In 1977, Henk and Arend Van der Sluis came to visit Erraid for the first time. Expecting it to be cold, grey and dismal, they were pleasantly surprised by a sunny day, with the sea clear and blue. They fell in love with the island immediately. As Mr. and Mrs. Cowell showed them around, they made a film of the scenery.
The brothers returned in August — on another spectacular day — and were treated to a picnic on 'Easter Island' (Eilean Ghòmhain) with the Cowells. Later, back on Erraid itself, an English tea was served in the 'summer house', a wooden structure with a picture window overlooking Mull, built on a rise just to the west of the street houses. At the tea they met Hugh and Bella Cameron, Michael Dawson-Bowman and Bill and Anne Murray. The islands were purchased.
The young Van der Sluis children were delighted by the island. On arrival, they walked the perimeter walls around the settlement. There were trips to the observatory and Seal Bay. The first time they went out for a walk they got lost, but climbed on some rocks, and spotted the tops of the houses. The children had complete freedom, apart from wearing a life jacket on the pier and quickly learned their own way round the island. Their connection to the natural world, fulfilled part of the reason the Van der Sluis had made the purchase. The first year they visited, for example, there was a water shortage and the children carried cans around to set under leaks in the gutters.
The Van der Sluis' did not want to continue the practice of leaving the buildings empty for most of the year. They wanted a way to combine permanent occupation with their own vacation needs.
Some friends had visited the Findhorn Foundation, an ecumenical spiritual community in the north east of Scotland (see Appendix 6). They suggested that the Foundation might be ideal custodians for Erraid. In December, 1977, Henk Van der Sluis and his wife, Marianne, went to visit the Foundation. They were impressed with the people there and the care given to the community's land and infrastructure.
After only one night at Findhorn, Henk and Marianne drove over to Erraid with Peter Caddy, one of the Foundation's founders. They spent a night on the island. Next day, on the return trip, a contractual agreement was worked out in the car. Findhorn Foundation members would live in and maintain the buildings for eleven months of the year, leaving the island to the extended van der Sluis family and their friends for four weeks in the summer. Members would give the houses a thorough clean up before the arrival of the Dutch. Additionally, two cottages, 3 and 4, were designated as 'Dutch houses', to be available to the Van der Sluis' at any time on short notice. The Findhorn Community would provide most of the labour and materials for maintenance. The new owners would cover capital expenditure. This contract has been renewed every five years, without formal amendment, although the Erraid community has developed a considerable degree of independence from the Foundation, looking after its own finances, and the Dutch often only come for three weeks in the summer.
The Findhorn Foundation was in a period of expansion in 1977-8, interested in working with a wider area of land than was then possessed. Erraid could provide that. Also, there was an existing relationship between Findhorn and Iona, as a retreat house there had just been donated to the Foundation. A Findhorn community on Erraid might strengthen the spiritual connection between Findhorn, Iona and Glastonbury, regarded as deeply significant. A weekly bus service between the Findhorn Foundation and Iona/Erraid would become viable. The unique spiritual ambience of Erraid itself really began to be understood as people lived there.
Over the years, the Erraid community of the Findhorn Foundation has fulfilled all the hopes of the Dutch for the maintenance of the island as well as introducing many visitors to its beauty and atmosphere. The Van der Sluis family have found a steadily improving environment for their vacations.
It was in February, 1978, that Jonathan Caddy, accompanied by Angus Marland, and Joanna Cook, made their damp arrival. They were soon joined by an Australian, Holgar Welz to form the nucleus of a first resident group. Holgar's wife, Maggie, came about six months later. They envisioned a community modelled on the Findhorn Foundation, spiritually based, with various departments led by a 'focalizer' to the run different areas of responsibility — the garden, maintenance, boats, care of the houses, and the communal kitchen, with 'attunements' of all the members to take policy decisions. A close connection with nature, working with the land and animals, was important; over time, cows, goats, and chickens were purchased. The new settlement would live simply with what was available, while slowly building a lifestyle that was, as far as possible, sustainable economically and environmentally.
A Findhorn Foundation publication of the time states:
"Throughout the first year on Erraid the development of a deeper understanding of what it means to live in harmony with nature, to co-create in the fullest possible way with the life of the island so that what is grown will be something deeply rooted in its quality and life, will be the essential experience of the group there.
"We see the development of the community on Erraid as a wonderful step forward for Findhorn; not only does it take us a step nearer the farm, and a deeper understanding of ecology it also gives us the practical opportunity to develop a new community from 'scratch' – an exciting process full of the basic fundamental lessons of living together."
The Cowell's last caretaker had left some vegetables for the group in the garden that still bears his name, Vic's, but it was a priority to develop the gardens for production again. A group of volunteers from Findhorn helped clear and plant vegetable beds.
The group lived in houses one and two at the east end of the street. Basic furniture was still there from the Cowells time and Ella Horsey's old rayburn in number two provided their hot water.
"Once we started heating the houses, the condensation continued for about a year, with water coming in through the walls because the lathe and plaster had soaked up so much...." (Jonathan Caddy)
Hot water was prized. It was the practice to carry two large buckets of hot water from the rayburn in number two to the bath tub in number one. One and a half buckets were for washing — people first, clothes next. The last half bucket of tepid water rinsed people and clothes alike.
Guests visited the group from the very beginning, staying for a week or more in the same spartan conditions and helping with a variety of tasks.
"The guests were mostly Foundation members or had done Experience Week. They did whatever we did while they were there; gardening, fixing the houses, whatever needed to be done. They were busy times and everyone was in close contact with everybody else. We were a tight knit little community." (Angus Marland)
The previous island residents had used chemical toilets. The new group built an earth closet in Ella's Garden from four doors and roofed it, giving the makeshift facility a view toward Ben Mor, Mull's highest mountain. When occupied, the door was always open; if closed, the toilet was available!
