Dougie MacDougall - Islay's Fishermen in the Old Days
Friday, October 26 2007
In the stories of Dougie MacDougall are two characters mentioned being his friends. Their names are Donald MacPhee and John Wilson who were both fishermen at the time. The following story was written down by Dougie MacDougall and gives a nice view of the, sometimes hard lives, these people had years ago.
Dougie MacDougall telling: Donald MacPhee and John Wilson were getting ready to set off on the 1st of may, there was great activity on the shore at Rhua Phort Beag. The boat was being loaded with lobster pots, including all the fishing gear and other articles required for their comfort. May I point out that they would have to make a few trips to the west coast before all their lobster pots were over. When the boat was loaded, both of them went over to the Port Askaig shop to get all their provisions required for a week. There were no luxuries for them; the basic items would be, tea, sugar, ham, cheese, bread, corned beef, tinned milk, syrup, treacle, salt, margarine, pipe tobacco and matches. These items were packed carefully into a white pillowslip and carried with great care, and stowed on board, covered with an oilskin to keep it dry. When the Tinker, their boat, was loaded, both of them had a good think to see if there was anything that they had overlooked. John mentioned that he came away without a shaving mirror and soap. He was not too pleased at that.
"What!" says Donald, "Do you mean to say that you have to see that ugly face of yours in the mirror? Even after a shave the wild goats on the west coast look better than you." John was not too pleased at this remark, but he decided not to tell him that he had more hair on his upper lip than Donald had on his bald patch. In the end they were ready to sail: the wind and tide were suitable so I bid them the best of fishing with the promise that I would see them on their return at the end of the week. They might of course be back for another load of pots in a day or so, if the weather permitted.
They had a good hut to live in over at a place named "Port Domhmaill Chruin." This was to be their home on, and off, during the summer season. In those days they had to fish for all their bait, so between that and gathering winkles (a sort of sea snail) off the rocks, they were never idle. The price of winkles at that time would run about ten shillings a cwt. (1 cwt [hundredweight]= 45 kilograms) according to market prices: now they are £25 a cwt.! It was hardly worthwile at the time to gather them. I remember the fishermen saying that when all expenses were paid for the week, they had very little left for the upkeep of their homes.
The west coast of Islay is strewn with rocks, reefs and underwater shallows which breaks in foul weather, or indeed any kind of weather. The fishermen had to be very well acquainted with these dangers: carelessness on their part could cost them dearly. Those shores are never peaceful for they are open to the Atlantic. This made it imperative to haul the boats up above the high water mark when not in use. The local fishing boats, in those days, had no engines. They depended upon the oars, and set sail when the wind was in their favour. It was no joke to row a heavy boat, back and forth each week for roughly twelve miles, after rowing all week at the lifting and setting of lobster pots.
When I met Donald and John after their first week's fishing, they told me that the catch was in the region of three dozen lobsters. This of course would improve when all their gear was working. When John got paid he made for the bar at Port Askaig and partook of some refreshments which, as he said, he was badly in need of. When he came out of the bar he had a gill (0,45 Ml) of whisky nicely wrapped in white tissue paper, sticking out of his hanky pocket. Also in view beside the gill was a pound note. This was his way of showing that he was in the money! He met a nosy friend of his whose eyes were glued instantly to the glaring hanky pocket, and remarked during the conversation that the lobsters must have been very plentiful. "Plentiful", replied the bold boy, "When there's no room in the pots they start climbing up the ropes into the boat." He left his dumbfounded friend with a smile on his face. "That," he thought, "will keep him chewing, and to mind his own business in the future."
The booklet of Dougie MacDougall, As Long as Water Flows, can be bought at Roys Celtic House in Bowmore.
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Rosemary, the cottages are in fact at Caol Ila. What I wonder about in the image is the following: Do you see the whisky barrel under the roof of the second cottage? I was wondering what function it had. I don't suppose people back then were rich enough to have their own whisky barrel to drink from? Or is it to "catch" rainwater?
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