Who's been sitting in my chair?

From Cara House, we made our way slowly up the spine of the Island towards the Mull of Cara. We looked back northwards over the blooming heather of Cara to a magnificent view encompassing, Jura, the Sound of Jura, Gigha, the Sound of Gigha and Kintyre.


To the NW the Paps of Jura dominated the skyline while...


...to the NE the dazzling strip of sand, where we had luncheon the previous day, highlighted the Sound of Gigha.


The final rise to the Mull of Cara took some time...


...and the summit gave a chance for a breather and a photo opportunity.


The rocks fell away steeply from the Mull of Cara and there was nothing but sea between us and the distant Mull of Oa, some 35km away to the SW. In 1756 a huge rockfall slid into the sea from the Mull of Cara. It was accompanied by a tsunami, which swept up the beaches of Cara washing all the coastal houses away. Some say it was a meteorite that struck the cliff.


We looked down on the headland of Maol a' Mhor-rain, off which the tide race forms. All was quiet as the wind was light and it was near slack water. The bay was notorious for catching the bodies of sailors who were lost in these parts.


Just below the high rocks we came to the Brownie's chair. It only has one arm but that is apparently enough for the Brownie. Kintyre stretched away to its distant Mull in the south.

It was time to go, the chair's owner might be back!

Paying our respects to the Brownie on Cara.

On landing on Cara, Phil and I doffed our caps to the resident spirit, the Brownie. We both said "Good afternoon Mr Brownie, I trust you are well." Note a hatless Phil and a hatted Donald!


Phil helped Donald up the beach with his boat and explained Cara diplomatic protocol. Donald said, "I'm not taking my hat off for any wee man in a brown coat!" Phil and I were quite unconcerned about Donald, as he had unwittingly already taken his hat off!


Leaving the boats on the beach...


...we made our way up to the rocks at the top of the beach for lunch where we were undisturbed by any of the Brownie's pranks. In particular, our boats did not drift away in the offshore wind and flooding tide!


Back on the water, we passed Cara House. Legend has it that the Brownie is the spirit of a MacDonald who was murdered by a Campbell and to this day he resides in one of the attic rooms of the house.


It was now time to leave Cara and return to Gigha. A southerly wind had got up and across the sound, the wind turbines on Gigha were busy generating electricity for the community.

Dark deeds on the north shore of Oban Bay.

It was now time to leave the bustle of Oban.


Having said that, it has one of the most picturesque settings of any Scottish sea side town. Oban Bay is protected by the lovely isle of Kerrera, seen here on the right. The narrow Sound of Kerrera stretches away to the south west. The distant island of Insh can be seen through the far entrance to the Sound. Oban Marina is actually situated on Kerrera with a water bus to connect to Oban. The marina welcomes visiting sea kayakers, they have showers, laundry and a restaurant.


We made our way along Oban Bay's north shore, past the diminutive lighthouse...


...and the imposing bulk of Dunollie Castle. The keep dates from the 15th century but the first fortifications date from the 7th. It belonged to the MacDougall clan, the Lords of Lorn, who at one time owned a third of Scotland! Apparently they were quite a rough lot!


As we approached the mouth of the Bay, we came to...


...little Maiden Island. The island has a dark legend attached to its past. A young girl was tied to the rocks at low tide to persuade her to admit to witchcraft or the like. However, she did not admit any guilt and the tide came in and drowned her.


As we reflected on this dark past, the skies to the north west lightened...

The tale of Cailleach Uragaig, Colonsay

After Pig's Paradise, we came to a grim grey headland on Colonsay's NW coast called Cailleach Uragaig. The Cailleach is a Celtic Goddess who has powers to shape shift herself so that she can appear as a hag, a mother or a virgin. She is a winter spirit who ushers in winter by washing her plaid in the Corryvreckan and she can often keep the arrival of spring at bay. On Colonsay she kept a young girl captive and hid herself from the girl's angry lover by transforming into this grey headland.


Although we slowed in respect, there were no damsels in distress requiring of our assistance.


