I am pleased to announce that the Islands Book Trust is now offering an Advance Order option for my new book - Thirty Years of Adventures in Search of the Past: The Outer Hebrides. Advance orders will be filled after the book launch in May.
https://islandsbooktrust.org/products/thirty-years-of-adventure-in-search-of-the-past
The Islands Book Trust will be hosting two events for the launch my new book Thirty Years of Adventures in Search of the Past: The Outer Hebrides. The first will be at the Harris Hotel on May 14th (5 pm). The second event will be at the Uig Community Centre on May 21 (5:30 pm). Please stop by if you are in the area.
If you are interested in seeing first-hand some of the islands in the book, consider joining me on my guided cruise with Hebridean Adventures. It is a nine-night journey from Oban that departs on September 11th. There are only 4 spots left. For more information see the following link.
https://www.hebrideanadventures.co.uk/products/adventures-in-search-of-the-past-cruise
Design work has been completed for my upcoming book Thirty Years of Adventures in Search of the Past: The Outer Hebrides. The book tells the stories of adventures on forty islands of the Outer Hebrides and includes over 150 colour photos. The Islands book Trust is aiming for publication in May, and book launches will be held on Lewis and/or Harris. The venues and dates have not been set. As soon as they are I will update this page.
This coming September I will have the privilege of guiding another cruise on Hjalmar Bjorge. Built in 1963, Hjalmar Bjørge served for thirty-three years as a rescue ship for the Norwegian fishing fleet. Seventy-five feet long, and twenty wide, this ninety-ton powerhouse, with her name proudly emblazoned in bold, chrome letters on the wheelhouse, draws an appreciative eye from all who see her. When it comes to adventure cruising, safety, and stability you'll find no finer ship for a Hebridean cruise.
This year marks the 20th anniversary of my first voyage on Hjalmar Bjorge. On that journey so long ago, we visited Taransay, Scarp, St Kilda, Ceann Ear of the Monachs, and Mingulay. The stories of those island visits, along with many other adventures on Hjalmar Bjorge, are included in my book Thirty Years of Adventures in Search of the Past: The Outer Hebrides. The book recounts voyages to forty Hebridean islands and is due to be published by the Islands Book Trust this spring. Information on the book launch events will be available shortly.
On the September trip we are aiming to make an orbit around the Uists to set foot on several islands in the Sound of Harris, the Monach Isles, and the Barra Isles. On the way back to Oban we are also planning a full day ashore on Rum. As always, the weather and sea-state will have the final say on where we can go. As it happens, a partial lunar eclipse will occur during the cruise. If the sky is clear, it should be visible from the ship early on the morning of Sept 18.
Currently, four of the six cabins have been booked. If you are interested, more information can be found at the following link:
https://www.hebrideanadventures.co.uk/products/adventures-in-search-of-the-past-cruise
The route into the Arran hills started at Glenrosa Campsite. It was a deceptively easy start, the boot-beaten path gradually ascending along the winding Glenrosa Water. I’d visited Holy Island the day before, and was setting out to hike the Glen Rosa circuit, hoping to find a view of Holy Island from the 2000-foot horseshoe ridge between Cir Mhòr and A’ Chir.
After three miles, I came to a fork in the path. A right turn led to 'The Saddle', the way to climb Goatfell or carry on through to Glen Sannox. The 2,866-foot summit of Goatfell was hidden in clouds—there’d be no views there—so I took the left fork. It made a steady, steep climb, rising 1400 feet over one mile, that led through the heart of Fionn Coire to the high ridge between the peaks of Cir Mhòr and A’ Chir.
I was then faced with a difficult choice. A right turn led to Cir Mhòr (2600 ft), via the Rosa Pinnacle, and then on to Caisteal Abhail and Ceum na Caillich, the Witch’s Step. In addition to the Witch’s Step, and nearby Broomstick Ridge, there are dozens of Arran place names guaranteed to make a climber drool: Pagoda Ridge, Portcullis Buttress, Rosa Slabs, the Bastion, the Rosetta Stone, and the Devil’s Punchbowl. If you fail to climb any of those enticing temptations, you can always settle for Consolation Tor.
I needed to be back at the road in three hours to meet my wife, so I turned left to follow an exhilaratingly airy ridge-top path to the south. Five minutes later, at an elevation of 2000 feet, the path split, and another decision had to be made. The left fork made a challenging, 300-foot knife-edge climb to the summit of A’ Chir. I was beat in the heat—it was a sweltering, 80-degree July day (27 deg C)—and I’d already climbed 1800 feet in over six miles. It was an easy decision for someone hiking on their own. I took the right fork that led around the west shoulder of A’ Chir.
