‘There is a new sense of purpose in the island'

Published on Saturday 23 March 2002 00:00

In the small stone cottage, whose garden trimmed with daffodils weaves down to the water’s edge, Vie Tulloch rises with the sun.

When she rises so does Jazz, her little greyhound puppy, and together they make a pot of tea and then Vie retires back to bed, to sip her tea and read the Bible. She can think of no better way to start a new day on her island home of Gigha or, as it is known, "God’s Island".

As Vie is rising the sun illuminates her last piece of work. A small black wooden owl sits in the garden outside the island’s hotel, a brass plaque is screwed onto its stomach. It reads: "Latha Ghiogha/A New Dawn/15th March 2002." A tiny silver birch tree planted the same day is still no more than a few twigs, lashed to a wooden post - the islanders had ordered a large Rowan. Necessity remains the mother of invention in a small community that has survived for more than 1,000 years. A few days ago it finally slipped off the chains of 600 years of feudal landlords and assumed community ownership of the island that sits just off Kintyre.

At around 6.50pm, Vie’s neighbour John Bannatyne drives his beaten car along the pot-holed lane in the direction of the South Pier, where at the end of the island his charge, the MV Lochranza, lies moored. He, Johnny Andrew, the motorman, and Alastair MacNeil, a retired Sergeant Major and now the seaman purser, work through the catalogue of checks, wash down the seats and prepare the gangway before making the short trip up the island to the slip at Ardminish for the eight o’clock sailing, the first of seven return crossings. In a few months time a 7am crossing will be added for children wishing to cross to secondary school in Oban and return on the same day. For generations secondary pupils have boarded and returned home only a weekends.

The job is repetitive and dull and Bannatyne, 34, is weary of it. After 16 years, he says, what do you expect, but his girlfriend’s pregnancy and the island’s newfound independence have helped give him a fresh sense of purpose. His day is as regular as the tide, two or three crossings will be empty, while a few times each week the milk tanker arrives to carry supplies from the island’s three dairy farms.

When the MV Lochranza arrives back at Ardminish at 9am, Andy Oliver is waiting to collect the post and the papers. He and his wife, Viv, are originally from Durham but in December 2000 the couple took over the Gigha Post Office and shop after the retirement of Seumus McSporran, who for 35 years held down 14 jobs on the island, before heading for a quieter life in Ardrishaig. The couple first visited Gigha on a May Day and were so enchanted that Viv wept on the ferry back to the mainland. Viv has finished the school run, collecting kids for the tiny village school, and is behind the till serving customers by the time Andy returns. Islanders can pay immediately or settle their accounts weekly or monthly, whatever suits.

In the back shop Karen Durnin, 34, is sorting the mail into the wooden shelves, one for every residence on the island. Once sorted she tackles the north end of the island first, dropping off packages and mail, then heads back to the shop to replenish her bag. On the route she is joined by her black Labrador, Jen. Karen was a chef at the hotel but fell out with the previous manager and now prefers the outdoors, though she admits that in winter, when the weather is grim, she fondly remembers the comfort of the kitchen. At one house, down a long dirt track, the owner comes out to ask about Karen’s horses.

"Have you sold all the horses yet? If not I’ve a fella wants to buy one."

"No, they’ve all been sold, just not been named."

"Fair enough."

The conversation revolves around the island’s forthcoming race night, the latest in an extensive line of fundraising exercises. In order to buy the island, the community had to borrow 1m from the Land Fund, a sum that must be paid back within the next two years. They also owe the last laird, Derek Holt, an English businessman, 160,000, which must be paid within a year. To date they have raised 12,000 in piecemeal fashion. The school Christmas concert raised 303; a Mr & Mrs night 289; a carry out night with meals cooked by islanders, 218.50; John Martin’s sponsored Christmas Day swim, 201; a heritage concert 810; a Hogmanay night 463. The list goes on and on and on.

At 2pm every Wednesday the islanders meet in the village hall, a cream building with a triangular roof and a view across an overgrown football field to the church at the brow of the hill. The meetings began during the winter when neighbours seldom saw neighbours, but proved so successful that they continue through-out the year. A platter of tea, coffee, shortbread, scones, butter and jam is laid out on a yellow table spread and visitors throw a couple of pound coins into the biscuit tin to cover costs. A table is laid out with the leftovers from last weekend’s fundraising sale, including knitted toilet paper covers and Gigha T-shirts.