At first, the communal kitchen was in number one, with stores of basic dried foods to supplement garden vegetables. Later, the former radio room at the west end of the street was remodelled into the kitchen still used today. Supplies arrived on the weekly bus from Findhorn.
The group began to do some fishing to enhance their diet. Starting with a rowboat with a 5 hp. Seagull engine, they managed to fish and set lobster pots around the shores of Erraid, a practice that continued for several years on and off.
The first four members of the 'Erraid Community', began a rota for cooking and housework each day, nicknaming the one responsible 'Mrs. P'. In this way they developed their domestic skills, sometimes from a rather low level:
"I was Mrs. P, and everyone else was miles away. We had some fairly revolting nettle soup from the day before. There wasn't much, but Hugh (Cameron) was there, so I had to invite him to lunch and dilute the soup. Then Munion (another local character) turned up and I had to dilute it even more. Bella (Hugh's wife) had been serving us wonderful meals, and all I could do was give (them) the most revolting lunch of their lives." (Angus Marland)
The relationship between the new community and the neighbours was supportive from the beginning. Erraid residents helped with large tasks: sheep gathering, sheering and dipping, as well as stripping off oats and bringing in hay. They worked particularly closely with Hugh Cameron, with a reward of meals up at the Knockvologan croft, and with Jimmy and Christine Campbell of Fidden farm. Mari Hollander, who arrived from Findhorn in 1979 with her husband, Loren Stewart, and three month old daughter, recalls that people were open and welcoming; but local customs differed from their 'new age' approach.
"We would go up to Hugh and Bella's, and I would sit with the men and be served by Bella and (daughter) Rachel. It was awkward, even though I knew it was the right thing. In some ways it was easier to just send the boys and not be the odd one out."
That first summer, the arrival of the Van der Sluis family came as a shock to the fledgling community, some of whom had agreed to stay to tend animals and gardens. The Dutch descended on the Street like a whirlwind, overwhelming the members. They were intent on remodelling the interior of the houses and went through ripping plywood off fireplaces and wallpaper off walls (Marianne van der Sluis). As the years went by, the Dutch and the community developed better communication and understanding of how to share island space. The relationship has been cordial ever since, symbolised by a joint party in August to which all the neighbours are invited
One of the first major projects undertaken together was to put in a reservoir. Arend and Henk, together with Andy Gibson and Nigel Burgess, living at the Croft at the time, inspected the area above the houses and selected a likely spot where a burn ran from the hill. Andy and Nigel dug out and built the reservoir, bringing a JCB over to the island. It took a whole year for sediment to form a minimal seal at the bottom, finally the system began to function as intended; piped run off has supplied water to the houses ever since. In 1992, a major community project emptied the reservoir, dug out a great deal of sludge and put in a liner.
Community members learned practical life skills such as boating and tending animals, and developed the personal skills to get on in such an intimate group. It was a major challenge for such strong individuals to come together in the project.
"Eventually we got a rhythm that worked, that had a real benefit. Gradually we were able to bring that part of our lives into a harmonious whole. On the inner side of things that was the learning experience." (Angus Marland)
"I had a super time on Erraid. What other time in your life do you really get to do the things that you want to do? And you'd have to really want to do it. We got an allowance of £8, enough to buy … essentials; chocolate, bacon, an occasional bottle of whiskey. … It certainly wasn't for the money. You were doing something because you felt it was important, to help this community develop." (Jonathan Caddy)
Eileen Caddy, another of the founders of the Findhorn Foundation, visited regularly in these early years. Her channelling indicated there should be 'nine smooth stones' on the island; in other words, nine members. Of them, six were likely to be parents, in all equivalent to six full-time workers. Rarely in the Erraid community's history have these 'nine stones' been present, however.
Nowadays, people join the community at Erraid for an indeterminate period, usually from two to four years, occasionally longer, and then move on elsewhere, so there is a fairly constant turnover in the membership group, some preparing to leave as others enter. As the membership changes, differences in style emerge. One group may concentrate on the gardens. At a different time, house improvements are the focus. One group may have strong local relations because of children at the local school in Bunessan village; another may try to win prizes at the vegetable show there.
After the first year, there was still much to be done. Mari Hollander, her husband, Lauren, and their small child lived in the centre bedroom of number six. They slowly fixed up the rest of the house; stripping wallpaper, replastering, painting, putting in a basic kitchen and shower. Although no. 2's rayburn was still the only source of hot water, a sauna, installed in number five, added to hygiene. The sauna space was also used to dry children's nappies for three families.
The priority activity was the improvement of facilities. By the following winter, wood stoves were in all the houses, and each had a shower or a bath. Water supply was still a problem, and lead contamination from the original guttering made water from the house tanks unusable. As a result, the older cottages, Stevensons and Mother's Pride, at the top of the back gardens were re-roofed, as well as part of the boat shed, and some of the lead guttering and house tanks were replaced.
The presence of five children on the island added a new dimension to the group as well as some challenges, as parents tried to juggle childcare and group participation.
"I've hardly seen another parent/child situation better held than what we had on Erraid in those days. There were 3 or 4 singles who loved our kids and interacted with them happily, and 2, 3 or 4 families with kids that supported each other. We could all be ourselves. I could do the books in the evening or make cheese or milk the cow or whatever I needed to do that was part of community life, and I could do it in a way that really suited my children. It wasn't… a time-bound thing. The community would know if you weren't so well and they would just volunteer to take over a cooking shift or something. The knowledge of each other and where you were was really high." (Mari Hollander)
Everyone participated in heavy work such as lifting boats and shifting bales of hay.
