Friends or Food....

As it is Boxing day and the fridge is full, literally full to the top, with Turkey, sausages, bacon, salmon and pate, it makes me wonder if this new year will be a time when I will move a step closer to becoming vegetarian.

The idea of moving to a remote Scottish island, often cut off from the mainland and the supplies brought in by ferry, never daunted us; self sufficiency has always been a goal.
We have grown a huge variety of vegetables here, but when it comes to meat, there is no getting away from some cold hard facts of life... and death.

It started with mackerel.

Our first house was on the side of a small sea loch in Gravir. At certain times of the year shoals of mackerel would come into the loch and on a warm evening, Mark could stand on the local pier, catching fish after fish after fish.  He would mostly give them a quick donk on the head to finish them off quickly on the pier. But sometimes he would put the carrier bag from fishing on the kitchen draining board, and it would still be flapping about and rustling when I came in to de-head and gut them for the freezer.

When we moved to our permanent house in Kershader, I finally got to realise a day dream when I was given my first 6 chickens, 2nd hand.  They were a bit too free range to begin with, but the eggs were outstanding.

The thing about a flock of chickens is they are so easy to keep when you have the space, and so easy to expand when someone also gives you a cockerel.

The joys of baby chicks...

Mark always told me I should be the one to raise and look after them while he handled the unfortunate end part. He developed a stress free method for popping their clogs... but nowadays, after 5 years of doing the necessary, he is starting to feel the strain. I guess we also know them all a lot better now...

The island has an abattoir, not for chickens unfortunately, but certainly when we upped the game and got some piglets, it was the only option.
They arrived adorable.

And in just about 6 months turned into huge freezer packs.

It was hard to get rid of them, they had been good pets, wonderfully amusing to keep but I'd forced myself to always see them as food...

...difficult all the same.  The bigger the animals, the higher the anthropomorphosis.

So we went back to poultry after that with some ducks.

It was all a bit uncomfortable, and though we managed to 'enjoy' one of them, the rest - lucky for them - escaped and flew away to live happily ever after.

The chicken flock continued to expand which was wonderful for the eggs, but as far as meat was concerned we had now given up on rearing table birds.  Watching them at every stage of their lives, I couldn't help but see life from their perspective - soaking up the sun's warmth, scratching in the ground for anything interesting, cuddling up to each other for warmth and comfort, or just hanging out.  All such basic needs, just expressed by way of their own environment.

Then things got super cute when we were given some orphan lambs by a neighbouring crofter.

Sheep are the main way that people round here get their protein.  We hope to take on about a dozen sheep in the future and have lambs from them. So far we have 2 of our orphans still, and they are still adorable, probably more so because we have seen them, tended them, fed them since babies.

Today I went out on a frosty, clear, quiet afternoon, with all that food in our fridge, but none of it self sufficient.  I fed:
- 4 ducks, reared from eggs this time and not so inclined to escape

super cute, and no where near intended for the table, at Christmas or any time.
- 4 goats, taken on as a favour to a friend despite other peoples comments that they'd make a good stew

- 2 dozen chickens and 1 cockerel

- 2 soppy sheep, 1 ewe 1 eunuch

and a partridge in a pear tree! (No, no partridge but we did plant a pear tree from seed - maybe next Christmas..?)

All these animals, they may be wild, they may be smelly (though not necessarily bad) they may not be domesticated pets, but they are certainly not destined for the freezer.

It might be a problem, but as I still can't make the connection between them, and food, for now vegetarianism is still on pause.




 

If you have a problem, just throw money at it...

We moved to Lewis after renovating our house in Tile Hill, Coventry. The property price bubble had just exploded over the West Midlands and prices still being cheaper in Scotland and especially Lewis, we upscaled on size, but downscaled on the mortgage.


This meant that during the property renovation we weren't faced with the same budgetry constraints that had hindered us renovating the house for the 5 years that we'd lived there.

We discovered a mantra used by the rich - If you've got a problem, just throw money at it.

