Willie Shand explores Scotland’s fishing villages
Willie Shand absorbs the atmosphere of Scotland’s fishing villages.
MARE VIVIMUS – “We live by the sea” – is the motto of the Fife fishing village of St Monans. Having the North Sea to the east, the Atlantic to the west and Pentland Firth to the north, it’s a motto that might have been just as appropriate to hundreds of other Scottish fishing ports and villages all around our coastline.
In each and every one of these communities, the sea and fishing have been in their blood for countless generations.
With many of the world’s most dangerous waters and notorious currents to contend with, is it any wonder Scotland has long had the reputation of being home to some of the best sailors in the world?
Although I myself prefer to keep both feet on terra firma, with my photographer’s hat on, I’ve always had a great love for exploring fishing villages.
With all the activity of boats coming and going, catches being unloaded, nets and creels being washed and repaired, and with everything from boat engines and marker buoys to floats and anchors lying around, there’s so much to see that it’s easy to lose track of time.
The old rusty tub that’s clearly seen better days might not be your first choice for a sea voyage, but nine times out of 10 it’ll be the one that poses best for the camera.
To me, though, the real beauty of our harbours is that no two are alike – not only in appearance or character, but also in the wealth of sea-faring stories they have to tell.
On the west coast of Scotland is the village of Portpatrick where, across the North Channel, Northern Ireland is only 21 miles away.
It wasn’t only fish, cattle and horses, though, that the boats brought to this wee harbour.
Before the law changed in 1826, many an eloping
Irish couple sped to Portpatrick with only one thing in mind – to be wed as quickly as possible.
In the 1820s, great ambitions were afoot for improving Portpatrick’s harbour, but even the greatest engineers of the day found this an impossible task against the destructive waves.
By the end of the decade the work had stopped and the scheme was abandoned.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t abandoned before the rock bearing St Patrick’s footprint was blasted out of the way.
Legend has it that St Patrick crossed from Ireland to this port that still bears his name in one gigantic step, his foot leaving its mark in the rock
where he landed.
Storms and gales are, of course, not uncommon in these waters, and many a vessel has been lost, even within sight of the harbour.
A plaque near the harbour reminds us of the Orion and the tragedy that befell it on June 18, 1850, when it went down.
On the opposite Berwickshire coast at Burnmouth, Eyemouth and St Abbs, in 1881, the sea once again showed how dramatically her mood can swing, and with no forewarning.
That year, on October 14, 189 fishermen were lost, with 129 of them from the village of Eyemouth alone.
Bronze sculptures by artist Jill Watson portray something of the despair and helplessness felt by the womenfolk and children as they watched the events unfold from the land.
Eyemouth has a particularly colourful harbour, watched over by stately Gunsgreen House.
Fishing may have been all-important to this wee port, but it’s better famed for smuggling.
The rocky Berwickshire coast provided many hidey-holes for contraband.
What with their secret cellars and tunnels, they say only half of Eyemouth appears above the surface! There’s even rumour of a tunnel running beneath the harbour.
Being at the mercy of the sea, it’s perhaps no surprise that fishing communities were God-fearing and superstitious.
There are endless lists of dos and don’ts – enough to fill an entire book.
It would only bring bad luck to walk over a fishing line or to whistle while at sea.
You’d never use certain words like rats, salmon or rabbits, and as for meeting the minister on your way to the boat – that was a definite bad omen!
One of the best stories concerning superstition we find in St Monans.
Apparently, just before the tragic loss of one vessel and her crew, it transpired one of them had seen a pig before setting out.
Hence, the fishermen of this wee port developed a morbid fear of pigs – unlike the town’s farmers, who chose to breed them.
Eventually, the fishermen decided they would have to get rid of the pigs.
As they climbed above the harbour to do what was necessary, the farmers didn’t need to put up much of a fight.
They simply drove the pigs down the road to meet their attackers, and that soon had the fishermen high-tailing it back to the shore in a panic!
In contrast to Eyemouth’s large harbour, one of our smallest you’ll find in the far north-east at Whaligoe.
It was so small that vessels had to reverse in, and in stormy weather they had to be hoisted above the water.
What makes Whaligoe so unique is the way you reach it – down a steep zigzagging stairway cut into the face of a sheer cliff rising almost 250 feet above the sea.
Count the steps on the way down and you can check if there are, as claimed, 365! Miscount and you’ll have to start again, though.
It’s amazing to think that this impressive flight of stairs was cut by hand, and all for the princely sum of £8.
Lacking the fjord-like sea lochs of the west coast, up here in the north-east even impossible little bays like Whaligoe would be a welcome port in a storm.
From tiny Whaligoe, let’s go cross-country to the west again, and to one of Scotland’s major fishing ports – Kinlochbervie, or as it’s known, KLB.
It’s the most northwesterly port on the west coast of the mainland, and from Rhiconich a beautiful road leads out to it above Loch Inchard.
To fully appreciate this remote corner of the country, you really need to continue
beyond Kinlochbervie, out by Oldshoremore to the end of the road at Shegra – then put the walking boots on.
Anyway, Kinlochbervie can boast not one but two harbours – one on Loch Bervie and the other on Loch Clash.
Its huge fish market was built in 1988, and if you need any convincing of Kinlochbervie’s importance, just look at the long bank of refrigerated articulated lorries waiting to whisk the catch off to southern markets and throughout Europe.
Not all fish that reach the harbour make it to market. The occasional one may slip back into the water – as the watchful gulls and seals well know.
For me, living in Kinrossshire, the long drive to Kinlochbervie and back calls for a very early rise if I want to return before midnight, but what a fantastic trip that is.
In the long days of summer I might even manage to squeeze in a walk to Sandwood.
They say life is not about the destination but the journey.
The same might be said for Mallaig at the end of the “Road to the Isles”. What a scenic drive it is west from Fort William.
Looking out over the Sound of Sleat to Skye, Mallaig’s colourful harbour is always packed with fishing boats, yachts and regular CalMac ferries for Eigg, Rum, Coll, Uist, Barra and Skye – not to forget the wee boat that can take us to Knoydart.
Close to Mallaig’s harbour is the rail terminal of the famous West Highland Line.
What better way to arrive than on the Jacobite steam train or, if you’re a Harry Potter fan, the Hogwarts Express.
This is recognised as one of the world’s greatest railway journeys.
Besides the vessels tied by the quay there will probably be others in for repair or perched on the steep slipway.
Nothing brings a harbour more to life than the purr of the boat engines, smell of diesel and fish and, rising above it all, the screams of the gulls.
Looking at it today, it’s hard to believe that before the railway came in 1901 and before the harbour was improved, Mallaig was little more than a handful of homesteads.
Neighbouring
Mallaigvaig, a short walk across the hill from Mallaig, was the more important village. Roles have certainly been reversed.
Who can visit Mallaig, though, and not be tempted by the lure of the Cuillin and Skye across the Sound?
Let’s take the crossing and end at a rather special harbour – Portree.
Before James V arrived here in 1540 to meet the clan chiefs, Portree was known as Kiltaraglen – “chapel at the foot of the glen”.
It was from this wee harbour in 1746 that Bonnie Prince Charlie bade farewell to Flora
MacDonald as he fled from the Redcoats – an escape that would eventually return him to France.
Portree’s harbour has a magnificent setting, sheltered by Ben Tianavaig to the south and the Isle of Raasay to the east, and with its brightly painted houses and hotels rising steeply around the bay.
It’s a picture postcard through the day, but truly breathtaking in the evening light.
Just remember, though, capturing these still evening reflections may prove a test of endurance when the Skye midges come out for their supper!
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