The A87 #3 - Glen Garry

We finished episode 2 of the A87 - the road from Invergarry on the Great Glen to Uig on Skye via Kyle of Lochalsh (map here and click to redirect) - 5 miles west of Invergarry at the junction with the road to Kinloch Hourn. 

The main road straight on from this junction is, in fact, a big diversion of the A87's original route as laid out by the Highland Roads & Bridges Commission in the early 19th century caused by hydro electric developments in the 1950s. Look at the map below (click to enlarge):-

Today, the A87 follows the orange line on the map from Glen Garry over to Bunloyne in Glen Moriston where it joins the A887 from Invermoriston on Loch Ness. But it used to run up Glen Garry as far as Tomdoun (pronounced "Tom-DOWN") where it branched off the road to Kinloch Hourn and went north over the hills to Glen Loyne and then over the next ridge of hills to join the A887 at Cluanie. 

The Moriston Hydro Electric scheme built in the mid-1950s involved building a dam in Glen Loyne to create a reservoir - Loch Loyne - which would flood the A87 as it passed through the glen. The original proposal was for a viaduct over the new reservoir but that was discarded in favour of a new road along its south shore (broken orange line on the map). On the plus side, that would not only be cheaper than the viaduct but also create a route with shallower gradients and a lower summit than the road over to Cluanie (about 800 feet instead of 1,400) making it less liable to closure by snow in winter. But the downside was that it added six miles to the journey from Invergarry to Cluanie so that proposal was in turn discarded in favour of the solid orange line on the map which was only one extra mile. This was actually much more expensive than the original viaduct proposal but the Government picked up the extra cost from the Hydro-Board because it (the Government) would be relieved of the cost of eventually having to upgrade the Tomdoun to Cluanie road (a single track) which, because nobody lives between these two points, could be abandoned. Thus, as well as possessing some of the country's premier ghost junctions (see previous post), the A87 includes an entire ghost road! 

 

The old road disappearing into Loch Loyne approaching from the south. Note the track of the road climbing the hill towards Cluanie on the other side.

For the purposes of this tour along the A87, I'm going to start with the old road up Glen Garry to Tomdoun and over the hills by the ghost road to Cluanie. Then, in subsequent post(s), we'll come back and follow the present road (orange on the map) via Bunloyne and along the north side of Loch Cluanie.

So, starting in Glen Garry, the caption and message on the back of the J Arthur Dixon postcard below, posted at Tomdoun in 1967, sum the glen up quite well:-

As the caption says, Loch Garry is a hydro-electric reservoir although the natural level of the loch was raised (by a dam at its west end) by only 12 feet which is small compared with some hydro-reservoirs. However, as the road ran very close to the shore of the loch, a lot of it had to be re-routed along a slightly higher line. The postcard shows the old road perilously close to being overlapped by the raised loch. Below, 700 yards past Ardochy House, you can see the raised line of the road diverging from the original line:-

Google Streetview

And aerial photography shows the original line of the road along the edge of the loch. At the left, you can even see it under the water:-

National Libraries of Scotland

The National Libraries of Scotland's excellent Georeferenced Map Viewer is great for viewing hydro-electric developments because it allows you to overlay old (pre-hydro) maps over modern aerial imagery. Select Bing Satellite as the background from the drop down menu at the top, then choose a map series to overlay from the dialogue at bottom left (if necessary, open this from the "Choose map layers" link at bottom left). Then use the "Change transparency of overlay" slider at the bottom of that dialogue to reveal the modern aerial photography under the map.

The pre- and post-hydro water levels at the west end of Loch Garry

The writer of the postcard was a bit out with her timing when she said (in 1967) that the road along Loch Garry was a main road to the Isles "until about 4 years ago", though. The Garry Hydro-Electric Scheme (which also included damming and raising Loch Quoich further up the glen beyond Tomdoun as described here) was built between 1950 and 1956 so "about 10 years ago" would be nearer the mark.

 

The postcard view below is at the west end of Loch Garry looking east. It was taken in the 1930s before the loch was raised and this section of the road was flooded and moved to a higher line (to the left).

