of a large one, where he may enjoy himself and live at a very cheap rate.
Anyone who steps on the tiny 300-acre island of Sanda which lies off the Mull of Kintyre could be seriously at risk. Legend claims that St Ninian was buried here and an ancient curse warns anyone who steps on his grave that they will die within a year. The site used to be marked by an alder tree but there are no longer any alder trees on the island and so the position of the grave is unknown.
I suppose this risk is tolerable for a short visit but it must be a continual worry for the farmer-owner, John Gannon. Whether or not he had inadvertently stepped on the grave, Mr Gannon nearly lost his life in 1996 when his boat capsized and he was trapped beneath it. Luckily there was sufficient air in the hull for him to survive until he was rescued by the Campbeltown lifeboat. Such incidents highlight the dangers of a lonely island existence and should be considered carefully by all would-be island purchasers.
Incidentally, it was the Campbeltown lifeboat which carried out the renowned rescue in 1946 of all fifty-four passengers and crew of the SS Byron Darnton. They were saved from the wreck in the nick of time as she broke up on the rocks on the south side of Sanda.
The Norse sometimes referred to Sanda as ‘Havn’ because it provided a reasonable offshore haven or harbour for boats. For many centuries this led to the island being called ‘Avon’ and even led to one eminent geographer wondering why an island had been given the Gaelic word for river (abhainn).
But if for no other reason, its anchorage makes Sanda a useful stopping-off point when waiting for a suitable tide to round the sometimes-treacherous Mull of Kintyre. It is worth going ashore on such occasions for it has the enchantment of all our islands. The farmhouse, which has been restored by the owner, is just beside the jetty and slipway and the old schoolhouse is nearby. In the 1890s this was the home of an active fishing community of thirty-six souls.
. . .a conspicious cruciform snapea stone. . .
On our last visit, en route for the Mull and waiting for the tide, it was Craig’s unfortunate turn in the galley. Only a light lunch was required but he opted to stay aboard. We landed and followed the earth road which winds across the island from the slipway to the lighthouse. The roofless ruin of St Ninian’s Chapel, pre-14th century, is beside a knoll within the burial enclosure. It has a stone basin or piscina set in the wall under one of the window embrasures and in the corner a worn Early Christian slab is incised with a cross. Near the centre of the burial ground is a conspicuous cruciform-shaped stone nearly two metres high and just west of the chapel are the footings of a small square structure. A 1630 record states: ‘at the syde of that Chappell there is a litle well or compass of stones. . . And they say that the bones of certaine holie men that lived in that Illand is buried within that place.’ It was a Sanda tradition that if there was a severe storm when the fishermen were still at sea the islanders would gather in the burial ground, say a prayer for them, and then solemnly pour a cup of fresh water on the ground.
Ian stayed to photograph the chapel ruins while Peter and I set off to see the lighthouse. Peter, at six foot five inches, is a useful spare mast but with his long legs he could be wearing seven-league boots. A gentle stroll can become a marathon. There was a cool wind, but the valley is sheltered and traps the sun, so our sailing jackets and jerseys were discarded by the roadside. The island had not been seriously farmed for many post-war years but now the fences had been repaired, sheep were grazing peacefully, and the owner’s tractor could be heard fitfully in the distance. The lighthouse, which is on a rocky promontory on the south shore, is called ‘The Ship’ because, to an imaginative person on a misty day, it has that appearance. It was built in 1850. There is a huge natural stone arch beside it which frames a distant view of Ailsa Craig. There was only time for a very quick sketch before returning to Jandara.
When we climbed back on board, hot and thirsty, we found lunch prepared and Craig smiling happily, cool and relaxed.
‘The Ship’ lighthouse
The ruined chapel on Texa
TEXA
. . . There are some isles on the coast of Islay, an island Texa on the south-west, about a mile in circumference . . .
In spite of its name Texa has no connection with the Lone Star State, although I believe an American couple now own it. Abbot Adomnan of Iona referred to ‘Oidecha Insula’, meaning the island of (monastic) instruction, and this is said to be the derivation of its unusual name although I prefer ‘Tech-oy’ which means simply ‘House Island’ in Early Irish and Norse.
Lying off the south coast of Islay it was another of those small islands (a mere 120 acres) which was more or less on the direct route for Irish missionaries travelling to and from Scotland in the 6th century. Cainnech, or St Kenneth, was said to have left his pastoral staff behind after visiting Iona. Columba found it, blessed it, and cast it into the sea and Kenneth later discovered it washed up on the shore of Texa.
We anchored Jandara in the bay below the small ruined chapel. This is Lord of the Isles’ territory, and just across the kyle is Lagavullin Bay and the prominent ruin of Dunyvaig Castle where the King of the Isles’, Somerled’s, powerful fleet used to anchor in the 12th century. The chapel was built in the late 14th century by his descendent, Ragnald, son of John of Islay, and the shaft of a cross which stood beside it was decorated with Ragnald’s head. It is the earliest sculptured stone portrait of any member of the house of Somerled and it is now in the museum in Edinburgh. Round about the church bits of walling show through the turf and there are regular ridges which may well mark the remains of early monastery buildings. They indicate the position of at least five buildings. Another ruin stands some distance apart from the chapel – the abbot’s house maybe? A small well to the east is dedicated to St Mary – ‘Tobar Moireig’.
It is easy to imagine living a fairly comfortable monastic life on this peaceful spot. It is on record that Texa’s church was endowed with large estates in the south of Islay so it was quite wealthy and the island supported about thirty native ‘Texans’. It is revealing that in 1608, Andrew Knox, Bishop of the Isles, wrote a letter from Texa to King James VI asking if he could retire there – ‘. . . seeing my ould aige dayle crepis on’.
On our first visit – a damp day in early summer – the ground was blanketed with a mist of bluebells and feral goats watched us warily from a distance. They were in small groups but there are probably about eighty or so in total. The wild goats of Jura are a deep chocolate brown but Texa’s are multi-coloured which suggests mixed domestic stock.
On the ground overlooking the kyle and some distance beyond the jetty there is a renovated cottage/bothy which the owners use occasionally. This is the only habitable building – lovely in the summer – but a lonely place to stay on a winter’s night.
On the other side of Texa there is a cave called Uamh nam Fear – ‘the Men’s Cave’ – which was probably a hideout from naval press-gangs. They particularly liked to raid islands because the able-bodied men were such excellent sailors. It was not their concern that an island needed its menfolk to survive and many of the small islands were depopulated by this practice.
On the