"I was strong! But I realise that most of us were under 35, and then the next group was a little older, and then later it seemed like everyone was over 45. That's when the wood splitter, bigger tractor and plough came along. They just couldn't do it all." (Mari Hollander)
"I didn't want a mechanical splitter, I wanted to do it by hand. I think that because my wife disappeared after some months of living there, it left me with emotions to deal with, and that was a good way." (Richard Mark Coates)
When I arrived 14 year later, I found myself learning rough carpentry building a greenhouse, and metal work creating a trailer for our versatile rotivator, Henry, one of the new machines the early members scorned.
As a conscious way of linking with tradition, the community also revived the old practice of digging and drying peat, from a bed to the west of the quarry, and used it to heat the new wood stoves. But peat preparation is very labour intensive and time consuming. It was not long before Mull's pine logs were piled up to dry across at the Fidden jetty and chain saws replaced peat cutters. The tractor hauled loads of logs over at low tide and a cutting space was established below the cottage, near the pier.
Slowly, craft work also began to develop. Loren Stewart installed a candle studio in Stevensons. Janet Banks took over the candle work, and also introduced the regular production of stained glass pieces.
"Holgar had taught himself stained glass work, and it would take him all day to make one piece, one Celtic cross. Then Janet turned up and she could make 8 in a day. She knew what she was doing." (Richard Mark Coates)
"I came to help start up the stained glass and … the candles … and it's just grown from there. It was seen as a means of generating an income during the winter months, and it feels a very important part of the life of the island now. It is something that people who visit us love to join in with. That's something about getting back to our roots, I think. A simple way of life, working with our hands, certainly with the candles being inspired by the colours. I love working with the colours, which are reflected outside in the wonderful surroundings… changing colours." (Janet Banks, 1988)
Both the candles and the stained glass was sold to guests, locally, and over at Findhorn. When Janet left the island, the stained glass work did not continue, but candle making remains the community's main craft.
The connection between the Findhorn Foundation and the Erraid community was still very strong. Most of the people living on Erraid had a background at the Foundation which linked them to others. The finances were also managed together, with Erraid being simply another department of the Foundation. The weekly bus run transported people, food and crafts. The Foundation Core Group (overall management and visioning group) spent a week there every year, as well as on Iona. The time on Erraid emphasised working together, while that on Iona was a meditative experience. Gradually, the Erraid Community became more independent from the Foundation, although practical links, spiritual practices and final control are still maintained, the latter due to the contract with the Dutch.
Members take on responsibility for some aspect of community life, according to need and their own predilections. They have one of the cottages as theirs for their time as members. They are expected not only to work, but to look after guests, both in work experience and in their home, every week. Two bedrooms in each house are for the guests, unless the resident members are a couple with children, when only one bedroom is available. This means that they have to develop not only the skills necessary to their area of work, but also 'people skills', valued very highly at Findhorn, how to get on with the varied guests who visit — 'love who you are with' (Peter Caddy). This can be more of a challenge than the physical work, although some practice is gained in the long term guest period. But at least a minimal period in the Findhorn Foundation is highly recommended for members:
"If people want to stay here for longer than a few weeks and they haven't been to the Foundation, we always recommend that they go and do the Experience Week at least, because it gives them a more in depth introduction to some of the rituals that we have." (Mick Smith, 1988)
Eventually all members leave the island. When, is occasionally a challenge. Life is hard, but there is a certain security. Without much money, finding work in the 'cold, hard' world outside can be off-putting. Over the years at Erraid a few people have experienced 'leaving challenges'. Typically, such people are well established and have the authority of experience in the community. Relations with the rest of the group deteriorate and eventually a crisis develops; glimpses of 'hell alley' have returned a couple of times.
"It should always be win/win. You should be getting enough out of it to give to it. You should give enough to feel in balance. That holds for a while and then something shifts." (Mari Hollander)
Several ex-members have settled in the local area of Fionnphort, others are still on Mull. The West Highland lifestyle itself calls many ex-Erradians…
The community started with a tiny boat, Ella, named after Ella Horsey. Later, a series of boats helped people across; Reliance, and the winter boat, Trader, a flat bottomed metal boat, both with powerful outboard engines, stand out among them.
In the summer, the boats can usually stay by the pier, but in winter the bigger ones have to be hauled up a ramp to be safe from swamping by the waves. For many years this was done across greased logs with a rusty old winch, the hardest physical job on Erraid. Now a modern slipway with an electric motor to haul the boats has been built, saving many back strains.
Learning how to boat across the narrow straight between the Erraid pier and the Fidden jetty has been a major demand on people who join the community, few of whom have had boating experience. Some days the crossing is like a mill pond and can easily even be rowed. On others, choppy storm seas roll in from the south west across the relatively shallow sand of the bay and it cannot be attempted at all. Most of the time conditions are somewhere in between and demand at least some degree of judgement and competence from the boat person. Usually, new boat people need a thorough training before taking guests across. Life jackets for all are essential.
"I wasn't experienced with boats when I first went. I was asked to help with the (fishing) net, but I didn't have a clue what was going on. It was rough; exciting enough just being in the boat. We were bringing the net in: taking poles out, collapsing it, pulling the net into the boat. There's a bag net at the end which the salmon are supposed to be caught in, but it was full of jellyfish. The boat was bouncing around, and I was wondering if it would be over soon. I was terrified, partly because I had no idea if this was normal or how long it would take. Eventually Will cut a hole in the net to let out the jellyfish." (Howard Emerson)
Although in the first few years, salmon nets or lobster creels were set on many days in the summer, fishing was a bonus rather than a basic activity for the community:
"One year we had 120 full size salmon in the freezer. We also had seals fishing the nets, so you'd find half a salmon. Holgar sat out for days at a time with a gun he borrowed to try to get the seal, which he never did." (Richard Mark Coates)
Nowadays, shooting seals would not only be illegal, but against the ethic of the community, which values its seal colony, in 'Seal Bay' on the west side of the island, highly. However, the seals won the battle for the salmon, and that fishing no longer takes place. As for lobsters, they have been fished (by professional fishermen) almost to extinction. Sometimes the Dutch set the creels for fun on their vacation, but catches are no longer really worth while, except occasionally for a laugh.
