Flodigarry Sgiamhach

Cha robh fad' aca ri dhol a shuiridheadh

They didn't have far to go for romancing

Teenie Clark

(nee MacPherson 'Teenie 'n Cheararaidh')

I don't remember much about my first day at school, but I do remember it. Shortly beforehand, my aunt had taken me to Ciorstaidh I'n Eoghain's shop at Clachan to get school clothes.  It was in April 1923 -  I can remember the walk over the hills to the shop.  And my abiding memory of starting school is the new white blouse that I wore. It had a bodice at the front with an embroidered bird at the neck.  Sgoil na Dìge was my daily destination until I was fifteen, in common with the majority of children from Flodigarry, Digg, Glasphein, Brogaig and Sartle.  It was hard on the ones from Sartle.  Kirsty and Seumas Cameron had a distance to walk on a bad day.

During the winter school days, we all had steaming hot cocoa to look forward to - we contributed pennies towards the winter's supply.  And the dark winter days were illuminated by the promise of the teacher's Christmas bag of goodies - containing cakes, sweeties, an apple, an orange - and a balloon.  Our teachers were Miss Gillies and Miss MacDonald.  They were happy ladies - firm but fair.  And they bought our Christmas treat out of their own funds - it was thoughtful of them.  Christmas was just like an ordinary day around here. Even when I went to live in Portree as late as 1950, the shops were all open on Christmas day. The posts were running too. New year's day was more of a half holiday.

My brothers and sisters and I were of the second generation of Flodigarry families. Prior to my parents' time, Flodigarry had been a farm.  I believe it had been occupied by a number of cottars before 1886. If you look in Flodigarry and in Dunans, there are a lot of ruins still to be seen, and these were homes to cottars.  After the Flodigarry farm was broken up though, to make way for families who were needing land, 14 crofts were created.  Major Stewart had the whole estate then - the parish of Kilmuir and Stenscholl. I understood it was by his goodwill that Flodigarry became home to local people who were hungry for land. The 14 families came from Brogaig, Digg and Glasphein.  John MacPherson was my father.  He was born in 1880 in Digg at the site where May Mhurchaidh Thormoid lives in present times. On the day that he moved from Digg to Flodigarry in 1909 or 1910, my father carried his mother on his back. They followed the footpath across the moor from Digg, through the Dunans and to the road at Bhaoiltear. That was a distance of two miles at least.  Granny would then have been a lady of just seventy. (How frail older people were then, compared to how they are now.)

A first cousin of my father's also came from Digg to Flodigarry. He was a MacPherson too - Iain an Diùc, they called him.  He settled at No 4. Of the Glasphein people who came to Flodigarry, there was Neil an Fidhlear Nicolson (the father of Alec Neil an Fhidhleir, who is currently residing in Staffin House). Alec Neil's grandfather had had his home where Lachaidh Seonaid was brought up - at No 1 Glasphein. The incoming families to Flodigarry each came as and when they could, and as soon as they had equipped themselves with a roof over their heads.  My own father's family built a better family home later on: in the beginning it was just a byre with the cows at one end and the people at the other; a typical blackhouse.

When he became the tenant of No 10 Flodigarry in 1909 or 1910, my father was unmarried.   He lived in the family home with his mother, his brother - Alexander, and his sister - Ciorstaidh Bheag.   She was the one who took me for the school clothes.  My aunty had been born a twin, but her twin brother had died at just a few weeks old. She married Neacail an Fhidhlear, a Nicolson, whose father was known as the fiddler.  Ciorstaidh became a widow at only 25, with two young children to bring up.  Her husband had died in foolish circumstances, never having seen his son - the second child. As was the custom in these days, my aunty wore black for the remainder of her life, until she died in Connista. Everything she had was black - to the hat, to the shoes.  I think the only exception was her homemade red petticoat which you would call a cota bàn dearg, I suppose! 

