan e an fheadhainn seo a bha aig na Hiortaich – chaidh na caoraich bheannach (Hebrideans) acasan a reic leis an riaghaltas mar lach ri cosgais na h-imrich. Chaidh na caoraich fhiadhain Shòthaigh a thoirt a Hiort às dèidh an fhalamhachaidh, gus an fhàs-bheatha a cumail sìos airson nan eun beaga eileanach, anns an robh ùidh mhòr aig an t-sealbhadair ùr, Diuc Dhùn Phrìs. Bha fiù ‘s aige ri cuid de dh’fhir nan creagan a thoirt air ais gus na caorach a thogail bho chas-chreagan Shòthaigh gu Hiort (cothrom-tillidh sealach a chòrd riuthasan gu mòr, a rèir coltais).

Tha dà bheathach sònraichte eile ann an Hiort, nach eil ri lorg ann an àite sam bith eile – an dreathan donn Hiortach agus an luch Hiortach, an dà chuid nas motha na am bràithrean air an tìr mhòr. Bha sinn fìor thoilichte dreathann donn fhaicinn, ach dh’fhàn na luchan am falach. (Bha ar ceapairean-càise sàbhailte!)

Chan fhaod mi falbh gun iomradh air eòin ainmeil nan creagan is stacannan seo. Tha iad timcheall ort fad na h-ùine ann an Hiort fhèin, air iteig gu h-àrd no a’ dàibheadh gu grad anns a’ mhuir, ach air an t-slighe air ais dhan tìr-mhòr, rinn ar bàta cuairt fad uair a thìde timcheall air Eilean Bhoraraigh agus na stacannan-mara ri thaobh, Stac an Armin agus Stac Lì, agus bha sin dìreach mìorbhaileach. Mìltean thar mhìltean de dh’fhulmairean, shùlairean agus aileanan bod-àtha, agus na creagan-mara as àirde ann am Breatainn, aig amannan a’ dol à sealladh sna sgòthan siùbhlach. Bha na speuran agus na creagan loma-làn dhiubh, agus lìon an glaodhadh an t-adhar os cionn fuaim bàrcadh nan tonn air a’ creig – chan urrainnear samhla-sùl’ a dhèanamh dheth gun a bhith ann. Gu mì-fhortanach bha na buthaidean air falbh mar-thà, ach bha tuilleadh is gu leòr ann ri fhaicinn às an aonais. Doirbh ri chreidsinn gun do dhìrich na Hiortaich suas gu mullaichean nan stacannan dubha ud, fo ionnsaigh nan eun, air an sgailceadh leis na gaothan, agus creagan geura agus anfhadh na mara fada fada fohpa!  Agus tha caoraich fhiadhain air Boraraigh cuideachd, cho sgileil air na slèibhtean casa, faisg air inghearach, ri fir nan creagan fhèin. Seallaidhean nach gabh dìochuimhneachadh!

B’ fhiach dhomhsa an turas-mara agus an latha fada – trì uairean a thìde gach slighe às an Tòb anns na Hearadh, 4 ½ uairean ann an Hiort fhèin, agus uair eile aig na stacannan – agus a’ phrìs (barrachd is £200 gach neach) gus sin uile fhaicinn. ‘S e rud nach dèan a’ mhòr-chuid barrachd is aon uair, agus dhan fheadhainn eile chan e ach bruadar a bhios ann. Àite dìreach sònraichte, agus fèin-fhiosrachadh air leth. Mholainn e!

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Last month we saw how the last St Kildans left in 1930. Nowadays no one lives on the island but the staff of a small army base, a few others who work for the National Trust, and the occasional visiting scientist.

There was a link between the island and the Forces in World War I, with the navy signal-station there 1915-19, and there was even a U-Boot attack which badly damaged the station and some of the islanders’ property. But the MOD had no interest in St Kilda during World War 2, and it wasn’t until the 1950s and the Cold War that the army came back to build another base, this time a radar tracking station for the new rocket range in South Uist. They’ve been on the island now since 1957. And there’s even a Seaboard link – who should be involved in that first building phase but our own Geordie Oliver, who was doing a stint in the RAF at the time!