"One guest, while lobster creeling, holding the boat off the rocks, stepped barefoot into the fishbox in the bow of the boat. A big lobster took hold of his toe, and he jumped all over the boat." (Henk Van Der Sluis)
As the numbers of community members so often fell below the magic nine, there was rarely time for fishing of any kind and it has largely been discontinued.
When membership is low, there is often only one boat person. When I was there we had 4, but only the 'focalizer' did the more difficult runs. At night in the winter, with fairly heavy seas, every crossing is an adventure. The Fidden jetty has to be located with torches. On the way back, special lights lined up on the boat house indicate the way, but if there is a good sea on you have to head into it, so a direct approach can't be made and it is difficult to get a bearing on the lights. At really high tides, the Fidden jetty is not usable, and there is a difficult way to the shore further up, rock lined. Small wonder that the Erraid community does not participate in all the winter activities on the Ross of Mull. In December, there is only just enough light to bring the children back from school. All of them have to brave cold and salt spray just to get to and from the school bus.
The short crossing from Erraid to Fidden claimed lives in the earlier period of the island's history. Even recently there have been dramas…
"On one occasion, we took a big boat across, five of us, all big men. We were halfway across and the engine cut out. It was stormy... and all the womenfolk and kids had come down to the pier because they knew it was dangerous. John Lowe couldn't get the engine started. He said, 'Get down! Get out of the wind'. We got the oars out, but one of them broke. There we were, just being blown out to sea. It was the old Seagull engine. John finally got it going. Then it cut out again. Got it going again… We finally got there, but we were all dripping with sweat. That was when we wrote to the Dutch that we had to get some decent engines." (Richard Mark Coates)
More recently, when I was on the island, a couple with two young children were over on Mull for a school meeting. The husband was a boatman, but without very much experience. They took the metal winter boat, Trader. By the time they were ready to return a severe gale had blown up. Instead of using the hospitality of Jimmy and Christine Campbell at Fidden Farm, which was always willingly given, they decided to cross. They got away from the jetty, but one of the mooring lines had not been secured. As they pulled out, the howling wind tore at the flat bottomed boat and the line fouled the engine, which stalled. In seconds, the boat was swept onto the rocks below the jetty and holed. In what was almost a miracle, the couple were able to keep their footing in the shoulder deep, icy water and get the children back to the shore. The boat and the new motor were a write off.
These incidents are quite exceptional, however. In modest, even moderate, seas, it is a real pleasure to use the boats.
"I still think being the Erraid boatman is the best job of any in the Findhorn Foundation. You've got the boats to play with, beautiful waters to be in, a purpose for being there, getting wet. I absolutely loved it. It's the strongest relationship I've ever had with the elements, doing that job. The tides, the winds, I got very deeply into all that awareness." (Howard Emerson — who had been so frightened at the beginning.)
On very calm days in the summer, there is nothing like an excursion in the big boat around the back of the island for a picnic at Traigh Ghael, the wonderful bay at Tireragan on the south of the Ross of Mull. Even then, you have to know the way through the reefs.
But in summer the gardens are very productive, in spite of the short season, growing a whole range of organic vegetables for the community. Carefully stored, some vegetables last till the next season. A few groups, with experienced, energetic gardeners and adequate membership have managed to keep all the gardens in production. The use of tractors and a rotivator make it possible. But for much of the time, at least a couple of the gardens are uncultivated. Sometimes the bus from Findhorn has had to bring in extra sacks of carrots or cabbage.
The soil in the front gardens was not original to the island. In the time of lighthouse building, a dark, light loam was imported from Ireland, reputedly as ballast in ships sending stone out from the quarry. This may have contributed to the gardens' productivity, although Christine Gibson, down at the croft, grew vegetables just as good on local soil. The main 'magic' ingredients for the gardens are, however, cow dung from the animals, and, even more importantly, seaweed, which washes up in great quantities down near the croft after storms. Seaweed contains all the micro nutrients that plants need and a major annual task is loading the tractor and trailer with seaweed and bringing them up the rough track to the gardens. Sometimes 50 or more loads cover the soil. It is backbreaking, though if the front loader on the tractor is in commission, the work goes much quicker. Collecting seaweed is neglected at the communities' peril, as the gardens overlay a raised stone beach and the high rainfall constantly leaches nutrients down through the topsoil to dissipate among the stones below.
When an organic gardening society, ROMEOG, (Ross of Mull Organic Gardeners) started, the Erraid gardeners instantly joined, pooling knowledge and experience of the difficult conditions gardeners have in the area. Some influence comes from the Findhorn Foundation, famous for its connection with the energies of plants, but, though most gardeners develop a strong rapport with the gardens, things tend to be very practical on Erraid.
The constant change over of members is a particular challenge. Garden journals are not always read or maintained, and old lessons often have to be relearned as a new gardener starts with ideas disproved by previous practice. As long as the seaweed comes in, though, the tangy taste of the community's vegetables, however, is hard to beat.
"into the whole animal diversity thing. We had goats, cows, sheep. We were going to do everything." (Mari Hollander)
The goats were milked as well as the cows, but they were rather a lot of trouble for little return, tending to climb over both fences and houses. They were eventually sold to a farmer on Mull.
Katie Lloyd milked the cows for a year.
