July 12, 1964
were ruined by the wind and rain as the ferry transporting their furniture hit bad weather.
Times would rarely get easier, but the enterprising family dug in and found a way to eke out a living.
“They tried various forms of farming,” Chris said. “It wasn’t really a selfsustaining island.
“Len had a breakthrough with hen production. He set up an accredited poultry station, sending eggs around the country, and then got into rearing and selling one-day-old chicks.”
But a bad back and a heart attack in the early ’60s put an end to farming, and other means of making a living had to be found.
“They were always very practical and turned their hand to anything.
“Margaret would make bedclothes, turned orange boxes into bedside cabinets, knitted. Len rigged up one of the generators to work with the wind.
“He helped with knitting designs, then got into painting, selling them to the island’s visitors. Margaret sold lots of home baking.
“They were given permission from the Post Office to produce Pabay stamps, which made a useful sum of money.”
It was a chance find that led to the family’s later, very successful, pottery business.
Len came across some dark red boulder clay and taught the kids how to make a pot. It sparked an interest in pottery and he devoured several books on the subject.
In 1964, a Sunday Post reporter travelled to Pabay, described in the article as “Len’s Kingdom”, to write about the “family’s thrilling life on the deserted island”.
Around that time, the family actively began trying to sell the island and, in 1970, a seller was found.
The Whatleys, now six children strong, sold for just £14,000 and departed to Skye where they set up Edinbane Pottery, which remains successful and family-run to this day.
Len passed away in 1974, aged just 55, and Margaret was later remarried to a local crofter.
Today, Pabay is a holiday island and while trees have been replanted, Chris laments the fact there is no trace of the graft and endeavour his aunt and uncle put into the place.
But the memories of Pabay remain vivid and hold a special place in his heart.
“As a child, it felt like being part of an Enid Blyton adventure – the beaches, caves, cliff, playing on boats,” he added.
“Anyone who has been to Pabay has become a more independent person and it taught people like me, a Glasgow boy, several skills.
“I suppose Len and Margaret were pioneers.
“It was tough, but it shows what can be achieved when you’re determined.” In July 1964, The Sunday Post visited Len Whatley’s island, 14 years after he settled there. Headlined “Family’s Thrilling Life on Deserted Scots Island”, the story celebrates the family’s endurance and commitment to Pabay but remembers the first harrowing months.
Twelve hours a day, seven days a week, Len toiled. It was back-breaking. But he was happy.
In April, when Margaret and the children arrived, 30 acres of corn flourished in the field above the house.
By harvest time, the stooks were three feet high and the ears fine and fat.
Len was a proud man.
But one night he was coming in from the fields when a freak storm blew up.
The wind was so fierce it forced him to his hands and knees. He crawled towards the house and was met by a
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He fishes, shoots the odd rabbit for the pot. He paints. Sometimes he just walks around his little domain
hail of slates whipping off the roof like bullets!
In the morning, Len found his corn had been flattened by the wind then washed away by the torrential rain.
Six acres were all he managed to salvage. For the first time in his life he felt like crying. With no crop there was no money.
So Len and Margaret had to gather whelks from the beach. He sold them in Skye for £4 a week. He shot rabbits and fished for cod and mackerel to supplement the larder.
The Whatleys stood the test and survived till spring...
Len has a bit more free time now that the farm’s running smoothly.
He fishes, shoots the odd rabbit for the pot. He paints. Mostly beautiful scenery that’s all around.
Sometimes he just walks round his little domain. Perhaps to one of the little rocky coves to visit the island’s colony of grey Atlantic seals, who are so used to him now that they treat him as part of the scenery.