From that first very simple camp, with the soldiers using the old church as a dining-room and cinema, there have been various developments in the base, particularly in the 1960s. Over time it has grown into a permanent base with every facility, even its own wee pub called the Puff Inn. Now they are just re-building it in a form more appropriate to its island setting, low buildings with wood cladding and turf roofs, the building materials and equipment, as ever, brought in by landing-craft. There’s a helicopter landing-pad today too. In the meantime it’s the MOD-approved sub-contractor QinetiQ who are running the base.

The army has the site on long-term lease from the National Trust for Scotland, who’ve owned the archipelago since 1957, and this partnership has proved extremely useful for the Trust. They get help with their work, share the use of the facilities (e.g. electricity and telecommunications, transport, the medical unit – and the Puff Inn), and also share many of the general costs. The Trust works out of the Old Manse, beside the church, and a couple of the restored Village houses. The Trust’s job is to look after both the historical heritage and the natural one.  The St Kilda archipelago is a double World Heritage Site.

And there are also scientists who regularly visit the islands, mainly to study the Soay sheep.  These sheep live all over Hirta, and are completely wild. They’re neither fed nor shorn. They’re really pretty animals, smaller and slimmer than their mainland cousins, and most of them are brown, either dark or light.  But they’re not the ones that were kept by the St Kildans themselves – these were Hebridean sheep, not Soays, and were sold by the government to help offset the cost of the 1930 move. The wild Soay sheep were brought over from the island of Soay after the evacuation to help keep down the vegetation for the sake of the small birds of the islands, which were of great interest to the new owner, the Earl of Dumfries. He even had to bring back some of the cragsmen to lift the sheep off Soay’s steep precipices and bring them over to Hirta (a very welcome if temporary return for the men, by all accounts).

There are two other animals peculiar to Hirta – the St Kilda wren and the St Kilda mouse, both larger than their mainland counterparts. We were delighted to see a wren, but the mice stayed hidden. (So our cheese sandwiches were safe!)

I can’t close without mentioning the famous birds of these cliffs and stacks. They’re around you all the time on Hirta itself, soaring high or swooping straight down into the sea, but on the way back to the mainland our boat took a trip of a good hour around the island of Boreray and its neighbouring sea-stacks Stac an Armin and Stac Lì, and that was absolutely breathtaking. Thousands upon thousands of fulmars, gannets and skuas (also known as “bonxies”), and the highest sea-cliffs in Britain, at times disappearing into the swirling clouds. The skies were full of birds and so were the cliffs, their calls filling the air over the sound of the waves crashing on the rock – impossible to imagine without experiencing it. Unfortunately the puffins had already left, but there was more than enough to see without them. Hard to believe that the St Kildans actually climbed all the way up to the tops of these black stacks, dive-bombed by birds, buffeted by winds, and the raging seas and sharp rocks far, far below! And there are wild sheep on Boreray too, as skilful on the precipitous, almost vertical slopes as the cragsmen themselves. Sights too vivid to forget!

For me the sea-trip, the long day (3 hours each way from Leverburgh in Harris, 4 ½  hours on Hirta, and another hour at the stacks) and the price (over £200 per person) were definitely worth it to see all we did.  It’s something most people only do once, or indeed only dream of. A very special place indeed, and a unique experience. Highly recommended!

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Tha a’ mhòr-chuid dhibh eòlach air sgeul falamhachadh muinntir Hiort ann an 1930. Bha mi cho fortanach ‘s gun deach mi dhan bhuidheann-eileanan seo am bliadhna, cuairt fìor iongantach  Tha na h-eileanan fad a-muigh san Atlantaig, 41 mìltean bho Bheinn na Faoghla agus 101 bhon tìr-mhòir, ach bha clann-daonna a’ fuireach an sin o chionn Linn an Umha (tha lorgan ann fhathast), ged a dh’fhaodas nach robh gun stad. Ach chan e an t-astar a-mhàin a chuireas iongantas ort, ach gun do rinn iad bith-beò cho fada ann an àrainneachd cho mì-thorrach is dùbhlanach, fiù ‘s air a’ phrìomh eilean, far an do dh’fhuirich na daoine. B’ e sin mo chiad bheachd mar a chunnaic mi na cas-chreagan ag èirigh am meadhan a’ chuain, às dèidh trì uairean a thìde bho na Hearadh air bàta luath. Ciamar a rinn iad e?

