#hebridean

This is an excerpt from my book Travels through History : Ten Scottish Islands currently on sale at a discount. The Western Isles hotel looks out over the town and is a reminder that in World War II, Tobermory was home to the Royal Navy training base HMS Western Isles, under the command of the legendary Vice-Admiral Sir Gilbert Stephenson, the so-called “Terror of Tobermory”. Broadcaster Richard…

This is an excerpt from my book Travels through History : Ten Scottish Islands currently on sale at a discount. Columba, meaning ‘Dove of the Church’, was born in County Donegal in 521 or 522. He received an excellent education and was a priest, poet, musician, scribe, and scholar when he set off as a ‘soldier of God’. Columba founded other monasteries besides Iona, including Durrow in Ireland,…

This is an excerpt from my book Travels through History : Ten Scottish Islands currently on sale at a discount. Staffa is famous for two reasons. The first is Fingal’s Cave, a sea cave known for its natural acoustics. The National Trust for Scotland owns the cave as part of a National Nature Reserve. It became known as Fingal’s Cave after the eponymous hero of an epic poem by 18th-century Scots…

On October 26th 1911 the Gaelic poet, Sorley MacLean, was born on the island of Raasay.

He was brought up within a family and community immersed in Gaelic language and culture, particularly song. Sorley studied English at Edinburgh University from 1929, taking a first class honours degree and there encountering and finding an affinity with the work of Hugh MacDiarmid, Ezra Pound, and other Modernist poets. Despite this influence, he eventually adopted Gaelic as the medium most appropriate for his poetry. However, it should be noted that MacLean translated much of his own work into English, opening it up to a wider public than the speakers of the Gaelic language.

During the Spanish Civil War, MacLean was torn between family commitments and his desire to fight on behalf of the International Brigades, illustrating his left-wing - even Marxist - political stance. He eventually resigned himself to remaining on Skye. He fought in North Africa during World War Two, before taking up a career in teaching, holding posts on Mull, in Edinburgh and finally as Head Teacher at Plockton High School.

It is often said that what Hugh MacDiarmid did for the Scots language, Sorley MacLean did for Gaelic, sparking a Gaelic renaissance in Scottish literature in line with the earlier ‘Scottish Renaissance’, as evinced in the work of George Campbell Hay, Derick Thomson and Iain Crichton Smith. He was instrumental in preserving and promoting the teaching of Gaelic in Scottish schools.

Through the diverse subject matter of his poetry, he demonstrates the capacity of the Gaelic language to express themes from the personal to the political and philosophical.

MacLean’s work was virtually unknown outside Gaelic-speaking circles until the 1970s, when Gordon Wright published Four Points of a Saltire - poems from George Campbell Hay, Stuart MacGregor, William Neill and Sorley MacLean. He also then appeared at the Cambridge Poetry Festival, establishing his fame in England, as well as Scotland and Ireland, where he had become something of a cult figure thanks to a fan base including fellow poet Seamus Heaney. A bilingual Selected Poems of 1977 secured a broader readership and a new generation began to appreciate his work.

Latterly, he wrote and published little, showing his concern with quality and authenticity over quantity. Never a full-time writer, he was also a scholar of the Highlands with a vast knowledge of genealogy, and an avid follower of shinty. Amongst other awards and honours, he received the Queen’s Gold Medal for Poetry in 1990. He passed on in 1996 at the age of 85, and was survived by his wife and two daughters.

I have posted many times about Sorley, and probably overused Martyn Bennet’s Hallaig, but if you haven’t heard it, please go to Youtube and search for it, you won’t regret it.

Todays poem is Tràighean/ Shores, the Gaelic version first, followed by the verse translated by his fellow bi-lingual poet, Iain Crichton Smith.

Nan robh sinn an Talasgar air an tràigh

far a bheil am beul mòr bàn

a’ fosgladh eadar dà ghiall chruaidh,

Rubha nan Clach `s am Bioda Ruadh,

sheasainn-sa ri taobhn na mara

ag ùrachadh gaoil ‘nam anam

fhad ‘s a bhiodh an cuan a’lìonadh

camas Thalasgair gu sìorraidh:

sheasainn an siud air lom na tràghad

gu `n cromadh Priseal a cheann àigich.