The long interval swell had increased to about 2m and we now searched for somewhere safe to land before the impending nightfall. Young fulmars wheeled inquisitively round us before returning to their ledges on the headland, to report our progress to the Cailleach. If we were caught out by night then surely the Cailleach would come and get us and then we would be found dead on some remote shore, just like the Scandinavian Prince Bhreacan...

Of Kintyre buzzards and giants.

We lazed on the sands of Skipness for some time but finally, a dipping sun told us it was time to depart.


The Kintyre peninsula north of Skipness is a road-less wilderness, which tumbles from the hills into the sea. This buzzard was quite unperturbed by our passing.


Eventually we came to a sign of previous habitation. Winter storms kept carrying away the end of the wall which separated the Campbells' lands from the wilderness. Their livestock would escape each spring and be devoured by the beasts that roamed the wilderness. Eventually the Campbells approached the famous giant, Finn McCool, and asked if he could build a wall strong enough to resist the force of the winter waves.

After much deliberation (giants are not particularly quick witted) McCool said he could build such a wall but the Campbells would need to supply him with six red haired maidens, fifty buckets of mutton stew and one hundred and fifty buckets of heather ale. The Campbells agreed, the deal was sealed and McCool built his wall in just a day. He then fell asleep, partly due to his labours and partly due to the effects of a large meal and full strength heather ale. The maidens escaped quite unharmed.

McCool's wall still stands to this day.

19/03/2009

The spell of the nine tides!

The complex tide races of the Mull of Galloway change by the minute and can catch out even experienced sailors. Many years ago a Galloway witch sought to undo the good work of the fairies of the cave who looked after sailors in peril. She had been spurned by a particular sailor so she spun a spell that wove nine tides to entrap him at the Mull.


But the sailor heard about her spell and, from that day onwards, he always pulled his boat over the Tarbet and avoided the Mull. He was never caught but the spell of the nine tides is still in place today.

15/12/2008

A drink made from some unknown kind of fog!

The foggy ramparts of the Mull of Galloway were the scene of the final battle between the Scots and the last of the Picts of Galloway. The Picts had managed to repel successive waves of invaders including the Romans and the Anglo-Saxons. How could this warrior race have been defeated by the Scots? One reason for their down fall may have been their secret brew! A Scots historian wrote: "The Picts brewed some awful grand drink they ca't (called) Fraoch Leann from heather and some unknown kind of fog". The Scots king coveted the recipe for this heather ale and was determined to get it from the last surviving Picts.


The Scottish writer, Robert Louis Stephenson, was the grandson of George Stephenson, who had built the Mull of Galloway lighthouse in 1830. R.L. Stephenson had visited Galloway on a walking tour and had heard of the legend of heather ale. He composed a poem based on the story called “Heather Ale: A Galloway Legend”. In it he has a pretty good idea of what led to the Picts’ downfall.

“They brewed it and they drank it,
And lay in blessed swound,
For days and days together,
In their dwellings underground.”

After the battle, the king of the Scots tortured an old man and his son, who were the last two survivors of the battle. The king said he would spare one of them, if he was told the recipe for Fraoch Leann. The old man knew they were both doomed and blurted out, “Spare me, and I will tell you!” So the son was thrown into the sea below the Mull.



The king again demanded the recipe but the old man said, “I feared my son might tell you to spare me”. R.L.S. continues the story:

“But now in vain is the torture,
Fire shall not avail:
Here dies in my bosom
The secret of the Heather Ale."

The old man leaped over the cliff after his son and the Galloway Picts and Fraoch Leann were apparently no more....

15/12/2008

Myths, caves and tides of the Mull.

Let no one accuse the staff of seakayakphoto.com of being mindless thrill seekers! After our adrenaline fuelled circumnavigation of the Mull of Galloway, we set off northwards into the sheltered waters of Luce Bay on the lee of the Rhinns of Galloway. We were bound on a learned voyage to find the Cave of St Medans or the fairies!


