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Dh’ìarr a’ mhuir a bhith ga tadhal... Lachie Gillies talks about the Fishing in Staffin How important was fishing to the townships of Staffin? Fishing was very important to the wellbeing of local people during the first half of the twentieth century. It was termed a ‘part time’ occupation in locations where men were traditionally crofters, but the fisherman nevertheless had to dedicate 75% of his time to the job if he was to meet with any success at all. There is a phrase you hear here that has come to represent the divided loyalties of the crofter/fisherman - “Chan urrainn dha a’ chreag is an eathar a fhrithealadh” (literally ‘he cannot serve the rock and the boat’). Well, people had no choice often. They depended on the fruit of the land and of the sea, so they worked hard at making them deliver their best. About a quarter of the households here depended entirely on the fishing. And after the springtime work was finished here, a number of local men were crew members at the drift-net fishing on the east coast until the autumn time. Yes, fishing was significant to our local economy. Lobster fishing in particular was the most important fishing here this century, and after it ranked the big line fishing. The humble herring was never pursued commercially here, as it was on the east coast for example, but it was a great mainstay and as such important, as was the small line. Economic dependence on fishing experienced a down trend here in the 1950s, and today it contributes very little indeed to our livelihood generally. What were the fishing sites in this locality? Well, up to the 1950s, there were at least six recognised sites along the shore which were suitable for beaching the skiffs and the smaller types of rowing boat. The sites were at Port Mór (Flodigarry), Port Trusg (Digg), Port na Lead (Glasphein), Breun Phort (below Gara fada), Port Earlais (Culnancnoc) and Port Ath na Leth h-uillt (south of the Lealt River). Each of the six sites had a footpath (termed ‘frith rathad’ in Gaelic) for accessing the shore. The footpath represented a short cut to the shore, and as such it was important to the fishing livelihood. Fishermen therefore would spend two days per year in the maintenance of their own path, by clearing it of big stones. None of these six fishing sites are used in the 1990s, and consequently the paths have long since fallen into disuse and disrepair. Instead of carrying all of his fishing gear, the fisherman of the 1990s transports everything to the shore in a trailer. And everybody launches off Staffin Slip. It’s mainly hand line fishing today. Staffin shore is full of boulders, and it was necessary to maintain a 10-12 feet channel, right down to the low water. It was essential to pay attention to keeping the channel free of big stones, or you wouldn’t be able to launch. The job was done perhaps twice a year - and always after a heavy gale of northerly wind. Tell us what kind of fishing was pursued here during this century? Herring was on the go here until the ban on herring fishing in the 1970s. Lobster fishing continued throughout the century to the present day. Crab is still on the go. The big line and the small line were fished here throughout the century until around the mid 1950s. The ground netting was pursued between the two world wars, enjoying its heyday between 1945 and the late 1960s when it ceased altogether. The prawns (musgan chaola) and the velvet crabs (deiseagan) came on the scene much later - in the late 1960s. The rod and reel is used a lot today - it’s known as sea angling in our times. As elsewhere, the local fishing was ruined by what was happening in the wider world of politics. After World War Two, trawling became the important method of fishing nationally. And in its early days, trawlering was controlled by the government via its Fishery Protection vessels. The trawlers had to stay three miles from shore. This protected the livelihood of local fishermen, by guarding the inshore waters. All fish come inshore instinctively to spawn. However, in the 1970s, the government lifted this ban on inshore fishing; no doubt because of the expense of running the Fishery protection vessels. This was a very sad day for inshore fishermen everywhere in the country. It meant that trawlers from anywhere in the British isles were legally welcome to visit our inshore waters and clear the seabed of all and sundry. The nature of the trawler - which lifts all forms and ages of life from the seabed - accounted for the local scarcity of haddock, whiting and cod, for example, and for the scarcity of herring on the west coast. Nowadays there are quotas which are meant to control the situation, but the stystem has failed. The trawling has broken down the whole system. It’s one of the primary reasons that inshore fishing has failed here and beyond. Further afield, it accounts for a scarcity of haddock on the east coast. Mackerel is now becoming scarce too. Twenty years ago, Iceland banned the British trawlers from coming into her waters. The grand banks of Newfoundland have suffered from overfishing. Trawling had an effect on all the types of fishing that were carried on, and the use of modern electronic equipment has contributed to this current situation. And though today there are one or two fishery protection vessels which survey the coast, they are concerned solely with salmon. Can we pick up on the herring - What is the history of drift net fishing here? The term applied to herring only, as you will be aware. Drift netting was being worked by the bigger boats in the 30/40 feet range here in Staffin up to and after World War I. (The European market for fish was depleted during World War I). Drift netting was the recommended method for catching herring before the ring netting came on the go. Herring is a surface fishing, and it was so plentiful during the first half of this century. Staffin fishermen would set their nets in the evening. The bigger boats here had drift nets with an anchor at one end, and the boat was tied to the net at the other end. There might be 30 or 40 nets in one stretch. The men shot their nets, and the wind and tide kept the nets stretched just so, allowing them to drift slightly back and fore - hence the name. The nets remained set for five or six hours, and fishermen had to stay put with them. You hauled your nets in the morning, cleaned everything on board, and the herring went down the hold whilst the nets were stowed on deck. Once the herring went ashore to market, the men were back in the hold, re-setting their nets once again for shooting. Ring net fishing came in perhaps around the early 1930s: it was another method which