Coll Enterprises Past: Bulb Growing

Material kindly supplied by Duncan MacKinnon, Holly McGee, Jean Lindsay (Gibb) and lan Dougall

The idea for the commercial growing of flower bulbs on the sandy soils of the Hebrides first blossomed about 1952, and the first acre of bulbs was planted on Tiree three years later. The following year Mr John Kerr Elliot, who hailed from Dumfries and was then owner of Gallanach Farm, started a pilot scheme on his land. For the next few years enthusiasm for bulb-growing spread to several Hebridean islands - on Coll it was also tried at Breachacha and Grishipol farms.

Says Duncan MacKinnon, manager of Gallanach at the time, "Most of our bulbs came from Holland and we planted them around August and they started to flower in late February. They were nearly all daffodils that took three years to mature. The flowers had three days' life and then you took the head off so the strength went back into the bulb." Mr Elliot was apparently "the sort of man who'd try anything", and at first he seemed to be on to a winner. "We were getting as much as ten tons of bulbs to an acre and selling them at the highest rate of £600 per ton. One year we brought a landing barge on to Gallanach beach and loaded ten tons on to her. We never had more than fifteen acres under bulbs though, and it was hard work because the rest of the farm had to be kept going at the same time."

The busiest time was mid to late summer when the bulbs had to be lifted, cleaned, graded and stock not sold replanted. It was to help with this work that Coll started to receive its annual quota of "bulb girls" - who are yet remembered fondly by some locals! And the girls also have their fond memories, recalled here by Jean Lindsay and Holly McGee. Writes Jean:

"I can well remember the excitement of the 'side door' of the old Claymore being swung open - the noise of the swoosh of water, bells ringing and seeing the wee red ferry boat bobbing towards us. John Allan Cameron and Davey Fotheringham coming out to collect the Coll passengers. Originally there were about twelve of us Bulb girls, mostly students. We were taken up to the old school above the Village, by tractor and trailer. This was our home for the next four weeks and very adequate it was too. Chrissie and Hughie Mackinnon, had put sheets and blankets and other such luxuries out for us."

There was a great variety of "bulb girls" when Holly first went out in 1962, "from Big Jean and Mary, two ex-debs, to 2 med students from St. Andrews. Una, with long red hair who sang to the seals, and Ruthie, a plump black haired girl. In between were physio students from Edinburgh, my two cousins, Liz and Caroline Parse and myself. Caroline was the cook, and her one aim was to feed us as cheaply as possible to save Mr Elliot's money. We put on many pounds in weight, living on vast amounts of white Milanda bread, porridge, and black pudding and other fattening food; fruit was a great luxury. As we were only paid £5 a week and keep, I thought this frugality hardly justified. We worked on weekdays from 8-12 and 1-5, and on Saturdays from 8-12.

The day began around 7 a.m. and after a quick wash (1 bathroom/lavatory for 12 of us) and a hurried breakfast, we heard Neillie John arriving with tractor and trailer, and Storm, the sheepdog, on his knee. "Morning - heavyweights to the front" was the instruction as we clambered on to the old green trailer, sitting along each side.

Flat out we went, with the trailer swaying wildly, past Tan Kennedy Crocavachan, with Margaret waving to us as she got the cows in, over the cattle grid, by Annie Achamore, with fierce sheep dog racing along the fence, past the cattle on the road (mind the flying cowpats), turn right at Mary MacDonald Arnabost, past Neil and Grade at Cranaig, over the hill to the sight of the sea and Gallanach and the bulb field.

Duncan would be already at work, ploughing out a furrow. We tumbled out of the trailer and made our way to the line, sharing it between us. We could see the white roots of the bulbs in the sandy soil, and had to dig them out with our hands, put them into baskets, and tip these into wooden trays, which were collected by Neillie John and lain Burnside. We worked either bending down or squatting. When all the bulbs were picked up, Duncan would plough out another furrow, and we were kept busy. Every 10 rows or so it would be a "path", a blank row, and we would sit down with relief. The work was not heavy, but the monotony was great! Several times a day the road men would go by in Calum Burnside's lorry, and we would all stop and wave. That year we were annoyed by a corncrake, which croaked all day from the rocks at the edge of the field; bulbs were thrown from time to time to stop him. It was nearly always windy; we were soon burnt by wind and sun to a reddish brown."

Jean takes up the tale of work:

"Sometimes we had to sterilise the bulbs in a sort of boiler in the bulb shed. Also we graded them through a machine guaranteed to give you a headache and pinch your fingers. There was much merriment and laughter as well and many was the treat of a newly lifted Tattie (usually Sharpes Express or Golden Wonders) that I nicked from Mary Margaret's cooking pot."  ...

At lunchtime, writes Holly, "we all rushed down to the beach with sandwich tins and Mary Margaret's strong tea. Nearly everyone changed and went into the freezing Atlantic. When there were breakers, we were buffeted so much that we didn't feel the cold. Then another quick change, and a lovely picnic lunch of more white bread sandwiches.

Work started again at 1 p.m. and the afternoons were extremely long. The racing results at 4.30 on Mary's radio meant that the work was nearly over. Five o'clock, the drive home, at last the sight of the Old School over the hill, and tea - lots of it.

Then the best part of the day: the long evenings until midnight - peace and quiet, exploring the island or meeting Coll friends, sometimes a ceilidh, film or dance; all the social life that made the dull work worthwhile. . . But that is another story."

And Jean concludes:

"I was a Bulb girl for a number of years, and during all that time the hospitality and kindness we received from all the Collachs was amazing. . . Sunday lunch at Acha, Tea at Airidh mhaorich and Limetree, Drams with the Jardines, Piping at Arinthluic, fishing with Hughie Handy, endless laughs with NeilIy John and Robert Sturgeon and countless strupachs from Sorrisdale to Crossapol. The actual work was a very secondary factor in the luring back annually of the Parsons girls, Paddy, Molly and Malone, Jill, Veronica and Patricia, Mary and myself and many more. One was never really able to say thank you, and though many of the old friends are gone, it is nice to have the chance to do so now".

Unfortunately the bulb boom didn't last. The bulbs were decimated by diseases such as eelworm and 'fire'; pheasants, slugs and mice also took their toll and the rejuvenation of spent bulbs was longer than expected. What with these troubles and the increasing difficulty of finding markets allied to a decreasing profit margin, growers generally became discouraged. Ken Elliot, the main producer on Coll, left the scheme and sold Gallanach in 1964 having lost money on it, and now the occasional bunches of daffodils blooming in an unexpectedly remote place acts as a reminder of the days when the bulb girls laboured in the hot sun, swam in the cold sea and danced the summer nights away.