Agus nan robh sinn ciudeachd

air tràigh Chalgaraidh am Muile,

eadar Alba is Tiriodh,

eadar an saoghal `s a’bhiothbhuan,

dh’fhuirichinn an siud gu luan

a’ tomhas gainmhich bruan air bhruan.

Agus an Uibhist air tràigh Hòmhstadh

fa chomhair farsaingeachd na h-ònrachd,

dh’fheithinn-sa an siud gu sìorraidh

braon air bhraon an cuan a’ sìoladh.

Agus nan robh mi air tràigh Mhùideart

còmhla riut, a nodhachd ùidhe,

chuirinn suas an co-chur gaoil dhut

an cuan ’s a’ ghaineamh, bruan air bhraon dhiubh.

’S nan robh sinn air Mol Steinnseil Stamhain

’s an fhairge neo-aoibhneach a’ tarraing

nan ulbhag is gan tilgeil tharainn,

thogainn-sa am balla daingeann

ro shìorraidheachd choimhich ’s i framhach.

If we were in Talisker on the shore

where the great white foaming mouth of water

opens between two jaws as hard as flint –

the Headland of Stones and the Red Point –

I’d stand forever by the waves

renewing love out of their crumpling graves

as long as the sea would be going over

the Bay of Talisker for ever;

I would stand thee by the filling tide

till Preshal bowed his stallion head.

And if the two of us were together

on the shores of Calgary in Mull

between Scotland and Tiree,

between this world and eternity,

I’d stand there till time was done

counting the sands grain by grain.

And also on Uist, on Hosta’s shore,

in the face of solitude’s fierce stare,

I’d remain standing, without sleep,

while sea were ebbing, drop by drop.

And if I were on Moidart’s shore

With you, my novelty of desire,

I’d offer this synthesis of love,

grain and water, sand and wave.

And were we by the shelves of Staffin

where the huge joyless sea is coughing

stones and boulders from its throat,

I’d build a fortified wall

December 12th 1902 saw the birth of Nan Mackinnon or, to give her her Gaelic patronymic, Nan Eachainn Fhionnlaigh, at Kentangaval, Isle Of Barra.

Nan was a tradition-bearer, whose remarkable memory, enthusiasm, and love of the Gaelic oral tradition has ensured that her wealth of knowledge has been preserved and shared with future generations. She became known as Nan of Vatersay, or Nan of the songs.

Nan was the youngest of seven children. Her father, Hector (Eachann Fhionnlaigh), was also born and raised in Kentangaval, and was descended from the MacKinnons of Strath, Skye – the historic grazing constables to the MacNeils of Barra until the 19th century. Nan's mother Mary was from Mingulay, and had strong connections with the MacPhee family, who – according to local tradition – came to settle in Barra in the 14th century. Nan grew up in what was a politically tumultuous time in the Highlands, and this influenced her early life greatly. Despite having won security of tenure twenty years before Nan was born, there remained a strong sense of injustice at the uneven distribution of land in the Highlands. Having spent her early years in Barra, in 1907 Nan's father was part of the 'Vatersay Raiders' – landless cottars from Barra and Mingulay who carried out a land raid on Vatersay, establishing crofts on the neglected land. Despite the eventual failure of the Land Raid, Nan's family were eventually given a croft in Baile, Vatersay following the purchase of land on the island by the Congested Districts Board.

Nan's repertoire was among some of the most extensive and varied of her generation, and this is reflected in the recordings of her featured on the Tobar an Dualchais website. She came from a rich musical tradition, and was said to know around 400 songs by heart, most of which she learned from her mother. After receiving her schooling on the island, Nan left home when she was seventeen and – as was common for women of her age at the time – spent a number of years in service for a variety of people in Argyll. She also worked at the herring for a time, in both Shetland and Yarmouth before going to Glasgow. One of her sisters died suddenly in 1940, leaving four young children and a husband who was away at sea for long periods. Nan returned home to Vatersay to raise the children and remained there for the rest of her life.