It is amazing how many of normal life's woes and worries suddenly disappear when you are able to buy your way out of them.


When we moved to Lewis it took us a while to climb back down from our care-free with money ways. We rented for 2 years before finally finding the right place to buy. The pot of money waiting in our bank account, which we had hoped back in Coventry would buy us a house, had been eaten into by things we felt were needed at the time.... a new van for Mark's work that turned out to be an overpriced rust bucket; a round trip back to England by plane and hire car, only a year after we had got there; another van which wasn't so much of a rust bucket, but still cost a couple of thousand.  When you get used to having money its hard to stop spending it.

But then, we also learned to noticed the value of things, even when the price tag didn't match...

By the time we had moved into the house, at 1 Kershader, the new renovation project, our budget was greatly hindered.

We had unwittingly got mixed up in a land grab situation with the neighbours and ended up spending another £10k on extra croft-land. We only just managed to buy some solar-thermal panels (which have been amazing and worth 10 times their weight in gold) and decorate the boys bedroom and kitchen before we moved in.

Since then, our mantra has changed. No longer throwing money at our problems, we now make do or do without.

The crofting way of life has always been one of making use of what is immediately available to you.   We can see the evidence of this just by looking around us. Things have been bodged together from rubbish - they do the job, but back in Coventry this would be scoffed at.  I like it though.  British society has become so disposable and consumer - influenced by over 3 thousand years of snobbery and class system, I find it refreshing to have the space to just experiment and figure things out by myself - and be surrounded by like-minded people with their own history....

When was money invented? When did value and money get so disparate?

The Hebrideans have an ancient history - the Callanish stones were built, and from what the latest archaeological studies are saying, were also renovated, around 5 thousand years ago.  I'm sure people back then had problems that only a change in mantra had helped them with - no money yet invented to throw at it and keep the status quo, only some small change in ideas.

Callanish stone 'circle'

I could never have imagined back In Coventry, in the city, how my perspective could be so influenced by my surroundings.  I have dreamt here, about being one of the people back then, living on the moor, before the days of the stone circles, or much sooner when the Brochs, came.

Dunn Broch Carloway

Being wild, before civilisation offered company, conversation, structure.  Before money was invented.... what a concept...what a dream....

Are we there yet...?

1st stop - in the quiet glen

When we first moved to Lewis, it was January. We were in a holiday house and were told that we were fine to stay long term, but a couple always booked the house out for the first 2 weeks of April.  This was fine, we found a wonderful house down at the loch's edge and stayed there for 18 more months. What we didnt realise at the time was how reliable the holidaying couple's barometer was. 

2nd stop - down by the loch

The winters feel long on Lewis - the days are short, roughly from 9.30am - 3.30pm at midwinter and by March everyone is desperate for the grass to start growing. Then come the first 2 weeks of April - Pop! Spring is here! The sheep know the time is right and the villages are suddenly filled with lambs. Old abandoned houses fill their gardens with daffodils planted by inhabitants long gone and everyone breathes a sigh of relief.

Gravir is an 'open village' for grazing so the sheep have right of way

Don't get me wrong, I also like the winter... because I'm lazy. I love drawing the curtains and ramping the fire up. There are so many films to enjoy and the internet to explore. And I love to sleep!  That wonderful moment when you're just dropping off and you feel like you leave your body.  When I was younger I loved to interpret my dreams and wonder at what they meant. While I still dream vividly, in full colour, I place more emphasis on daydreams now, just using the night work for insight.

In some ways the summer is too much here, the days are from 3.30am - 12am at midsummer. When its 10.30 at night and the sun is streaming in through the windows, its quite exhausting. 'Come on come on!'  its saying 'look at the day! Get out and enjoy it!'.

This year I cant wait for spring, again. Its mid March and I've just put duckling eggs in the incubator. In 28 days time they should be hatching and we'll have had our first 2 weeks of April.  I guess after becoming a Mum and having 2 babies of my own, I can't resist the joy of new cute bundles - but without all the pain and sleep deprivation that comes with your own children.

