From Berneray to Pabbay: The Riddle of the Sands Grand Tours of the Scottish Islands

The islands that lie off the coast of North Uist in the Western Isles

form a labyrinth of narrow sea channels and shallow water.

All kinds of hazards lurk just beneath the surface to catch the

unwary mariner. Reefs, submerged rocks, skerries, sandbanks

make navigating this coast a bit like solving a riddle.

The riddle of the sands.

I'm continuing my epic island-hopping odyssey,

trying to unravel the secrets

of some of Scotland's most fascinating places...

Oh!

..and meeting the people who live here.

But I'm used to travelling first class, Donald.

-This IS first class!

-I think this is steerage.

It's impossible to be precise about the total number of islands that are

scattered around Scotland's untameable coast.

But not counting the numerous rocks and skerries, it's well over 250.

And at the end of the jetty,

an old vehicle driven by a collie dog to take us ashore.

DOG BARKS

On this Grand Tour, I'm threading a course around North Uist,

visiting some of its least known and most beautiful locations.

My journey takes me to a cluster of islands in the Outer Hebrides.

Lying just off the North Uist Coast is princely Berneray,

where my journey begins.

From there, I head south to capture the colours of Grimsay,

and then weave through the marram grass of Kirkibost to end on the

deserted whisky island of Pabbay.

And where better to begin my meandering island sojourn than on

this stunning beach?

The island of Berneray, or Bernera, as it's sometimes known,

should never be confused with other islands like Great Bernera up in

Lewis, or Berneray down at Barra Head, or even Little Bernera.

Now, all these islands have basically the same name,

which means bear island,

so back in the past I imagine there must have been a lot of bears hereabouts.

Which is odd, really, because there are no woods.

Bears or not, this is an astonishingly beautiful island.

And the great sweep of sand that makes up the west bay is the jewel

in its crown.

And one that was stolen by the Thai tourist board.

They used a photograph of these turquoise seas and white sands

to promote beaches in Thailand.

The cheek!

Berneray is home to around 150 people and is thought to have been

inhabited since the Bronze Age.

But none of its many sons and daughters achieved the stature of

Angus McAskill, born here in 1825.

Angus was one of ten children.

But when he was born he was considered to be, well,

the runt of the pack because he was so small and scrawny.

In fact, his parents were worried that he might not survive into adulthood.

But instead, to their surprise and delight, Angus grew and he grew

and he grew, until he stood a staggering 7'9" in his stockinged feet,

the same height as this cairn that's been erected to mark

his birthplace.

Now, when he grew up, Angus became the tallest Scotsman ever to have lived.

The family emigrated to Nova Scotia and Angus joined PT Barnum's Circus,

appearing with one of the world's smallest men, General Tom Thumb.

Angus was hailed as the world's tallest true giant,

renowned for incredible feats of strength, such as lifting a ship's anchor chest-high.

So I tip my hat in tall Angus's direction.

When he performed for Queen Victoria at Windsor Castle, she declared him

"the tallest, stoutest and strongest man ever to have entered the palace".

As I make my way across Berneray,

it's apparent that the traditional island way of life still exists for many.

SHEEP BLEAT

You might still find your progress slowed by crofters moving sheep across the island.

You can't really use passing places in the conventional way

-when you are driving sheep, can you?

-No.

If you were caught behind a flock of sheep here in 1987, you may well

have spotted a very famous face driving them.

Berneray was thrust into the spotlight of international press attention

when it was discovered that the heir to the throne had been living

secretly on the island.

In a bizarre twist on The Prince And The Pauper story,

Prince Charles became a crofter and learned how to cut peat,

lift potatoes and dip sheep.

He found the experience inspirational and used much of what he learned

to form his own philosophy on organic farming.

So, in the same spirit, I'm going to do my own Prince Charles lifestyle

immersive thingy,

and help out with a long-standing tradition for the shepherds of Berneray.

These sheep are being taken to their summer grazing grounds,

but getting them there involves a little more effort than you might expect.