Margaret Andrews, the community’s press spokesman, explains that since islanders took control of their destiny there has been a true sense of hope. "We know it will be difficult and will take time but we’ll get there. We don’t doubt that." She explains that islanders are working with an agricultural lawyer to draw up plans for the future. They wish to develop the housing and bring new crafts to the island. A project manager will be starting in a few months to draw all their plans together and further their fundraising.

The ace in the community hole is ownership of Achamore House, a huge B-listed building, built in 1884 and once the home of Sir James Horlick. It is up for sale, with interested parties from America, Ireland and England. Willie McSporran, chairman of the community council, gives a tour of its cavernous oak-panelled rooms. The detritus of the previous owners are dotted around - a shelf of science fiction novels, a room decorated in Power Rangers wallpaper and a Rangers badge. A grand piano sits in the ground floor ballroom and next door the billiard table lies covered in a green dust sheet.

"I remember running through here as a child," laughs McSporran. "I bumped a player as he was about to take a shot and he chased after me with the cue." He points through a window to where, 50 years ago, Horlick erected a marquee to celebrate the Queen’s coronation. No price has yet been placed on Achamore’s dozens of rooms, but there is little doubt that a successful sale will punch a huge hole in the community’s debt.

You don’t have to drive or even walk far, however, to meet those a little uneasy about the change in circumstances. John MacDonald is building up the entrance to a field he rents with stones and boulders so that the silage machine won’t stick. His family runs one of only three farms on the island and looks after 130 Fresian cows. At 59 he has the conservative caution you would expect of a man his age. He’s not saying he’s against the changes, just that in the past the landlord would always pay for repairs. "Where are this lot going to get the money?" Still, he is nestled in a minority. At the other end of the island Angus MacAllister, 84, the second oldest resident, believes the buy-out is the best thing that has ever happened to the island. While he mends creel nets at the family home overlooking the harbour, his son, Archie, 45, and grandson, Neil, 19, are off in their boat, Ceol-Na-Mara, to catch lobsters and crabs. A dreadful winter, "the worst in 30 years", explains Archie, has kept them too long at home and there is a lot of catching up to do.

At the island’s primary school, Lorna MacAllister, Archie’s wife and solitary teacher, is finishing paperwork in her office. The school’s six pupils, a five-year-old, three six-year-olds and two ten-year-olds, have left for the day. When she first arrived, 21 years ago, the school had 28 pupils and this year’s roll is the smallest yet. As secretary of the new Gigha Trust she believes the island can still attract new families. " We want to improve the infrastructure, increase the population and get the island thriving again. There is a new sense of purpose in the island, but there is still a lot of work to be done."

That evening the Gigha Trust’s seven-strong committee meet in the dining room of the Gigha Hotel and for almost three hours they work through the business at hand. After the celebration of the previous weekend, which included a visit by enterprise minister Wendy Alexander and an all-night party, the committee are coming back down to earth. There are repairs to organise, a future to plan and the island’s cottages need to leap from the 19th century to the 21st century, as many still lack central heating. After a few days in their company, you can only wish the islanders well. It is a hard life, characterised by long hours and the monotony of routine, but now it is fuelled by hope and an injection of excitement.

This attitude is captured most in the heart of Alastair MacNeil, the retired army officer who made a small speech at last week’s celebration, quoting Isaiah and urging everyone to put away petty jealousies or suspicions and let a new light shine like a new dawn. "I’m a monarchist, a Conservative and a unionist, I’m the last person you would expect to support this plan," explains MacNeil, "but by God I want this to work."

The most physical sign that there is new life on the island arrived on Tuesday with the birth of a boy, the first child born on the island for 32 years - its mother, Emma Harvey, was the last. "It was beautiful," says his aunt, Jane Rennie. Emma’s sister, Jane, was at the birth at the family’s farmhouse. "It was a wonderful experience."

As the sun sets on Gigha and Vie Tulloch prepares for bed there is a sense that tomorrow will be brighter still.

Information about Gigha can be found on the Islanders’ website www.gigha.org.