The first time I made baby chicks, was such an interesting experiment. I made life, just with the right ingredients, heat and time! Morris especially loved to sit and watch them feeding, sleeping, twitching.  I would watch him watching them = 2 levels of cuteness in one sitting <sigh>

I've tried to hatch ducks before and had no luck, lets hope this spring - when it finally arrives - proves to be more successful. Just have to be patient in the meantime....

  

Memory and connecting accross distance

Since moving to the island, to get over missing family and old friends back on the mainland, we have become regular Facebook users. My Mum has even become a silver surfer, though when i took her to buy a laptop, she got to the till and forgot her pin number, which wasn't a good start with technology....

This weekend I have joined a group called 'If you live in Halstead...' which asks for memories of the town I grew up in. The group has been a ravaging phenomena, growing its members to over 1300 in 48 hours.  Halstead, when I lived there, was about the size of Stornoway - 1 secondary school, 1 sports centre/swimming pool and far too many hairdressers and pubs.

The site has brought together so many scattered people, sharing a collective memory of a place and similar or shared experiences.  The positive energy generated by this group is obvious from its viral growth. Like the branches of a tree, one has passed on to many, who in turn pass on to many more. The speed of member growth is a testiment to the happiness shared memories evoke.

In many cases with the posts, it is a place which triggers memory - we have all played at a certain park in our childhood and each of us has had an individual relationship with for instance, the slide. In the same way that Citizen Kane's last words were 'Rosebud' the name of his sledge, perhaps we all remember the slide well because of the thrill it gave us.

Greenwood Park's slide and one of its many happy users

What I find more interesting is the idea of shared memory, which may be false or fabricated, or borrowed from an original telling.  I am sure I remember getting my pants stuck on the top of the slide one time!  They ripped and it caused maybe a mixture of embarressment, shock and humour - all intense emotions which are said to help to 'fix' a memory. However via the facebook group I have heard 4 other childhood stories of pants and trousers ripping at the top of the slide. Of course its highly possible that all of us just fell victim to the same broken slide, but I wonder whether there is more happening here too. Such a story or anecdote could easily have been shared over the years, retold and in retelling attributed to our own experiences, rather than as a group story. The study of 'false memories' seems quite popular in academia, I wonder if facebook could become a repository for subjects to collect data from...

Obviously people everywhere enjoy sharing memories and most especially so on the islands. The local historical societies here are very popular, both with the islanders who have strong family connections already, but also with foreigners who are tracing their family roots.  Because many families were forced to immigrate in the 1800's because of the Clearances, there are many people who can now connect across the distance to their past, and unlock their own precious memories.

The Pairc Historical Society and Hebridean Connections facebook pages have just started putting up photographs which not only serve as a historical record, but make people feel part of a collective through sharing the same memories, or memories of the same place or event.

I wonder what effect this will have on human cognitive development in the coming years - the ability to recall memories is something that we all hope to hang onto as we get older. Perhaps social networking will show itself to be a social good for improving memory in old age and improving our mental well being and happiness in the future....

The Sights and Sounds of South Lochs

Lewis is much bigger than you expect. The West coast is laced with white sandy beaches, sheltering in secluded coves. The North is flat and green with strips of crofts leading down to flat shores. But the East coast is craggy with pebble beaches and natural habour villages for fishing boats.

Marvig - fisherman's village

Harris to the south sets a mountainous barrier between Lewis and Harris - in fact they should really be one island, but it wasn't realised until 1935 that there was a pass through the mountains and the land was actually connected.

The highest peak, An Clisham, between Harris and lewis

 So heading south from Stornoway towards Harris and its main town Tarbet, you take a left turn halfway between our two capitals, to South Lochs.
Its a pretty drive with, as the name suggests, lots of lochs. The small freshwater lochs are covered in lillies in spring and summer, and attract returning pairs of hooper swans at the end of February.

