To The House of Bruar, home of cashmere, tweed and country clothing - it's quite a place, and worth a visit (the website doesn't do it justice, I feel). I bought a sweater and a pair of boots there on Sunday but in addition to the predictable, my eye was caught by these boats!
My pictures could be better - I snapped as I could in the brief moment when the area was relatively free of inconvenient customers - but they give some idea of these beautiful vessels which were not for sale, as far as I'm aware, but are there as props for the luggage display. There is an information board beside them, so if you happen to be in the market for a boat, it's John MacAulay, boatbuilder on Harris, you should contact. He's the man who built the birlinn Freyja for Adam Nicolson to sail to the Shiant Isles, and in his book Sea Room Nicolson quotes a passage from John MacAulay's Birlinn: Longships of the Hebrides and describes this carving of a birlinn on a mid-sixteenth century clan chieftain's tomb:
"The form and curve of each strake, the fixings of the rudder, even the lay of the rope in the rigging: everything is carved with exactness, clarity and what can only be called love. Around it are the relative crudities of angels, apostles and biblical stories. Their forms never escaped the stone but the carved ship shows the panels of cloth in the bellied-out sail. It even shows the way a sail can be creased against a forestay that is faintly visible through it. Above all, though, it lovingly described the form of the hull, the depth of its keel and the fullness of the bilges. All of this was carved in millimetre detail, testament of something that mattered. The birlinn was shown at full stretch and fully rigged, but out of the water, so that the swept beauty of the hull could be seen. Only a shipwright or a sailor could have carved such a thing: it is the mental, not the actual image of a ship at sea, a depiction of what you can imagine of a boat at its most perfect moment, made by a man who knew it."
If you're still reading after all that, coincidentally it's Adam Nicolson's grandmother who features over on the books site today, and for those who've finished A Wizard of Earthsea (discussion on Saturday), don't you think Ged's boat Lookfar must have been a birlinn?
Yes, Ged's boat must have been a birlinn - I was thinking of it as I read the description. How appropriate to encounter these beautiful boats when the book is fresh in our minds. I do wish you luck with the appropriate food, though!
Posted by: B R Wombat | 21 September 2011 at 06:06 PM
I have an idea for the food, but you're right, there's not much to go on in the book!
(I owe you an email - haven't forgotten, and am just catching up now).
Posted by: Cornflower | 21 September 2011 at 08:33 PM
Not only beautiful in itself but a symbol and a reminder of a lovely place.
Posted by: Mr Cornflower | 21 September 2011 at 08:39 PM
Most interesting! Too often I see sad, neglected wooden boats lying in the mud or in a boatyard. How wonderful to see your photos and read about this man and his work.
Posted by: Barbara MacLeod | 21 September 2011 at 10:03 PM
When you think of the craftsmanship that goes into wooden boats (though it sounds as though John MacAulay's are exceptional), what a shame for them to languish unloved.
Posted by: Cornflower | 21 September 2011 at 10:22 PM
The boats are lovely BUT I am interested in seeing the sweater you bought! Trivial, that's me!
Posted by: adele geras | 21 September 2011 at 10:59 PM
Agreed - Ged's boat was a Birlinn but I dont think he bought his sea clothes at Bruar! Although since I find it impossible to walk past the beautiful craft in that display without my credit card jumping into a slot to buy another jacket, maybe he did.
Posted by: Sandy | 24 September 2011 at 08:08 AM
Just a loden green v-neck!
Posted by: Cornflower | 24 September 2011 at 10:30 AM
Yes, there's much temptation at Bruar!
Posted by: Cornflower | 24 September 2011 at 10:31 AM