applied exclusively to herring. Ring netting often meant two boats working together - ‘pairing’ as we called it. This allowed men to get a break from toil at sea. But the ring net wasn’t well received by the drift net fishermen. You required a much bigger boat for the ring netting. Whilst the drift net fisherman could land a very good catch with 40 or 50 cran* of herring, the ring net fisherman could land a catch of 150 or 200 cran. Understandably, there was a lot of friction between the crews of the drift and those of the ring netting. But as we know to our cost, bigger does not always equate with better and because the ring net was a more intensive method of fishing, the fish were often dead when they landed on board: scales would be missing and generally the ring net herring didn’t perform as well at market. The two methods (ring and drift netting) co-existed for a number of years, despite the differences of their fishermen. The ban came on the herring fishing in the 1970s. The herring got so scarce that there was a ban on catching herring from about the mid 1970s to the early 1980s. Fishermen in Scotland were not permitted to catch it. That put an end to ring net fishing altogether. Whilst ring netting does not exist at all now, drift netting still goes on: an ancient form of fishing that obviously works and has therefore survived. Drift netting was a great mainstay here and throughout Scotland this century, until the herring ban. However, there is little herring in our waters - and more is the pity. *A box of herring is equivalent to one cwt. There are four boxes to a cran and there are 5 crans to a tonne.
How far afield would fishermen go? Right up to the First World War, men with a 75/80 foot boat would go as far as Cornwall, southern Ireland, Isle of Man and Shetland, right round the British coats. They would be chasing the herring and the mackerel. These voyages were all carried out under sail. Can you tell us something of the fishing marks that men used? The old fishermen knew of many - ‘comharraichean’ they are called. There was no need for longtitude or latitude. Every form of life in the sea has its own corner, so to speak. Of the edible shellfish, the limpet’s territory is the nearest to the high water mark. The next one out is the winkle. Further out you have your velvet crab; the next ridge is the lobster area; then further out you have your crab; and further still you have your prawn area. The herring could be at any spot inbay - maybe close to Staffin island or to the land below Brogaig river. The old men understood all of this instinctively - they knew exactly where to find specific kinds of fish and shellfish. This knowledge was passed down from father to son, and it was a vital tool for the fisherman. If you knew about territory, you could work out your fishing marks. Your fishing spots were reached by following distinctive landmarks. Once the various landmarks corresponded, a fisherman knew he was in the right place. A good fisherman knew a considerable number of marks. Can you give us an example of one of the fishing marks that you used yourself? Well, for the big line, we rowed out from Staffin a distance of five to seven miles. Once the rise on Staffin Island was kept in line with the tip of Beinn Eadarra, you would keep on until you saw Eaglais Druim Buidhe (that’s the ruined church in Borgh na Sgiotaig). Once the church was within sight, the fisherman could shoot north in a straight line. The church can be seen to the east and west of Skye and it is a prominent mark for fishermen. In fact, that is why the ruin is still standing. A fisherman really knew his native corners, both on land and at sea. It was a vital requirement for survival. Nowadays, man does not depend upon his own knowledge for this: he uses a sounder which conveys to him the depth of the water that he’s travelling, whether the seabed is rocky, sandy, muddy or shingle. Today’s technology can even inform you whether there are fish beneath you. What then of the big line fishing - can you tell us about that? The ‘lion mhóra’ we call it - the fishing of the deeper waters. Once the spring came, this method of fishing (druim na lioneadh) was followed for the pursuit of big fish (an t-iasg mór). By big fish, we mean the congar eel, cod, lythe, skate, ling and other much bigger fish. The big fish are to be procured about five or six miles from the shore, as I said. Out there, the fishing banks (na bancaichean móra) come up to a depth of ten, twelve and fourteen fathoms. These banks can be 3, 4, 5 and 6 miles in length. On either side of those banks the depth will drop down to forty five fathoms. Off Rona - west north and east of Rona that is - the water is in excess of 100 fathoms deep. Its waters are amongst the deepest in the British Isles - that is why the area is of interest to the Navy. But anyway, as I was saying, if the weather wasn’t favourable for sailing the six-mile distance, the men would shoot their lines maybe half a mile or a mile from the seashore of Staffin. In bad weather, you had to improvise by going for the big fish that live on the much smaller banks nearer the seashore. Big line fishing always took place during the months of February and March. Local people fished this method predominantly for the home. The ‘big line’ itself was a string of light rope or heavy twine with snods and hooks. The lines were baited with fresh herring. In a boat where there was five of a crew, each man had his own basket of these big lines. Five lines would be shot. A basket of big lines would have 200 hooks on it. So when five baskets were shot with a crew of five, that would be 1,000 hooks in the water. The herring bait would have to be prepared in advance of course. Sizeable herring bait was cut in half and put onto the hooks. The herring nets had been set the previous evening and left overnight. Herring nets were always set at dusk and lifted at daybreak. Did the big line fishing depend entirely on the success of the herring fishing then? The Big line fishing depended on the herring fishing because herring is the staple diet of cod, ling and lythe and, as such, it is the only suitable bait for catching these fish. Herring nets were taken to the shore on the night prior to the big fishing, as I said. The men would launch their boats to the shore. Then the nets were placed on board the boat. One man would be on the sole rope (the bottom rope) and the other man would be on the top rope (the one with the corks, termed ‘dreim na lion sgadain’). We would aim to have the nets on the boat by the time the tide reached us. There was a term that is going out of use for joining the mesh of the nets to the rope: it was called ‘beartachadh’. On