These crofters are about to make a trip which is very much an annual Berneray tradition.

For as long as anyone can remember, the shepherds of Berneray have moved

their flocks to graze on one of the nearby islands.

So, to find out what it takes to go to sea with several dozen sheep,

I'm joining the crew headed up by Donald MacLean.

-Are you counting them?

-I was counting them, yes. I count them in my sleep, usually.

-You'll be counting them tonight.

-Never for real.

-You'll be counting them tonight.

But I'm used to travelling first class, Donald.

-This IS first class!

-I think this is steerage.

THEY LAUGH

But it's amazing, because they are relatively calm, I mean...

-Oh, once they get on they're fine.

-Once they're in a flock they kind of calm down, once they're together.

-They're good.

-Then they get settled.

-If one jumps over, they'll all jump over.

-That's the problem. Would they really?

-Yes.

-Right.

On a small island like Berneray, land comes at a premium and has to

be put to the best possible use.

So nearby uninhabited islands provide good grazing for the sheep over the summer.

We're headed for Opasay, just five miles south-east of here.

Donald's made this journey countless times and seems remarkably calm

given the unpredictable nature of his passengers.

Sheep being sheep, it never works the same two days, because one day

you might have to handle every one of them aboard,

the next day, you might not go near any of them, they'll just run aboard.

-Is that right? Just straight on board?

-Yes.

-And they all have minds of their own.

-They're very unpredictable.

This is a family business.

And for Donald's uncle Neil, it's a familiar journey.

Neil, how long have you been making this crossing?

-70 years.

-Never.

-70 years?

-And more.

Well, just about 70.

-I bet you've seen some weather, though?

-Oh, good and bad.

It's difficult to land on the islands if it's windy and stormy.

This film was made 35 years ago and shows just how challenging this journey can be.

Thankfully, we don't have snow to contend with,

and so far the weather has held.

But we do have challenges of our own to face.

HE SPEAKS IN GAELIC

The engine's overheating?

-It's running hot.

-Right, so, the thermostat's gone?

-I don't know, it's...

-Because that's the only bit of the Gaelic I understood.

Aye, he does that!

And that's not our only problem.

THEY SPEAK IN GAELIC

Thanks to Donald and his crew's speedy response, this little guy

is safely back on board.

He's a good swimmer, that lamb.

Yeah.

You all right, boy?

Now, time to sort out that little engine problem.

HE SPEAKS IN GAELIC

Ever resourceful, our island crofters have to be multi-skilled.

After a bit of head scratching, Donald soon gets to the root of the problem.

And we're back underway again.

We had some dramas on the high seas, there.

-What was going on?

-That.

So you had that, that was blocking...

That was blocking it, that was in the filter.

-So you had a blockage?

-And it blocked the system.

That was floating, probably in the harbour before we left.

Very reassuring to have those vibrations of full revs going beneath our feet now.

Yes, so hopefully this is it now.

Yeah, well, fingers crossed.

-Fingers crossed.

-Oh! I spoke too soon.

-Aye!

Being wedged in amongst 50 sheep does have its advantages.

When the swell picks up, at least I've got something to hold on to.

This wind's a bit stronger today, so our landing on the island is not ideal.

But we'll see what it's like when we get there.

-Won't be long now?

-No.

-Unless another lamb jumps over the side.

I think they can smell the land, they are getting quite excited.

Thankfully, our very able seamen get us safely to Opasay.

And I get the impression that our passengers are keen to disembark

at their summer holiday island.

That's it, let them go.

That's them.

-That's it. That's perfect.

-Off you go!

All right?

But just as it looks as if they're home and dry,

Donald has to swing into action again.

There's always one.

Probably the same bloody one!

THEY LAUGH

All that's left to do is to swab the decks, before making my way

to my next destination.

The tidal island of Grimsay lies in a maze of shifting sandbanks and sea lochs.

It's linked to North Uist by one of the many causeways that connect this

island chain together.