First stop on the map is in the village of Sheildenish, home to the Loch Erisort Inn, or the Cleitcher as all the locals prefer to call it.  They do food, have rooms, a pool table and peat fires.

The stretch from Sheildenish to the next village Habost passes through a wild corridoor of moorland where you often see eagles catching a thermal, or resting on a fence post. The eagles are either Sea/White tailed eagles, or Golden eagles and they are HUGE. 

Habost is the home of Hebridean Sea Salt, destination for my daily commute and as work environments go its a very pretty setting. The business units were designed by our local councillor during his day job and they sit quite neatly amongst the scenery.

The Secretary of State for Scotland at Heb Sea Salt's official opening

 Running from one into the other, Habost becomes Kershader at a small river surrounded by polytunnels. Two belong to the village and residents of Habost, and two belong to the recurrent winner at the Lochs Agricultural Show.  The Habost tunnels sell strawberries and pot plants in the summer, both at their gate and at the local shop.

From the far end of Kershader, looking back to Habost

As you drive along the shore of Loch Erisort through Kershader you will see the shop, hostel, museum and cafe at Ravenspoint.  The name comes from the piece of our croft just beyond it, in Gaelic Rubha An Fhitich (pronounced Roo-an-yeech). Last year they also installed a 24 hour petrol pump, which has
proved invaluable to the local community who would otherwise have an hour round trip just to get fuel. Unfortunately the tank is bright blue and above ground - not the best design for a scenic area, but needs must I suppose.

Just before the next village Garyvard, off the road down by the shore are the remains of a Norse mill. Dating to about 800AD, the stone mill wheels are clearly identifiable amongst the tumbledown stones of the building which used to surround it.

At Garyvard is an art studio and residential artists retreat.  The road bears inland and there is a nice pathed walk from the pier up to the village of Caversta accross the croftland.

Garyvard

At this point the road turns single track, with plenty of passing places, so more time to take in the scenery.
After the Caversta village turn, where theres a particularly abundant water lilly loch, the road runs up the hill with the first of the visible peat cuttings on the right. At the Marvig/Cromore turn you are well into peat cutting land and the slabs of dark fudge are laid out at any time from April through 'til August.

Peat cutting

Note the nuclear-blast-resistant bus shelter at this turn, cut into 4 quadrants to cover any wind direction and bear right which will take you to Gravir, where we first lived when we arrived on Lewis.

 Its a beautiful view as you pass over the cattle grid, accross to the hills of the Eiskein estate.  The local primary school, doctors surgery and post office are in Gravir, as is the stunning Kebboch head at the end of loch Odhairn.

The road carries on to the furthest villages of Lemreway and Orinsay.  As you climb up the hill out of Gravir and wind along more peat cuttings, you will come around a final corner and see an impressive sight. The Shiant Isles, wallowing in the Minch like a great sea dragon stretch out about 4 miles from land.

 Orinsay is a turn off just at the bottom of the Lemreway hill and enjoys the same phenomenal views of the Shiants.  There is a path near the end of the road which leads to the deserted village of Stemreway, a well worn path taking you accross to the other side of the bay and back in time.

Returning to Gravir the way you've come, turn right into the village and down to the head of the loch.  You can park at the bridge where there is a small slip, a perfect entry point for kayaking. The loch is often flat and calm and used by seals and otters who will come to see you.  You can park at the slip and walk up past the old school to the 'Toiun'. There are a few houses and crofts along the way but many many more blackhouse ruins from Gravir's busier times.

Loch Odhairn at Gravir

Along the side of the loch, you can see a wrecked boat's hull on your walk, dating back to C    it was called the Roselea. All along the south facing hill are the old lazy beds up on top of the hill more ruined blackhouses.

At the top you is Kebboch head, an impressive jut of Lewisean gneiss and on a clear day you can see accross the Minch to the mainland.

Kebboch head, watching over the cages of the fish farms...

Following the road on the other side of the loch will take you past the pier, a number of holiday cottages, the home of Island Flies and up the (steep) hill and off to Calbost.

