A Visit to St. Kilda
by David Laughton
September 1993, I was sitting on the summit of Chaipaval a 1,200 ft peak on the S.W: corner of Harris. To the east I could clearly see the Cuillin of Skye almost 60 miles away; to the west the sharp rock spires of St. Kilda, 40 miles out into the Atlantic just pierced the horizon. I know the CuiIIins quite well and decided I must visit St. Kilda in 1994.
After making extensive enquires I found a suitable trip going out there Spring Bank holiday week, unfortunately it clashed with the Club’s Ardgour trip.
I sailed from Oban aboard the 67 ft ex fishing boat, Kylebahn at 6 a.m. on Saturday morning. My fellow passengers at that stage were a young Swiss couple plus the owner/skipper Jim Kilcullen and his wife/cook Grace. The weather was perfect, except for the very cold breeze and we had a wonderful sail up the Sound of Mull, round Ardnamurchan Point, up the S.W. coast of Rhum, across to the S.W. coast of Skye and across the Minch to Lock Maddy. All the mountains were crystal clear and we saw the peaks of the Western Isles from 35 miles away. The night was spent in Lochmaddy Harbour and next morning we were joined by an assorted group of seven people on a package organised by a Benbecula company called Celtic Quest, led by the Morgan like proprietor Ray Burnett.
We left at 11.30 on Sunday morning, passed through the Sound of Harris, again in perfect weather and began the 40 mile plod due west. Very soon the peaks of St. Kilda began to appear ahead but it was 8 pm before we arrived. Approaching the islands we were captivated by the impressive 1,400 ft cliffs on Hirta, the main island, and by the off-lying rugged island of Boreray with its two nearby stacks, one 645 ft high, the other 560 ft. On entering Village Bay, our anchorage, however I was dismayed to see the conglomeration of grey army buildings, the radar domes and masts on two of the hills and the intrusive concrete road going up to them. The object of this permanently manned army post is to track rockets launched from the range on Benbecula.
The population of St. Kilda was evacuated from the island in 1930. Their houses, strung out in a long row are, of course, now derelict except where they are being renovated by volunteers from the Scottish National Trust. Some ofthese volunteers were in residence at the time of our visit as also was a Nature Conservancy Warden. That first evening we went ashore to explore the old village and to visit the Puff Inn, the army’s bar. Village Bay faces east and is very open so that is virtually impossible to remain there in strong onshore winds. During our 3 day visit we were very fortunate that although the winds did reach gale force they came from the west.
On Monday morning we commenced our exploration of the islands, the leader of the Celtic Quest party agreeing that we other three could join them. In fact we were told that it was a requirement of the Nature Conservancy that visitors do not go off individually. It is almost impossible to land on the islands of Soay, Boreray and the stacks and quite difficult to land on the nearer island of Dun except in very calm weather. Accordingly, so far as walking was concerned, we were limited to the largest island -Hirta. All the hills of this island can be covered in a circuit of some 8 miles with 3,500 ft of climbing so could easily be done in a single day. However, we had three days at our disposal and there was much of historical interest to see as well as a profusion of birds and flowers. The night we landed on the island marked the end of some three weeks of good weather and, besides the easterly gales, we experienced low cloud and some drizzle but very little real rain. In fact, despite the island’s reputation for bad weather, there was currently a shortage of water and the volunteer workers were limited to two minute showers -the Army regarded their situation as an official secret.
Naturally on our first day we chose to climb the highest peak Conachair, 1,400 ft, and should have liked to have completed a horseshoe by going via the eastern-most peak Oiseval. However, the Conservancy Warden had asked us not to go up the latter as Peregrines were nesting close to the summit. Instead we followed the almost dry stream up the shallow valley above the village. The sides of this valley, as also most of the island, are littered with stone built cleits, built by the locals in which they stored their food-seabirds and eggs, plus turves for their fires and fodder for their cattle and sheep. These cleits are usually turf roofed and some 10ft in diameter, 6 ft high, some have been renovated by the volunteers, some are still in good repair and some in ruins there must be many hundreds ofthem. The cattle and some sheep were evacuated with the villagers but a flock of Sory sheep were left and are now completely wild and are found all over the island.
Reaching the col at the head of the valley we found the wind so strong that we had to crawl on all fours to peer over the edge. The cliffs dripped away sheer for some 600 ft and were full of nesting seabirds – fulmers, kittiwakes and guillimots mainly. Steep, rough grass slopes now led us to summit, where it was impossible to stand by the cairn in the wind. Keeping below the ridge we came to our next summit Mullach Mor and one of the radar stations. The clouds were now down on the tops but most of us continued along the ridge getting occasional views down into Glen Bay on the other side of the island. Descending back to Village Bay we were dive-bombed by a group of Bronxies (Great Skuas) nesting on the slopes.
Bright sunshine greeted us next morning but the wind was as strong as ever. The Skipper was concerned at the possibility of a change in wind direction in which case we may have to move out so it was agreed we would come back after the 2 pm shipping forecast to see if there could be a problem. In the morning we had a very pleasant climb up a small rock crowned peak Ruaival. Back down to find the forecast OK so climbed back up to the main ridge, unfortunately now in cloud, for an attempt to reach the eastermost point of Hirta -The Cambir. After many up and downs now in drizzle we decided that without a view it wasn’t worth it so retreated.
Wednesday saw a delayed start as some of the party had over-indulged in the Puff Inn the previous night, not getting back aboard until after 3 am. In a damp mist we again plodded back up to the Main ridge and descended the other side into Glen Bay, necessitating an ankle aching long traverse across a steep hillside. From here we looked down on the ruins of the only other settlement on the island which may predate the Village Bay settlement. One of these ruins is known as the Amazona House, giving rise to fanciful stories of a race of early women settlers. Our immediate objective was ‘The Tunnel’, a passage 160 ft long cut through an arm of the bay by the sea. To reach it we had to scramble down a steep ramp in the cliffs, passing a female eider calmly sitting on her nest, to a fixed rope which led down a very slippery smooth rock to the entrance. A ledge then led right through to the other side. After braving more Bronxie attacks around the old Glen Bay village a ridge walk back over the Cambir completed our explorations of Hirta.
We sailed for home very early on the Thursday morning diverting to circle around the Boreray group between the two stacks Stack Lee (560 ft) and Stac An Armin (645 ft). Both were dazzlingly white not only with guano as I and assumed but many thousands of gannets crammed together on the steep slopes. There were over 100,000 of these birds there in 1973 and there must be many more now, in fact over one quarter of the world’s population of gannets nest here. The crossing back to Lock Maddy, where we dropped off the Quest party, was rougher than on the way out but not bad and we continued across the Minch to anchor at midnight in the superb harbour on Canna. We were back in Oban by teatime on Friday.
I had enjoyed the visit immensely but some of the glamour was destroyed by the obtrusive presence of the army -they were even water skiing in the Bay one day! Hopefully defence cuts will eventually cause the removal of their camp and associated radar beacons etc (and the Puff Inn) so that the island can revert to its natural remote and spectacular state.