AIRIDH MHAORAICH
- The Shieling of the Limpets

by P. K. Hinkson

When I first looked across the bay at Airidh Mhaoraich it was a roofless ruin; but it was the House of my Dreams. In due course I bought it and one acre, and builders from Oban came and transformed it into a good three-bedroomed wee housie.

Transport - well some would say that was difficult on account of its isolated, sea-bound position. But I had a boat, a pony and Shank's pony. The sitting-room had windows looking east, south and west, and there was always something to look at. This was especially true on boat days when travellers at that time disembarked from the steamer into the ferry boat and were then transported to the middle pier (then called the New Pier).

The fields around the house were populated with sheep and many birds and I had a pet seagull that came daily to be fed when I called it. Peat was for the cutting near at hand, and the tramp to the Meall was always rewarding. On clear days the view of all the other islands and rocks is wonderful, and on stormy days so spectacular. The summer days spent on the island lying among bluebells and gazing at the sky and sea are always remembered with joy; (watched by the Collachs in the village!). Fishing was another ploy, and large Iythe could be caught close to the Meall in the boat.

But as time passed it became more difficult, pulling up the boat and carrying gas cylinders from boat to house - for those were the days before electricity. So reluctantly I moved away at last and have never been back to the House of my Dreams.