Since I'm travelling on foot and the tide is low, I prefer to make my own way

across the sands, which also gives me time to reflect on the

alluring nature of this place.

Whether it's the colour of the sea or the quality of the light,

many artists have been inspired by this landscape.

These stunning watercolours are the work of acclaimed US-based artist Rhod Evans.

This is Loch Hornary.

It's very secluded, very quiet,

and it's one of these places I like to come and sketch on a good day.

Rhod has brought me here for a masterclass in landscape painting.

-I've got my pencil.

-Right.

-I normally start by finding a horizon and deciding where to put the horizon.

-Uh-huh.

-I tend to sketch quite rapidly.

-Uh-huh.

I'm a scribbler rather than a detail person.

You've been to a lot of islands, have you not?

Yeah, over the years, I suppose my career has taken me to...

Because I was a conservation manager, that's what I actually did, and...

Was it a job that took you to islands?

Yeah... Well, I think I probably had a thing, I still have a bit of a thing about islands.

When did you learn the art of watercolour painting?

Totally self-taught.

Misspent time when I should have been...

..counting birds, or something.

One of the things I've done over the years is hours and hours

-of experiments with colours, you know?

-Uh-huh.

Getting to know the colours really well.

What mixes together, what makes absolute mud, you know?

I think I'm verging on the mud.

If you think about an artist, people say,

"Oh, I can't get it to look like it's meant to look."

-Yeah.

-But it isn't about that, is it, you know?

Partly it's about the scene, it's partly about how you feel, as well...

-Uh-huh.

-..when you're doing it.

So, you might be cold, you might be cranky,

and you might do slashing kind of marks, you know?

Zigzags, whatever. Whereas if you're feeling more serene and cool,

you do a very soft watercolour sort of thing.

Or if you're feeling vaguely incompetent, like I am,

it all looks a bit blotchy.

Eventually, I mean, people get to like your stuff and you realise

that actually, what you're doing is OK.

-It's totally absorbing, isn't it?

-It is.

I mean, if you can find something, whatever it is,

that you get really absorbed in, I think that's probably the best therapy there is.

Whether it's fishing, or whatever,

but it totally takes all of your concentration.

I think this is better than fishing, because you've always got a result.

I've spent many days fishing and come home with nothing.

True that, been there.

Generally just finish off a sketch with just a little bit of

scratching with a knife.

-Scratching with a knife?

-Yeah, scratch out...

-Oh, I see.

-..the white bits. You see? Like that.

It almost looks like vandalism.

-Yeah.

-I'm quite pleased with that.

-Yeah. That's nice.

I thought it was going to be a disaster.

-I like the way you've sort of made it into an amphitheatre.

-Mmm.

-That's how it struck me.

-Because, in a way, that's what it is. Yeah.

Yours has got depth and atmosphere.

Well, I suppose it's just very much an impression of the scene.

There's not much detail there at all.

Well, I'm exhausted.

-Mentally draining.

-Absolutely, because it takes so much attention.

And you're so focused.

As I continue my journey, my newly developed artistic eye is drawn to

several picturesque thatched cottages that dot the landscape.

At one time, every home would have had this kind of roof,

but modern building techniques and materials made the thatched roof almost obsolete.

Recently, however, they've enjoyed a bit of a revival

and the skill of the thatcher has been rediscovered.

I'm joining Neil Nicholson to size up his latest project.

Yeah, this is a very old roof, this one,

it's one of the oldest in Uist, and it's been over-thatched and now

we're basically going to strip it back a lot,

taking it back to basically a layer which went on originally,

-which is probably over 100 years now.

-You're kidding?

Yeah, yeah.

You've got 100 years of thatching going on.

Yeah. I can see what kind of thatchers we had for the past 100 years.

You've got all these layers of kind of, like, history, really.

-It's a bit like archaeology.

-It is, yes, yeah.

And you're going to replace it with this grass here, so...

Now, how much of this stuff, Neil, are you going to need to rethatch that wee cottage?

I would say roughly it'd be two football pitches.