Ach rinn iad am bith-beò gu dearbh thar nan linntean, a’ cur beagan eòrna agus bùntata air na bha aca de dh’fhearann (stiallan caol air cùl taighean a’ Bhaile), a’ cumail crodh is caoraich na b’ fhaide shuas an sliabh air an ionaltradh choitcheann, agus gu h-àraidh ann a bhith a’ glacadh eun-mara air na creagan. Bha an t-iasgach mar as trice ro dhoirbh leis na sruthan cunnartach is na gèilean, agus gun bhàtaichean freagarrach. Phàigh iad am màl do MhicLeòid Dhùn Bheagain, leis a bha na h-eileanan fad ùine mhòir, ann an òla eun-mara, iteagan (gu h-àraidh iteagan-buthaid, airson mhatrasan), cloimh is clò, agus beagan eòrna, bainne is càise.  Chan fhaod gun robh mòran air fhàgail dha na Hiortaich!

Agus gu dearbh ‘s e feòil agus uighean nan eun-mara a bha aca mar phrìomh bhiadh, gu h-àraidh sùlairean is fulmairean. Tha sinn uile eòlach air na dealbhan de na “fir nan creagan” le an ropannan, a’ dìreadh mar eòin iad fhèin air na cas-creagan den phrìomh eilean (Hiort) agus de na h-eileanan beaga (Dùn, Sòthaigh, Boraraigh) agus stacannan-mara eile, obair chunnartach agus sgileil. Roinn iad na h-eòin a-mach air a chèile, a rèir meud an teaghlaich, agus às dèidh dhaibh a bhith air am plucadh agus an tiormachadh, rachadh an stòradh anns na ceudan is ceudan de chleitean air feadh an eilein – taighean-stòir bheaga cloiche mar sheann sgìopan-seillean.

Tha dealbh shuaicheanta eile a chunnaic sinn uile – an aon sràid den Bhaile, na sìneadh ann an lùb fhada fharsaing shuas os cionn a’ bhàigh, far an robh am fearann as torraiche, an aon chothrom bàta a lainnseadh, agus beagan fasgaidh bho na gèilean. Tha na taighean, no an tobhtaichean, a tha rim faicinn an-diugh, gu ìre mhòr à dà linn-togail. Chaidh an fheadhainn nas ùire, le uinneagan nas motha, similearan, agus mullaichean zinc, a thogail mu 1860 (pròiseact coltach ris na council houses an seo ceud biadhna às dèidh sin), an àite nan seann taighean dubha, a bha an ceann nas ìsle na bhàthach-geamhraidh dhan chrodh – iad fhèin mar leasachadh nan àitichean-còmhnaidh fiù ‘s na bu shimplidhe romhpa. Chaidh na taighean dubha air am fàgail eadar na taighean ùra mar bhàthaich no àiteachan-stòir. ‘S e sin a bhios tu a’ faicinn an-diugh fhathast – tha Urras Nàiseanta na h-Alba, leis a bheil na h-eileanan o chionn 1957, air feadhainn de na taighean à 1860 a chàradh agus an cumail mar thaigh-tasgaidh beag (uabhasach math!) agus oifisean no àite-fuirich, agus a’ feuchainn ri na togalaichean eile a cumail ann an “arrested decay”. Thig faireachdainn fìor shònraiche ort is tu nad sheasamh san t-sràid fhalamh ud, am measg thaibhsean is an cuimhneachain.

Agus carson a chaidh an t-eilean fhalamhachadh idir?  Thòisich na h-atharrachaidhean a bu mhotha aig àm nan stìomairean den linn Bhictorianach, a thug caochladh na b’ fharsainge bathair às an t-saoghal mhòr, ach barrachd daoine cuideachd, nam measg luchd-turais airgeadach às na bailtean mòra a bha airson muinntir neònach, phrìomhadail an eilein iomallaich romànsaich ud fhaicinn.  Tha seann fhilmichean ann anns a bhios tu ag aithneachadh gun robh na Hiortaich dìreach mar bheathaichean cian-annasach san zoo dhan luchd-tadhail sin. Saoil dè bha na h-eileanaich a’ faireachdainn?

Còmhla ris na daoine ùra thàinig galaran ùra cuideachd agus na h-eileanaich gun ion-dhìonachd nan aghaidh,  rud a lagaich an slàinte is an comas-seasaimh san fharsaingeachd.