 

You can see the abutments of the bridge in the middle of the postcard above (click it to enlarge) under the water on aerial imagery:-

 

Although the hydro scheme didn't raise Loch Garry very much compared with other hydro reservoirs (only 12 feet), it did increase its surface area quite a lot by flooding about 2 miles of low lying flood plain of the River Garry at the loch's west end. The picture below (looking west from the "new" A87 over to Bunloyne) shows the reservoir drained down to almost the loch's natural level. The two levels of road are clearly visible:

Loch Garry drained down to almost its natural level: photo credit Peter Jeffrey

 

Away from 20th century hydro-electric developments now, on the south side of Loch Garry at its west end is a farm called Greenfield. In 1803, James Hogg (the poet known as the Ettrick Shepherd) stayed here in a late surviving example of a "creel house". That is a house the walls of which were made of blocks of turf (peat, essentially) rather than stone. The inside of the walls was lined with wattle basketwork ("creel") which was plastered. Creel houses were once very common but due to the perishable nature of their building materials compared with stone, none have survived although the National Trust for Scotland has recently built a replica at Glen Coe. 

 

Replica creel house under construction in Glen Coe with the internal wattle ("creel") lining and turf blocks of the outer walls clearly visible. Photo credit National Trust for Scotland

 

That gentry lived in creel houses as much as ordinary folk obviously took Hogg a little by surprise:-

 

On reaching Glengarry, the first place we came to was Greenfield, possessed by Mr. M'Donald. The house was really a curiosity. It was built of earth, and the walls were all covered with a fine verdure, but on calling we were conducted into a cleanly and neat-looking room, having a chimney, and the walls being plastered. The ladies, Mrs. M'Donald and her sister, were handsome and genteelly dressed, although unapprised of our arrival, unless by second sight. They were very easy and agreeable in the manners, and very unlike the outside of their habitation. 

 

In leaving the MacDonalds of Greenfield's creel house after a late dinner (at which "plenty of punch" was drunk) and crossing the glen to Inchlaggan Farm and taking up lodging with its tenant, Thomas Gillespie, at his shepherd's cottage, Hogg was moving from one world to another. A native of Moffat in the Borders, Gillespie was one of the earliest sheep farmers in the north west Highlands, having come north to rent sheep grazing in Glen Garry in 1782 when he was just 22 years old. It was a condition of the deal that the existing population was cleared off first and the same pattern was repeated as Gillespie increased his holdings on Glengarry and neighbouring estates to become one of the greatest sheep farmers in the Highlands. Hogg was aware of the social dislocation being caused - the Clearances, we call it now - and was uneasy about it but it didn't stop him waxing lyrical about the benefits he expected the expansion of sheep farming to bring. It's an interesting insight into how the enormity of these slow burning disasters often doesn't become fully apparent until long after the event. (You can read Hogg's account of his trip to the Highlands here.)

A mile past Inchlaggan and we're at Tomdoun where the old A87 branched off to the right (north) to cross the hills to Cluanie - that's a convenient place to break until the next instalment.

The west end of Loch Garry as surveyed in the early 1950s before commencement of the hydro works. OS One Inch map, Sheet 36 from National Libraries of Scotland

By stress of weather: the loss of the Nelly

I'm conscious it's almost a year since I've posted on here but I'm breaking silence to report that I've bought a subscription to The British Newspaper Archive. 

And boy, is it worth it! For the last few days I've been addicted: I'm like a kid in a sweetie shop peppering it with search terms of interest and coming up with far more gems of results than I'd imagined. I'll need to rationalise my researches somewhat once the novelty has worn off but in the meantime I wanted to share the news story I've found so far that's grabbed me the most. It's from the Caledonian Mercury of 6 October 1779:-

What a story is concealed in these six meagre lines! Let's try and flesh it out a bit with a bit of intelligent speculation.

The Nelly (even the name lends an air of tragedy!) was a sailing ship of - I'm guessing - about 80-90 feet in length and two masts with her home port at Newcastle-upon-Tyne. I suspect she probably looked quite like this:-

Picture credit: Wooden ships

In September 1779, she set out from Lochmaddy in North Uist in the Outer Hebrides to sail east round the north of Scotland to Whitby in Yorkshire. On 16 September, "by stress of weather" (i.e. in a storm) she was wrecked on an island called Eynhallow (as it's now usually spelt) in Orkney. All on board perished except a single seaman.