-That's a hell of a lot. Two football pitches?

-It's a lot of grass, yeah.

This is marram grass,

and sourcing it in the kind of quantities needed isn't as easy

as you might expect.

We're heading to a place where Neil can gather this very special

building material, the tiny tidal island of Kirkibost.

It is an amazing stretch of coast, this. It's so low-lying, isn't it?

It is, yeah.

It wouldn't take much for the sea to encroach all the way across.

No, it wouldn't, no.

It's very tidal here, so we just have to be careful of sandbanks.

We try and come out when the tide's turning.

You haven't got much clearance here, have you?

-No.

-You could almost stand up in this.

You could nearly, aye, there's about a metre there.

And at low tide this dries out almost completely, doesn't it?

-It does, yes.

-It's an amazing thought.

-This is us in the marram grass fields.

-Yeah.

-It grows really well here, doesn't it?

-Yeah, it does.

In amongst the dunes.

The traditional way of harvesting this grass is with a scythe,

but Neil has something a bit more powerful.

Now, mowing the lawn is one thing,

but mowing a beach is quite another.

This has a powerful engine, sharp blades

and an inexperienced operator.

Whoa!

Whoa!

Neil?

Neil?! I've got a problem!

It's also noisy,

so Neil can't hear my increasingly desperate cries for help.

I can't stop!

I'm exhausted!

-You've got to take control of it, you know?

-Yeah.

-That's knackering. Are you sure it isn't easier with a scythe?

-No, no.

Bringing in the sheaths, it's now time to get down to the real task,

restoring the roof of this delightful old cottage.

Prepare it for the roof.

Clean it, pull it,

-place it in place.

-Uh-huh.

-The tool.

-Right.

So, basically, I stick it in there until I think it's sitting right on the roof.

So you're just sticking it into basically turf, aren't you?

-In turf, yeah.

-That's all that's anchoring it?

-You're sewing it into it.

-Right.

-So, do you want to try and put some in?

-I'll try. I'll have a wee shot.

-Yep.

45 degrees angle.

Push, push, push.

That's you.

That's it. Now, you want to see where...

-Take it down.

-Uh-huh.

-You want to see.

-It's a bit short, isn't it?

It's a bit short, but you can pull it back a wee bit and that should be fine.

-Right.

-So...

It is amazingly flimsy material, isn't it?

When you think of the wind you so often associate with Uist,

-you think it's all going to blow away.

-Yeah.

It's this netting that makes it really different.

And then you anchor the whole thing down with some knuckle-break stones.

That's it, yeah.

That's it. It's quite satisfying, isn't it?

Yeah, it is very satisfying.

It's great to learn new skills.

-It is, yes.

-How long's it going to take you to do this?

-How much would you get done in a day?

-This corner went up in, like, one day, a full day.

So you've got one, two, three, four...

-You've got three weeks' work, do you think?

-Aye, roughly, yeah, weather permitting.

-Quick calculation.

-Yeah.

Unfortunately, I won't to be able to help Neil finish the job,

because I'm setting out to sea again,

this time heading around the west coast to my final destination,

the uninhabited island of Pabbay.

So, we're approaching Pabbay. Got a wee jetty here.

And at the end of the jetty

there's an old vehicle driven by a collie dog to take us ashore.

DOG BARKS

And the dog appears to have brought some humans along.

Hi, guys.

So, here we are, setting foot on Pabbay for the very first time.

Really nice to meet you.

This is my guide on the island.

Raymond Campbell manages these three square miles of mostly pasture land.

And thankfully he and not just the dog will be doing the driving.

So, Raymond, it's so green on this island

it looks almost like a golf course.

It makes me think you must have a team of very conscientious green keepers hard at work.

Yes, we do that.

-Sheep keepers, we have.

-You've got sheep keepers?

-Yes.

So you've got sheep keeping the grass so cropped and neat looking?

-Yes, we've got 700.

-700? That's a lot for a small island.

Yes.