"It was such an edge for me. I had a goldfish as a child, but I wasn't an animal person. It was one of those moments. Things were changing around and I was sitting in the kitchen with Gwen and I suddenly said, 'Well, maybe I should do milking.' She said, 'Well, maybe you should. I'll teach you next week.' And so I did. It was needed in the community .... It was really an enriching experience. To be in the presence of a big animal like a cow is very powerful."
Roger Thorner worked with them for 7 years:
"It was a great learning. I'd worked around animals before I came, but never directly. To be almost thrust into a position of responsibility with the animals grounded me … It's a commitment 365 days of the year. It slowed me down, brought me into attunement with the circle of the seasons, the circle of life. It's a … gift to be involved with the animals in a place such as this… there aren't many people in this country who still hand-milk cows."
The cows are all named, and a familiar presence, especially in the winter, when one might encounter them in a back garden on a night trip to the toilet! They are regularly TB and brucellosis tested, and their milk gives members and guests the opportunity to taste a drink that very few have previously experienced, as it is neither pasteurised, nor homogenised, a drink for the Gods! Personally, while adoring their milk, I avoided milking them. Hens were smaller and could be used to clear couch grass in the gardens, as well as giving particularly tasty eggs, since they also had an appetite for seaweed.
Sheep are important in a different way. The community has a few special breed sheep, which largely look after themselves. But everyone turns out 6 times a year for 'roundup', when the island's black face sheep, owned by the Dutch, are attended to by the local shepherd, for many years one of the Cameron family from Knockvologan. Members and guests are supposed to fan out round the whole island to bring the sheep to the fold near the boat sheds. The outermost members have to run the entire periphery, a demanding task, only for the fittest. Theoretically, each participant should be in sight of the next all the time and the inward most person has to move very little. In practice, a certain chaos often lends a hand, and there is an air of confusion, barking dogs running this way and that. The sheep do their best to add to it, hiding in gullies or on inaccessible tidal islets at the coast. Eventually, more or less all are corralled, a good lunch is had by all, and the shepherd carries on with the more specialised work of drenching, etc. Guests often particularly like this experience…
People sometimes still get such experiences, usually out on the hills or beaches. But for most, the relationship with nature is very practical. One of the most noticeable changes has been the establishment of a small woodland to the west of the street in an area somewhat protected by a ring of hills. Given the extreme wind stress for trees on Erraid, the project had to be carefully planned. Bryce Reynard, forester at Pennyghael at the time, described its origins:
"The planting was done in the spring of 1979. The site was originally chosen to give shelter from south westerly winds by placing it in the lee of the granite quarry and near sea level but within sight of the 'village', probably one of the most sheltered and fertile sites on the island.
"Prior to planting the area was fenced with rabbit netting to keep rabbits and stock out. The bottom apron of the netting was turned out and turved over to stop rabbits burrowing in. Drains were cut by hand and the resultant turves spread to give a raised, warm, planting position with initial weed suppression and a 'humus sandwich' rooting layer.
"Sitka spruce was planted on the grass and rushy flushes; lodgepole pine on the heather and larch in bracken areas. Some native broad leaves such as rowan and willow were planted near the gate."
With all this care, the trees took, and gradually, if slowly, grew, those at the western edge and near the sea being more stunted. Occasionally animals have got in, and there have been pine caterpillar infestations, probably deriving from the large plantations on the eastern side of Mull, but after the first 15 years some thinning could be done in the centre, and more native trees planted. The resulting wood, though small, has a magical feel and one could certainly imagine elemental beings popping their heads around the trees.
Between the street and the croft a field has been fenced off for the cattle. Time and labour allowing, this is occasionally seaweeded to improve the pasture. Above it is a fenced area. The site is more exposed that that of the woodland and the soil is poorer, though in earlier times it was cultivated. In March 1989, a group of volunteers helped to erect a kilometre of fencing around it.
A mixture of native trees and pines was planted, but more randomly and at lower density than in the woodland. The results have not been as good, either. For a while, a gate blew open, unnoticed, and the sheep grazed most trees down. The winds howling over the hill kept everything back. But the fence is still sound, and with the gate properly shut, some of the trees are making a little progress. Most of the remnant areas of native forest on the Ross of Mull are dwarf variants, clinging like a thin skin to the hills. No doubt in the fullness of time the area will develop in a similar fashion — as long as no gates blow open again.
On the very rough west side of the island, another fence has attempted to keep the sheep from the land, to allow natural regeneration. This land has very poor soil and is extremely wind-swept. The sheep seem to regard the fence as a challenge, and exploit every rock slope and corner to get over, never remembering how to leave again. Sadly, little regeneration has taken place, though sometimes clumps of wild primroses can be found in the spring.
More ambitious schemes have been mooted — to put the whole of the eastern side of the island into regeneration, for example. It would, however, require large scale fencing, just the thing the Dutch bought Erraid to get away from, so it is unlikely to happen. Another idea is to remove the sheep and replace them with the Highland cattle which Erraid supported for many centuries. Such cattle are much less damaging to plant diversity than sheep. This substitution has had remarkable results on one of the local farms on Mull. At the time of writing, it remains 'just an idea' for Erraid.
"It's a piece of history that belongs to the island. We felt it was part of Erraid, an essential part to the Lighthouse community… It's a mark for ships as well. It's on many maps because it has … been there (so long)." (Hanke Van der Sluis)
The metal structure had not aged as well as the granite houses.
"It was rusting, about to be blown away. We looked into restoring it, and then decided to replace it."
In 1996, an accurate replica of the original lookout, built in a Dutch workshop at considerable expense, was reassembled on the Erraid pier from numbered pieces. It was lifted into place by a helicopter, and aligned exactly as the original had been, with the observatory windows facing Dubh Artach and Skerryvore. Community members supervised the installation.