Alexander, my father's brother, was known as Aitidh an kettle. In 1919 or so, to earn a little money, a few of the local men would go up to Airigh an Easan, at the waterfall on the Bealach to break metal for roadmaking.  The road surveyor would travel from Portree to buy your metal, according to how much you had to sell.  It was a summer job - the men might be at it for up to a month at a time. They would stay up there from Monday to Saturday - kipping down in a bothy that we knew as Bothag Airigh an Easain.  Some said that the land there was haunted.  But then, everywhere was haunted - all of the old buildings - and visitors to Flodigarry Hotel were quite keen to get a ghost sighting while here on holiday! Seemingly Alexander - who was lame - got his name because of the numerous requests he got to boil the kettle! When the men were at the metalwork, sometimes the women would walk with a meal for them from Flodigarry right up the Bealach. 

Everybody walked, of course - in my day too.  The din of traffic was unknown.  There is the story told of the each iarainn (iron horse) - I think it is fairly well known, especially amongst the older people.  When the first motored transport came to the area, local horses took such a fright at the noise that they stampeded.  In their panic, they ran until they leapt to their death over the cliffs.  I believe it was the top of the Quirang that they leapt from.

My father became known as Iain I'n Cheararaidh, Ceararaidh being the spot in Flodigarry where he settled.  My mother was Marion Martin.  She was born in 1888 to Flora Dhonnchaidh Ghillies and Alasdair Martin (both from Digg). Her family home was on the croft where Aonghas Chaluim Sheonaidh lives today in Digg.  There are still many Gillies families in Digg today, but in those days there were a lot more.  The most common family names were Gillies in Digg and Nicolson in Glasphein.  One married the other - cha robh fad' aca ri dhol a shuiridheadh!  I was looking at my parents' marriage certificate the other day: their wedding ceremony was at the United Free Church in Staffin.  A Reverend Cameron MacKay married them on the 30^th of December 1915. I have the proclamation of the bans too. It is dated the 21^st of December 1915, and it was sited at the Stenscholl Manse.

Every crofter in Flodigarry had a horse, and some had two.  There was an old ruin on our croft down at the shore that they called Tobhta nan Geothaich (ruin of the geese).  It is still there today.  Aunty said it had been the home of two women who were cottars prior to the time of the incoming families. My father roofed that ruin, and kept Maggie, his horse there.  Every horse we had was called Maggie - and that particular one was black with a star on her forehead. We would pair our horse with the one at No 9 Flodigarry for ploughing and planting potatoes. The horses were worked in Flodigarry until 1954 or 55.  The Department were at that time becoming popular with their tractor hire. They would send a tractor and driver to plant your potatoes.  Following on from that, everybody got their own tractor.  You can see the rusting ploughs at some of the houses yet.

Seachd bliadhna an cuimhne bò, gu latha a bhàis an cuimhne eich.

A cow will remember (an incident) for seven years, but a horse will remember until death.

Most of the Flodigarry men went away to work, departing in May and returning in October.  They frequently found employment on The May or on other pleasure boats and yachts. A lot of boys from Staffin did their stint on Loch Lomond: Peigi Shomhairle's father went there year after year. He was Somhairle Mór Nicolson from Brogaig - I was at his wedding in Brogaig.  It took place at the house where Bill Mór Robinson lives now. Somhairle Mór's bride was Kate Nicolson of Brogaig (Kate 'Bo ho' as she was known locally). You forget so much about events in your life but I remember there were plenty of songs that night. I also remember that we were 'dressed' so to speak: I was always keen on stylish things if I could get them! The journey home from the banais taighe stayed in my mind.  A whole crowd of us laughed all the way home at seven o'clock in the morning, as we tip-toed in our dainty shoes through the snow to Flodigarry.  The children of that marriage were Peigi Shomhairle, Murchadh Shomhairle and Alasdair Shomhairle who works for Cal Mac.  Kate's brother, Murdo, was married in the Orkneys - his widow died not so long ago. And Kate's sister (Peggy) was the mother of Christina, Norman Neil, Morag and Murdo Alec.

