Berneray trip. The bad parts.

I will split my brief notes on our trip to Berneray into two sections. First, the bad or disturbing parts.

We (a party of four) were there for three nights. We stayed in the hostel on the east side of the island, and spent much of our time exploring the terrain and speaking to people we met.

1. The hostel itself was a money-making pit. Bedding was unclean. The rooms were crowded, almost intolerably so. Facilities were either worn or non-functioning; from over-use, perhaps? Privacy was as good as zero. The attendant was gleeful in her job of collecting the rather steep revenue. I wonder how many thousands of pounds the hostel generates per month in high season. And what percentage of it is reinvested in the buildings.

2. One of the people our party spoke to was a lady of retired, though not elderly appearance. She appeared to be quite positive and friendly at first, until we asked how things got done on the island, Berneray being unusually tidy and well-kept in comparison to other islands in the Uists. She launched  into a prolonged whiny-rant about how she'd been "forced", on moving to the island, to join various groups (she seemed confused as to exactly which ones) in order to remove the "deadwood" - her word - and "finally get things done". She mentioned being an "experienced project manager" over and over, and how the island benefitted from her skills. One of our party, who despises displays of egotism, responded in a sarcastic manner, congratulating her from saving the island single-handedly from dereliction. Unbelievably, she took this as a sincere compliment and agreed with the point.

3. We dined - well, had tea and a small snack, in the Lobster Pot tea room. We'd already heard some possibly exaggerated tales about the current and previous owners of the tea room and shop from a local, but decided to risk it anyway. The food was okay, actually, better than that served in many tea rooms on the mainland.

However, from the shop side of the establishment, we could hear speaking in Gaelic. And, possibly unknown to the loud woman speaking, one of our party was fluent in the language and gave a rough translation. Much of what was said was local "gossip", an issue I am uncomfortable with, concerning the status of various residents marriages and the cost of houses on the island. However, at one point, the loud woman made several remarks regarding our party, which - to put it mildly - were not positive.

We paid up, the gossiper standing next to us and doing an excellent two-faced act of friendliness, after slagging us off moments before. Until the member of our party fluent in Gaelic wished her farewell in her native tongue; you have never seen anyone clam up and go white so quickly. Anyway, we left and didn't return, eating in Lochmaddy (a short and bumpy bus ride away) for the remainder of our trip.

4. Two young ladies staying at the hostel had a distressing experience, returned from a walk on the nearby beach, very upset. They had been intercepted by what sounded like a deranged and violently angry man, who claimed that the beach was private and that members of the public were not allowed at that end of it. They tried to walk past him, but he pushed one of them over, into the sea. He then threatened an act of violence against the women, and they ran back to the hostel, arriving near-hysterical. The description they gave was of a deeply unpleasant sounding individual, with oddly an accent not of these islands.

One of our party offered to contact the police on their behalf. They decided, instead, to leave immediately and caught a bus south to the Uists rather than stay on the island another night, as they did not feel safe. Several people staying in the hostel armed themselves with a few implements and walked the length of the beach and back, but did not see this lout.

Worse. In conversation the next day, with a retired gentleman who lived on the island, we discovered that this was not an isolated incident but one which occurred on a regular basis over many years. The police had been ineffectual in this issue, even though the thug had a 'record' for various offenses. One of our party asked about the 'community' dealing with the issue; the local responded with some disgust that the community were afraid of the thug, and that the men here would not put down their drink and raise a finger unless a large cheque was involved at some point. So much for the Hebridean community spirit!

Those were the bad parts. However, there were many good aspects to our time on Berneray, which I will detail in my next post.