Much has been written about Calbost thanks to the local historian Angus Macleod who has an archive in his honour at Ravenspoint.

It is a stunning discovery as you recover from the roller coaster single track road and drop down into the village.  If you park near No. 8 where there is a holiday house, you can follow a path, past a magical house we wanted to buy and find a secluded pebble beach.

The pebbles make an incredible sound as you walk accross them - they are large at the shoreline and get steadily smaller towards the back, where they have ground against each other for decades, steadily, smoothly getting smaller and lighter and getting tossed backwards by the sea. The west may have the white sandy beaches of postcards, but this is an equal yet opposite experience.

Following the circular road through Calbost will take you past Marvig next. The old schoolhouse is a spectacular B&B - Heather will also cook an evening meal if you can't leave the tranquil setting.  The village has a natural harbour and many fisherman have their homes here, going out for prawn or mackerel which they sell jst up the coast at Stornoway.
The final village in South Lochs is Cromore - as you follow the roller coater road to the village, you can see far into the distance - the 3 mock turbines on the road to Stornoway and the TV aerial at Achmore. It is a surprisingly well populated village for one of the most remote places, but the roads can be awful in wintertime - the Council has downgraded the gritting priority of the road so that it doesn't get gritted until 9.30am - not good for workers or school children on the bus.  But perfectly picturesque for visitors to the area enjoying the sights and sounds of South Lochs in plenty of their own time.

Island demographics

Our move to the Outer Hebrides in 2006 was met with some unexpected comments from our family in friends. The words 'Crazy' and 'La-la Land' were actually used, which has always surprised me. It was an easy move for us, so I was surprised to see how alien it seemed to people close to us.

Our, seemingly bold, move was validated however in 2013 when a series of articles came out in the national press, claiming the Hebrideans to be the happiest and most content people in all of the UK.

The Office of National Statistics claimed of well being in 2012/13, that Outer Hebrides and Shetland had:

• The highest levels of life satisfaction, self worth and happiness.
• The second lowest average rating of anxiety
• The highest proportion of people rating their happiness as 9 or 10 out of 10.

So the million dollar question is, what is it that makes the 27,684 people of the Outer Hebrides so much better off?

I can only answer for myself and it is an interconnected weave of many factors, but here are a few of my favourite reasons.

Kershader & Loch Erisort

The scenery
It's not that it is a verdent lush garden - my mother described Lewis as 'bleak' because she is used to the preened and coiffeured patchwork fields of the home counties of England.  But you can see the beautiful landcsape from a different perspective here.  There is nothing to get in the way of a good view.  The weather lights the hillside in a constantly changing cinematic experience.  You are looking at the land as a whole, not just a small tamed part of it.  And there is something about this that makes you feel special.

The people
Like the Lewis accent, which is lilting and musical, the people are not brash or forceful.  They are strong, because the elements can throw a storm at them at any time and they need to be constantly prepared. The Presbyterian church has a huge influence still and this Christianity was a welcome relief for me, coming from an impersonal city.  Even though we are not church goers, we are still included as a part of the community. We have become a part of the landscape and been accepted, simply by our durability.
It's great to be part of a crowd, as any of the many other incomers will agree.

Traditional croft house in winter

The lack of disparity
I think the the main horror that the family and friends we left behind on the mainland could not come to terms with, is that we do without a lot of the moneterial things that people rely on elsewhere. We live quite hand to mouth, don't buy many clothes, have no pension and no holidays abroad.  But the things we lack are not constantly paraded in front on us by our neighbours here. If people are doing well, they may have a slighter bigger and neater house, but not the huge mansions and latest model cars that people in well off areas on the mainland have.  The difference between rich and poor is much less noticeable, which makes me feel that the world is a fairer more equal place.  

I don't know if these are sentiments shared with the rest of the Outer Hebrides, but it was no surprise to read about our shared well being in the national press last year.  It had been just a feeling, but now it is backed up by data I can assure my family and friends that we are no crazier than the rest of them.