Thig crìoch air an t-saoghal, ach mairidh ceòl is gaol.

The world will come to an end, but music and love will remain.

When you look back to sixty years ago, a lot of local people were great fiddlers. Another wedding I attended was at Glaic a' Lochain in Glasphein, before the house was lived in, when Morag Nicolson (a sister of Chris Ann Cole)  married Lach Bheag Nicolson from Brogaig. The Nicolsons were in full force - and still are!  Everybody brought their hen as a contribution towards the feast.  People used to call a local wedding 'banais nan cearc' (wedding of the hens) because of the number that landed at the wedding house.   The women would barely be visible under the pile of feathers as they sat plucking away at the old beangaidh - the kitchen bench.  They made badags of the feathers.  These were brushes that you used to clean around the fire.  They made pillows too.  Very few people had ducks, but if you got duck feathers, they were better still for stuffing pillows with.

Alasdair Martin, my mother's father, was employed for some time as one of the gardeners at Flodigarry House, as the hotel was known until the 1930s. It was he who planted many of the well established trees that are there today.  There are sycamore, cherry, chestnuts, hollies - every kind of tree.  In my young days, these trees were only 2 or 3 feet high.

The hotel had been built in 1880 by Major Livingstone MacDonald. They were related to Flora MacDonald - they were of the Clanranald crowd.  Flora had of course started her married life in the old Flodigarry House. Her husband was Allan MacDonald of Kingsburgh (Ailean nam mile mart = Allan of the thousand cattle). Major Livingstone and his sister took an interest in the Flodigarry people: they were the real MacDonalds of the Isles - real gentry.  Sineag Stoddart of Brogaig's mother worked for Miss Livingstone who gave her a silver 3-piece comb, mirror and brush set when she married.   Sineag herself had her first job with the Livingstones. People here thought highly of the Livingstones.  And the Major always spoke to you in Gaelic - he spoke it well.  His sister had no Gaelic.  She was a beautiful woman, though she never married.  The House was a shooting place really: guests would come for up to a month, bringing maids and governesses with them. (The Lodge was the same, of course). Their own lives were spent back and fore from here.  I remember their maid - Ciorstaidh Bharrach (of Barra) - who was a caretaker at Flodigarry in their absence - died on her own there at Flodigarry.

Flodigarry House was sold by the Livingstones to Mr Simpson, the Portree banker and one-time owner of the Royal Hotel, sometime during the 1920s. His wife was an invalid and their two sons had been killed during the First World War.  Under Mr Simpson's supervision,  Flodigarry flourished.  He made it into a hotel.  In 1922 he built the dam to generate power for the hotel.  He installed power and water: the power house was above ground and the boathouse was on lower ground.  Flodigarry produced its own dairy produce, as well as fruit and vegetables.  The gardens were full of fruit, and there were tomatoes in the hot house. The owner of Flodigarry was entitled to the fishing rights - the hill and sea lochs, and had shooting rights for Staffin and Kilmaluag river right up to Kilmuir. Paying guests were rowed out to sea and escorted to the moors.  Visitors were offered day trips. The Simpsons employed Andrew Stoddart (who died a few years ago) as a maintenance man to look after the power house for many a year - he was on a wage of 10 shillings a week, I remember it said. Miss Kelly - who came along with Mr Simpson and succeeded him after his death - had three boats on Loch Langaig. Simpson himself died in Flodigarry Hotel before the Second World War, if I remember.  Miss Kelly succeeded him at the hotel: she died in Portree Hospital.

Flodigarry is falling into the sea, as they say.  I believe there is nowhere else in Britain where land is sliding at such a rate.  Today the boathouse is under water - the tide has been coming in gradually over the years. The Nicolsons of 8 Flodigarry used to plant potatoes where the ground is all eaten away now with the tides, and the wind and rain. The same has happened in Digg and Glasphein.  The ports have all gone - Port na Lead (at Glasphein), Port a' Bhlunden (at Digg). In our day the island was known as Eilean PollDorais.  Nobody ever referred to it as Flodigarry Island.