 

Eynhallow is a small island (about a quarter of a square mile) in Eynhallow Sound between the mainland of Orkney and the neighbouring island of Rousay.

It looks as though the Nelly was attempting to traverse Orkney through Eynhallow Sound rather than by the normal route through the Pentland Firth between Orkney and the mainland of Scotland. Both routes are plagued by ferocious tidal streams adding to the complexities of navigating an unwieldy 18th century sailing ship. In Eynhallow Sound, the tide races - or rosts (pronounced "roosts") as they're called in Orkney and Shetland dialect - on either side of the island even have names: the Burgar Rost and the Wael Rost. The passage to the north of Eynhallow is also studded with reefs and skerries so it's a navigational death trap: a modern yachtsman recommends (here) the south passage and keeping the yacht's engine running in case needed to get out of trouble, not a luxury available to Captain Nathaniel Brown of the Nelly. Fifty years later, he could have avoided the perils of Orkney waters by using the Caledonian Canal.

The hazards of Eynhallow Sound as seen on a mid-19th century Admiralty Chart - National Library of Scotland

The only survivor from the wreck of the Nelly was a seaman who got ashore by clinging to the ship's separated foremast. Though deserted today, Eynhallow would have had a population of a few dozen in the 18th century. They presumably assisted in rescuing the survivor and sheltered him before taking him over to the mainland of Orkney once the storm had subsided. 

It's interesting to note that the letter informing of the Nelly's loss (addressed to her owners in Newcastle, I assume), dated at Stromness (on the mainland of Orkney) on 24th September, was known about in Edinburgh in time to be published in the Caledonian Mercury on 6th October, only twelve days later. That seems quite a short time to me for the 18th century - was the letter conveyed by ship all the way from Orkney or by post runner overland? (No mail coaches in these days, I think, at least not in the north of Scotland - no roads for them to run on.)

Eynhallow from Mainland with Rousay behind: picture credit Tim Martin

Interesting as well that the Nelly's cargo from Lochmaddy was kelp. I've written about his before (here) but, briefly, kelp was a crystalline material produced by burning seaweed. It was used in the soap and glass making industries until the chemicals kelp contained became more cheaply available from other sources in the second quarter of the 19th century. The seaweed was gathered on the west coast of Scotland (and Orkney) and burnt in pits on the shore to produce kelp: North Uist was prime kelping territory. The industry boomed c.1775-1825 providing employment for islanders and huge wealth for the landowners along whose coasts the seaweed grew until its collapse gave rise to poverty leading to emigration in some of the grimmest episodes of the Highland Clearances while bankrupt landlords were forced to sell their estates. (The owner of North Uist, Lord Macdonald, built Armadale Castle on the profits of kelp then had to sell the island in the 1850s.)

Eynhallow Sound from the west. Eynhallow is the low lying land with no snow, Rousay with the snow. Picture credit: January Joe

And finally, what of the other three characters apart from the surviving seaman - Captain Brown and the two lady passengers? I have a mental image of someone like Ioan Gruffud or the Poldark bloke, all tricorn hat and reefer jacket. Did he die heroically trying to save the ladies? Or was he a scoundrel who's first instinct on realising the ship was lost was to rifle their luggage for valuables while he shouted at them to silence their screams of terror as the Nelly pounded itself to splinters on the rocks of Eynhallow? 

And who were these ladies and why were they going to Whitby? It's a reasonable guess they were "quality", perhaps the daughters of a tacksman (Scottish word for gentleman tenant farmer). And maybe they were actually going to London or Bath or somewhere for the season but Whitby was the nearest to there any ship from Lochmaddy was likely to be sailing to. The fact they're not named suggests the surviving seaman didn't know who they were but did he have the wit to suggest another letter be sent from Stromness to Lord Macdonald's chamberlain on North Uist informing of their demise? We shall never know but the speculation this briefest of notices in the Caledonian Mercury in 1779 provokes almost makes the subscription to the British Newspaper Archive worth it by itself!

The Loss of a Merchantman by Francis Hustwick. Picture credit: Ferens Art Gallery via ArtUK