each end of every net, there is a ‘cluas’ or ear. You joined all your nets together (perhaps 10 in all). At the two extremities of your joined nets, there was a small anchor to keep them in place overnight. There was also a ‘ceann maradh’ rope at each extremity which was tied to the anchor and the net - just enough to reach the surface with a buoy on the end (that was the first thing you lifted the next morning). On every section of the net they would place a buoy to lend buoyancy to the net over and above the corks. A skiff had five members in a crew: so five herring nets would be shot; one per man as it were. Bait had to be more or less fresh you see; hence the reason for having a supply daily. In the cool spring weather, it might last up to two days. Early morning and evening time provided the signs of where the herring was. In the early morning the herring came to the surface to play, making bubbles on the water like raindrops. Birds would be diving in the area - and this was a sure sign for the fishermen. The herring nets were lifted at daybreak. You would procure half a cran say - two boxes or baskets (four baskets makes one cran). That supply was put aside. The men would then go home (at around 8.00 am), leaving the herring on the shore for the time being. At about 10.00 am, you returned to the shore with the big line to commence the baiting. There was a certain way of cutting the herring - you cut it at a slant. The herring in Staffin Bay was often big herring - and for the big lines, you made three portions of one. The lines were made of hemp which is really strong. Hooks were three inches long. Your thumb had to fit in between the barb (fribhochd). Some people would buy the materials from a ship chandler and make them up themselves. The majority of fishermen bought their tackle ready made though. Second hand lines were frequently for sale (sometimes local men who went away to the east coast bought those away) and the men would carry out necessary repairs. Some people would buy the back string (dreim na linn’ mhóra), string, snod (snoid) and the hooks. You would have to have two or three sets of tackle, in order to rotate them. And because of the nature of the job, it was normal to loose hooks. The nets were repaired at home. Some women could turn their hand to all of that kind of work. You had to. Everyone had callouses on their hands. Some fishermen would take delivery of the materials and make up the lines themselves. But second hand goods were just as cheap and less time consuming. Barking of the herring nets and the big lines was done once a year at least. The bark came in blocks and you boiled it in a special big boiler that you could sit inside yourself. There was a tripoid with a block and tackle. The net was folded and lowered into the mixture where you left it for 10 minutes or so. Were the ‘silver darlings’ just as beloved to Staffin as to other places? The humble herring was always plentiful and most useful for supplemening the home diet, but Staffin was never reckoned to have the very best of herring. If you had good herring in spring you salted it. Buntata is sgadan (potatoes and herring) was always a welcome meal, and not just on the dinner table for it wasn’t uncommon to give fresh salt herring to the cattle. In March, the herring was coming into shore to spawn, and after spawning it was called spent herring. If you got it in June, herring was at its best. But it varied according to where it originated. There were various distinguishing marks - one might have coarser scales; another had firmer flesh; some were narrow whilst others were broad. Portree Bay had a name for providing good quality herring for salting. Uig bay had smaller herring. Further afield, Kessock herring and herring from Kishorn (sgadan Chishorn) were always small. In areas further north, the tides were stronger and the herring was more active. Hence the herring in Staffin was more muscley. The old men knew their herring - they were capable of recognising a herring that came from Score Bay, for example. Again, this points to the depth of people’s knowledge of their distinctive surroundings. Where there was cod, the fisherman could be sure that there was also herring. If the weather was good, the men would persist with it and local people who weren’t at fishing would be able to purchase fish from them when they came ashore. Nobody ever made big money from herring here in contrast to say the east coast where it was carried out commercially. I remember here when the price of a hundred herring was £1 (in the 1940s), but then you always were given 120. It was deemed a sign of fair trading to give extra - like ‘the baker’s dozen’. Did local crews follow certain procedures for sharing their catch? roinneadh an éisg .. a’ deanamh earannan den t-iasg - certainly they did. When they came ashore after the day’s fishing, the men would put the whole catch in a pile, clear of the high water. Small fish would be classed. The distribution would start with say congar eel. The biggest would be distributed into four shares. Then lots would be cast, and there were two different methods of doing this. One man would turn his back to the catch and look away. Someone would shout “Who does this one belong to?”. Another man would answer with a name. That man would come and stand by his catch. Then the name of the next man would be shouted and he would come and stand by his catch. The man who had his back turned would be the last to come and claim his share. Each man then took his share home. There was another method of distribution. Somebody would be set aside to cast the lots. The first man would have perhaps a button in his pocket; the second a pin and the third whatever. These items were placed on the individual shares along with a stone on top of each item. The person who would cast the lot would have his back turned. That man would come along and take one from the left hand side and so that one goes to . Sometimes maybe an owner of the boat would not be fishing at all. A share might be set aside for him. It was common practice here until the fishing ended to put aside fish for neighbouring widows. Frequently, a widow would be known to each local crew, and a half of a full share would be set aside for her. That was all assuming there was a catch to be got. Can you tell us how Staffin was involved in the ground netting? The bigger boats, such as the Flora and the Golden Dawn carried out ground netting. These boats had winches to haul the heavy nets from the sea bed. That is why they were called ground nets. A fleet carried about 30-40 nets and usually two fleets were worked. The ground netting was in pursuit of big fish like cod, lythe, ling and