An average of about 300 to 400 guests visit the community annually, from many countries. Each stays for a week or more, so that thousands of people have had a taste of life on Erraid in the past twenty five years. The island is, therefore, one of Mull's main visitor attractions, although it does not feature in the tourist brochures. Erraid and its community provide an opportunity to experience an unique way of life and the benefits of close contact with nature. Many have found it a healing and transformative time. A smaller number stay on for a while, or return, to renew the connections they have made.
Part of their experience is to join in with the hard work of the members on the island in tasks much more basic and practical than most are used to in their normal daily lives. People make jokes about 'paying to work at Findhorn', but it is the spirit in which the work is done that makes it so worthwhile.
In the beginning the guests spent a lot of time getting the houses fixed up. The conditions were rough.
"Lumpy mattresses, smelly blankets, damp rooms. Only a certain type of guest would cherish it. Others didn't care for it so much, so there weren't so many in those first few years. The people who loved it, loved it." (Mari Hollander)
A guest at Erraid becomes a part of the community for the time they are there. They live in members' houses, join in the meditations, eat together in the dining room.
On Saturday, arriving guests, having braved the boats or sometimes the walk over the sands, have a cup of tea and are shown to their room in one of the houses to unpack. All the houses now have at least a degree of central heating, a kitchenette, comfortable lounge shared with the member, drinkable water and a bath or shower.
After lunch, they are shown over the community. On Sunday morning there is an introductory meditation in the sanctuary, then, rain or shine, a walk over the island. This is, at the very least, to indicate its boundaries. In the early days, a guest walked off Erraid without realising and lost himself on Mull!
On Monday morning and for the rest of the week, there is a voluntary 8.30 meditation; later guests and members come together for an 'attunement', holding hands on a circle of cushions in the 'lounge' in no. 8 cottage — combined TV room, children's play area and meeting room. After a 'moment of silence', people share how they are feeling, and then members indicate what work they are doing that day and how many guests they would like to do it with them. The guests choose from what is on offer. Although some of the work is hard, and all of it physical to some degree, there are tea breaks and no-one is pressured to do more than they comfortably can. At the time of writing there is spiritual singing in the Sanctuary before supper for those who like it. There used to be a midday meditation instead. Wednesday is taken up by an excursion to Iona. Tuesday and Friday evenings are put aside for get-togethers in the lounge.
On Saturday there is a leaving meditation and, as the bus from Findhorn arrives, everyone usually gathers on the pier to say goodbye. With minor variations this is the rhythm of the week. In summer, there may be evening swimming for the brave at 'Balfour Bay'. One Russian guest jumped in off the pier in November and found the water 'lovely'.
The guests bring variety to the island.
"For me, being a sociable person, it was good. It kept us refreshed. They brought a lot of enthusiasm. We taught them things, they taught us things. It was a great exchange. It was also good to have times when there weren't guests, when we could meet together as just ourselves." (Katie Lloyd)
"If it wasn't for the guests I never would have stayed there. I like people. I wouldn't have wanted to be there with the same six or twelve people all the time." (Richard Mark Coates)
Many of these visitors to Erraid leave with a very satisfying, or even profound, experience, as entries in the guest book indicate:
"I know a place … that is simple and sane, yet not perfect, and this is what makes it real, for nothing is held high as absolute truth, save the love of the land and the cycles of the sea, pulled by a clear moon, opening and closing a bridge to the world, just as my self withdraws from the outside world to understand it better, then opens itself with a greater love, to embrace the world and be it.
"I know a place where I am at ease, and inside there is calm, and a knowledge that everything will unfold perfectly. And the universe sits in the core of this place, and radiates out into the world, and I with it, wherever I go to spread the laughter and light, the spark of life that I have found at a place called Erraid." (Alex,1987, from the guest book)
"When we started paying our bills straight away, it made a big difference in the attitude."
Roger Thorner experienced another aspect of connection to area residents.
"The ticket into it for me has been the livestock. That has been important for the Erraid Community being accepted into the local community. It cuts across all differences …, a common denominator. We can chat about the sheep, natter about the cows. I've been welcomed into local households very readily and treated as a friend."
Erraid's young children have been perhaps the greatest bridge to the Ross. Over the years, from the age of 5 they have climbed in lifejackets, shivering in winter, down the pier ladders into small, rocking boats, to be ferried across for the boggy half-mile walk over the machair to Fidden farm — where the bus picks them up for the 9 mile journey to Bunessan primary school. And back again later in the afternoon. Children connect, parents meet, school functions bring people together, friendships form, in a perfectly natural way. When I visited in September, 2004, the headmaster and his wife were sharing an evening meal with us in the dining room.
Guests and members alike bring custom to the local shop, restaurant and pub. Members of the Erraid community work hard, as do local people, and do not put on airs. There is a good basis for mutual respect.
However, in the first quarter century of the community's life on Erraid, the two most important neighbours have been those at Fidden Farm and at Knockvologan, the Cambells and the Camerons, respectively.
"It's so nice when you're coming back from Fionnphort, seeing all these lights on the island at night. There were times when they were dark." (Bella Cameron)
In fact, without their support, life on Erraid would have been much harder. So many times the Camerons at Knockvologan, and the Campbells at Fidden have helped practically or with advice about the animals. How do you deal with mastitis in a cow's udder? What happens when a sheep falls from a rock ledge? Who shoots the mink, caught in cage traps, that sometimes plague the island, decimating the sea birds? Who is there for a chat when you return from Oban, cold and tired, and there's no chance of a boat to the island for an hour? And so much more. Helping with hay making and sheep roundups, the annual party, are a tiny recompense for such openness of heart and friendly concern for the small dramas of Erraid community life.