Cha b’ e ach ministearan agus uaireannan luchd-teagaisg a thàinig às an tìr-mhòr a dh’fhuireach anns an eilean san 19mh linn, agus ‘s e buaidh mhòr a thug iad air dòigh-beatha Hiort. ‘S e Crìostaidhean a bha anns na Hiortaich mar-thà, ach tharraing an suidheacadh dùbhlanach mar as trice ministearan le eud miseanaraidh, a thug tionndadh seanaireachd gu sònraichte cruaidh leotha, agus chaidh na bha aig na h-eileanaich de chur-seachadan is dibhearsain, mar chèilidhean, òrain is sheanchas, a thoirmeasg a-nis. Mar sin dh’fhàs am beatha fiù ‘s na bu chruaidhe, agus a-nis tha cuid mhòr de na h-òrain is sgeulachdan caillte a-nis. Agus bha na tidsearan a’ cur an ìre teagasg sa Bheurla an àite Gàidhlig, rud a lagaich an dualchas traidiseanta cuideachd, agus thug na h-eileanaich nas fhaisge air an t-saoghal mhòr. Tha an eaglais simplidh (1820an) agus an seòmar-sgoile (1890an) rim faicinn an-diugh fhathast mar a bha iad sna ficheadan.

Beag air bheag thòisich daoine òga ri Hiort fhàgail, agus san Chogadh Mhòr thog a’ mhòr-cuid de na fir dha na Feachdan. Cha do thill mòran dhiubh, agus ged a bha stèisean rèidio an nèibhidh ann 1915 – 1919, a thabhainn taic agus chothrom-obrach no dhà, cha b’ fhada gus an tuit àireamh an t-sluaigh fon ìre a bha riatanach airson mairsinn beò mar choimhearsnachd. Mu dheireadh thall, le cuideachadh Nurse Barclay a bha ann sna ficheadan, dh’iarr na 36 a bha air am fàgail air an riaghaltas an gluasad chun na tìr-mòir. Thachair sin ann an 1930.

Cuiridh mi crìoch air an aithris seo an ath thuras – san eadar-àm, an dòchas gun còrd ribh na dealbhan!

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Most of you will be familiar with the story of the St Kilda evacuation in 1930.  I was lucky enough to go on a visit to the archipelago this year, a really wonderful trip. The islands are far out in the Atlantic, 41 miles from Benbecula and 101 from the mainland, but humans have been living there since the Bronze Age (traces still remain), even if not necessarily continuously. But it’s not just the distance that takes you aback, it’s knowing that they managed to make a living for so long in such an infertile and challenging environment, even on the main island, Hirta, where the people lived. That was my first thought when I saw the sheer precipices rising out the middle of the ocean, after 3 hours on a fast boat from Harris. How did they do it?

But they did indeed survive over the centuries, planting some barley and potatoes on the little fertile ground that they had (narrow strips behind the Village houses), keeping cattle and sheep further up the hillside on the common grazing, and especially by catching seabirds on the cliffs. Fishing was generally too difficult with the dangerous currents and the gales, and without suitable boats. They paid their rent to the Macleods of Dunvegan (long-time owners of the islands) in seabird oil, feathers (especially puffin feathers, for mattresses), wool and tweed, and some barley, milk and cheese. There can’t have been a lot left for the St Kildans!

And it was actually the flesh and eggs of the seabirds that formed their staple diet, especially gannets and fulmars. We’re all familiar with the photos of the “cragsmen” with their ropes, scaling the sheer cliffs like birds themselves on Hirta, the other smaller islands (Dùn, Soay, Boreray), and the sea-stacks. This was dangerous and skilled work. They divided the birds among themselves according to family size, and after being plucked and dried, they were stored in the many hundreds of cleits all over the island, small drystone storehouses like old beehives.

There’s another iconic picture we’ve all seen – the one street of the Village stretched out in a long wide curve up above the bay, where there was the most fertile land, the only chance to launch a boat, and some shelter from the gales. The houses, or their ruins, which we see today mainly stem from two building periods. The newer ones, with the larger windows, chimneys and zinc roofs were built around 1860 (a project like our council houses a hundred years later) to replace the earlier “blackhouses”, whose lower ends provided winter shelter for the cattle – themselves an “improvement” on the even more primitive dwellings before them. The blackhouses were left standing between the new houses as byres or storage space.  That’s what you still see today – the National Trust for Scotland, owners since 1957, have restored a few of the 1860 houses as office and accommodation space, and are trying to keep the other buildings in a state of “arrested decay”. It’s a really strange feeling to stand in that empty street among ghosts and their memorials.

