Since the evening is warm and our daily work over and nothing else is depending on us, will we now take a quiet walk to the top of a certain hill so that we can honour once again the most precious view that is promised to the one who takes the trouble to climb to its summit.

The view cannot be described for its beauty; because however eloquent a person is, when it comes to make a word-picture of nature and its beauty, no-one can adequately describe what is in front of his eyes, and therefore we shall leave that picture to Memory and Imagination to relate and we will concentrate our attention on the best known place-names that appear before us.

The climbing is not steep whichever way we take and since we are in no hurry, we shall take the slow step of the daily wage, up to Malcolm Smith's place, and from there up to the horizon at the top where we can get a good reward for our trouble, where the air is clean without a shimmer of heat-haze or mist and where we are promised a clear wide and distant view. It is my opinion that it will be nothing short of our expectation.

We are now at the very top, at the ledge where the local children light a fire at coronation times, at jubilees and at any other national festivals. You can see that the ledge is well-burnt and anything that would not burn is still lying around it.

Behind us everything is quiet and calm at the village; the smoke from the houses is rising and bending gently in the weak zephyr that is coming from the east. The corn lazy-beds are heavily green and the potato fields are heavier still in hue .The hillocks and fields are under a multi-coloured mantle, with daisies, buttercups and many another beautiful wild flower.

On the moorland before us everything is quiet and silent; the slopes covered with green heather which in a week or two will be a glorious display of purple flowers and bells. That is the time when strangers or anybody else who wants to see our hills and glens at the height of their beauty should pay us a visit, because there is not a more beautiful sight in the country than the hills and mountains of the Highlands when the heather is in full bloom.

But that is somewhat against what we said at the outset and therefore let us get back to the business at hand - place-names that would serve as a guide to the tourist; and what better way to do that than to follow the course of the sun, and mention the place-names as we come to them? Here then from the North eastwards and so on until we are back to the North.

But look, in however the moorland spreads, as far as we can see to the East and to the West, it is "holed" here and there by freshwater lochs, innumerable, big and small. We will pay no attention to them, our business is with the highest hills and other places that are well known to all the local people.

Just North of us is Beinn Eitseal, rising between us and the clouds and the small villages at its foot are kept secure and sheltered from the blast of the north wind and from the withering, shrivelling of the east wind. Between us and it there are many hills, knolls and rocky outcrops, but there is one that catches the eye, Èisteapar. The lazy-beds, today covered with heather but still recognisable, are proof to us that it was inhabited and cultivated in days gone by and that they were as dependant upon the sea, as were the generations after that, dependant upon the high-road.

A little to the north of Èisteapar is Druim nan Caorach. I am sure that there is scarcely a district in the Highlands without its own Druim nan Caorach. The flocks of sheep which know that there are hard dry beds at the top and the lambs that are gambolling around them leave no doubt whatsoever in our mind as to why the place got its name.

East of them are "the three small black bens" at the back of Èisteapar - Sùbhal, Sòbhal and Stèiseal. They are indeed black and, from here, without much sign that there is much grazing on them, but the flocks of sheep and droves of cattle that can be seen on their slopes are proof that they are in their own way adding to the welfare of the inhabitants.

Behind them we see Muirneag and Beanntan Bharbhais raising their heads above the others and we can understand that true were the words of the bard: "They are a lighthouse of the day" indeed. Scarcely can we see, like a small stake the monument that was raised to commemorate the lads that were lost in the First World War. Following to the East, we can see on the horizon Gob Na Circe and to the South, Rudha Airinis and after that we can see, like a duck with one duckling behind it, Tabhaidh and the Stùc.

We will keep on to the south and we will reach Bun nan Loch and the Islands. The one that is covered with heather, Eilean Chalum Cille, is the one that history tells that holy men established a church on. The site of the church is still to be seen and round it is the old churchyard where the people of the district used to be interred up to the end of the 19th century. Opposite us on the south side of the loch, although we cannot see it, is Crobeag where 'Mairi Laghach' of the song spent most of her life.