It is in the island's structure that its spiritual intensity resides. The granite cliffs and shattered boulders; the burns and bogs; the shell sand beach at 'Balfour Bay'; the hidden cave far out on the west side; the rock face 'door' in the crags to the south; together with the evidence of many centuries of human hard work to eke the means of life from the soil; the ever-present sea and wind in all their moods — Erraid encapsulates the magic of the whole West Highlands itself. In more recent times, Robert Louis Stevenson was enraptured, Ella Horsey captured by and Christine Gibson surrendered to, the spirit of the island.
"… You have also felt the impact of spiritual force when you have been about your daily business. The beauty of the sea and sky, of bird and flower, have served to remind you of the Spiritual World above and around you. You have recognised that, and have gone on your way cheered and ready to face fresh difficulties, and, on the whole, you have maintained a fair balance between the pull of the two worlds." (Ella Horsey, p. 29)
Many residents and guests experience a special ' magic of Erraid' in their time on the island. Through the simple physical work and fresh air, urban visitors may find a new dimension to their identity. Through the daily (voluntary) practice of meditation and more recently, sacred singing, the peace and simplicity of the island are made conscious. This peace has little to do with day to day variations in the weather, which is very often windy and wet, and sometimes wild indeed. But the main emphasis of the spiritual life of the community is in the practice of daily physical work as engagement separated from monetary return, as at the parent Findhorn Foundation itself. 'Love what you do…', Peter Caddy put it.
"The spiritual life of the community was quiet. We had sanctuary morning and noon, and attunements. The spiritual life of most people parenting babies is quite modest, but people had their individual practices. There were a lot of colourful spiritual paths to choose from in those days, but we were mostly into quiet time and practice. Those who came and stayed were those to whom a little bit of quiet time and a lot of hard work appealed. Our attitude was, 'We don't talk about it, we do it.'" (Mari Hollander)
As with its earlier inhabitants over the centuries, the main spiritual practices on Erraid are in working the land, with its animals, wandering its hills and glens. Meditation and attunement only make this spiritual dimension of the island more apparent. A consciously caring community enhances the experience. Nothing is gained from Erraid by huddling away in the houses and trying to ignore the weather, complaining about the outside toilets! If you embrace all the island has to offer, it will embrace you. I fell in love with Erraid in 1983, when I first visited; after busy years in the Findhorn Foundation, I finally got to live there at the end of 1990. I had been channelling before, but in my two years on Erraid, I received 83 messages which I dutifully wrote down and shared every few days with the attunement group. They still sit in a folder in the lounge of number 8. (Collected as 'To Transcend the Ego' on my web site, www.carolriddell.co.uk.) I see them as an honouring of the power of the island, which others try to capture though poems, sketches or photography. I was fortunate enough to be able to spend 5 further years close by, at another of the Ross of Mull's magical places, Tireragan.
Two comments from ex-members encapsulate the power of Erraid's spirituality:
"We could do whatever we chose to do, trying to work consciously with the presence of the divine. The west coast of Scotland is one of the most amazing places on the planet to live. There is a balance between the rugged lifestyle and what you call culture. We were pretty extreme in many ways, pretty rough. It was intense. But the outer intensity was balanced by an inner expansiveness." (Angus Marland)
"… I understand now that I experienced some kind of elemental grounding, the dance of the elements, relating to the elements, living in the natural world, living at a pace that was set by the natural world. (It is about) the harmonic within the natural kingdom. You can't dominate it. Sometimes you are governed by the natural world, but at the same time there's a lot of freedom that doesn't exist in the more manufactured world. The rhythm of living with nature is deeply satisfying." (Mari Hollander)
The community on the 'street' has made it possible not only to maintain and cautiously improve the heritage of the lighthouse builders, but also to introduce thousands of others to the spirit of the island, without damaging its quality.
(The island is,) "not just for the family. This year over 400 guests came through. A lot of people get a special kind of experience from being here." (Marianne Van der Sluis)
Within these guidelines, the Dutch owners have allowed the community a great deal of leeway. But they are very observant of what goes on and the dual observance and ultimate authority over the community by them and the Findhorn Foundation provides a structure for the members which embraces rather than dictates.
The Van der Sluis family would like the basic character of Erraid to remain unchanged, with modernisation undertaken only slowly and with careful consideration. The houses have slowly been improved amenity wise, but Arend expresses their cautious attitude,
"When something is 140 years old, you shouldn't change it too quickly…"
Erraid has had a fascinating and unusual history of human habitation, stretching back to the time of the first dun nearly two thousand years ago and even beyond. No doubt there will be new chapters in the story of Erraid in the future, but it will be a special, magical place, even when the granite houses, built of its own stone, begin to crumble.
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It was a September evening, but it was so dark and stormy, it seemed like November to the small group of Erraid crofters gathered in the Croft drinking 'uisge beatha' — the water of life. The first storm of the autumn had blown up from the south west and it was a big one.
"It is a wild enough night for the De'il himself to be abroad", said one of them. They settled in around the peat fire to shut out the cold with the warmth of the whiskey. As the evening wore on and the wind howled there was a heavy knock on the rough plank door. One of the men rose and went over. A soaking figure stood outside.
"Come in, man, and get yourself warm. 'Tis a terrible night." The stranger, for such he was, entered, and room was made for him round the fire. In the dim light of the flickering fire, the man nodded and accepted the cup of warming spirits passed to him.
"It's no frae round here that you are; it's a sailor you seem to be to me," said one of the others, a question in his voice. The stranger nodded, gulping the whiskey down. Dribbles of water dripped off his coat to the earth floor, making little patches of mud and bubbles where they fell. A companionable silence fell for a few minutes.
Then the stranger stood, and with not a word, but another nod of thanks, made for the door and returned to the wild night outside, the door banging shut after him.
"That's an odd one," said somebody. "Probably off a ship come to shelter in 'Tinker's Hole'."(Tinker's Hole is a safe anchorage on the western side of Erraid, sheltered by islets from the storms. It is still used by yachts today.) The crofters resumed their drinking.