I was 14 when my grandmother (Flora Dhonnchaidh Ghillies) died.  There had been 8 or 9 in her family, and many of her sisters emigrated to Australia and New Zealand.  She had been a 'ben-glùin' (a midwife) and although we never heard any details, we were told she would be out delivering babies.  She delivered my sister Flora: I remember the occasion, being six years at the time.  The local midwives were marvellous, despite their lack of facilities.  I was the first born in my family.  A Doctor MacDonald came from Uig, along with a nurse, to assist at my birth because my mother's labour had lasted for two days. There was of course a hospital in Uig at that time, but it was unusual to go to hospital to have your baby, unless there were serious difficulties.

Chan ann gun fhios a bheireas a' chearc an t-ugh.

When a hen lays an egg, everybody hears about it.

I wasn't twenty when I married.  Sydney Clark came on holiday here to a Kilmaluag boarding house - where Donald and Dina Rankin have their home today.  He was an Aberdonian: a cinema operator at the time we met. We married in 1937 - in the Portree Church - and the reception was at the Portree Hotel.  Sydney was in Canada for three years as an instructor in the Air Force during the war.  We lived briefly in Aberdeen, but we came back to Skye early on: all the children are Sgitheanaich!  I had my own babies in Uig Hospital.  I never got a whiff of gas with Sylvia - I wasn't half an hour in Uig when she was born. For a while, we got a house in Ellishadder beside where Angus Ross lives today, and then we moved to Portree. Sydney got a job as a manager on the buses in Portree.  We had our home at Cnoc Alain (today the Kingshaven).  I did bed and breakfast for 20 years there but in 1975, we came home here when we bought Staffin Lodge.   The building dates back to 1856, though there is an extension which was added later on.

It is the simplest things in life which give the most joy. Flodigarry had the most beautiful spring water - as cold as could be.  We used to carry our pails to the well down at the shore, near a place called Grianasgair, where people gathered whelks.  The well is still to be seen.  The community cleaned it out every summer when it went dry.  But we also had a tap near the house - a few yards away.    There was a wee boy from Digg - his mother would be persuading him to go to the well for her.  'Fhalbh a dh'iarraidh pail uisge', she would say, 'is gheibh thu cioch nuair a thig thu air ais' (go and get a pail of water and you'll get a drink from the breast when you come back).  That was in the days before Mars bars - he was about five at the time!  Na tobraichean dubha (the black wells) they called the Digg wells. Flodigarry house had a well of its own.  After the wells came the iron pumps: our own is still in the garden yet.  Each house had a 'tuba'.    Today's water is nothing to compare to it.

Tha e deanamh luaith is deargannan ann.

said of someone who overstays their welcome (literally he makes ashes and gets fleas there).

We used to run into each other's houses.  Every door was open.  No one had a lock - just a bolt on the inside in case the wind opened it.  Everybody shared everything from fish to milk. These are the things I miss most about the lifestyle - the friendship.  You knew everybody.  If you were without milk in the wintertime when the cows went dry, neighbours would walk to your door to share what they had.  If somebody was widowed, the whole community rallied round. There was no talk of 'my space' or 'my time'.  Having said that, there was a funny phrase about people who were never out of your home - ones who made a bit of a pest of themselves.  You said 'tha e deanamh luaith is dearganan ann (he makes ashes and catches fleas - he stays so long)!  You miss the characters too. Take Angus Ross - now he was a character; with a quick wit and good at stories.  Bean Lachlainn was another one - she was good at stories. Not only that but she got the early magazines - the People's Friend and the Red Star in her shop. They were a real treat because we had never seen the likes.  And we loved Maoileas, the local Sunday school teacher. He had a good heart and a lot of time for us as children.  He would pull our leg; saying that he was going to take our aunty Ciorstaidh Bheag away. At Halloween we used to dress up and walk to the houses in Stenscholl. You bet we had fun. Là nan geamaichean in Portree (Games Day) was the big highlight.  You would be dying to be 14 so you could get to the games. During the war, the forces were stationed for four or five years at Kendrum down at Kilmaluag.   We used to have ceilidhs at Kilmaluag schoolhouse.  After the war, Dòmhnall Alec at Flodigarry was responsible for generating the electricity. They were charging accumulators and batteries by a home made wind mill.  They came from all over to charge their radios. 

