Around 1,500 years after St. Brendan the Navigator made his visit to these islands, commemorated particularly on Barra with no less than a church and cemetery, a hospital and a care home, and even an MP, Met Éireann’s Storm Brendan – also coming from the south – brought this week a somewhat different sense of pastoral attention.
Here on South Uist yesterday the winds were officially higher than anywhere else in the country, while 87 mph was something of a record in our brief time here, being a little stronger than Storm Conor three years ago. Indeed, the Met Office’s station on South Uist – on the Range, adjacent to where we live, so a pretty good indicator of what we experienced locally – and from where this measure was taken, recorded gusts of over 80 mph for four hours in a row from noon yesterday, returning to that level on one more occasion during the evening. Unofficially, the winds a little further south both on South Uist and indeed also on Barra seem to have been higher, perhaps topping a ton in both places. It’s been a tough start to the year, with a succession of storms and rain and high winds characterising these first two weeks of 2020.
Not just high winds but a collapsing air pressure, on top of a spring tide, brings its own tragic recollections on Uist around January.
This time, that the winds came from the south kept the water off most of the local roads, although the coastal road on Benbecula was closed further up the coast and the causeway at the North Ford was shut for a while at high tide yesterday evening. At the house, our windproof netting is looking a little ragged, having been ripped at the bottom from the nails holding it to a whole line of fence posts, a few 4.8m lengths of 6″ x 1″ timber destined to constitute a new fence one day have been shifted around a bit, the house name sign was torn from the wall and dropped, insultingly face down, on to the ground and the meter cupboard lost its door (again), as did the wheelie bins lose their moorings (though that’s a pretty usual occurrence when the wind gets above 40mph). The storm has churned up the sea so much that the foreshore is a mass of brown algae, at least until calmer waters can gradually move it back out to sea (or, on the dryer and less rocky sands on the far side of the bay, until the crofters can gather it to spread as fertiliser). We also had the rare event (on these islands) of two shots of thunder and lightning, one of which appeared to be responsible for the last, and most significant (i.e. we had to get candles out), of the three power cuts during the day.
Today is relatively calmer, although winds gusting above 50 and into the 60s are the case pretty much until dawn on Thursday and ‘wintry showers’ are currently adding to the mix. Ferries out of Lochboisdale remain cancelled and the Eriskay causeway remains shut at the time of writing. At home, visibly moving window panes, creaking timbers and rattling roof tiles, as the house resettles after resisting yet another wind slam, will be the case for a while yet, alongside a few more nights of sleep that is too light and too short.
These small inconveniences apart, Brendan has let us off lightly; and we have been lucky.
Firefox, when I opened up this morning to write these words, quoted me rather appositely John Steinbeck from his Travels with Charley: In Search of America road trip:
What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness.
This seems to be clearly true, but I can’t help commenting that, if it is indeed so, then so must be the reverse.
In the meantime, and if it’s not too late, Bliadhn’ Ur Mhath.