hake. The ground nets were set with anchors at both ends. Much of it was done inshore (within three miles from the shore). The ground nets were on the seabed opposite to the herring nets. They had weights on the sole rope and round glass bottles instead of corks on the top rope. The men used wee bags of sand for weighting. This method stood the pressure in deep waters. You shot your nets in late afternoon and lifted them the following morning. A fleet carried about 30-40 nets. When you got all of that lifted (which took several hours) you shot them again: usually two fleets were worked. The Flora and the Golden Dawn were commercial fishing boats. They were able to satisfy the needs of the whole area. When they were at the ground net fishing, they kept their catch on Friday or Saturday for the local people, instead of trailing it further afield to the markets in Kyle, Gairloch or Mallaig on occasion. All customers went home happily with their bag of fresh fish. In those days, three or four cod, depending on size, could be bought for £1. Do you remember the skiffs that were here? Skiffs played an active part in the fishing of Staffin until the late 1940s. She was a very adaptable boat, being capable of doing the big line, the lobster, the herring etc. She was a nifty boat: small enough to haul ashore every night and yet able to take on the various forms of fishing. She varied in length from between 16 and 24 feet. The skiff was characterised by having a round stern, and the geolaichean (dinghies) had transom sterns which were straight across. Most of the Staffin skiffs were of the local traditional build, but there were also a few Irish skiffs in the vicinity. The Irish skiff was narrower and more finely built than the local one, although it too sailed and rowed well. The traditional one was a lot heavier, beamier (wider) and stronger: hence it carried more cargo. At the end of a hard day’s fishing, you found yourself wishing you had an Irish model as every boat had to be hauled out of the water well out of the tide’s reach. Skiffs were very able sea boats. They each carried four oars and a sail, and were out in nearly all kinds of weather. If the weather was favourable, the skiff used the sail quite a lot. It needed a fair breeze - though not a gale - but it made use of the sail all the time. When there wasn’t enough wind to sail, the oars were used. And of course hauling was done by hand too: the skiffs didn’t have a winch or any other power: nowadays it is done by hydraulic power. Often, the skiffs were sailed to their absolute limit, with each crew trying to outsail its neighbour. The skiffs which are perhaps best remembered are: The Irish Skiffs (bought in)
The Local Skiffs (both of which were built by MacKenzie of Penifiler)
These eight models were fishing throughout the year, but particularly from the end of autumn right up to spring time. A 17-foot skiff by the name of ‘Seonaid’ belonged to John Nicolson (Seonaidh Mór) of Digg. She had been built in the Orkneys and was of a different design altogether, being very sharp and narrow in the stern, and round and full in the bow. There were another three skiffs in the 16-18 feet range. They had been bought in during the 1930s, and their source of origin is unknown. There were also at least half a dozen smaller ones with the square stern, and these were used for the lighter fishing of rod and hand line in summer. There are none of these skifffs to be seen now. They have gone long ago, as have the hardy men who worked them. It is most unusual for a boat to be given a masculine name, but there was one here in Staffin. When the Thomas Telford puffer was wrecked after the First World War on the sands below the Glasphein crofts, a small boat with a square stern came ashore. She was discovered by Murdo Nicolson of No 1 Glasphein and became his boat. She was known as ‘Tom’. You can see evidence of the wreck at high tide. What of the big boats of Staffin? Boats in the 40-50 foot range worked mainly at the herring - using first the drift nets and subsequently the ring nets. These boats also pursued lobster and line fishing. They were always anchored at the Caolas, between Staffin Island and the sands. Their names were ... Flora MacDonald (BRD 33 - Reg Tonnage 16) - We mentioned her already. She was owned by John MacInnes (Iain Ruairidh) of Garafad, the father of Alasdair MacInnes. When the latter grew older, his sons carried on with the Flora. She worked the drift netting and then the ring netting, as well as lobsters and ground netting. She had been built by Nobles of Fraserburgh in 1929/1930. She had a fyvie stem and a zula stern. She had a 33 feet keel and was 40 feet overall. Her engine was a 26/30 Kelvin petrol paraffin one, which was replaced by a 2-cylinder, 44 horse power Kelvin, type K2. She was the only boat left in Stafainn when the ring net fishing came to an end (in the 1970s). She worked the ground nets and the lobsters until she ultimately had the anchorage to herself. She thereafter sank and broke up in 1960, being then replaced by a bigger boat called The Golden Dawn which was bought in the east coast of Scotland.
Were there any local boat builders? There were carpenters in various parts of Skye. My own grandfather (Lachlan Gillies of Dìg) was a carpenter who had his house and boat building shed in the woods above Port na Leud below Dìg. He built fishing boats for people far and near. He learned his trade with a carpenter in Camustianaviag (Braes) where he sereved his three-year apprenticeship in return for board and lodgings. There was no monetary reward, as was common then. A well known Stafainn boat was built at that yard - she was the Lion (27 feet long) and she carried two sails. At one time, there were five carpenters between Braes, Portree and Stafainn. Two were at Braes, two at Portree and one in Stafainn. A well known boat builder in nearby surroundings was Mackenzie of Penifiler. He was the grandfather of Portree electrician, 'Bodach' Mackenzie. He built numerous boats, big and small, and so did his son, Bodach's father. Their boats were good, able sea boats. You mentioned earlier that lobster fishing was a good earner here - can you tell us about it? Lobster fishing was carried on throughout the winter early this century. Four or five boats worked from October until March or the beginning of April. Lobster prices fetched ten shillings per dozen before 1914, and this was no fortune but still the lobster was an earner for local men. Before the days of motorised transport, buyers called with a horse and cart about once a week to collect lobsters from fishermen. If one or two lobsters had a claw missing, another one had to go with it to make it up. It