Oidhche shamhna - bidh iad ag éigheadh gamhna ris na laoigh

Halloween - when a calf becomes a heifer?

IS THIS A CORRECT MEANING OF THIS EXPRESSION LACHIE?

Today I love to get buntàta 's sgadan (potatoes and herring) but in the old days everybody was tired of it.  Sunday was a treat: bacon and eggs in the morning and meat for lunch. Everybody killed their own hens - there was no such thing to be bought, and you never got potatoes in a shop.  Aunts from away sent home a parcel with a pound of tea in it.  We in turn sent them a hen - just the feathered bird with a label around her neck. That way it went a whole lot quicker. Your own hens were so tasty: nothing like what you buy in the supermarket.   People took pleasure in sending provisions back and forth to family. They would kill a wedder and send a bit of mutton away - it was a great delicacy.  Every household had its own salted meat and fish - it was lovely.

Dh'itheadh iad na th'aig Dunlop.

They would eat everything in Dunlop's van.

The old Claymore and the Dunara used to dock at Staffin Slip to drop off supplies - just the basics for the shops like oatmeal, flour, sugar, bread, butter. In the 1920s they came every ten days. They were beautiful boats, the big steamers  - I can see them coming into the bay yet.  And Flodigarry was served by the 'ceannaichean'.  Uilleam and Alasdair MacLeod of Duntulm had a horse and cart in the days before they got a car.   During the war, we had our rations with the MacLeods - they continued a service right up to the 1970s.  Bean Lachlainn had come from Torrin.  She used to have syrup in her shop.  It came in a 7lb Tate and Lyle drum.  Everybody loved it.  (The cows got the molasses.) It came via MacFarlane Shearer of Greenock.  In the days before that, the supplies came from Dunlop.  If people were referring to someone with a great appetite, they would say 'Dh'itheadh iad na th'aig Dunlop' (they would eat everything that Dunlop has).

But Flodigarry was famous for its potatoes.  We had great land you see.  Kerr's Pink and Golden Wonder were beautiful.  People experimented with the varieties.  I remember at their communion time, the Free Presbyterians would be coming to Flodigarry for potatoes.  Even in June, when everywhere else had run out, Flodigarry still had potatoes.  A' cuir a' phràta - everybody loved the feast you got the day you were lifting potatoes. Plenty of everything and cremola and jelly to finish it off.  That was a great treat. Our own family would harvest 70 or 80 to 100 bags of potatoes.  They got their seed from that too.  Everyone benefitted - the hens, the dogs, and the young calves all got mashed potatoes with a drop of milk and water.  The best land and the best potatoes.  We had everything we needed.  Do you know we had our own king in Flodigarry? The righ was Iain Aonghais - John Gillies. He had a beard - I remember him fine. He stayed at No 2. At one time he was courting Cairistìona MacDonald.  What a beautiful girl she was. We called her the ban righean - the queen.  And then we had our duke at No 4.  Saturday night, there would be a row of shiny shoes, all polished, and the bodaich would be taking their time over the shaving. The women made the soup in advance, and the potatoes were in the pan ready to boil on the Sabbath day. It was wonderful really. We didn't have much but what we had was the best of good clean food.  And we had a good sense of humour.  Dè an còrr a bha dhìth oirnn?  What more did we need in life?

Teenie remembered the First generation of crofters in Flodigarry, and this may be found in Cò leis thu/family trees and rent rolls.