LOBSTERING
by Hugh McKinnon
Lobster-fishing around the Coll coast has changed somewhat from the old days when at most only three boats went in for it. Today, as I write, there are ten, not all 'Collachs' and not forgetting those who go fishing for 'one for the pot'. One wonders where the line is drawn between one for the pot and one for someone else's pot!
I well remember as a young lad living at the East End of the island and listening to the 'old boys' discussing happenings of how they weathered strong winds and heavy seas with a sail and oar - not for them the luxury of an outboard or inboard motor, nor yet a twenty-four hour weather forecast. But they travelled far over the waters to get a good catch.
My father along with my maternal grandfather fished the north-west coast of Coll from Suilgorm to Benfoil. Some nights they moored at Sloc na' Stilerach and slept in a cave there. This went on for a period of time, until one evening in a thunderstorm, lightning struck at the cave and my grandfather, who was holding a frying pan, had the sleeve of his semmit (undershirt - Ed!) singed by the lightning. Needless to say that put an end to their troglodytic ideas!
It was the same crew, with a third person, while on passage from Tobermory to Cornaig Bay, ran into a severe storm. They were obliged to run with it, till they landed on Rhum where they got shelter and help. There they had to stay for several days waiting for the weather to improve. As there was no means of fast communication between the islands in those far-off days, anxiety at home was daily mounting as to their fate. People called at my paternal grandfather's house giving encouragement that the men would return safe and well. One lady who called told one of the men to go into the stackyard and turn a certain stone there, and if there were three beetles below it, the men were safe and well. Now whether it was coincidence or whatever, three beetles were there - and the men did return!
My paternal grandfather, who was over ninety years of age at the time, first spotted the skiff under sail and making for Cornaig Bay. News soon got around and everyone gathered at the bay to welcome the sailors home from the sea. My grandmother put her arm around her husband's neck, kissed him and announced it was 'God who saved you'. Grandfather, being a bit reluctant to give all the credit to the Almighty, said, 'Yes. But we also did a lot to help ourselves'!
Still after all that they soon went ahead with their lobstering and sold their catches to Mr MaCormick who, 1 believe, was running the Coll Stores and buying shell-fish from the locals. Some of their catches they sent to Billingsgate, to a firm by the name of Farrow and Carter. I remember lobsters being sold at ninepence (old money) irrespective of size. During the second world war they were controlled at five shillings per pound (twenty-five pence!) which was considered a very good price then. Today they are fetching £2.60 per pound.
A lot could be written about present day methods of fishing. One thing is for sure - lobsters are getting scarcer by the year. But who knows? Possibly 100 years from now a generation not yet born may well be fishing for lobsters among Coll’s wayward skerries.