In a matter of minutes, 300 feet of hard-earned altitude was lost, as the trail dropped down dusty, sunbaked slabs of granite, before climbing steeply to Bealach an Fhir-bhogha, Bowman’s Pass. Deer were once driven through this narrow pass, where archers lying in wait would pick them off as they stampeded through.
The view was spectacular; the massive bowl of Coire Daingean lay at my feet, dropping 1600 feet to the headwaters of Glenrosa Water. The clouds had thinned over the past hour, and the summit of Goatfell looked clear and inviting. I was beginning to regret my decision not to climb it, when something else impressive caught my eye—the very thing I’d come here to see—Holy Island rising from the blue-green waters of the Firth.
According to the map, there is a route from Bowman’s Pass down to Glen Rosa. But nary a path was to be seen, just dusty slopes, far too steep to safely descend. But 200 feet farther, just beyond the pass where archers once laid in wait, I came across a trail that dropped to the summit of Beinn a’ Chliabhain, Creel Mountain (2140 ft).
I did not want to leave the airy heights, but the time had come to start down. The heavenly ridge path to Beinn a’ Chliabhain led to another high ridge above Coire a’ Bhradain, Salmon Corry. Five hundred feet below, like veins leading to a heart, a half-dozen streams could be seen trickling down the corry; the headwaters of the salmon-filled river of Garbh Allt.
It was a joy to be walking downhill (my favourite direction). And so, happy as a midge at a nude beach, I descended to Cnoc Breac, Trout Hill. You may have noticed by now that there are a lot of fishy names on Arran. I’m surprised there’s no Pike’s Peak, but there is a hill called An Tunna; a name that commemorates an event back in the days of Cuchulain, when a lost bluefin, thinking it was a salmon, swam up Glenrosa Water trying to spawn. (Or so I read in Wikipedia.)
From Cnoc Breac, the terrain gradually transitioned from rock to heather and grass, as it descended to the cascading waters of Garbh Allt. At 6 pm the Glen Rosa campsite came into view, where my wife had dropped me six hours earlier. She wasn’t there - good help is hard to find. Fifteen minutes later, she showed up with a cold can of beer. (Oh me, of little faith.)
You may have noticed I have been neglecting the blog for a few months. The reason is that I've been preoccupied with completing my next book: Thirty Years of Adventures in Search of the Past: The Outer Hebrides. Book design is underway, with publication by the Islands Book Trust tentatively set for May of 2024. As part of promoting the book, I will be guiding a cruise on the ship Hjalmar Bjorge, operated by Hebridean Adventures. As with the previous books, this one includes several stories that stem from experiences aboard Hjalmar Bjorge, both as a guide and a paying guest. The following link will take you to the Hebridean Adventures website that describes the cruise.
https://www.hebrideanadventures.co.uk/products/adventures-in-search-of-the-past-cruise
The first of the photos below is of Dun Shanndraigh on the island of Sandray, one of the historical sites we hope to explore.
There is something special about an early morning, or early evening landing, on a deserted island. The slanting rays of the sun give the terrain an added dimension of depth and color.
Adding to the uniqueness is that these shore trips, before breakfast, or after dinner, are few and far between. I last wrote of such an experience in 2019, when during a trip down the west of Ireland we went ashore for an early morning walk on Iniskea North. (You can see those photos on the November 7, 2019 post.)
And so, on a Hebridean cruise in June, I was delighted when the skipper offered up an evening stroll on Taransay. Some of these photos show the ruin of the nineteenth century Taigh Geal na h-Uidhe, the white house of Uidhe. Originally two-storeys high, with a roof of Ballachulish slate, the house was built for John MacDonald, the Taransay tacksman in the nineteenth century. The structure turned out to be unstable, so the gables were knocked down, and the slates taken for use on a building in Tarbert.
The shell of the house still stands in the form of a single-storey, tin-roofed bothy, refurbished by the Mountain Bothies Association in the 1980s. (They no longer maintain the bothy.) Many years had passed since I last entered the bothy. On that previous visit in 2011, there was a two-burner propane stove sitting atop a slim table and a half dozen fishnet hammocks hung from the rafters. There were several fishing crates stacked in the cooking area, each holding an assortment of worn utensils. Except for two items, an adjacent shelf was bare. The two items it proudly held were a crusty salt shaker and a faded jar of Marmite. Stamped on the Marmite label was EXP: 7/2008. I've never been a Marmite fan, let alone when it's been fermenting for three years.
When I entered the bothy in June I found it to be a sad wreck, The door was gone, and the inside was a complete mess. But, if you wanted to spend the night, the fishnet hammocks were still there.