is questionable how much these middle men kept for themselves. It was after the Second World War that lobster prices started to rise. When I started lobster fishing in the early early 1960s, sometimes prices would be as low as five shillings a pound. Today in the 1990s, we may expect £8 to £10 per pound, or even more in these days of over fishing. It should be noted that, although the old men fished lobsters in the winter from October into spring, my generation fished lobsters in the autumn, whilst today's fishermen go at them all the year round. In my days, when you fished lobsters, everyone stuck to their own route. Staffin fishermen would venture no further north than the Grip waterfall, and no further south than Rubh nam Bràithrean (brothers' point). You took 12 or 18 lobster pots to the shore to put on board the boat. Everyone then had their own creels (100 creels maybe in the boat at one time). Men in my young days made their own lobster creels from start to finish. The old type of creel had a wooden base; the hoops around it were hazel and the covers were of knitted hemp. A lobster creel had an eye (approx five-inch) with a mackerel or saithe bait and a bait string. The lobster is not fussy about his food. And anyway, fresh bait wasn't desirable for the lobster because this would only attract the crab. You had to avoid attracting the crab because his width would trap the eye of your creel, and you'd get no lobsters. So you frequently used salt bait for lobsters. When you had three or four dozen lobster creels ready, it was time to tar them. There was a procedure for this. You had a tank or a big pot - sometimes the pot that was used for 'barking' or tanning the nets to keep them from rotting. You poured ten or fifteen gallons of coal tar into a pot - in semi-liquid form. You built a fire underneath it. The tar was heated up. Once it started to bubble and boil, you placed your creel in the tar. You rolled it over and you left it hanging there for two or three minutes. Then you lifted it with a hook. You lifted it and let it hang until the tar all dripped off. This work would take a good morning or afternoon. The creels were left on the shore in this manner for several days until the tar adhered. And on the conclusion of a season's fishing, you repeated the procedure. The purpose was to preserve your creel from the salt water. The creel would start to smell if you didn't do this and the lobster wouldn't be attracted to it. Even taking the creel ashore and drying it would be effective, but the tarred creel was much better. A newly tarred creel would fish far better than a creel that had been in the water for three months. Modern lobster creels are made entirely of steel and their weight pulls them down. The old hazel creels required a flat stone to be tied with thin strong rope on the inside of them to lend weight for going underwater. Your day's catch had to be stored. First of all, you tied the two main claws otherwise the lobsters would damage one another and die. You kept them alive in a 'keep' creel - a creel specially made for the job - without eyes in it. The keeper had a door in it and the mesh was cut so that there was a slip string going through it to lace it up at a moment's notice. You placed your day's catch in that, closed the door and made sure it was securely tied. You had a buoy and rope fixed to it and you put them back in the water, right at the bottom of the sea. They would keep for a week no bother. The lobster filtered quite a lot of substance through the sea water; plankton and such. The keep creels were put in a sheltered place on the shore. You had to ensure the spot you chose was free of fresh water so that no fresh water was pouring onto your creels because that would kill your lobsters. When you have your keep creel on the bottom, supposing there is a certain amount of fresh water, it will float. On a sandy bottom lobsters might suffocate. It was preferable to use the same type of ground from where the creatures had originated. You made a point of trying to get your lobsters off to market once a week anyway. You packed them into wooden boxes - you had to make sure they were packed with a layer of sawdust or bracken on the bottom otherwise the lobsters' own waste would kill them off. You separated each layer of lobsters with straw /sawdust or bracken. (Nowadays your merchant is waiting for you on the pier and your lobsters are transported in salt water within vivier tanks.) Lobster creels once again were left overnight. Sometimes the creels were put back to the spot from which they had come; other times they were put to new 'ground'. The old fishermen of the day had each creel on its own. Today the creels are tied in strings of 15 or 20 and sometimes even more, using less rope. Nowadays, fishermen purchase all of their equipment, but the old fishermen were very creative, weren't they? They could turn their hand to anything. Until the 1950s, for example, local fishermen made their own buoys from sheepskin and wood. They were used predominantly for the herring fishing. They lent buoyancy over and above the corks for the herring nets, and were placed at several intervals on the ropes. In appearance, the hand-made buoy resembled a bag. The materials used were a sheepskin and wood, as well as twine. A sheepskin was procured from a wedder or a sheep. The wool was first removed and the skin was hung up to dry. A piece of wood was got from the Coille Bheag, perhaps. A branch of a tree was cut, maybe 6" across, and that would be used as a disc of about 2" deep. They would take the bark off and put just a slight hollow around the circumference of it. Then they would cut the sheepskin to the desired size. A small buoy was about the size of a football, and there were two or three sizes larger than that. They would gather the edges of the skin evenly around about this wooden disc and then they would tack it to the wood here and there with small copper nails. When all that was in place, they would firmly tie it with strong fishing line made of hemp or something similar. They would tie it round several times: it had to be neat, tight and secure. Then, with a red hot poker, they made a hole in this wood. Via the hole, they blew air into the bag. The stopper was made from an oakum or strands of sisal rope and that was taken apart and dipped in tar so that it would be airtight. If, at a later date, the buoy had started to lose air, hot tar was poured into the buoy to seal up the leaks. To hold the buoy onto the net, the back rope of the nets, they would place a stout bit of wood, maybe three inches long and deep, to the circular bit on its edge and it would be nailed or bolted so that there was a hole