St Kilda 2008
Mike Masters on a summer adventure to St Kilda in 2008
When I first came to Scotland over 30 years ago I fell in love with the unspoilt, rugged landscape. On the many subsequent visits before eventually moving here permanently, I was always drawn to the most remote and mountainous regions. I came to realise that I possessed some deep-rooted passion for the wild, natural landscape that Scotland still has in such abundance.
Nowhere in Scotland, or arguably anywhere in else in the world, epitomises that remoteness more than St. Kilda, 45 miles due West from the Outer Hebrides. Since I first heard of it and saw a few old, black and white photographs, I longed to go there. For me, St. Kilda just ticks every box. Isolated, wild, beautiful and teeming with bird life (another of my interests). Add to all of that the unique and amazing life of the people who lived there until their evacuation in 1930, this place has been number one on my wish list of places to visit for many years.
Left: St Kilda in the mist. Right: The cliffs of Boreray on left, Stac an Armin on right, Stac Lee & Hirta ahead
When we planned a holiday on Harris in the Western Isles this year I thought that was about as close to St. Kilda as I would ever get. But when I started to look on the Internet at places to visit on Harris, I came across Kilda Cruises, who were offering day trips to St. Kilda. I knew that just finding a window in the weather to get out to St. Kilda was not easy and guessing they would be booked up for months ahead, I didn’t get too excited. However, the day after we arrived on Harris and the weather being marvellous I plucked up the courage to call them. I couldn’t believe it when they said that there was a good chance of a trip later in the week and there were still places. I booked my place and hoped the weather would hold.
Sure enough, at 8 o’clock on a slightly cloudy Thursday morning in May, I boarded the 12 seater power boat OrcaП and we sped out of Leverburgh on the 2 hour journey to the place of my dreams. Sadly, I had to travel alone as my wife, Syb, had to stay behind and look after our dog who was not permitted on the island and could not be left for such a long period. Since most of the other passengers were couples, I was pleased to be joined on the boat by Katerina, a 26 year old from the Czech Republic who was teaching on North Uist and also had longed to visit St. Kilda. I realised how lucky I was to make it at my first attempt when she told me this was her third try, and she lived only a few short miles away on the other side of the Sound of Harris.
Visibility was fairly good, but it was still nearly an hour before we saw the outline of St. Kilda emerging through the mist. Mercifully, the sea was very calm although the wind out on deck was freezing. Most of us stayed in the warmth of the cabin where the noise of the powerful engine vibrated through the surprisingly comfortable seats. Occasionally, small groups of Gannets passed by giving us a taste of the feast of bird life to come.
Eventually, the engines slowed and we all went out on deck as we approached the main Island, Hirta, and cruised into Village Bay for our first close up view of St. Kilda. I was surprised to see the stricken fishing boat the Spinningdale still lying on the rocks since hitting the news when she came to grief there in February this year.
Left: The February 2008 wreck of the trawler, Spinnindale. Right: Village Bay on the isle of Hirta.
Soon we transferred to the Island by rubber dinghy and were met by the National Trust warden for St. Kilda. The Island is now in the care of The National Trust for Scotland and the warden, along with a few NTS volunteers, some scientists studying the wildlife and history and a couple of engineers who take care of the radar and telecommunications installation, make up the 20 or so people who now inhabit the Island. The warden gave us a friendly reminder to leave the place as we found it and we were free to explore wherever we wished.
Katerina and I decided to team up and check out the remains of the village first. Village Bay on Hirta, is the site of the only permanent settlement on St. Kilda and the houses were strung out in a long line, known as Main Street, around the bay a few hundred metres from the water’s edge. The street once consisted of a row of black houses, once typical of the Western Isles (they were called black because, having no chimneys the inside became black with soot from the fire). Attempts to modernise and improve the life of the St. Kildans in 1860 resulted in the building of new, ”white” houses complete with chimneys that were built in the space between the old black houses, which continued to be used as byres for the animals. Ironically, the new houses were not up to the St. Kildan weather and with their zinc roofs it was said that when it rained outside, it rained inside too!
Left: I’m walking Main Street -at last. Right: Katerina above the village with the curve of Main Street below.
We also visited the church with its attached schoolroom. The schoolroom still had its row of desks, each one with a slot for the slate (they were all still there) and an inkwell. Right up to the evacuation, schoolwork was often interrupted when the children were needed for harvesting or helping to deal with the day’s catch of birds.
