december-2011

BLEAKLY BEAUTIFUL
Barra might be located in the Outer Hebrides, a fi ve-hour ferry trip from the Scottish
mainland, but it’s worth making the journey for the gentler pace of life and stunning scenery
Visit Barra and you’ll
soon realise you’ve
landed in the middle of
nowhere. Unlike Skye and
Harris, the southern Hebridean
island doesn’t boast a whisky
distillery or a traditional
Scottish tweed manufacturers.
There’s no museum, no hip
restaurants and no shops. You
won’t fi nd any boutique hotels or
spas off ering sanctuary from the
rain and wind, either. In fact,
unless you’re a fan of the nerveshredding
fl ights in tiny
propeller planes or fi ve-hour
ferry trips across the Atlantic
you have to undertake to get
there, there’s no real reason to
visit Barra. Without the internet,
Barra would be cut off from the
modern world. It’s every double
soya latte-quaffi ng urbanite’s
worst nightmare.
Except, of course, for a vision
of nature at its rawest and most
spectacular. If you’re prepared to
sacrifi ce a few of the comforts of
modern living, you’ll be
rewarded with some spectacular
scenery. The rough sea has
sculpted the coast into beautiful
sandy beaches with steep cliff s
and tough vegetation, which is
able to withstand storms and
rain. Take one of the pathways
that snake across the island to its
most beautiful sights: that
breathtaking coastline, pools
full of water lilies, seals sunning
themselves on rocks, and sheep
grazing in pastures overlooking
the sea. You can go for long
Schwäne machen einen
Nachmittagsspaziergang
Swans taking an
afternoon stroll
strolls by the Atlantic, fi sh, surf,
or join one of the regular kayak
excursions. The island even has
a golf course (well, this is
Scotland), which is situated on
top of a particularly steep cliff
and describes itself as “the most
westerly golf course in the
United Kingdom”. On clear days,
you’ll encounter British golfers,
dressed for the part in checked
trousers and bobble hats, trying
to get a game in, in the stiff
breeze. The carefully manicured
lawns surrounding the nine
holes are fenced in to protect
them from the attentions of the
local sheep.
Then there are the islanders,
a gruff but friendly people,
blessed with the sort of quirks
that help ensure that you won’t
forget your visit in a hurry.
You’ ll fi nd all the essentials in
Castlebay, the largest town on
the island, including a small
hospital, a school, post offi ce,
and the local greengrocer’s only
competitor, a supermarket that
opened two years ago. There are
also a couple of pubs, which half
the island’s population descends
on in the evening. “Barra – that’s
1,100 alcoholics on a rock!” joke
the locals who frequent the
Castle Bar, as they order their
pints of beer or smokey single
malts, and say Sláinte! before
downing them. That’s Gaelic for
“cheers” and a word you’ll use
often during your stay. On a
good evening, an old accordion
S C O T L A N D
player drops by and belts out
romantic songs about Scotland,
the sea and lost love, accompanied
by a couple of locals. The audience
claps briefl y but enthusiastically
between songs or murmurs
approvingly, and sometimes
even sings along.
It’s defi nitely worth trying
to catch the sporadic
performances of the Vatersay
Boys, a famous folk group
named after Vatersay Island,
which is linked to Barra by a
causeway. The “Boys”, for whom
childhood is a now fairly distant
memory, whip up a storm
wherever they play, armed with
drums, guitars and bagpipes. In
2003, they drove to Seville in an
old bus to watch their football
GW—107