made through that where the rope could go and securely knotted. Maybe there was a length of an extra fathom or two fathoms hanging on and that would be tied at separate intervals right along the net to aid the buoyancy. When the men came out in the morning, if there was a strain on the net, they knew at a glance by looking at it from a distance. People made these during the winter nights until the fishing died out in the late 1950s. A crofter/fisherman always had 6 or 12 of those buoys at home, and they would survive for several years. When in place they were capable of supporting half a hundredweight (about half a cran) of herring. They would use them on one end of the big lines. As well as sheepskin buoys, people made canvas ones. The dhan buoy was common on the big lines - and is to this day. It was prominent for sighting. The buoy had a pole with lead on the bottom of it. Maybe a quarter up from the lead, there were corks worked right round it to give it buoyancy. The lead kept it upright and the corks kept it afloat. On the very top - 5 to 6 feet above the corks - there was a flag that would flutter usefully in the wind, drawing the fisherman's attention. The dhan buoy was easy and cheap to make. Today they are bought off the shelf. You see them sometimes on the end of strings of 80-100 prawn creels to a fleet. Prawns are a very new fishing, isn't that so? Prawns were not marketable at all in the old days: they were thrown overboard. It wasn't until the 1960s that the prawn came into fashion at all, and it was an entirely different kind of fishing altogether. It was established first on the east coast as a marketable commodity. Then a few tried it in Kyle and Portree, and in a short time it became a very profitable fishing on the west coast. Now, the prawn is extensively pursued via the method of static gear and by trawling. The prawns have brought people back to settle in the west coast. With the help of the HIDB, people equipped their boats for prawns. A number of men settled down and built their houses on the strength of the prawn fishing. What do we know of Stafainn as a salmon station in days past ? Looking back, around the year 1950, there were eight stations along the east coast - each of which employed five men. The stations were at Brochel Castle in Raasay, Camustianavaig, Portree, Bereraig, Rigg, Leth allt and Stafainn. Some time in the years before that, there were ten stations functioning - the aforementioned as well as Flòdaigearaidh Island and Kilmaluag. This compares with one station today - which is at Stafainn. The Stafainn fishing grounds were leased by DAFS to a mainland company from April until August. Several companies leased the grounds down the years. Before the First World War, a man by the name of Pryde had the grounds (he lodged in the Inguena* or the Retreat cottage). Another leaseholder of that period was Lawson from the Perth area. When the Second World War broke out, it was Powries of Perth who had the lease. The station did not function during the war years. After 1945, the lease was held by Banks of Perth, and around 1960, it was taken over by the Mathesons of Portree, who still hold the lease. All of the companies employed local people. * The Inguena was a place in Africa where Jean Mackay (Sineag I'n Mhóir) had been a missionary. Each station had from 7 to 9 bag nets set at chosen spots along the coast, and the seasonal catch for each station would be in the region of 2,000 to 2,500 - and maybe 3,000 or more salmon. Each year, an amount of less than that was looked upon as being poor fishing. If 100 fish were caught on any one day, it was the custom for the crew to receive a bottle of whisky. Hence a lot of competition was taking place between the stations! A small steam boat would do the rounds of the stations every second day to collect the salmon and to leave a supply of ice and other provisions required for the operation of the station. Latterly, this job was carried out by a motor boat called 'Nereid'. She was 36 feet, with a wheel house aft and a 33 HP Kelvin engine . At the height of the season, the fish was collected every day. Bothies were provided at the salmon station and the crew would lodge there, and venture home only on Wednesdays and at weekends. One or two nets had to be changed every day. A clean net had to be given to each spot once a week. Cho reamhar ri ron - ton eadar da thaigh (as fat as a seal - going from house to house - ie taking, but not giving) Seals were a menace and caused a lot of damage to nets, as well as to the fish within. If a seal entered a net, it would prey on only one fish, but on its way out it would rip the net apart. If your net had 50 or 100 fish, all would escape and this was a serious loss to the owner. In the early day cobles were propelled by oars. Latterly this was powered by petrol paraffin engines, Kelvin's being the most popular. Nowadays the boat has a diesel engine. cha b'ann air na sgeirean a dh'ionnsaich na ròin an ceòl It is not on the rocks that the seals learned their music There is a tradition that seals are the descendants of Scandinavian kinds under spells (Clann righ Lochlainn fo gheasaibh). This is one explanation, at any rate, for their love of music. The method of bag netting hasn't changed much down through the decades: only now, instead of cotton nets, we have polypropylene ones and where the ropes were once sisal and manilla, today they too are polypropylene and nylon. Wild salmon is getting scarcer and scarcer. Very little bag netting is pursued now. And of course farmed salmon has lowered the price of wild salmon. You mentioned earlier that small line fishing was fairly important. The lion beaga - that was the summer fishing. It was worked during the months of July, August and September. This was usually carried out by the rowing boat. It gave the skiff a rest. Your catch was haddock, whiting, flounders, gurnards, bottom fish. You needn't go too far out - these fish came into Stafainn bay. Maybe you would have two men in a boat. Each had boxes of small lines. The lines would be baited with small bits of herring, mussel or lug worm, to accommodate the small hook. Maybe one dozen herring would bait your small lines - two small lines would be adequate. If you had no herring bait, you could use mussels which were gathered from Brogaig River or Kilmartin River. You poured hot water over the mussels to force them open and get at the bait. Some used the mussels as bait without scalding them at all, but it would then be soft and difficult to keep on the hook. You twined the hair around the bait. The people used the strong hair from the tail or the mane of a horse. The snod method used was to take several strands and