One of the unique facets of life on St. Kilda was that the people lived mainly off the bird population. Although there was, up until recently, an abundance of fish in the surrounding sea the islanders preferred to eat sea birds. They would perform amazing feats of bravery climbing over the immensely steep cliffs to catch the birds that nested there. Gannets, Fulmars and Puffins were most usually caught and provided food, oil for their lamps and feathers, which they exported to enable them to buy the few items that they could not make for themselves.
The most striking feature of Village Bay is the vast number of stone huts scattered everywhere called cleits. These cleits, over a thousand in all, were built entirely of stone with turf covering the roof. The cleits are unique to St. Kilda and were used as storehouses, mainly for drying sea birds. The walls had gaps between the stones to let the wind through but the turf kept the rain off making perfect drying houses. Cleits can be found all over Hirta, even on top of the hills and also on the other rocky islands that make up the St. Kilda archipelago.
Katerina and I walked right up to top of the hill behind the village where the land ends abruptly in a sheer drop to the sea below. Hirta boasts the highest sea cliffs in Britain at 1400ft (430m). Amazingly, 50 ft below us down the cliff on a small patch of grass was one of the Island’s large herd of Soay Sheep with its young lamb. How they got there is a mystery. The St. Kildans regularly lost sheep when they were literally blown off the cliffs in high winds.
Left: The schoolroom with the slates in their desk slots. Right: Soay sheep cling to the cliff face on Hirta.
When we returned to the village, we were met by Cliff, the resident engineer who looked after the island’s power supply, which not only brought heat and light to the accommodation block, but also kept the vital radar and telecommunications station running. It transpired that Katerina was teaching his son French on Uist. Cliff took us on a drive in one of the Island’s 2 Landrovers up the only road, which lead to the radar station. From there we had a magnificent view over the other side of Hirta to the nearby island of Soay, Britain’s least visited island.
All too soon it was time to think about getting back to the bay for the return journey. There was just time to visit the tiny NTS gift shop (yes they even have them on St. Kilda!) to purchase some books and postcards with the unique St. Kilda postmark. I was most disappointed that the famed Island’s pub, the Puff Inn (the most Westerly pub in Britain), was not open. Apparently, they waited until all the day trippers had gone home.
However, we were greeted back on the boat by Angus, the skipper, with mugs of hot tea and coffee and home made cake – delicious! We were sad to be leaving Village Bay but, little did we realise that the best was yet to come. The OrcaП powered across the 4 miles from Hirta to the next largest island, Boreray. Boreray, and its two massive sea stacks, Stac Lee and Stac an Armin (Scotland’s highest sea stac) house the world’s largest colony of Northern Gannets. All are uninhabited by man, except for a very occasional visit made both difficult and dangerous by the complete lack of any landing places.
As the sea was so unusually calm, the boat was able to get close to Boreray and the stacs with the sky above almost blotted out by soaring gannets and other sea birds. It is difficult to describe the awe inspiring view of these jagged, rocky islands jutting out in the middle of this great expanse of the Atlantic Ocean.
The rocky pinnacle of Stac an Armin has an amazing tale to tell. In the 18th Century, 3 men and 8 boys from St. Kilda were deposited on the stac for what was meant to be a 2 week stay gathering sea birds (how they could have survived on that steep rock for 2 weeks seemed unimaginable to us). The boatman then made a journey to Harris, where he contracted the plague and died. Knowing no better, the people of Harris returned the man’s clothing to St. Kilda and the deadly disease took hold there and killed three quarters of the St. Kildans. There was no-one fit or able to collect the birding party from Stac an Armin and they were left throughout the Winter on that barren rock for a total of 9 months before being rescued. Tired and starving when rescued, they had at least escaped the plague and probably saved the islanders from extinction. Boreray itself is still home to the descendants of the St. Kildan’s domesticated sheep left there after the evacuation in 1930. Even here, as well as on the 2 stacs, there are many cleits – reminders of the time when the St. Kildans “farmed” these remote rocks for sea birds.
Left: The dramatic Stac an Armin, Right: Heading home. All over - are those tears on the lens?
During the 2 hour journey home, the weather was warm enough to stay out on deck although most of us sat quietly, no doubt reflecting on our amazing visit to St. Kilda. The trip was not cheap at £160 per person, although Angus reckoned that the cost of fuel alone would account for more than half of his takings. Even so, there was not one on board who begrudged the price after such an incredible day. This truly was the trip of a lifetime and a dream come true. On returning home and, reading more about St. Kilda, I realised that there was so much more to the place than I could have seen in just one day. My day trip had just whetted my appetite and I can’t wait to go back. I’ve thought of joining the NTS volunteers who spend 2 weeks there helping to maintain the Island’s natural heritage – all I need is a volunteer to run the shop for me while I’m away!
The National Trust website on St Kilda is well worth a visit.
