St. Kilda
After sailing west from the Isle of Lewis last night, we arrived this morning into the verdant Village Bay of Hirta, the largest island in the remote archipelago of St. Kilda. This distant area of the Outer Hebrides was slammed by some of its typical, ferocious Atlantic storms during the past few days. However, to our tremendous relief, the winds were calm and the swells were merciful to allow us a splendid chance to set foot on this far-flung corner of the world.
It’s hard to believe that literally thousands of years of history can permeate such an inaccessible habitation. Yet it does, and we couldn’t help letting our imaginations wander as we strolled the streets and paths of this culture that ultimately evacuated the island in 1930.
The islands of St. Kilda are a World Heritage Site owned by the National Trust for Scotland, which manages the site for preservation and research. Formed from the rim of an ancient volcano, the archipelago is an impressive landscape of terrific sea stacks and super high cliffs dotted with thousands and thousands of sea birds. On the island of Hirta lived a small habitation of people who survived primarily on the various sea birds nesting around the area and their sheep that they allowed to roam freely. The St. Kildan’s culture saw their greatest change (and perhaps their ultimate demise) during the 19th century, when outside religious influences and landlords combined to reshape the Village Bay community into an ordered plan of a main Village Street and rock-lined field boundaries. Though some modern improvements ultimately helped their lot, the people were also adversely affected by early tourism and its associated derailments from their common survival practices. Over time, their numbers eventually dwindled to the point where they themselves asked for assistance to be removed from their island. Though military developments of World War II nearly destroyed many of their stone homes and structures, its protection by the National Trust for Scotland ultimately preserved this special location.
We started our exploration of the island with interpretive walks through the village that were led by volunteers from the National Trust. We peered into the stone houses along the Village Street and into the older mound-like structures of earlier homes. We also saw the many stone structures called “cliets” that were used to let hanging bird meat dry inside.
After the walks, many folks continued on hikes up to a high perch that overlooked the airy sea bird cliffs on the edge of the island. Others also jumped in Zodiacs for cruises along the bases of sea-worn cliffs lined with thousands of fulmar nests and the occasional puffin rafting out on the water. Then, as if right on queue, a brief deluge of rain poured down just as we finished our final Zodiac cruises. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect to come inside for a warm lunch.
As the storm dissipated, we went back out on deck to watch the dramatic Gannet nested cliffs of the smaller St. Kilda islands and stacks go by. It was a fine farewell to this long lost corner of the Outer Hebrides.