twist them one way, and to take several other strands and twist them the opposite way. The old men would wet their palm and rub the hairs on their thigh to get this just right. Then they would pleat the two of those together. What are the landmarks to avoid at sea around here? Well, particular attention has to be paid to: Clach na Sgarbh, north of Port na Leathad Clach na Ramh, out from Flòdaigearaidh Bogha Bhaltois The Famhairean, north of Rigg going in or out the Caolas at the Bogha What were the old methods used for hand line fishing? Sgriobadh luanan - that was what we called it - when we went hand-line fishing for haddies, whiting and bottom fish. You had maybe two hooks at the bottom of your line which you baited. This was like a very miniature version of the small line (100/200 hooks). If you were fishing with a bamboo rod for smalgan (saithe), the line that was fixed onto your fishing rod was called a dreubhlach. There would be a 'maor' (a home made fly) on the hook. To get eels, people would take a table fork with them to any of the streams that ran to the shore - all had eels under the stones. There they would catch the 7-inch long wee elvers - which are fresh water eels. They trapped the eels between the prongs of the fork. Four or five eels would be enough and if you weren't going to use them that day, you put them in salt, and once in salt they got tough and leathery. You then prepared your bait by putting a hook through the mouth of the eel and working it down into its belly so that the hook was fixed onto a gut. That gut would be tied onto the hook, and it was one method of catching fish until the synthetic bait came in. The men also provided their own sea flies ('maor') for catching sea lythe and saithe before the time of the artificial flies. They used perhaps the feather of a seagull or hen, along with a hook. White feathers were preferred or otherwise wool, and they used strong thread for applying the feather to the shank of the hook. Around the body of the hook they twisted red wool: the result was that the creation resembled a sprat (a tiny herring; smaller than a sardine) or a sand eel, the diet of the smalag (cuddie) etc. But neither the feather nor the wool stood the test of time. If your dog had a white tail, it had to look out because this was better still! The dog has really white hairs and they are very strong, so the end of the dog's tail was clipped. Bidh nadair a' choin mhoir anns a' chuilean. You would say this about human traits being passed from one generation to the next. It's a bit like 'chan e ceannach a rinn e' Some people applied even further sophistication by putting sealing wax on the fly to seal it longer, by holding the ends of the hairs together. Did many gather whelks? You could earn a livelihood from the whelks during the winter. The seashore in the Stafainn area was particularly good and pentiful, as well as of good quality. A person could collect one cwt (a hundredweight) on a tide which would fetch him or her ten shillings in the 1920s and 1930s. Today's prices are as high as £50 or £60 for one cwt (A hundredweight). Ten shillings was a welcome sum of money then. Today a buyer calls on appointed days and pays you on the spot. In earlier days, you had to wait perhaps a fortnight for your money. And getting the whelks to market was the difficulty. They had a long journey to their destination which was Billingsgate in London, we understood. Billingsgate is a very big fish market. MacLeods of Duntulm would uplift them by lorry and take them to Portree. From there, they went by steamer to Mallaig, and then by train to London. And names such as Bennett Junior, Bennett Wholesale, GA Bacon, HA Harmer, Stockwell and Maynard will rouse memories for many's a household where there are older people. They were shellfish merchants. You mentioned that local men left the area to work as crew members. Did Stafainn women ever go away to work at the gutting or the kippering? I never heard it spoken of at all by the older ones. Women's involvement in the fishing extended to their own environment. They gathered bait - mussels often. They would then bait the small and long lines for you. The big lines were in a basket. Women cut the bait and stored them into the basket evenly so that they would run out evenly when being shot at sea. Some were as good as the men at that. Was there an element of competition between the crews of the local fishing boats? The various crews were very competitive when rowing alongside or near to one another. They would try their utmost to overtake one another. The same would happen when under sail, although some boats would sail better than others, and even some skippers were able to do better. In bad weather, each remained on the fishing grounds for as long as possible. No-one wanted to be the first to give in. Then each boat would try to make the shore of it, often with great difficulty. It was looked upon as a comedown if you couldn't berth in your own port - ie the place from where you had set off that morning. The old fishermen had a reputation for being able to sail a boat anywhere in any conditions. Nevertheless, in perhaps proving this point, they took great risks, working the skiffs to their utmost limits. Nevertheless, a good skipper knew his boat's strengths and weaknesses. There is a story about a Stafainn crew who went to race at the Regatta in Portree. The boat in question was The Leomhan. She was 27 feet long and had been built at the yard in Camustianavaig where Lachlan Gillies served his time as a carpenter. Being a young and active crew, they always raced with her. At one time a regatta was held in Portree and they were up against very fierce competition. They were all to be assembled at a certain place at a certain time. They left Stafainn early and had a good rest before the race. They beached their boat without sight of Portree and turned her over, let her dry and then applied Stove Polish to the bottom until it resembled a sheet of glass. Then, carefully, they launched her and made for the assembly point for the race. They won hands down. Afterwards they all gathered in the Pier Hotel and following a few drams the boasting started. The innkeper was listening to them all, and he challenged them that if they were that good, how about another race to settle the odds? The prize was to be ten shillings and a bottle of whisky. All the men made for the shore and headed for their own boats. Quite a crowd was assembled to watch. They were all lined up and ready for off. Someone fired a gun and off they went. The Stafainn boat again took an early lead and by the time they were half way out to the marker, the other crews acknowledged that they had already