Nan McKinnon had a great fondness for the stories and songs she knew, and she was convinced of the importance of the oral tradition to Gaelic communities. Growing up she would spend hours practising them until she knew them in their entirety. As Nan herself commented: "[Each story] tells the ways of the people that lived in those days. The waulking songs kept news alive from generation to generation. There were no newspapers, whereas today we read it in the papers and forget about it tomorrow. But the songs kept it alive. Those happenings that happened centuries ago are still to be told in song and story. It's wonderful." Over and above her repertoire of songs, Nan was also well known for her tales and legends – often of a supernatural nature – and her captivating story style. She also had a deep knowledge of the traditions of Uist and Barra, and was recording speaking about a variety of subjects from cures to feast days, to interpretations of omens and dreams. Her knowledge of the material culture of her native island was also extensive, and her recordings include discussions about traditional diet, including about what would be eaten when food was scarce.

There are almost 1,000 recordings of Nan on the Tobar an Dualchais website, the earliest dating back to 1953 when she was recorded by Donald MacPherson for the Canna Collection, several other visited her and recorded her over the years, she must have been quite the wee celebrity on Vatersay

James Ross summed up her significance as a tradition-bearer by saying: "Nan is the type of person that the folklore and folk-song collectors dream about. There is absolutely no trace of 'memory effect' as she responds to queries … Her answers are always a direct affirmative or negative, usually … the former. She never has to search her mind, and this, together with her unstinting co-operation, endless patience and subtle sense of humour, made the work of collecting a joy."

At the link below you can listen to Nan singing Griogal Cridhe, (literally "Gregor of the Heart", or "Beloved Gregor". It is a traditional Scottish lament and lullaby that was composed in Gaelic by Mór Chaimbeul ("Marion Campbell"), the widow of Griogair Ruadh Mac Griogair ("Gregor the Red MacGregor") (1541–1570), the chief of the Clan MacGregor of Glen Strae, who was executed at Taymouth Castle, Perthshire, on April 7th, 1570. There are many versions of the lyrics

Griogal Cridhe

Chorus;

Òbhan, òbhan, òbhan i ri

Òbhan i ri ò

Òbhan, òbhan, òbhan i ri

'S mòr, mo mhulad, 's mòr.

'S iomadh oidhche fhliuch is thioram,

Sìde nan seachd sian,

Gheibheadh Griogal dhomhsa creagan

Ris an gabhainn dìon.

Eudail mhòir, a shluagh an Domhain,

Dhòirt iad t'fhuil o'n dè,

'S chuir iad do cheann air stob daraich

Tacan beag bho d'chrè.

B' annsa bhi le Griogal cridhe

Teàrnadh chruidh le gleann,

Na le Baran mòr na Dalach,

Sìoda geal mu m' cheann.

Chan eil ùbhlan idir agam,

'S ùbhlan uil' aig càch,

'S ann tha m'ùbhlan-s' cùbhr' ri caineal

'S cùl a chinn ri làr.

'Nuair a bhios mnàthan òg a'bhaile,

'Nochd nan cadal sèimh,

'S ann bhios mis' air bruaich do lice,

'Bualadh mo dhà làimh.

Many a night, wet or dry

weather of the seven elements

Gregor would get me a rocky shelter

Against the storm

Greatest treasure in all the world

They spilt your blood yesterday

And they put your head on a post of oak

A little way from your body

Would that I were with beloved Gregor

Herding cattle in the glen

Than with the great Baron of the Dale

White silk around my head

I have no apples at all

Others have all the apples

My apple with the fragrance of cinnamon

The back of his head to the ground

When the young women of the village will be

Tonight sleeping soundly

I will be at your graveside

Beating my two hands

With the above being a lament I thought I would post another song from Nan, Haoi Ho Nach Dannsadh Sibh E is a much more upbeat song, according to the notes Nan’s mother heard this song from Lewis women at the fishing. Another source tells me that this is the only variant of that song, so without t the work of the likes of Donald MacPherson, and indeed Margaret Fay Shaw, some of these songs would have been lost to the world, they are an integral, very important part of our Gaelic roots. This song is a light vocal dance tune with a love theme. The song is of the type common among the women who worked as herring gutters.

8th December 1987: The Scottish Land Court ordered the English owner of the Hebridean Island of Soay to sell more than half the island to a crofter who had lived there for more than 41 years.