We had paddled right past the cave because it is hidden within a deep cleft in the rocks. An outer wall was built across the open end of this cleft and roofed over to form a Christian chapel.


Sir Herbert Maxwell drew this view in 1885. The outer wall of the chapel has deteriorated over the last 123 years. In the 1825 an archaeological dig unearthed a prehistoric human tibia in the cave and in the chapel, 12th century coins from the reigns of Kings Alexander and David of Scotland.


This is the present day view from the door of the chapel, just where the figures in Maxwell's drawing are standing. Apart from the corner wall of the chapel, which has crumbled so that you can't see where the window and door were, the only change is the low roof of the Gallie Craig visitor centre which is right on the horizon of the Mull, to the right of the lighthouse.


Tony explores the cave at the back of the chapel.


Modern but rusting ironwork supports the door lintel. The cave was remarkably warm and dry.


The oldest inscription we found was AD 1850.

Of course the Christian Church has long built on ancient superstitions and pagan places. The cave was originally known as the Fairy Cave. Sailors of old would leave offerings of food to ensure fair winds and tides for a safe passage round the Mull. It was not advised to wait for the fairies to come out of the darkness of their cave and watch them gather these tokens of maritime respect. The mere sight of a fairy, by even one sailor, could prove bad luck for an entire ship. Apparently a hermit led a pretty comfortable and very well nourished life in the cave for many years. I threw the last of my lunchtime sandwich towards the mouth of the cave but a hungry gull proved faster than any fairy!

We had of course planned this day all wrong. We should have paid our (edible) respects at the cave before starting our voyage round the treacherous tides of the Mull. Frankly, after such disrespectful behaviour towards the fairies' nutritional needs, we were lucky to get round the Mull in one piece but we learned a lot!

15/12/2008

The foundation of St Oran's Chapel and voices of ancient saints

The oldest building in the grounds of Iona Abbey is St Oran’s chapel. It stands on the site of Reilig Odhrain, or St Oran’s shrine, around which is an ancient burial ground containing the remains of many kings from Scotland Norway, Ireland, Northumberland and Man. The early Christians in Ireland and Scotland did not practice their religion in the same way as that of Rome. Indeed Iona had been a sacred place to the Druids for generations before St Columba’s time. There is a grim legend attatched to the building of the original Reilig Odhrain which hints that there was perhaps a long and drawn out transition between Druidism and Christianity.

The following account was quoted by Macleod Banks in 1931. Her source was a Dr Maclagan of Clachan, Kintyre in 1894.

“When this chapel was in the course of erection, no matter what they would do or how well the work was done, every morning all that had been built the previous day was found thrown down. At last a voice came to St Columba, telling him that the only way to get the chapel completed was to bury a living man under its foundation; without that, the voice said the chapel could never be finished. Columba decided that no one could be better to put under the foundation than his own son, and accordingly got him buried at once and proceeded to build on his top. One day, however, Odhran raised his head, and pushing it through the wall, said, - “There is no Hell as you suppose, nor Heaven that people talk about.” This alarmed St Columba, in case Odhran should communicate more secrets of the other world, and he had the body removed at once and buried in consecrated ground, and St Odhran never again troubled anyone.”

We looked through the door into the darkness within. Only the glint of a gilded Celtic cross on the altar was visible. A light breeze rustled round the door and we thought we heard whispering voices echoing round the dark walls of the chapel's interior. It sounded like it might have been only a house martin's nest but we decided that we did not want to hear what St Oran might have to say to us. We chose not enter and instead paid our respects to St Oran in the light of the summer evening. Then, in the gathering dusk, we left Reilig Odhrain for Martyr's Bay where our sea kayaks lay waiting to carry us back across the Sound of Iona. Our visit had been undistubed by the sound of the voices of either day visitors or ancient saints.

19/07/2007

A Hebridean Version of Colum Cille and St. Oran [Mrs.] M. Macleod Banks, Folklore, Vol. 42, No. 1 (Mar. 31, 1931), pp. 55-60