So why was the island evacuated? The greatest changes began with the advent of the steamers of the Victorian age, bringing a wider variety of goods from the outside world, but also more people, including well-off tourists from the cities keen to see these curious, primitive people and their remote, romantic island. There are still old films extant in which you realise that the St Kildans were like exotic zoo animals to these visitors. I wonder what they were feeling?

Along with the new people also came new diseases, which the islanders had no immunity against, and this weakened their health and resistance in general.

It was only ministers and sometimes teachers who came from the mainland to stay on Hirta in the 19^th century, and they had a major influence on the island way of life. The St Kildans were already Christians, but the challenge of the situation tended to attract ministers with missionary zeal, bringing a particularly strict variety of Presbyterianism with them, and the little the islanders had in the way of pastimes and diversion, such as ceilidhs, songs and story-telling, were now forbidden. Life therefore became even harder, and many of the songs and stories are now lost. The teachers who came insisted on teaching in English instead of Gaelic, and that too undermined the traditional culture, and brought the islanders closer to the outside world. The simple church (1820s) and the schoolroom (1890s) can still be visited today, looking just as they were in the 1920s.

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Gradually young people began to leave St Kilda, and in the Great War most of the men were called up. Many did not return, and although there was a naval wireless base there 1915-1919, offering support and some work, it wasn’t long before population numbers fell below the level required to survive as a community. Finally, with the help of a Nurse Barclay who was there in the 1920s, the remaining 36 inhabitants petitioned the government to be moved to the mainland. This happened in 1930.

I’ll finish off this account the next time – meanwhile, hope you enjoy the photos!

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Òrain an ròin

Bha an ròn riamh na chreutair fìor shònraichte do mhuinntir sgìrean a’ chladaich, le iomadh sgeulachd mu ròin a thilgeadh am bian air an tràigh, a’ nochdadh ann an cruth fhear no bhoireannach brèagha. Bha fiù cuid ann a phòsadh clann-daoine, ged aig a cheann thall bhiodh iad a’ tilleadh gu muir, air an tarraing air ais le cumhachd an t-saoghail aca fhèin – coltach ris na maighdinnean-mara anns na sgeulachdan againne.

Aig an aon àm bha an ròn mar bheathach gu math cudromach dha na dearbh choimhearsnachdan seo, a sheilgeadh ròin airson na feòla, a’ chraicinn agus gu sònraichte an ola. Bha seo uabhasach prìseil, is e ga chleachdadh ann an lampaichean ach mar leigheas cuideachd. Agus marbhadh na h-iasgairean iad cuideachd gus àireamhean bhradan a ghlèidheadh.

Mar sin bha dàimh dhà-bharaileach eadar na daoine agus na ròin, an dà chuid an sealladh prataigeach agus an doras fosgailte fhathast dhan t-seann chreideamh os-nàdarra. Mar a mhothaich sinn roimhe san sgìre againne, cha robh riamh dragh sam bith do dh’iasgairean a bhith fìor chràbhach agus anabarrach saobh-chràbhach aig an aon àm.

Seo dà òran tradaiseanta glè bhrèagha mu ròin às na h-Eileanan Siar. Anns a’ chiad fhear, tha maighdeann-ròin a’ mineachadh cò às a thainig na ròin. Anns an dàrna fear tha ròn eile a’ gearan gum bi iasgairean a’ sealg agus ag ithe daoine eile, leis nach e beathaichean a th’ ann an ròin, ach daoine cuideachd.

Tha an dà chuid rin cluinntinn air YouTube amsaa, le Julie Fowlis is eile, ceanglaichean na ìsle. An dòchas gun còrd iad ribh!

Seal songs

The seal has always been a really special creature to the people of coastal areas, with many tales of seals who would cast their skins on the beach and appear in the form of beautiful men and women. There were even some who married humans, though in the long run they would return to the sea, drawn back by the power of their own world – just like the mermaids in our own stories.