Born in 1919, Joseph "Tex" Geddes - typically, he claimed he was given his nickname by a Red Indian fellow commando.

By his own account, he was born in Peterhead, Aberdeenshire, and taken to Canada by his father when he was two, following a trivial altercation with the police. Others maintain he was raised by an aunt, the youngest of three fighting brothers, in Easter Ross, and never went to Canada in his life. His neighbours in nearby Skye believed that he hailed from Australia.

In the book Hebridean Sharker Tex Geddes describes his exploits during the 1950s as a hunter of basking sharks in the waters of the Minch, between the Inner and Outer Hebrides. Using an adapted whaling harpoon, he and his crew stalked these huge fish often in perilous conditions, the liver of which is a valuable source of oil.

Always a maverick, before World War Two Geddes had been a boxer and a rumrunner to Newfoundland. During the war he established a reputation as an expert knife-thrower and bayonet fencer and served in the Special Forces with fellow hebridean Gavin Maxwell (author of Ring of Bright Water), and was a central character in Maxwell's Harpoon at a Venture

He combined the hazardous pursuit of sharks with crewing the local lifeboat, ring-net fishing, lobstering, deer-stalking and salmon poaching.

Thesubject of previous posts, historian of Gaelic culture Margaret Fay Shaw said of him: "Tex was a great storyteller and important as such. He was also immensely kind, and had that hunger for life and fun that is essential if you are to make a go of living in these islands. The Hebrides needs more people like Tex Geddes. So does the world

He went on to purchase the tiny island of Soay, where he lived with his wife Jeanne, Geddes continued fishing basking sharks, selling unprocessed livers rather than processed oil to Glasgow.While much of the remaining population of the island evacuated to Mull in 1953, Geddes and his family remained. Geddes protested at the lack of emergency telephone services and with the threat of loss of postal service to the remaining inhabitants of the island, he asked people to send him registered letters and packages. As a result the service was kept with post arriving once a month.

Today the island has a population of three, and the post arrives once a month. The population peaked at 158 in 1851, following eviction of crofters from Skye in the Clearances.

Today's Weretober prompt is Hebridean Sheep!

On 8th August 1825 Angus Mòr MacAskill from Berneray, frequently referred to as Giant MacAskill, was known as the world's largest "true" giant, died.

Angus MacAskill stood at 7ft 9ins tall and toured the world during the 19th Century to show off his physical might and impress with his deeds of his strength.

MacAskill, born in 1825, was so small as a baby it was feared he might not survive but he rapidly grew during his teenage years. The span of his hand measured a foot wide with his shoulders stretching some 80 inches.

In 1981, he was named as the world’s largest true giant by the Guinness Book of World Records. Tales of his physical abilities are plentiful with it claimed he could pull a fishing boat in two and carry barrels of pork weighing over 20 stone under each arm with ease.

Frequently challenged to fights and physical tests, he was injured by an anchor after lifting it to please a group of French sailors.

When he was six, the MacAskills were cleared from Berneray with the family setting up a new life in Nova Scotia in the mid 1830s. MacAskill later became known as the Cape Breton Giant or simply Big Boy by those who knew him.

Despite his incredible physical presence, he is also remembered for his gentle nature and soft voice.

In 1850, MacAskill was asked by a captain who visited his home town of Englishtown to travel to America with him and perform some shows with the move opening up a lucrative showbusiness career for the Hebridean, whose stage name became Giant MacAskill.

He joined PT Barnum’s Circus and was regularly performing alongside Tom Thumb, who was just 3ft tall. It is said the Scot could hold his sidekick in the palm of his hand with the double act often appearing on circus flyers together.

During his travels across Europe, MacAskill was invited to Windsor Castle by Queen Victoria and Prince Albert where the monarch declared him “the tallest, stoutest and strongest man to ever enter the palace”, He was presented with two gold rings as a show of appreciation.

MacAskill returned home a wealthy man to his home community where he purchased a mill and a general store. He died suddenly at the age of 38 from brain fever and is buried on Cape Breton Island

The Halifax Acadian Recorder of August 15th, 1863, reported that “the well-known giant... was by far the tallest man in Nova Scotia, perhaps in British America” and that “his mild and gentle manner endeared him to all who had the pleasure of his acquaintance”.