requiring the purchase of land from Fearann Eilean Iarmain. Sir Iain agreed, on condition that 3 bilingual signs were erected for Broadford, Portree and Viewfield Road. These were An t-Àth Leathann, Port Rìgh and Goirtean na Creige. The last means the arable enclosure of the rock. Its Gaelic name bears no resemblance to the English version. After a long struggle with the Council, signs were eventually erected. Upon local government reorganisation in the 1970s, Comhairle nan Eilean rapidly replaced anglicised road signs with Gaelic renderings - often with no translation supplied.
The Duke of Atholl had attempted something similar on his estate in the early 20th century with partial success as shown by Baile-na-H-eiglas for Kirkton of Lude and Achgobhal for Achgoul (Ó Murchú 1989). Bilingual signs are now commonplace on roads in the Highlands, but less so at the time of writing in the Highland parts of the former Counties of Angus, Perth and Stirling. Where possible Gaelic station names have been introduced throughout the rail network of Scotland. The results of such policies have propelled the language into the mainstream world of maps and mapping.
These patterns are mirrored elsewhere. Citing Mount Egmont, Mt McKinley and Mount Everest, known as Taranaki, Denali and Chomolungma in the native languages of New Zealand, Alaska and Nepal, Roddy MacLean (Ruairidh Macilleathain) argues that Ben Lomond, Ben Nevis, Braeriach, Cairn Toul and the Pap of Glen Coe (Gleann Comhann) should be shown on maps in their dual identities. These are Beinn Laomainn, Beinn Nibheis, Bràigh Riabhach, Càrn an t-Sabhail and Sgòrr na Ciche. The following table of famous Scottish mountains, adapted from MacIlleathain’s 2010 lecture to the Islands Books Trust, proves how correct renderings provide an informative resource for those trying to read the landscape through place-names.
Table 1: Anglicisation of well-known Mountains and their Original Gaelic.
True Gaelic spelling enables correct pronunciation. Cairn Toul - Càrn an t-Sabhail provides an interesting example. To the Lowland Scot, who pronounces dour as ‘doo-er’, it is tempting to pronounce -toul as ‘tool’. The Southern English speaker, who may pronounce dour as ‘dower’ is more likely to voice the Gaelic correctly, as Cairn TOWel. Similarly, Tomintoul (Tom an t-Sabhail - the hillock of the barn) also in the Cairngorms is often pronounced Tomintool.
Plate 3: Ardeonaig - Beinn Ghlas and Beinn Labhair, Tom a’ Bhuachaille is on the left middle ground of the picture
Plate 4: Glen Beith - Beinn Mhùrlag, Stùc a’ Chroin and Beinn Odhar, Tom Cadalach is on the right middle ground of the picture behind the sheep
Correct pronunciation can also help with meanings. How do we know what Balloch, near Loch Lomond, means if we do not know that the original Gaelic form is Bealach, meaning pass and pronounced BYAHluch, stressing the first syllable? If we did not know the sound of the name, we could conclude that Balloch had a quite different meaning of Town of the Loch, like Baile an LOCH, near Inverness, which is pronounced with the stress on loch and, confusingly, also anglicised as Balloch.
If the spelling of Gaelic names is incorrect on maps and in guides, how can we be sure if the anglicised prefix kil means a church (cill), a wood (coille) or the back of something (cùl), which are completely different things? If Auchtertyre is spelled thus, or as Ochtertyre, how do we know if the name refers to a field, ach[adh], or the upper part, uachdar, of the land - two differing types of place? This example shows another problem with corrupted Gaelic orthography. It is inconsistent, and inconsistencies have no rules. Throughout the text this book will identify and correct many common corruptions of Gaelic spelling. Like the introduction of bilingual road signs, it is hoped that this will promote a more grounded and deeper understanding of the landscape.
3: Mapping the Scottish Highlands
In 1984, four groups of students taking part in a hydrology field course were asked to make a sketch map of the same short stretch of river in northern Manitoba. Their subjects were biology, engineering, landscape architecture and technology. The biologists saw the stream as habitats grouped around a sinuous flow. They mapped areas of deposition, erosion and former water channels. The engineers drew a straight watercourse, which they thought was causing problems for the land upon either side. They mapped areas of slumping and active bank erosion. Landscape architects produced a plan whose graphics, though rendered with beauty and clarity, communicated little about place, natural phenomena or landscape process. Technology students made a drawing, which communicated accurately, if crudely, what was there and what was really happening (Hough1990).
The exercise showed how hard it is to represent the natural world even when drawn from life. What was omitted and included on the students’ maps was strongly influenced by their background, what they wanted to see and what they valued. Despite the advanced techniques available to modern cartographers, maps remain selective about what they choose to include and how it is represented. Place-names are no exception, particularly when what is being mapped, and who is carrying out the mapping, may come from different cultures. And especially when there is an asymmetry of power between those providing information and those recording it. Maps are documents of both commission and omission.
The first person to map Scotland from a Scottish point of view was Timothy Pont, who worked between 1596 and 1614. Although coverage of Scotland was incomplete and some of his work has been lost, it formed the basis of Blaeu’s Atlas, published in 1654. Pont was a graduate of St Andrews and a Lowlander and so had Gaelic-speaking assistants for at least some of his work in the Gàidhealtachd. It is thought that the motivation for his task, like The Statutes of Iona, was part of the government policy of bringing the Highlands under more effective central control. With this in mind, the maps aimed to document how geography and society contributed to regional identities. Accompanying notes assessed the resources and productivity of the landscape. The focus was on how the rural economy of Scotland was organised. There was an emphasis on farms, mills, churches, bridges and roads, but much less notice was taken of natural features. Nevertheless, watercourses are often used as organising features around which information on the mapped landscape could be positioned.
Out of 20,000 place-names recorded by Pont, over 75% are settlement names. Pont must have consulted local Gaelic-speakers, since the language has been phonetically realised into Scots on the maps with reasonable accuracy. On Loch Maree, he records 16 islands named in Gaelic in more detail than on any later map, including those by OS. Roy Wentworth discovered a small drawing in the margin of one map which showed that four island names appear on no other record.
Three island names which Pont sketched in the corner of this map have different names to those recorded by William Roy’s military survey of the mid-18th century and those entered by the OS in their name books made in the second half of the 19th century. One island changed its name twice in that journey through time. Pont records it as ylen or ella Gewish, which is probably Eilean Giuthais - Scots Pine Island (NG913730). The same place is recorded in Roy’s ‘Fair Copy’ as Id (island): na Feannaig and I Fainnig in his ‘Original Protraction,’ which could mean either Island of the Crow or Crow Island. The OS Name Book records the place as Eilean Loisgte, Burnt Island – which is what is shown on the contemporary 1:25,000 sheet.
There is no reason why different people at different times should not have had different names for the same place. Toponymic options may express contrasting but not necessarily contradictory aspects of place. Places will also change over time. Vegetation can be subject to the most rapid alteration. A causal interpretation of the name changes might be as follows. We begin with an island wooded