lost the race, so they gave up. Every one of them and a proud boat and crew came back to Stafainn that night. Another story concerning the Leomhan is an occasion when they decided to go over to Loch Seaforth in Harris at the end of Setepmber. Big catches of herring were being got. Off they went in the early morning and by the time they reached Loch Seaforth it was dark. The loch was full of herring boats with their lights on and they didn't know where to shoot the nets. Instead they made for the nearest fishing light and were told to go just a short distance to the west of them and shoot which they did. In the very early morning they lifted the nets and had seven cran of good herring (4 boxes were the equivalent of a cran). So they made for home that evening. In the old days, people would cross to Gairloch. Sometimes there would be no wind and the journey would have to be advanced with the oars. There were no engines in these days. How superstitious were local fishermen? Some were very superstitious, paying great attention to the 'geasagan'. It was deemed very unlucky to meet with a woman on the way to the shore. And it was completely out of the question for a woman to go out in a boat. When ballasting the boat in the morning, the crew ensured that no-one put a white stone amongst the ones put on board. Boats were launched stern first off the shore and rowed out stern first. Once they were a respectable distance from land, the boat would be turned round and the bow was put out to sea. Woe betide the oarsman who would take the boat round against the way of the sun. Your boat always had to be 'with the sun' (leis a' ghrian) as they said. After that the rudder would be put on, and the skipper took over hereon and could turn the boat any way you wanted, but the first turn of the day had to be 'deiseal'. You couldn't whistle at sea either. A superstitious fisherman would not wear stockings if their wool had been dyed with lichen (crotal). The crotal was derived from stones, and someone had construed along the way that if an accident befell a fisherman wearing crotal stockings at sea, there was more of a risk that he would go under. Apparently, it was forbidden to take eggs to sea. And praising was forbidden. And of course it is not so long since people put credence in The Evil Eye (an droch shùil). The Eye was deemed to be so powerful that it could remove people's possessions. Were there carries here in Stafainn? Yes - there's still one visible below the township of Glas pheighinn, before you reach Port na Lead - where the trees are, on the north side of the Glas pheighinn shore. You understand what a carry was of course? It was a man made dyke built down at the shore to create a temporary trap at high tide? A dead animal would be tied to an anchor within the carrie, to encourage fish to swim in that direction. Then, when the tide went out, the fish were trapped, and were easy pickings for the community. How did people go about salting fish? Well, herring, cod or ling or whatever would be split into flat slabs. You salted it for the household. The best would be hand picked and placed in a wooden barrel. You melted rock salt in a pot on the fire and when it cooled you poured the brine over fish. It acted as a pickle and held better. The mixture always covered your fish. When it was three weeks like that, you opened it up and dried it in the sun. It would go as hard as leather. You then stored it near the fireplace where the fire kept it dry. You would be careful to check it here and there, but it could keep for up to a year like that. Have clams ever been sought here? No - clams are a very new fishing. People have never dived for clams here. The occasional one would turn up in the nets, but nobody ever pursued clams here. What would you wear to sea on a typical winter's day in Stafainn? Oh, to start with, long johns and a vest made of pure wool, followed by a heavy tweed trouser, a heavy pullover and a shirt. We didn't wear jackets. The heavy homemade socks were crucial: sometimes you would have two pairs on. The welly boots reached up to your thigh, or they were at least three-quarter length. During World War Two, there was a welly boot on the go called the Snowdonian. Then you had a denim fishing smock on top of the pullover - if it was dry. If it was wet you put on your oilskin frock which was made of canvas (there were no buttons). The frock was oiled with linseed and it reached to below your knees. Once every two or three months, you would soak your frock in boiled linseed oil to make it waterproof again. Then you had your sou'ester oilskin hat, which was tied below the chin. Below your hat you had a knitted bonnet as well as a scarf about your neck. Old fishermen never wore gloves. By contrast, in the summer you wore as little as possible. What kind of food did you have on board? Well you never left home without a hefty meal inside you - porridge or brose followed by a fry-up - and a canvas bag under your arm. Skiffs all had stone ballast. You lit a fire in a bucket and boiled a pot with maybe a fish or two. Most of the food was cold though - sandwiches mainly. Everyone's canvas bag was stored on board in a tarpaulin to keep them dry. Fresh water on board is important. At the end of a day's work, many's a time you would be wondering how you were going to manage to walk home - you would be absolutely famished. And ten minutes after you had your dinner, the chances are you were fast asleep! What skills made a good skipper in years gone by? Well there were no weather forecasts in those days: intuition was a big thing. In my grandfather's day they had to rely on their own intuition of the skies and the behaviour of birds and animals. Some people showed an aptitude for it early on. Not every person would want the responsibility of skipper. A man could have a firm grasp of the fishing after five or six years. But of course you grew up with it really. A boy moved into it slowly bit by bit and he copied what he saw. What you did little by little at shore and at home you saw then being applied at sea. You had to be solid, to show strength of character, be able to judge situations. It was important to remain calm, show no fear and do nothing rash. But above all, a good skipper required to be decisive - there's no room for dithering at sea! Could you ever imagine yourself having led a different life - in an office, perhaps - with a starched collar and perfectly combed hair? I would be like one of those wild birds in a cage. When you have your own boat, you have your freedom, and you are always scheming what you will do next. You take a pride in your work. No, if you put me in an office, I would pine away and die - slowly. |