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First Impressions of Island Life, by Ruari Cumming

I was just 11 years old when I first visited Colonsay, with my parents, in 1957. We had such an enjoyable holiday, we came back the next three years as well, before I went on to Nautical College. My mother was born in Dunoon, moving to the south when she was still a child and my father, whilst born in London, was of Scottish extraction, his ancestors coming from Busby, just outside Glasgow.

I suppose you would have called us a typical "South of England" family in those days. We enjoyed, and took for granted, the amenities available to us in that part of Great Britain. We had no thought of life in the more remote parts of the country. The previous year we had our holiday at Fort William, where I first fell in love with Scotland. Even during that visit, I don't think any of us realised what the islander's "way of life" was really like.

Our journey from Reading to Colonsay took nearly 30 hours and involved ten changes of transport. The last few legs being from Gourock, through the Kyles of Bute to East Loch Tarbet on the old, 1912 built, SS "Saint Columba". After sailing from Gourock, we descended into the restaurant for our "silver service" breakfast, finishing in time to be on deck again to see Dunoon, the birthplace of my mother and always a very emotional moment for her.

From East Loch Tarbet, a coach took us across the peninsula to West Loch Tarbet, where the TSMV "Lochiel" was to take us on to Colonsay, via Gigha, Craighouse on Jura and Port Askaig. On arrival at Scalasaig, the "Lochiel" dropped her anchor and alongside came a small motor boat. We had to climb down a ladder, which was hung out over the side of the steamer. At the bottom of the ladder we had to wait for the right moment to step off and into the motor boat, as it rose & fell in the sea's swell. Not only did the passengers disembark this way but also all the luggage and general stores for the island were off loaded into this tossing motor boat.

Once ashore at the small sloping jetty, we were met by David Clark, from whom we had rented Baleromindubh farm house. David, who was also the local JP (Justice of the Peace), was a tall, impressive man with a soft, quiet voice and a calm manner. He put us and our suitcase, the latter of which was replaced with a more sturdy trunk in subsequent years, into the back of his van and we headed off inland. By now it became evident as to just how naive we were to island life. Our ordnance survey map showed the main road as being an "A" class road but what we didn't expect was to see heather growing up the middle of it ! My father sat up front, with David, and was happy to open any gates for him. After we passed through the gate at the bottom of the track to Baleromindubh, the van started to lurch all over the place as David negotiated the small boulders that littered this track. Father turned and looked at mother, as if to say, "….where on God's earth were we going to ?" Little did we know what an idyllic place awaited us with hospitality second to none.

After passing through the last gate, David steered the van up onto the crest of the hill, which overlooks Baleromindubh farm. The view that beheld us I have not, nor will ever, forget. It was, in the calm warm evening air, with the "Lochiel" sailing back to Islay, simply a Hebridean utopia. David manoeuvred the suitcase down the hill and at the door to the farm house we were warmly greeted by David's sisters, Mary Clark and Mrs Paris, who both helped David with the farm.

What a wonderful welcome, with a fire lit in the lounge and a supper prepared for us. Electricity hadn't come to Baleromindubh yet, so paraffin lamps gave us our light and the big black cooking range gave us lashings of hot water. A large scrap book and photo album, compiled by previous guests, sat on a table in the lounge, together with a wonderful book - "Colonsay and Oronsay in the Isles of Argyll" by John De Vere Loder.

Our rooms were wonderful, one looked inland over the farm yard to the hills beyond whilst the other looked out to sea, with Mull & Scarba in the distance. The walls were so thick, I could sit in the window and gaze out at the view. Between the bedrooms, the bathroom looked out to a large paddock, totally enclosed by tall elms, with the Paps of Jura visible through their stately trunks. Each morning, whilst shaving in the peat coloured water, father would always open the sash window to see the view.

As evening fell, we all went out into the gloaming and stood, taking in the atmosphere. The silence so noticeable that our ears complained at the lack of noise!

Our first morning was to buy provisions. Father & I donned a rucksack each and we all three walked the 2½ miles to Scalasaig. Across the rough track and down to the main road, passed Milbuie, the hotel and down to the harbour. Our naivety hit us again, as we expected to see a shop with a large plate glass frontage and a painted fascia board displaying the name of the shop owner, as you would have seen in southern England. But no, just a very large wooden building, with a single word painted on it's side - SHOP.

Once inside, it was an "Aladdin's cave" of all you would need on a remote island. Pots, pans, rakes and all sorts of hardware hung from the beams in the ceiling. The shelves were stacked with not only food, but all miscellany of other items, many of which were not necessarily for internal consumption. Packets of biscuits rubbed shoulders with liniment and boxes of matches. Mother launched off with her list by asking for a pound of Anchor butter. She soon found out that brand names were not the "in thing" on Colonsay. Butter was butter. Who manufactured it was immaterial ! This gave father an immediate problem, as he realised he wouldn't be able to buy his favourite brand of pipe tobacco. In later years, having learnt from these experiences, we brought any "specific" provisions in the trunk. Mother, having bought all she needed, finished by asking for two pounds of bananas, only to be told, very politely, that "there were none on the boat yesterday, perhaps they'll come next week".