Following southwards and to the west we come to what is called Dà Eiseal. It is surely to the same family that those two rocky acclivity's belong because they are similar and unlike anything else in the vicinity. For a while we will come back to the "land of mercy" nearer at hand. In the same panorama that encompasses the Eisealan and just at the foot of this very hill there is a soft peaty bog land where there was not much grazing for any beast until this very year; if you walked across it today you would sink up to the knees in clover. It was not without labour (and dispute) that this materialised. People worked very hard there last year; they burnt the heather, they spread sand and lime on the ground and after that they sowed clover seed and one or two types of grass seed and we can see for ourselves the fruits of their labour. They received great financial assistance and encouragement from the Authorities for their efforts.

We can see at the inner end of this park a cairn – no, it is just a heap of stones. That is the site of the last water mill that was operating in the village. The old and the new side by side, and as we so often see amongst mankind the ancient ways are let go and put aside, but shall we have more time for the young and modern methods?

Will we not now move on to Àirde na Caillich so that we can be ferried across again to Pàirc, and we will take a stroll by Beinn Uisinis and to Crìonag. We will leave them and we will carry on westwards until we reach Feiriseal. On an evening like this the sun is always shining on the north side of this hill making it outstanding. There must always be a film of water soaking over it.

Carrying on westwards the next hill we come to is Mòr Monadh and then Beinn Mhòr na Pàirc. There are three rocky outcrops at its top and it is related (in tradition) that Mac an T-Srònaich, the one who committed murder at the Harris boundary for a stoup (pigidh) of whiskey, walked backwards after a heavy fall of snow, to the cave which he had at the top of Beinn Mòr!! There was no sign of Sherlock Holmes or of Dr. Watson in these days.

Frith na Pàirce was at one time completely under deer but nowadays much of it carries sheep. From the Beinn Mhòr we will lower our eyes a little and we will see Malasgair and Cleitir. Let us go back to the Harris boundary and we will see Sithean an Airgid and before we leave the world and take a trip to Harris we can give a thought to the men who supported Mr. MacRae, the schoolmaster, in raiding Park to obtain land for themselves that would provide food for their families. People had hard times of it then because of lack of land and therefore lack of food.

We are now across Loch Seaforth from which we can see the chief mountain of the Island, the Clisham, and beside it the Isean and the Lang. Following northwards we can see part of Frith Ath'n Linne and nearer at hand Bharal and the Beinn Bhuidhe, where we can see where the wood, planted by the Forestry Board a short time before the War (WW2), is growing. Before them is Roineabhal rising like a big black hump above the others, behind them are the Uig hills rising as a fortress between us and the Western Ocean, and Mialaiseal is keeping the rest of them under control.

We are at the end of our journey and it is only a step to Beinn Ceadriseal and we are back where we started off. Look at the sun shining on the tombstones in the churchyard at Sgiasgar; as the sun sinks lower and lower and redder you would think that some of the stones were a blaze of fire. They are somewhat the same way but more melancholic in the moonlight. A boat or two are to be seen handline fishing, two on Àite na Beinne and one on Àite na Caillich - some haddock or whiting must have come in on this Spring tide. There is another boat at Tòb Cheann Tarbhaigh, but it probably has flounder nets.

Lad, look at the shoal of salmon playing at Camus a Bualt! They are thick right over to the Gollaig. If the night were darker a fellow would take one or two of those from the Pol Gorm tonight yet! We have tried to name (rightly or wrongly) the places we saw. Let everyone in his or her own way describe the view we saw.

Surely everyone knows the name of the hill that provided us with such a precious view, but it is such a long time since it provided the opportunity first that it does not want any thanks or honour. The greatest thanks it would want is that people would come and see the view. If you do not recognise where we stood, the cattle are at Cachleith a' Gharraidh Droma and before we descend to let them in, we will go and give a parting glance to Suidheachan Chaluim Sheoc.

(This is a translation of an article written by the late Kenny Maciver, Laxay.)

Kinloch Historical Society Archive