SHEEP BLEAT

Pabbay has been uninhabited for more than 150 years,

but it's clear, as I see more of the island, that this was once a thriving place.

I can see all of the ruins here of the houses.

-Not much left of them.

-No, no.

-But that must be a village?

-Yes, Baile na Cille.

-Baile na Cille?

-Yes.

Well, I reckon by my rudimentary knowledge of Gaelic, that would mean

the village of the church, would it?

Yes, that's the one, yeah.

-Is that the church over there?

-Yes, you can see the church there.

-Right.

In fact, at its height, there were three villages here, a castle,

an ancient chapel and a population of nearly 300.

-See you later.

-See you, Paul.

-Cheers.

In the Middle Ages, the powerful Clan MacLeod held sway over much of the Hebrides.

And Pabbay, which means priest's island in Gaelic,

was one of their principal strongholds and the MacLeods loved it here.

I can see why.

It wasn't just Pabbay's strategic position in the Sound of Harris that

made it important.

The soil was also extremely fertile and the harvests bountiful.

Unfortunately for the MacLeods, their sworn enemies, the MacDonalds,

wanted a piece of Pabbay for themselves

and decided to attack the island.

And on a fateful day, the two clans met in a terrible battle,

which took place right here along the banks of this wee burn.

Now the MacDonalds were slaughtered to a man.

It's almost impossible to imagine the bloodshed that happened right here,

especially on a day like today, which somehow seems to epitomise

the essence of peace and tranquillity.

But then again, islands have always been deceptive.

It wasn't clan warfare that eventually saw the last of Pabbay's

residents leave in 1846.

In fact, the island and its people were thriving.

They were growing an abundance of wheat, oats, and, of course, barley.

That was the main ingredient in the production of whisky,

something which the Pabbay folk were rather fond of.

And despite repeated attempts by government inspectors to catch them in the act,

they produced barrel loads of the stuff.

To hear how this would lead to their eventual demise, I meet up with

Raymond's father Ken Campbell, whose family have a long connection with the island.

Kenneth, it's a beautiful, fertile island here.

Historically, Pabbay's been a very important island, because of its rich soil.

Yes, indeed, yes, it was known as the granary of Harris,

especially for the grain that it produced for the making of the whisky.

The excise man was on the go, you know,

and they were chasing people here, there and everywhere,

and they managed to get to Pabbay,

but the boatman had an arrangement with them,

-a special sale if he had the excise man on board.

-Right.

-So, there would be boatmen bringing the excise men here...

-Yes.

..and he was in cahoots with the folk here,

-so he'd warn them?

-Yes, yes, and that was his way of doing it, you know?

A different colour sail.

If you suddenly had a yellow sail up, it meant "I've got an excise man on board"?

Aye, yeah, warning.

I think it was hidden away.

But they got caught out when there was a change of boatman.

-So caught red-handed?

-Yeah.

And things changed then.

Oh, they were evicted because they were convicted

-or suspected of being involved in this illicit trade?

-Trade, yeah.

I suppose they wanted to turn it into a sheep farm.

And, well, that was the trend in various estates of those days,

sheep farms and that.

Sadly, it's an all too familiar story.

And as I leave Ken and the ruins of Baile-lingay,

I consider the irony of how the painful history of the Hebrides

is so often set against a wildly beautiful backdrop.

I'm making the gentle climb to the summit of Ben a Charnain.

It's only about 600 feet high, but it's my final destination

and the ideal place to reflect on my journey.

So, here we are, the summit of Pabbay, the cairn of Ben a Charnain,

where, I have to say, the views are absolutely breathtaking.

You can see the whole sweep of the Sound of Harris from here,

studded with the wee islands that make navigation so difficult.

It's actually clear enough for me today to see all the way to Saint Kilda,

45 miles away.

Now, this really is a perfect place to drink in the view,

which is a cue for me to have a wee drink for myself.

A wee sensation to remind me of what once made Pabbay famous.

Slainte.

Join me on my next Grand Tour, when I'll be bridging the gap

and travelling from Scarp to Scalpay.