The next day, the weather eased. Seumus, one of the crofters, walked to the South East side of the island, checking on the cattle. A body was floating in the sea. As Seumus got closer, it became clear that it was the same man that had visited them the night before. The man was fished out and buried, after reporting the incident to the Factor, who made enquiries of the coastal watch.
(Source, Attie McKechnie, who thought the time was in the eighteenth century.)
"In the immediate vicinity of Tinkershole the Country is extremely rough affording no suitable site for Dwelling Houses but on the shore of Loch Earraid we found a site not only well adapted for placing houses but fortunately commanding a view of the Lighthouses and having the anchorage of Earraid Sound in immediate vicinity and that of Tinkershole not a quarter of a mile distant."
"The site which we have selected for the houses has a good exposure and is tolerably sheltered. The ground seems available for garden purposes and there is a spring of good water used by the adjoining cottagers. A five minute walk from the site as shown on the Plan commands a clear view of the Rock, distant about 15 ½ Statute Miles. A pathway will be formed from the Houses to the observing hill where a small house will be built to protect the telescope and exhibit signals forms as at other similar Lighthouse Signal Towers for Rock Stations.
"We have also shown on the enlarged Plan the manner in which we propose to arrange the Dwellings. The Light Keepers' Houses will contain accommodation for four Light Keepers and their families, the Seamen's House will contain accommodation for the Captain of the Steamer.
"We have assumed that as in the Lighthouse Works lately executed the Dwelling Houses and Offices are to be built of brick, but should we find that any small saving can be effected by using the stone of the district it will be adopted." (NLB Minute Book, Feb. 1864)
"The Western shores of Scotland were visited during the months of December 1865 and January 1866 by a series of violent gales which proved disastrous to shipping returning from and proceeding to America or elsewhere Overseas, and the storm of 29th, 30th and 31st December proved more especially destructive. The consequence was that the Commissioners received numerous representations in regard to a Light on Duheartach from the Masters of wrecked Vessels, and your Committee was appointed to consider these applications and any others which might be received and to report.
"Your Committee partly from these applications and more particularly from enquiry made by them have obtained information of nearly all the wrecks which occurred or Vessels which were endangered during the late gales on the West Coast of Scotland, and they append a list of such Vessels having more particularly reference to Duheartach to this report giving the value of each ship and cargo and the number of lives lost.
"Your Committee have included in this List all the Vessels driven into or taking shelter in Lochindaal Islay, and subsequently wrecked, for it is evident that such Vessels with the choice before them of being driven on to Duheartach without a Light and the bad anchorage of Lochindaal, preferred to risk the latter, while had there been a Light on Duheartach to guide them, they would have held on in place of going into Lochindaal."
They report 24 vessels lost between 1865 and 1866, with nearly £300,000 lost and at least 21 people drowned as a result.
"These disasters have called forth very strong applications for a Light on Duheartach, and the Committee herewith submit –
"The Light will undoubtedly be imperial, as it will be of service to the shipping of the United Kingdom navigating the North Channel one, of the great highways to America…." (NLB Minute Book, March 1866)
Extract from material about Mr. Neil Mathieson's attempt to be employed on the Dhu Heartach Steamer A petition from Mr. Neil Mathieson. "Gentlemen, It has occurred to me from my personal knowledge with the Island of Erraid and the whole Coast around the Island of Mull that I should make application to you as Engineers to the Light House Commissioners to offer my services as Pilot or otherwise on board the vessel to attend to the wants of the Light keepers that are soon to be established on to Dhu Heartach Rock. "I was the first person employed in that capacity on board of the 'Powerful' when the works were commenced in the spring of 1867, & afterwards joined the Steamer 'Dhu Heartach' also as Pilot in which I continued for two years – which I left then of my own free will perhaps to make room for others who were greater favourites on board and to whom I shared every facility in the acquaintance of the currents, and all other obstacles amongst the "Torran Rocks", and I can say without fear of contradiction that a better hand for guiding a vessel in this quarter could not be found, both for seamanship, sobriety, and as to other requirements, I can easily obtain such. All neighbours will bear me out. I would also refer you to Mr. Brebner your manager at Erraid Works, who does not know that I have made this early application. I trust therefore, gentlemen, after making yourselves acquainted with the facts which I have now the honour to lay before you, that my application to the Board of Commissioners through you will not be made in vain." (NLB Minute Books, December 1871) The Stevensons submitted this request to the Board, which suspended consideration of the application until the whole permanent arrangement with regards to the steamer should come before them, and but it was not followed up.
Extracts from the correspondence about rodents. "When the Commissioners visited this station in July last complaints were made as to the nuisance of the place being infested by rats. The Commissioners recommended that permission should be applied for by the Commissioners to keep a dog or dogs (prohibited by the Feu Contract). The Reporter accordingly applied to Mr. Campbell the local factor for permission to keep dogs which was granted but at the same time it was intimated that it was impossible to keep them without causing damage to the tenant's sheep and cattle. The factor recommended cats and ferrets." The Secretary followed up on the issue at the Commissioners' request. "The Secretary now reports that he has been informed by Messrs. Stevenson that the great majority of the workmen are now withdrawn from the works and that they will be completely so before the end of the current year which will cause the consumption of food and the consequent accumulation of refuse to cease and the annoyance from Rats will then to a great extent also cease and at all events it will be within the control of those who are to be permanent residents at the establishment with the aid of cats and if necessary of ferrets. The Secretary submits that it is unnecessary for any order rescinding the prohibition to keep dogs being further applied for and that the residents should just be left to deal with the evil complained of in such way as they may be advised to be most efficient." (Secretary's Correspondence, September 1871)