Àirigh a' Bhealaich

Remember the day we went to Cuidhshadar? Well, when we'd finished our time at the beach, we went for a stroll down memory lane.

When the Builder and his siblings were young, they used to spend whole summers out here on the moor. Five weeks (going home at weekends) on the moor: no running water, but a crystal clear running stream; no electricity; no internet, consoles or gadgets.

Just mile after mile of empty moor - empty, but full in a child's imagination.

And each of the ruins of shielings here holds memories for them. Where, today, only one wall, or a chimney remains standing, a generation ago these were shielings which, over the summer, were teeming with life.

Today, they teem only with memories. And stories, forever engraved in the hearts of those who spent time out here.

The last few summers the Builder's family spent out on the moor was spent in this shieling. DR is standing at the chimney, but the following photo shows the inside of the àirigh, which was built into the side of the hill.

Here's where the fire was. Do you see a blue kettle still sitting in there? 

The feelings that rushed back into the Builder's mind and to his siblings' were so strong. For a long time, we just stood and allowed them their memories. There may even have been a tear or two.

None of those of whom they spoke, who spent time out there over summers are here. 

All the stories of 'Remember when....', were of people who were full of life then, but are now gone.

Although we now have a younger generation of people who are, once again, discovering the delights of spending time out on the moor in simple àirighean, we saw nobody that day.

I felt that each ruin, or even each àirigh seen from a distance, spoke like memorials to another time, another generation.

Almost like walking through a cemetery, and reading the writing on memorials. To me, they are just that: memorials to people whose names I recognise, and to a way of life of which I knew nothing.

But to the Builder and his family? Each 'memorial' spoke volumes. In fact, they did more than speak: they bellowed - albeit quietly. For out here, there are no loud noises.