The Hebrides

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Gigha to the Garvellachs

Gigha, Cara, Islay, Jura, Kerrera, Seil, Easdale, Belnahua, Eileach an Naoimh

Gigha

The name is said to date back to the days of the Vikings, derived from Gud Øy - meaning 'God's Island' or 'Good Island'. Gigha is a small island lying approximately 5 kilometres west of the Kintyre Peninsula. Orientated north to south, it measures about 9.5 kilometres long by 2 kilometres wide. A small RoRo ferry makes the 20-minute crossing several times a day from the village of Tayinloan on Kintyre. The population of Gigha is 110. The principal settlement on the island is Ardminish.

A couple of years ago I had the good fortune to accompany my cameraman pal and ace aviator Richard Cook on a microlight flight from Flanders Moss, west of Stirling, to Jura - a round trip that took us over the island of Gigha. Suspended in an open cockpit beneath the microlight's fabric wing, I had a fabulous, if somewhat precarious, view of the low-lying island below me. From a height of over 2,000 metres, it looked like a tropical paradise, with green pastures and sandy bays set in an azure sea. No wonder people still refer to it as God's Island.

The size of Gigha makes it a perfect place to explore by pushbike, which my wife Nicky and I did one hot July weekend, following the route of an earlier visitor, the Welsh-born naturalist Thomas Pennant; who landed in 1773 while on his Hebridean voyage. Pennant was on a mission to report and inform. He thought that the British public knew more about foreign lands than they did about their own, which is probably still true today. To remedy this, he embarked on an expedition to the Hebrides and published a best-selling book about his adventures. Arriving on Gigha two and a half centuries ago, Pennant experienced what it was like to be in a foreign land, where Gaelic was the language of the people, and where the MacNeil laird ruled with an almost feudal authority. MacNeil's ancestors were the Thanes of Gigha, who took over from the MacDonald Lords of the Isles, a chapter of the island's bloody history which includes clan battles, Viking invasions and an attack by the legendary 16th-century pirate Alan Maclean (Allan-na-Sop), who killed the MacNeil laird and many of Gigha's inhabitants.

Wandering the island churchyard, Pennant discovered reminders of those more turbulent times: 'In the ruins of the church,' he wrote, 'I found some tombs with two-handed swords.' The church in question is Kilchatten. Nicky and I explored this picturesque ruin and came across several ancient grave slabs of the kind described by Pennant. Moving on, we climbed the small hill Cnocan nan Ordag, whose Gaelic name commemorates a clan battle when the victors cut off the losers' thumbs and piled them up to make a cairn. Despite the grisly associations, the Hill of the Thumbs turned out to be a very fine place to have a picnic and enjoy the views.

Near Tarbert, where the island narrows between two opposing bays, is Gigha's most prominent ancient landmark, the Carraig an Tairbeart, a standing stone known locally as the Giant's Tooth. Legend tells of how a giant, suffering the agonies of toothache, pulled out the offending tooth and hurled it away to land on Gigha. Other stories tell of how the stone was used as a place of execution. Criminals were once tried on nearby Court Hill and the guilty hanged from the cleft in the stone. On a happier note, local tradition also considers it to be good luck for young lovers to hold hands through the same cleft in the stone before they marry. Somewhat belatedly, Nicky and I did this. I can honestly say that our luck hasn't got any worse since then - so there must be something to it! Also near here is the strange and enigmatic Well of the Winds, as mentioned by the Hebridean traveller Martin Martin 300 years ago. Here a female guardian would take payment to use the well to change the direction of the wind.

Beyond the Carraig an Tairbeart, we followed the road to the north end and took the track down towards Eilean Garbh - the Rough Island - which is connected by a narrow neck of land that forms a beautiful double beach. There wasn't a breath of wind. Sails of distant yachts hung limply in the shimmering heat haze, which cast a translucent veil over the distant Paps of Jura. At Port Mòr, we braved the cold and swam in the turquoise, glassy sea. Unfortunately, we discovered that we were not alone. A herd of cows, including a rather intimidating black bull, was watching us intently. They kept their distance at first, but eventually curiosity got the better of them and they sauntered lazily across the white shell sand to check us out. We were soon surrounded by several bovine heavyweights with slavering mouths. When they started muzzling into our bags and licking our toes, I knew it was time to go.