We walked back up the road to the hotel where mother thought we ought to buy some gin & whisky for the farmhouse. Father pointed out that as it was only 10.20 a.m. and that pubs didn't open until 10.30. We sat on the wall, outside the hotel, admiring the fuschia hedge that grew alongside the wall. Twenty minutes later, we entered the "bar" and rang the bell on the counter. After a little while, a man came and sold father the bottles he wanted. During the conversation, father explained we were staying at Baleromindubh and that we had been sitting outside until opening time. The man replied that he knew who we were and went on to say that the bar was never closed and that doors were never locked on the island. Apparently we should have "….just come in and helped yourselves. Pay before you leave the island". But what about the Custom & Excise, father said ? "We don't worry about them, we can see them coming 10 miles off".

The next day we embarked on the long walk from Baleromindubh, passed Scalasaig Farm, where David's brother John was the tenant, over the pass on Beinn nan Gudairean, passed Loch Fada, through the woodland gardens behind Colonsay House and on to Kiloran Bay. What a bay it was, stretching ahead of us, half a mile of golden yellow sand. But when you picked up a handful, the granules were of many and varied colours. After our day at Kiloran, we set off to walk the 5 odd miles back to Baleromindubh. I must say, I was flagging on the way back and it was only by playing a "game", to keep my spirits up, that we made it. When recounting this to David, he suggested that we could always walk to our destination and pre-book for Finlay, in his taxi, to come & collect us. This was welcome news and we did do this on several occasions later. In fact it was Finlay who gave me a beautiful crook, with a carved horn hilt, which I have treasured ever since. What kindness & generosity to virtual strangers.

The telephone system was, of course, "manually operated". I believe the telephone number for Baleromindubh was something like "Colonsay 5" ! I remember one day, when I was playing in the dining room, David asked if he could use the telephone. "Of course", mother said and told me to leave Mr Clark in private to make his call. "Oh that's alright" said David. "The little lad is fine where he is". He picked up the handset, turned the handle to attract the switchboard and immediately lapsed into gaelic. No wonder privacy was not important in such a situation. Of course the telephone system had other uses. We called somebody on the island, one day, only to be told by the switchboard operator that "I think they've gone to Oban today". Saved the cost of a call!

Of course this "bush telegraph" did have other advantages. One day we decided to walk down to the Strand and cross, in bare feet, to Oronsay. We had just got to the road end and were in the process of removing shoes & socks, when a vehicle appeared from Garvard Farm. This was Mrs McNeill, who had heard from David Clark, of our intended exploit and kindly offered to take us across in her Land Rover. I don't think for a moment she had need to go to Oronsay herself, but just wanted to make visitors to the island as welcome as possible.

My memories of this wonderful and peaceful island, and the warm and genuine welcome from it's inhabitants, will never leave me.

I have been back since, in the late 60's and again in the early 70's and still get that "thrill" on arrival and that sadness on leaving, like parting from a lifelong friend. But I will be coming back again, after 30 years, in just a few days time, at the end of April.

Ruari A. L. Cumming, FBII, LRPS
24th April 2002

1901 CENSUS - Part II

Although there was a generally disappointing lack of response to the publication of Part One of the census, Prof. John Sheets carried out a fascinating analysis. He produced a genetic-style pedigree linking 13 of the 20 households listed by common ancestors and/or marriages. The document is hard to reproduce here, but copies are available from The Editor. The chart is dominated by the descendants of Neil McNeill - Mary Brown and by those of Donald Currie - Annabella Currie. Prof. Sheets points out that some questions spring to mind:

"Were the closer relatives living near one another, or not?
To what depth and with what terminology did they define and recognise kinship?
Did nicknames incorporate kinship, or not?
Since so few of the children stayed in Colonsay to marry and have children, how did the increased kinship (and lack of employment) restrict their mate choice (in the avoidance of kin)?
Was such a tightly-woven Kilchattan similar to, or different from, other places in Colonsay of one hundred years ago?"

One or two of these questions may be partially answered by means of this week's offering, the second part of the census record. Both Uragaig and Riasg Buidhe might be expected to have characteristics in common with Kilchattan, although of course both Kiloran and Balnahard are atypical.

Once again, readers are invited to contribute. One or two stories could have been given concerning Kilchattan - one wonders if anyone will remind us of the memorable events surrounding the demise of the Minister? (He is recorded at "2 Glasard", below).