I arrived down at the pier very early on the Saturday morning, a beautiful sunny day, a light wind and calm seas, everything I’d hoped for.
The only other person at the pier was Jean McLain, we sat upon the harbour wall and looked over at the island, enjoying the morning sun and marvelling at my luck. Jean also has a boat and makes regular trips out, both with passengers and to fish. Next arrived Billy, he had been out fishing the night before and was down early to wash all the fish scales off the decks. Then Meg arrived with her camera, to document the whole event right from the beginning. Shortly after, Billy Campbell and his wife Margaret arrived, carrying six gleaming lamps for me to light on the island, the bronze and gold bases of the paraffin lamps were beautiful in the sun light and provided the first photographic subject of the day.
I wasn’t nervous about the row, just happy that the weather was good and after making sure all the cameras were assigned and loaded, it was simply a matter of waiting until 10.30 am. The fine weather together with the level of community engagement in the project, encouraged a large crowd of local people to form on the pier to see me off. It was quite a spectacle and no one I have spoken to, can remember ever seeing so many people in that place. Looking back at the photos and the video, I am surprised that a lot more was going on around me than I was aware of, as I was sitting down in the boat readying positions and focusing cameras.
My departure from the harbour was not as smooth as I had hoped for. On one side of the boat was the harbour wall, whilst on the other was Sinclair’s boat and so getting any kind of leverage with the oars was tricky. Finally Brian came down and took one end of the oar and acted as leverage for me to push away with. After the first two fluid strokes with the oars, a cheer went up from the crowd and I rowed smoothly out the harbour and round the pier. As I began to straighten out the boat for the channel between the rocks, I could hear the sound of a violin, at first I thought it was coming from the radio on board Billie’s boat but realised that it coming from the pier and looking up I could see amongst the waving arms, and hear above the shouts of goodbye, Karen Stevens on her violin. I was quite moved that she had come to see me off and it was the perfect touch to what was a very happy, sunny event.
Billy Macintosh followed at quite a distance behind the boat, followed then by Sinclair with some passengers and two or three other boats. I think that out of anyone I had the best view from my seat: Dave directly in front of me, the small flotilla of boats in the middle distance and the tiny figures of the viewers sanding on top of the pier with Skerray behind.
I can’t say I really remember that much from the row, I know I went at it full tilt and surprised everyone including myself with the speed I went through the water but rowing like that over a prolonged period of time, it’s easy to slip into a trance like state. When I felt the boat going of course, I would automatically re-adjust. By about three quarters of the way there, looking behind myself to keep in line, I did wonder if I would ever arrive.
I am very proud of my parking it has to be said… I don’t think even Dave could have done much better, just the right speed and angle. However, once stationary (or as stationary as you can be at sea), I wasn’t really sure what to do, Dave couldn’t help because he had the camera and the other two boats were keeping well out of it. The boat hook was fairly ineffectual and I was beginning to panic. Then, like an angel descending from Heaven, Jean McLain came down the steep treacherous stairs that lead from the port up to the island. Jean had landed on the island earlier, unseen by anyone, and I’m so glad she did. She took our rope and at last I felt we had really arrived.
On Sinclair’s boat were Meg, Bazil, Norman and Morag. Whilst unloading the safety boat of all my equipment, several of the group stepped on the island for a look around. For Norman and Billy Campbell (who has lived in Skerray for many years) this was their first visit to the island.
Getting all the lamps and tent up onto the island was almost as much work as rowing the boat but my jubilation at arriving postponed any pain I was to feel. Alone at last on the island, I chose a flat patch of grass behind one of the central houses and pitched the tent lent to me by the Macintosh family. I had been given the left over sandwiches from the previous night’s concert and sat for a while in the glorious sun. I couldn’t believe my luck, Island Roan, alone in that weather. I spent the rest of the day taking pictures, making some short videos and choosing the best places to put the lamps. It was only later when I began filling the lamps with paraffin, that it became clear that they were not all up to the job. I had six lamps with me, one of the storm lamps lost its wick during transit and the other was clearly a cheap modern version and its wick too fell down into the paraffin, leaving me with only four lamps. For a while I panicked and desperately tried to retrieve the wick but the sun had started to go down and I had to accept that I would to try with four. Mike Roper (the local photographer who kindly agreed to help me document) and I had already discussed it before the event and decided that if I could get at the very least one well-lit window, then with a little help from Photoshop, we could get a good image.
As the sun went down, the wind on the island whipped up. At seven o’clock Mike and I made first contact, he was on top of one of the many outlook points near Skerray along with a gang of local people: Meg Telfer, Dave Illingworth, Bill Telfer, Brian and Irene McLeod. Between mobile phone calls from the mainland, trying to locate my position on the island, I tried desperately to light the lamps against the wind. I managed to get one Tilley Lamp going and one storm lamp, I put both in the down stairs window of the house on the far left as you look at the island. The group on the mainland could see neither me, nor the lamps. I was wearing a white jumper and trying to wave my arms, which was difficult, as once up in the air, they tended to lock, one small side effect of a 40-minute row. Despite telephoto lenses and more than one pair of binoculars, they couldn’t find me. I continued trying with the other lamps, but one began to leek paraffin and the task of lighting the meths tongs was becoming ever more dangerous as the wind got even stronger. The first Tilley lamps couldn’t take the wind and very soon went out, on the verge of tears and exhausted from my efforts, I had to call it a day.
Though the evening was beautiful, I knew there would be many disappointed viewers on the mainland. Feeling deeply disappointed and frustrated, I took to my tent. The stars all came out and naturally, the wind dropped…
It took me a long time to go to sleep, not so much because it was scary to be alone on the island but because I was desperately trying to think of how I could have done it differently. In hindsight, it was a big task for one person, I knew how to light the lamps and the night before, Billy Campbell had them all cleaned up and glowing, so we knew they should have worked, perhaps it was just fate, in the same way that the weather was almost freakily perfect for the row, like someone was looking after me, the lamps suffered the opposite fate. Perhaps the lights of Island Roan are not supposed to be seen again.
Yet, when we consider that Mike and the others could not see the Tilley lamp that was lit, even with lenses and binoculars, can we be sure that the lights were actually ever seen on the island, there is no record of it, it’s something we assume because electrical light is so bright and can carry so far.
I had been teased by many about the pirate who allegedly lives on the island. However, I was more alarmed by my mobile suddenly going off at intervals during the night, called by concerned locals, who were checking to see if I was ok. I still find it strange that I get reception there but not in Skerray.
I got up with the sun the next morning, exhausted and the Macintosh family came to collect me at around 9am.
Mikes picture of me rowing towards the island, made the front cover of the Northern Times, fame!
Feeling a bit guilty that I hadn’t managed to complete my project, I was greatly heartened by the response I received from local people the next day in Skerray who had really enjoyed the rowing event and were only disappointed for me that the lamps hadn’t worked. Sinclair even challenged me to row his boat, which is enormous compared to the one I was rowing, but happily will give me another chance to get behind the oars.
I am now compiling the enormous amount of documentation I have and deciding how I will present it all in the community hall on the 14th of October.