One of the other things which Thomas Pennant observed about Gigha, and which our sunny weekend seemed to confirm, was the weather. Like us, he found it to be 'extremely fine'. When Nicky and I were enjoying splashing about in Gigha's inviting waters, it was hard to imagine that we were on the same latitude as the icebound coast of Labrador in Canada. This tropical feeling was enhanced by a visit to the extraordinarily lush gardens and grounds of Achamore House, which is situated in sheltering woods towards the south of the island. Wandering through this Arcadian paradise, I was impressed by the thought that this latitude-defying display was created by a man who believed that a good night's sleep was more than just a dream.

Achamore House, along with the entire island, was bought in 1944 by the Anglo-American Sir James Horlick, who had inherited a fortune from the malted night-time drink that bore his family's name: Horlicks. One of the driving reasons behind his purchase of Gigha was the climate, which is greatly influenced by the warming effect of the Gulf Stream, creating a perfect environment for his extensive collection of exotic plants.

Horlick also used his considerable business experience to develop the island's economy and agriculture. He loved Gigha; and many visitors, including royalty, came to marvel at what he had created. The late queen's mother was a regular guest, and enjoyed the produce from the two-acre walled garden, which was famous for the quality of its fruit and vegetables.

In the years following Sir James Horlick's death in 1972, the island fell into the hands of a series of absentee landlords. They didn't have the same commitment, and Gigha went into decline. These hard times changed after a quiet revolution heralded a new era. Disillusioned with their landlords, local people formed the Isle of Gigha Heritage Trust and bought the island for the community when it was put up for sale in 2002. Since then, the place has flourished. Perhaps more impressively, local control has reversed the age-old problem of population decline and has attracted new businesses and families to the island.

Cara

The derivation is obscure - perhaps from the Old Norse Karis Øy, meaning 'Kari's Island'. Cara is a small uninhabited island lying about a kilometre south of Gigha. It is 1.5 kilometres long by half a kilometre wide of mostly rough ground covered with bracken and heather. It rises gently to the south to a height of 50 metres, before plunging into the sea at the Mull of Cara, which Thomas Pennant described as 'a hill formed exactly like a loaf of bread', when he sailed past in 1773. I have seen this hill from several angles, and it looks nothing like a loaf, from which I conclude that 18th-century bread must have been very different from today's loaves. Apparently, this cliff was hit by lightning during a great storm in 1756, a fact which might explain its present appearance. Part of the rock face collapsed, causing a huge wave which engulfed the island, damaging several houses. Cara has been uninhabited since the 1940s but its long and fascinating history stretches back to the great days of the MacDonald Lords of the Isles and beyond. The Lords of the Isles - Righ nan Eilean in Gaelic - were the descendants of the 12th-century warrior hero Somerled. These MacDonald chiefs were once so powerful they were looked upon as kings of the Hebrides. Today, the tiny deserted island of Cara is the only territory still in the hands of the once mighty MacDonald clan.

To get to Cara, I took a boat from the old steamer pier at the south end of Gigha and sailed down the Caolas Gigalum. My skipper told me that this was where the Viking king Håkon had anchored his battle fleet of a hundred ships before his disastrous defeat by the Scottish king Alexander III at Largs in 1263. The Lord of the Isles at the time was Angus Mor MacDonald, the grandson of Somerled. He had initially fought for King Håkon, but changed sides when the Norse king was defeated.

'The MacDonalds were allowed to keep their lands - but they were never as powerful again,' explained the skipper Angus Maxwell MacDonald. It was only after chatting further that I realised that Angus was more than just my skipper. He owns Cara and is a direct descendant of the MacDonald Lord of the Isles. 'The present Lord of the Isles is Prince William,' Angus pointed out when I asked him what it was like to have such distinguished ancestors. 'Well, I suppose you could still call yourself "The Lord of the Isle",' I suggested as we prepared...