The Isles of Harris and Lewis

SATURDAY - The rain from Friday afternoon was still hanging around. We dropped in and had a parting cuppa with Iain and Katorina Macdonald. By the time we had driven to the north end of North Uist to catch the inter-island ferry the rain had stopped leaving a heavy overcast sky with light winds, making for a very pleasant voyage to Harris. The route taken by the ferry was not even close to the direct track, regularly changing course to avoid reefs and rocks.

Back in the car again, the main road took us around the western side of South Harris before turning north east to Tarbert where we stayed at the Harris Hotel. Harris and Lewis would have the best beaches we have seen in the UK.

SUNDAY - Leaving Tarbert the road north climbs over a range before descending and winding around numerous lochs. Fog was still hanging over the lochs. The calm conditions produced many lovely reflections as the fog lifted.

One of the records we had found seemed to indicate that Isabella's father, Murdock McKay was born in Uig area, on the Isle of Lewis, so we headed there first. we found a memorial that had been erected to Uig crofters who resisted attempts to clear them off  their crofts back into late 1800's. The crofters on these islands had been doing it tough for many years prior to this. There had been many and varied attempts to clear these people off their land - subsidised emigration programs, forced evictions and even kidnapping people to work on farms in the Americas. The blight had decimated the potato crops of late 1840s and early 1850s. They left reluctantly. Below is a telling account from an emigration officer of the time who described the experience of watching emigrants leaving the Western Isles as 'the most harrowing of his career';
Sturdy Highlands grasped each other by the hand whilst the muscles of their faces and bodies quivered with emotion. Women hung on the necks of friends and in some cases had to be removed by force; to say they sobbed aloud would faintly express their sorrow. It would be difficult, perhaps impossible to describe it.............. As the vessel steamed out of the bay they threw their arms into the air, giving full vent to their grief, as they gazed for the last time on the black peaty glens and bleak rocky hills, over which they had long been accustomed to roam, and to which they were so devotedly attached.
Before coming the UK I had wondered why people left family, friends and the places they called home and got onto old sailing ships, risking ship wreck, enduring months of atrocious conditions on board to come to places like Australia. There must have been more 'motivating' them than vague and uncertain opportunities in the new world.

In late 1852 a ship by the name of HMS Hercules set sail for Australia with 742 emigrants from North Uist, Harris, Lewis and the Isle of Skye. Many of these had been cleared off their crofts. Not long into the voyage the passengers were hit with an outbreak of smallpox. The ship was also buffeted by ferocious gales and had to take shelter off Cork in Ireland. The Hercules returned to England and eventually in April the following year set sail this time with only 380 passengers. Of the original 742, 56 had died from smallpox and the rest were either still too unwell to travel or caring for their sick family members. Shipping records show that Isabella's father, some of her sisters and a brother were aboard this voyage. Twenty one hours in a modern airliner really is a 'stroll in the park' to what these people had to endure.


MONDAY - We took a drive down the east coast of South Harris to check out some of the Harris Tweed Centres. Harris Tweed has become a well known woollen fabric. In the early days it was spun, dyed and woven in hundreds of family based operations dotted over the Isles of Harris and Lewis. Now days the wool is cleaned and spun in one of three mills however the weaving is still done at home on peddle powered looms.

The inter-island ferry arriving to take us from North Uist to Harris.

The ferry had to weave between many little islands and reefs on our way to Harris.

Approaching the Isle of Harris, the birth place of Isabella McKay, Bryan's great, great grand mother.

The west coast of Harris is a mix of cliffs with golden beaches in between.

Sheep are everywhere here. The steep slopes are no problem.

Nancy getting yet another photo of sheep. OK, these are highland sheep and they are not at all concerned about the tourists, or the traffic.

Sunday morning - as we climbed up the range out of Tarbert heading towards the Lewis.

Fog on one of the many lochs in Harris and Lewis.

One of the lochs in Uig, on the Isle of Lewis. 

Some of the people who resisted being cleared off their crofts in the late 1800s.  The man 4th from the left in the back row is a Murdock McKay however by this date Isabella's father and other family members were in Australia.

Deer hunting is a popular activity here. We had seen a couple of deer before but only at a distance. These deer allowed us to have a good look and take a few photos.

This was  an old Norse water mill, used for grinding grains.

Returning home in the afternoon to Tarbert. The sun was setting and the water was glassy smooth.  

The famous Harris Tweed.

The young lady is demonstrating the old style loom. These are not in use any longer.

The wool for Harris Tweed is sourced from Harris and Lewis Islands and also in the north of Scotland. They only use wool from the highland sheep because of their strong fibre. Sheep have the right of way on these roads.

Harris Tweed is still woven in family homes, in little villages all over Harris and Lewis just like this one. 

To be certified as Harris Tweed it must be woven on a loom like this one, in a home and only peddle power  is allowed. This man said he could do about 4-5 metres an hour. He also said that it was not hard peddling. 

Here is something for Alastair. This should keep your head warm during those cold central Australian winters and you will feel right at home at the CLC office. It is Harris Tweed!

The ferry dis-embarking cars, buses and trucks from the Isle  of Skye just before we  went on board.

The weather has been very kind to us on all our ferry voyages around the Western Isles and today was another glorious day. As we left Harris, our thoughts returned back to our ancestors who many years ago would have watched their beloved home of Harris disappear over the horizon knowing that they would almost certainly never be able to return.

Again the ferry had to do some manoeuvring around the many small islands and reefs on our way back to the Isle to Skye.