Isles of the West: A Hebridean Voyage by Ian Mitchell

Author:Ian Mitchell [Mitchell, Ian]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
ISBN: 9780857901880
Publisher: Birlinn
Published: 2012-07-30T04:00:00+00:00

9

HARRIS AND THE SHIANTS

BY THE TIME WE HAD THE SOUND OF HARRIS ABEAM, the flood tide was flowing strongly up the Minch and out through the Sound, one of the most treacherous waterways off the west of Scotland. The only navigable channel is very narrow. Many of the rocks are slightly submerged and therefore invisible. Not only do the tides flow strongly but they do so in a completely unpredictable way. For some reason, at neaps the tides set from east to west during the day and the reverse at night, though why this should be, I have no idea. Nonetheless, it is a beautiful stretch of water on a sunny day and I passed by wishing I had had time to attempt a passage and then explore the west coast of Harris, reputedly one of the most beautiful parts of the Hebrides. Instead I sailed slowly north, with the wind dying, until I dropped the genoa and motor-sailed into the tight but perfectly sheltered natural harbour at Rodel.

Rodel is distinguished by having what must surely be the most – how shall I put this? – unpretentious pub in the whole of the west Highlands. The main part of the structure was built as a mansion for Macleod of Harris in the eighteenth century out of a fortune plundered in India. It was turned into a hotel which the grandfather of the present owner bought in 1935. For many years it was a thriving concern, not least because Rodel was then the ferry port for Harris. But the water alongside the pier is too shallow to allow big boats to tie up, so passengers went ashore in lighters, or ‘flit boats’ as they are known. Since then a deep-water berth has been constructed at Tarbert, where the modern, roll-on roll-off ferries go alongside. Today Rodel is deserted, apart from a few visiting yachts, and the hotel presents a picture of easy-going decay.

The building is in three parts. Looking from the sea, the left-hand wing houses today’s pub; the handsome, three-storey central part is the mansion house, deserted but not derelict; and the right-hand wing looks, quite literally, as if a bomb had hit it. It used to be a lounge bar area, until the owner pulled it down to reduce his rates bill. But he has not cleared the site in any way, so the inquiring visitor can enjoy a few moments exploring another fascinating Highland ruin. I found all sorts of interesting artefacts, like crate upon crate of unopened but very old bottles of Newcastle Brown Ale and an incomparably 1950s painting of the paddle-steamer, the Waverley going ‘doon the watter for the fair’. The vessel is just casting off from the Broomielaw. You can almost see ‘Bob and Mary on the Govan Ferry/Wishing jet propulsion could be there’.

In what was now slightly hazy sunshine, I walked the three miles up from Rodel over the hill into Leverburgh as I had arranged to visit Alison Johnson and her husband

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