At the same time the seal as an animal was extremely important to these very communities, who would hunt seals for the meat, the skin and especially the oil. This was exceptionally precious, being used not just for lamps but also as medicine. And fishermen also killed seals to preserve the salmon stock.

That meant there was an ambivalent relationship between humans and seals, on the one hand the practical aspect and on the other hand still a door left open to the old belief in the supernatural. As we’ve seen before in our own communities, the fisherfolk never had any trouble being both sincerely devout and highly superstitious.

Here are two lovely traditional songs about seals from the Western Isles. In the first, a seal-maiden explains where the seals came from. In the second, another seal complains that fishermen are hunting and eating other people, as seals aren’t animals but people too.

Both songs can be heard on YouTube etc, sung by Julie Fowlis and others – links below.  I hope you enjoy them!

An Ron

“Mise nighean Rìgh-fo-Thuinn
Fuil nan rìghrean na mo chrè –
Ged a chì sibh mi nam ròn
Tha mi mòrail nam thìr fhèin.

“Tìr-fo-Thuinn mo dhachaigh dhùint’
Innis dhùthchasach nan ròn;
Caidlidh mi air leacan sàil’,
Mi fhìn ‘s mo bhàn-chuilean òg.”

A Bhana-phrionns’ a’ chuain shiar,
A bheil sgeul agad ri luaidh?
Nach inns thu dhuinn mar a bha
Mun do ghabh sibh tàmh sa chuan?

“Chaidh na geasan a chur oirnn
Rè ar beò bhith le luchd-fuath,
‘S ged a tha sinn snàmh nan caol
‘S e nàdar daonnd’ tha dhuinn dual.

“Aig tràth-marbh air oidhche fèill
Tilgidh sinn ar bèin air tràigh,
‘S cluichidh sinn nar n-òighean suairc’
A’ crathadh ar cuaillean bàn.

“Ach a-nochd tha mi nam ròn
Air an lic an còrs’ a’ chuain:
‘S e mo nàdar bhith toirt gaol,
‘S do chlann-daoine thug mi luaidh.”

“I am daughter of the King-under-Sea,  Royal blood flows in my veins – Though you see me as a seal I am noble in my own land.

“Land-below-waves my prison home, Hereditary domain of the seal; I will sleep on a salt sea slab, Myself and my white-furred pup.”

O Princess of the western ocean Do you have a tale to weave? Will you tell us how it was Before you came to live at sea?

“Spells were laid upon us During our human lives by foes – Though we now swim the straits Human nature is our heritage.

“At the dead of feast-day night We cast our sealskins on the sand, Playing there as gentle maids Shaking our blonde tresses.

“But tonight I am a seal On a rock beside the sea; It is my nature to give love, And mankind I hold dear.”

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Òran an Ròin

Hò i hò i hì o hò I, Hò i hì o hò i ì
Hò i hò i hì o hò i
Cha robh mi ‘m ònar a-raoir.

‘S mairg san tìr seo, ‘s mairg san tìr
‘G ithe dhaoine ‘n riochd a bhìdh;
Nach fhaic sibh ceannard an t-sluaigh
Goil air teine gu cruaidh cruinn.

‘S mise nighean Aoidh mhic Eòghainn,
Gum b’ eòlach mi mu na sgeirean;
Gur mairg a dhèanadh mo bhualadh
Bean uasal mi o thìr eile.

Thig an smeòrach, thig an druid
Thig gach eun a dh’ionnsaigh nid;
Thig am bradan thar a’ chuain
Gu Là Luain cha ghluaisear mis’.

Hò i hò i hì o hò I, I was not alone last night.

Pity to be in this place where people are eaten as food
See the chief of the people Boiling hard on a fire.

I am the daughter of Aoidh son of Ewen
I was knowledgeable about the reefs
Pity the person who would hit me
I am a noble woman from another land.

The thrush comes, the starling comes
Every bird returns to its nest
The salmon comes from the sea
Until Doom’s Day I will not be moved.

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Julie Fowlis , An Ròn: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-pmeyFOZSfQ

Julie Fowlis, Òran an Ròin: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7DbEDIKh0hI

Emma NicLeòid,  Òran an Ròin:  https://www.feisean.org/fuaran/gd/oran-an-roin/