Trifter

The Hebrides islands west of Scotland are renowned for their romance and rugged beauty, but visiting the remote archipelago of St Kilda is like stepping into another world. If you are lucky with weather and visibility, your first sight of the sheer cliffs and sea stacs takes your breath away. My wife and I went there on M.V. Cuma, ably skippered by Murdo Macdonald who runs Island Cruising, based in Loch Roag, Isle of Lewis.

Any sea trip in these waters will be paradise for wildlife enthusiasts. We saw seals, dolphins, minke whales and basking sharks, none of which is exactly common in our native Staffordshire! But the real glory of the islands is the birds. You will always find various species of gulls on the British coast, but you get the impression that the bird population of St Kilda exceeds that of the rest of Britain put together. Little fulmars (the staple diet of the former residents of the islands), are everywhere on the main island Hirta. Boreray and the stacs contain huge colonies of majestic gannets. The small island of Dun has large numbers of rainbow-billed puffins, unmistakeable in flight with their rapid wing beats. Visitors walking the grassy slopes of Hirta risk being “dive-bombed” by aggressive great skuas, protecting their nests on the ground. The combined sight, sound and smell of what seems like millions of birds leaves an indelible impression.

St Kilda was inhabited for centuries until 1930, when the hardship of life for the few remaining islanders led to evacuation at their own request. Previous generations had survived by means of what was one of the few truly communistic societies in human history. The total absence of money, limited contact with the outside world, and a genuinely co-operative system for food production and decision-making caused more than a few of the occasional visitors to enthuse about the near-utopian culture.

This is not to say that life really was idyllic. Infant mortality was appalling for much of the time; a major factor was the “sickness of eight days” – Tetanus infantum – which killed up to 80% of newborns. It was strongly suspected that the primary cause of this tragic scourge of the islands’ babies was the custom of anointing the umbilicus with fulmar oil.

Another blight on the St Kildans’ lives, although mostly well-intentioned, was religion. In common with much of the Western Isles, the Church played a major, although varying in intensity, role in life. The tenure of one notorious missionary, the Rev. John MacKay, was particularly severe. The populace were reduced to a religious orthodoxy which bordered on the fanatical, with three church services on Sundays lasting at least two hours each. Of course no work of any kind was permitted on the Sabbath, which often resulted in the men being unable to unload essential supplies from visiting ships.

But it was visitors, that is tourists, which brought about the fateful shift in the focus of the islanders’ lives that ultimately led to the end of the St Kilda community. As the rest of Britain learned of their unique way of life, the more adventurous began to brave the treacherous seas beyond the Outer Hebrides and travel to the archipelago. They brought with them a desire for souvenirs, postcards, photographs of themselves with the “natives” – and money to pay for them. The result was predictable, and inevitable. The St Kildans rapidly became dependant on the link with the rest of the world, and younger residents, their eyes opened to an alternative way of life, gradually began to leave. When the population fell to thirty-six in early 1930 it was clear that the society was unsustainable. All were shipped to the Scottish mainland in August of that year, the more able-bodied men being found jobs in forestry, and the community with its unique culture was scattered and simply ceased to exist.

Since the evacuation the only long-term occupants have been the military, resulting in some unsightly buildings and radio masts, but it is this presence which has kept the islands open to visitors. Walking past the long abandoned ruins of the village is a moving experience. The National Trust for Scotland has made good progress with restoring the cottages – joining their summer work parties is the only way to spend more than a couple of days there. Beware, though – after a couple of weeks away from the “real” world you may be reluctant to leave these beautiful islands.