Stockinish Island

Until I started preparing for this trip, I was unaware of The Harris Tweed Act 1993. In accordance with the Act, Harris Tweed cloth must be: “Handwoven by the islanders at their homes in the Outer Hebrides, finished in the Outer Hebrides, and made from pure virgin wool dyed and spun in the Outer Hebrides.” That’s what I call protecting an historic tradition. I then found out it’s possible to visit some of the weavers as they go about their craft. I found a list of contacts, sent an email to Becca, and received an enthusiastic response inviting us to visit. “It’s the first house as you enter the village. Come through the gate and head to the shed in the back garden”. Upon opening the car doors we could hear the click-clack of the loom. We found Becca at work, her ear-defenders protecting her hearing. She greeted us warmly and after a few preliminaries invited us to stand close to the loom as she demonstrated the process. She had examples of the wool that had been spun for the fabric she was making, and explained the construction of the herringbone pattern. To our astonishment the green fabric had no green wool in it. That’s one of the arts, being able to discern which combination of colours will lead to your desired colour and texture.

Becca explained that the fabric she was currently working on was a commission for someone who makes coats in the pattern of the one worn in the film Withnail and I. I’m now going to have to watch it again just to see the coat! She also explained just how well enforced the regulations are. A friend of hers didn’t have room for a loom at her home, so was required to apply for special dispensation to have it at her parents’ place. Having shown us how the fabric was woven, Becca then demonstrated how she ensures the quality of the work. Running her hands over the surface and inspecting it closely, she used a small tool to remedy any lumps and bumps. It was such a remarkable experience to see how this historic fabric is made. On the way in I had hoped I might come out with some tweed - I couldn’t choose between the two colours on offer so of course bought some of each!

Becca asked where we’d been, and we said we’d just been to Luskentyre. “Ah well, you’ll have seen the worst beach on Harris then”, and explained that there were many more spectacular but that the locals kept those to themselves! We’d been pretty impressed, so I can only imagine just how beautiful the others must be.

One of the joys (!) of driving in the Highlands and Islands is the single track road. On Lewis and Harris there were very few roads that warranted a line down the middle. The etiquette of driving these roads is that if you see an oncoming vehicle approaching and you have access to a passing place (a “pop out” section of road to allow 2 vehicles to pass unobstructed), you pull in and wait for the car to go through. If you meet a vehicle and neither of you are in a passing place, the driver who is closest to one should reverse to it. As with all rules, there are those who don’t comply, although happily for us these were in the minority. They knew about it though, as Linda shooed them back with a flick of her wrist!

That brings us to the hierarchy of acknowledgment. When passing on the single track it is customary to acknowledge the other driver by the raising of a hand off the steering wheel. My first memory of this was actually as a child going from Macarthur to Warrnambool with my dad driving, and being astonished at how he seemed to know all the other drivers because he was waving at them! Linda and I identified five categories of wavers: no movement, usually Audi drivers, rude; one or two fingers lifted, very little effort, poor show; whole hand extended but wrist on wheel, low effort but absolutely acceptable, fairly common; whole hand lifted off wheel, less common, in our experience usually reserved for extra effort on the part of the other driver; and finally hand in the air, vociferous waving, definitely not local, possibly a bit mad!

Harris itself was beautiful. In contrast to Lewis’s boggy flatlands, mountains rose up before us as we wended our way southwards. It was also home to the most spectacular of onion rings, so good we went back to the pub a second time. I knew about the tweed and the beaches before our visit, but didn’t expect to encounter such a culinary delight!Read more